Irezumi
It was around midnight when they stepped outside. The night air was cool and big, fat raindrops were starting to splatter against the sidewalk. Beth followed Ronan to his bike and mounted behind him, hugging him tightly as she suppressed a shiver. Part of her hoped that the tattoo parlor was a dud, and this was just a random mortal with the same name. Another part of her wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
The ride to the lower East side was over quickly, although Beth wished it wasn’t. Ronan knew where it was without consulting a map or GPS.
“Have you been here before?” asked Beth as they dismounted and walked toward the shop.
“No. I’ve heard of it though. Considered getting a tattoo once or twice.”
“You’d look good with a tattoo. Not that you don’t look good without a tattoo.” Beth stopped before her words turned into full-out nervous babbling.
Ronan’s lips twitched.
They came to a stop in front of Irezumi. The display window featured a collage of example ink. Most of it was modern. Beth didn’t see any of the typical art you’d find in a tattoo shop; pin-up cartoons, nautical images, ‘mom’ stretched across a heart. Instead there were pictures made up of typography, animals so vivid Beth could see the sheen in their fur, and portraits that felt like looking into a tv screen rather than onto paper. And some of them, Beth noticed when she looked at them from the corner of her eye, shimmered.
The two of them lingered for only a moment before taking a simultaneous deep breath and walking to the door. Ronan entered first. Inside was a room so white and brightly lit that Beth felt like she’d just stepped into a mortal hospital. It didn’t help that everything smelled like disinfectant. As far as furnishings went, there was only a glass counter and a black waiting couch.
Behind the counter stood a man who did not look threatening in any way. He wore a powder blue flannel button down with three black pens placed neatly in the front pocket. He was balding but not yet bald, with round spectacles much too large for his face. His steel grey eyes focused on Ronan, but he showed no other outward signs of recognition.
“Are you Marcas Foley?” Ronan asked, his deep voice echoing a little in the unfilled space.
The man cocked a surprisingly thick eyebrow and his thin lips quirked up. “Why are you here, Knight?”
“You are under arrest by order of her majesty Queen Maeve of the Unseelie Court.” Ronan stepped forward, fearless and stern. “We need you to come with us.”
For just a moment Beth let herself think that maybe, just maybe, this would be okay. The man was obviously no match for the Unseelie Knight. Ronan could probably bench press two of this guy without sweating. She released a breath she’d been holding, and then Marcas Foley pulled one of the pens from his pocket.
He uncapped it in one deft motion and from the tip poured forth a massive blanket of ink, enough to cover the whole room. It happened too quickly for Beth to move and for a second she thought she might drown, but then she realized that the ink wasn’t liquid, but darkness. A darkness so black she couldn’t see her own body when she looked down. Then there was total silence except for the suddenly pounding rain outside behind them, battering against the glass.
Beth didn’t move. Chills crept and slithered all over her body. She couldn’t see or hear Ronan, couldn’t even feel an echo of his body heat. The moment stretched on and then, to her horror, she felt something cold and thick wrap around her ankle. She screamed as it tugged and she went down, cracking her head against the tile.
Lightning flashed outside and for a split second the room was illuminated. Marcas Foley had dropped his glamour. He had doubled in size and now resembled something that was more octopus than man, but at the same time a terrifying amalgamation of both. Tentacles protruded from him, one of them still holding on to Beth who stared up at him from the floor, gaping. Her ankle sizzled and burned where the tentacle suction cups dug into her skin.
The room was plunged into pitch black again and Beth heard the zing of Ronan pulling his sword from its sheath. The next strike of lightning placed him above her. He struck, slicing the flesh wrapped around her and Foley let out an unholy screech.
Beth took Ronan’s hand and struggled to her feet. She felt the handle of a knife being pressed into her palm and gripped it. The next few moments happened very slowly. The lightning flashes came closer and closer together as the storm moved right on top of them. Ronan used this to his advantage, lashing at the various limbs of Marcas Foley as they slithered and waved and seemed to reach around the whole shop.
The weight of the knife was a welcome comfort to Beth, even if she could barely see. She stepped forward, using the intermittent light to jab at the lashing tentacles. A few times she felt her blade pierce flesh and slide in, like slicing into a giant pad of butter. Each time the tentacle would jerk and retract, almost taking her knife with it, but she held tight.
Another dangerous tingle of hope spread through her. They weren’t losing. Maybe if they just kept dodging and jabbing they could tire him out.
Beth soon found out she was wrong.
She should have recalled from Benji’s video game habit that every boss had helpers. Foley emitted a high-pitched scream that sounded more like a siren than something that could have come from a person. Four men came forth from the back of the shop. They were probably just typical tattoo artists, but the strobe light effect of the lightning made them ghastly.
Upon a second look, Beth discovered that they didn’t have any pupils, just white globes for eyes. Each wielded a tattoo gun that wasn’t plugged into anything but buzzed ominously as if it were.
“Kill them,” Foley hissed, gesturing with at least three of his tentacles toward Beth and Ronan.
The men strode forward. The guns were loaded with needles longer than needed for just tattooing. As soon as one of the needles ejected and flew through the air like an arrow, Beth knew these guys weren’t playing around. The metal made a thud as it stuck deep in the wall behind where Ronan had been a moment’s breath before. Beth was willing to bet the needles were made of iron.
The next time lightning flashed Beth caught Ronan’s eye. She knew her own were wide with terror, but he looked calm and calculating as ever. A silver eyebrow arched, and she nodded eagerly, almost tripping on her way toward him. If they were going to survive this, they needed to leave now.
Ronan took her arm and pulled her straight for the door, nearly crashing through it with the force of their escape. It banged against the frame behind them, but stayed closed. Apparently Marcas Foley didn’t feel like pursuing.
Beth sucked in a deep breath, choking on rain water. The sky had opened up and was letting loose a lashing torrent of angry drops. Ronan’s grip on her arm was unrelenting and even though the brightness outside was blinding compared to the sucking darkness back in the parlor it was still difficult to see through the persistent storm. Somehow he managed to find the bike.
Beth had gotten used to the bike’s warp speed and hoped that Ronan used it now. She slid her arms around him and placed her cheek against his back, clinging harder than she probably needed to in order to stay on. She smelled the copper of blood and wondered if it was from him or her. It was probably from both of them. Marcas Foley, she decided, had been a bad foe with which to fuck. No wonder he’d managed to escape the Unseelie guards.
The beast roared to life beneath them and Ronan sped out into the street, avoiding headlights with ease. Beneath her palm Beth could feel his heart pounding almost as hard as her own. The fight hadn’t been child’s play, but after surviving the Drochaid, she’d thought they could do anything. She’d felt they were both invincible.
Now the thought of how close they had both come to their ends had Beth shivering. She pressed her nose and mouth to his tunic, drawing in his scent, willing it to calm her heart. She closed her eyes as she felt him shift positions and reach for the space-bending switch, which she assumed was close to the ignition somewhere. Sure enough, soon she felt stretched, like the world was slowing down around them. She focused on his hot skin through the sopping material, and how glad she was that he was still alive.
It was over sooner than Beth expected, like it always was. He pulled off the road in front of Dougal’s bar and turned off the bike, letting the roar of the engine fade into the cacophony of the storm.
They stayed just like that for a moment, both panting. His hands gripped the handlebars tightly and hers gripped him, fingers now twisting in the fabric of his shirt. Her gasping breaths showed no signs of slowing.
Over and Over she saw Foley’s tentacles lash out and nearly take the life of the man before her. In one motion the Knight of the Unseelie Court could have been taken down. After everything he’d survived that wouldn’t have been fair. Beth’s chest ached at the thought of his death. An ending so unjust after all that he’d done and been forced to do. He deserved happiness, she realized. She wanted that for him.
Ronan finally released the handlebars and took a shallow breath, preparing to stand. Beth followed suit, reluctantly letting go of his clothes and placing her feet on the wet pavement. She swung her leg over and managed not to stumble. It wouldn’t have mattered if she did though, because he was there in an instant. His angular face stared searchingly down into her own. Raindrops clung to his eyelashes.
“Are you okay?” It was miraculous that she heard his gravelly voice through the gale.
Instead of answering she stood on her tiptoes and reached up, pulling his head down to her. She kissed him, hard, because she had a feeling that ‘thank you for saving us and for not dying and you deserve all the good that the world has to offer and more’ would not sound as eloquent yelled hoarsely from her lips as it did in her head. And it didn’t sound that eloquent in her head.
Ronan froze at first, as if he didn’t know what was happening, and then he kissed her back. It was like each time before when they kissed, a moment of fumbling and then the spark ignited and suddenly the only important thing in the world was building that fire. Despite their soaked clothes and hair clinging to their heads Beth felt the flames start from inside and begin to envelop her, feeding.
Ronan slid his hands to her hips and picked her up, spinning her and pinning her to the brick facade of the bar. He devoured her, and she was gratified that he seemed as hungry for the flame as she was. The chill of the night and the pounding rain were forgotten as Beth got lost in the taste of blood and Ronan that flooded her senses.
“I couldn’t see you,” he panted, pulling away to place that scorching mouth along her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.” He sounded haunted. His lips and tongue were working her into a frenzy and she arched against him.
“I’m here now,” she assured him, “everything’s okay.”
The whimpers that emanated from her between and around those words seemed to spur him on and soon he was back to her mouth, their lips desperately slanting over one another.
Beth wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, lost to the heat built between them. They basked in its glow as their tongues danced and played. Her arms clung tightly around his neck and his large hands slid up and down her sides, squeezing her hips in earnest. He covered her, protecting her from the rain.
Eventually he stopped and rested his forehead against hers, giving them both a moment while they panted.
“We should go in,” he said, though his fingers twitched where they held her.
“Probably,” she agreed raggedly. All she wanted was more of his taste, his touch. The idea of parting from him now left her bereft. Reluctantly, however, she lowered her arms.
Ronan slid dripping fingers into her own and squeezed her hand. “Come.”
She nodded, and he stepped away, anchored to her where their hands clasped. He pulled her to the doors and knocked.
The bar looked like it hadn’t been closed long, though Beth had no idea what time it was. If people had paraded past them during their steamy against-the-wall make out session, she hadn’t noticed. Considering how intensely she’d been absorbed, it was entirely possible.
Dougal stopped wiping down tables to let them in. His concerned gaze traveled over Beth and Ronan before he cleared his throat.
“You look as though you’ve been through the ringer,” he said.
“Marcas Foley is a shokushu,” Ronan said shortly, pulling Beth straight to the bar.
Dougal let out a low whistle and followed. “That’s unfortunate.”
“He’s a what?” Beth asked.
“A tentacle Fae,” Dougal explained. He pulled two mugs from beneath the bar and filled them from an unmarked bottle.
Beth took a sip, hoping it was strong. She was not disappointed.
Ronan took a surprisingly long pull. “They’re rare. I was not aware that there were any still in these parts.”
Beth trembled, though not from fear. Their moment of intimacy outside had left her equal parts sanguine and achy.
Ronan, on the other hand, seemed to be alright. Though he did finish the rest of his drink in one swallow. They’d stopped holding hands when they sat down, and Beth missed the contact.
Dougal poured more for each of them. “This assignment just became exponentially more difficult. Did he have thralls?”
“Thralls?” echoed Beth.
“He had four that I saw,” answered Ronan. “The men with the tattoo guns,” he explained to Beth, giving her a sideways glance.
Dougal cursed. “I wonder what he knows that is so important he must guard it so fiercely.”
“It can’t be that important or he wouldn’t have set a price for the Queen,” said Beth. “It’s gotta be something specifically pertinent to her.”
The three of them contemplated that in silence while Beth and Ronan each finished off their mugs. Thunder rumbled threateningly outside and the lights above them flickered, as if in fear, then went out entirely.
Dougal cursed in the darkness and rummaged beneath the bar. Light poured forth from a candle a moment later.
“Why don’t you two stay here tonight? You can clean up in the guest room and tomorrow you can decide what to do about ol’ tentacles.” Dougal nodded toward the stairs. “I have more candles upstairs, though the power shouldn’t be out for more than a few hours. Never is.”
Ronan turned to Beth, an eyebrow raised, ultimately leaving the decision up to her.
If she was being honest, despite all that had happened tonight, Beth was still just glad they were no longer at the palace.
“Sure,” she said. “We’ll stay.”
Dougal’s guest room was similar in appearance to the rest of the apartment and bar, at least as far as Beth could surmise by candlelight. Beautiful wood made up an armoire and queen-sized bed frame, both of which she suspected were hand carved.
Beth kicked off her boots by the door and took a deep breath as she walked to the window. Tremors shook her body still from time to time, though she wasn’t sure if they were from almost getting her ass kicked or from almost begging Ronan to fuck her against a very public brick wall.
Rain continued to pelt down outside. Warm breath cascaded over her neck and she shivered. Fingers found their way to her hips and then her stomach and then lower, sliding along the waistband of her jeans. The fire that they had kept at bay with polite conversation returned in full force and Beth felt an ache between her legs that could not be ignored.
She turned and looked up at Ronan, who looked just as hungry as she felt. His dark blue eyes blazed a trail over her.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” he suggested in a rough voice, tugging at the sleeve of Benji’s tattered hoodie.
Beth nodded, swallowing.
Ronan undressed her slowly. He peeled off her sopping clothes one by one until she stood bare before him, illuminated only by the flickering candlelight.
Beth’s blood hummed with anticipation. She’d had plenty of sex, sure, but with mortal men. With strangers who would leave when they saw her in the daylight. When they realized the weirdness surrounding the girl they’d followed home didn’t stop when everyone was sober again. Ronan, she was fairly certain, would not be leaving in the morning. Not with the way he was looking at her now.
His dark blues roamed her naked body as if he were reading his favorite book. His gaze lingered everywhere, like every part of her was a sentence that he must reread to fully wrap his mind around. He licked his lips after his thorough perusal and brought his eyes back up to meet hers. And then he was kissing her, and Beth was once again lost to the combustion of their joining.
It wasn’t long before Beth felt as though she might die of scorching arousal, and against her belly she felt an answering bulge in Ronan’s pants.
Thunder made her jump and pull away, panting. “You’re wearing clothes.”
He nodded, his expression fierce, his lips swollen from kissing.
“I need to see you.”
The Unseelie Knight grinned a quick devilish grin that looked utterly outlandish on his stern face. Then he pulled the tunic over his head, revealing that chiseled, scar-ridden chest. He worked his pants down around his large arousal and pushed them off and aside, commando as ever.
Beth stepped back to take him all in, her mouth going dry. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. She admired his large feet and toned legs, but her eyes caught on what was above that.
Ronan’s thick erection jutted out prominently and pulsed at the apex of his thighs. Beth felt herself grow even wetter in response. He was absolutely glorious. But if he knew it or was proud of it he showed no indication. His eyes were again fixed intently on hers, no trace of smugness on his features.
They kissed again, coming together so fiercely that Beth could swear she felt sparks. Their bodies met, her hard nipples against his hard chest, his relentlessly hard length against her abdomen. Beth’s need for him was scalding, growing within her, burning her from the inside out.
They spun so her back was to the window and she pulled away, pushing him down into a seated position on the bed. She straddled him and lowered herself down just enough to brush against him, shuddering at the sensation of his cock sliding against her folds.
Beth wanted to talk. Wanted to tell him how important he’d become to her, how she couldn’t believe he’d managed all these years doing what he does alone. But overriding that urge was a more physical one - raw and potent. Slowly she sank down, taking him inside her. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her, of her insides stretching to accommodate him.
“Elizabeth,” he groaned, tilting his head back to look her in the eyes. “Fuck.”
She could feel his strong thighs flexing beneath her ass as he repositioned to get as deeply inside her as possible. One of his hands propped them up on the bed and the other found her waist, squeezing her. He ducked his head and found her nipples, sucking them into his warm, wicked mouth one at a time. She panted in response, whimpering. She rose on him and slowly dropped down again, then again, picking up a rhythm.
Ronan lifted his head and caught Beth’s mouth, kissing her fiercely and sitting up straighter, using both hands now to grip her and move her the way he wanted. And oh, it felt incredible. He thrust up into her over and over as she rose and fell, their hips meeting in a euphoric collision each time. Beth thought that she might climax from that alone, but then big, deft fingers found her clit and she was done for.
She gasped, her back arching. The fire found its way down her spine and out, exploding through her nerve endings like a thousand tiny fireworks that she felt in every corner of her body. Beth had never fancied herself a screamer, but she couldn’t ever remember having reached a peak this high. Cries tore from her as she spasmed and pulsed around him, nails digging into his shoulder blades.
Ronan fucked her through it. His mouth stayed on her neck, sucking at the tender skin there, adding to the sensations coursing through her.
When she’d come down a little he picked her up and flipped her over without ever exiting her body. He kissed her deeply as he set up a faster pace than before, encouraging her with his hands to put her legs around his waist. Beth did as instructed and cried out again as the new angle brought her right back to the edge.
Ronan groaned in response. His face was a mask of pleasure, mouth slack and eyes unfocused as he slammed into her repeatedly. Everything about him screamed that he needed this just as badly as she did. Needed to be as close to her as he could. A union between their bodies, between their hearts.
His lips found her forehead, kissing whisper soft. “That’s it, Elizabeth,” he murmured against her, his deep voice like a physical caress adding to everything else. “Good girl. Let me know how I make you feel.”
Beth came apart at his words, another orgasm overtaking her. Her fingers clawed the sheets this time, no doubt leaving holes as wave after wave of bliss claimed her exhausted body. When she caught her breath again she found his eyes, wild with the need for his own release. A release she was excited to witness.
Ronan groaned again as she reached up and twined shaking fingers into his hair, tugging.
“Fuck,” he bit out. The pain and concentration on his face exposed how close he was to losing control. “I need -”
“I know,” said Beth, tugging his mouth down to hers adoringly. This side of him, the side struggling to hold on for her, was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. “Come for me, Ronan.”
He could barely nod as he became more focused for just a few more thrusts. He kissed her once more and buried his face in her neck. His roar of ecstasy shook her, and she felt him jet, fierce and hot inside her.
He pulled out of her, panting and sweaty. They cleaned up, making use of the warm, flickering light. And then, wordlessly, they lay together naked on the bed. She curled against him, no longer caring whether it would be awkward. Beth found that she didn’t care much about anything right now except the contact of his skin on hers.
Sex had never felt this big before, this complete. For a fleeting moment she wondered if it was like this between he and Maeve, and then the thought was gone as she drifted off.