Surrender of a Tattooist: Obsessive Dark Romance Alpha Bad Boy (Tattooist Series Book 2) (2 page)

She totally confounded him. She was sharp, and funny, and astute as hell below her sometimes ditzy demeanor. He grinned, liking her more by the moment. “I hear you have a parrot.”

“Caligula. Yeah. He’s a giant pain in the ass too. You looking for a parrot? He’s actually an African Grey, but most people don’t know the difference between the types of Conures, so he just gets labeled a parrot.”

“I hate labels.”

“Me too.” Her smile broadened.

“Do you want to see something cool?”

She blinked, “What?”

He leaned across the table. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Okay, let me rephrase. Will you trust me to show you something cool?”

“Yes.” She thought about it for a second and then said, “You aren’t going to drop your drawers or something, are you?”

“Hell no.” The idea had hit him so hard he was practically trembling with excitement. He got their server back to the table, paid their check and said, “Come on, my car’s over there.”

She glanced down the street. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“It’s a really slow day. The slowest I’ve seen in a long time. Hawk can handle the shop by himself for a while, and Ricky’s coming in soon anyway.”

Besides, if anyone would know exactly how fickle Pixie could be, and understand the need to hurry while she was still willing, it was Hawk, who was like Pixie’s big brother in many ways.

Bad idea. This is a
really
bad idea. The last thing I need to do is get caught up with a crazy tattoo artist, especially one with the tantalizing looks of Cliff.

That was the thought running through Pixie’s mind as Cliff’s car climbed higher into the hills and then came out to show them a stunning vista of mountains and canyons. She said, “It’s beautiful up here.”

He nodded. “It is. It was always one of my favorite spots. I always wanted a house that overlooked the hills.”

“Why don’t you buy one?”

“The cost of L.A. real estate,” he deadpanned and she giggled. He had a good point. L.A. was beyond pricey and she was beginning to seriously wonder if she was ever even going to be able to afford to move out of Joy’s condo. Ever.

That thought sent her spirits, usually high, plummeting downward. She’d been doing a lot of thinking along those lines lately. She was twenty-six, and she didn’t have a single adult goal in her life. She’d always prided herself on being free-spirited and living in the moment. Now she was wondering if she was going to find herself living in a homeless shelter at some future date.

Her college education was good, and there were jobs she could apply for. She’d always wanted to be a teacher, but even she had to admit that competing with fresh-faced people with hair dyed more acceptable colors and with a wardrobe that screamed grownup was probably not going to win her a job.

Cliff took another turn and they ended out on a long road the left side of which was a sheer drop into a deep canyon. She scooted over a little and he chuckled. “You won’t fall out. I fixed that door.”

Her eyes went to the door and she gave it a suspicious stare. Was he kidding? She hoped so, but to be on the safe side she pulled her seat belt tighter and double-checked the buckle.

The sign near the road read Raptor Sanctuary. She frowned and asked, “Raptors? I didn’t know this was here.”

“Most people don’t. When people think of rescuing animals they usually think of cats and dogs, and that’s it. I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

She stared at the low buildings and the high trees as they got out of the car. A few people were about and they all greeted Cliff by name as they walked toward what appeared to be the main building. The woman behind the desk smiled at them and asked, “You looking for Randy?”

Cliff said, “If he’s around.”

“He is, out in the eagle’s nest.”

As they left the building and headed around it toward another, Pixie asked, “Eagle’s nest?”

He nodded. The sun shone down on his golden-brown hair and lit up the striking angles of his handsome face. His muscular, heavily-tattooed arms flexed as he pointed toward the sky. “Yes; they try to rehabilitate them and return them to the wild, but not all of them can go back so they’ve learned to fly them like they fly the falcons.”

“Wait, you mean like they fly kestrels and peregrines?”

“And owls.”

Her eyes widened. “They can fly owls?”

“They can.”

Her mouth dropped open. Pixie loved all animals but she gravitated to the wildest. She’d never rescued a bird, other than Caligula, and the birds they were discussing now were as wild as they came.

Raptors.

Soaring and dangerous and beautiful.

They went into a building with a tall, highly-arched roof. A thick smell met her nose and she looked around. It was obviously not a free-fly aviary, and with good reason. Owls and Harris hawks sat on their roosts, regarding her with their glabrous eyes.

They moved past them and further down they found the eagles. They were giant, much larger than she would have imagined, and a man stood in the center of one cage, fearlessly tending to an eagle that looked listless and limp.

Cliff called out, “Hey there, Randy!”

Randy, an older man with a beak of nose and thin lips, smiled and waved. “Hey, yourself. Be right with you.”

Pixie clung to the mesh steel that created the front of the cage and stared at the eagle. “What happened to him?”

“Lead.” Randy shook his head. “Folks out there shooting out lead bullets never think maybe what they shot and lost, say a rabbit or a rodent, might get eaten by a raptor. They do, though, more and more. Then the bird gets lead poisoning.”

Sorrow wove through her body. “Will he make it?”

“She might.” Randy carefully set the eagle back into a warming incubator and turned to face her. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Pixie.”

He came closer. “Of course you are. Cliff finally got you to say yes to a date, huh?”

She blinked, then glared at Cliff. “Did you tell everyone I said no to you?”

“I did,” he said with a disarming grin. “I mean, I was trying to find out how you could keep resisting me.”

Randy snorted and came out of the cage. “What do you think?”

Pixie looked upward. The roof was high and there were long windows cut into it, but the windows were covered by a fine mesh too. The building had open sides as well to let in bright sunlight and the wind, but it was still a prison of sorts.

She preferred talking about the birds than Cliff. Though she had to admit part of her was a teeny bit pleased he’d talked about her to Randy. Somehow that seemed a compliment. “I wish they could be free,” she said, focusing back on the birds.

Randy nodded. “We all do. Most of them are too harmed to fly, or they have been here healing so long they’ve lost the ability to hunt now and must be kept.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yes, but having them in the wild where they would die would be worse. Besides, they do get to fly. Would you like to see?”

She nodded eagerly.

Randy moved toward a different cage. “I have to hood Braveheart. He’s a touch cracker, this one. Stand back.”

Cliff’s arm drew her backward. Their bodies collided and a little frisson of desire shot through her, rooting her in place. She was against his body, and his arms draped casually across her hips. It felt good there; the heat and weight of it was perfect. She felt her heartbeat pick up and she shivered softly. His voice murmured into her ear, “It’s pretty exciting, isn’t it?”

Was he talking about watching Randy hood the eagle, or their bodies touching? She couldn’t be sure. They were both incredibly exhilarating. She sighed and murmured, “Yes, very.”

His body was lean and muscular. The colorful tattoos wrapped around his arms drew her eyes. She knew he had more, and suddenly she was dying to see him naked, see every drop of ink on his satiny, taut skin.

Randy came out with the eagle. To her surprise, Cliff moved away from her and donned a thick, heavy leather gauntlet, placing it carefully on his wrist.

They headed out into the bright California sunshine. She walked slowly behind Cliff, admiring the way his lean legs moved in the tight casing of denim. The rise and fall of his ass under those jeans was mesmerizing, and she had to tear her eyes away from that enticing sight or risk tripping on the exposed roots of the trees clinging to the lush hills.

They came into a clearing and Randy passed the eagle over. Cliff placed it carefully on his wrist and then crooned, “Stand back a little, Pixie. He’s still pretty wild. He’s a little mercenary too.”

Just like the man holding him
. She nodded and stepped back. Desire flowed through her body, heated and silken, as he lifted his arm and released the enormous bird into the sky.

The eagle soared upward, its mighty wings beating faster. Its cry was wild and powerful. Cliff stood waiting, his head back as he tracked its progress across the blue dome of the sky.

The sun glinted down on his head, bringing gold and red highlights up from his deliberately messy hair. She wanted to touch his hair, run her fingers through it and feel the texture of it below her fingertips. She wanted to hold that hair as he lowered his mouth to her body, right there in the spot between her thighs where she was aching so badly.

The eagle circled, screaming wildly. Something deep in her body responded to its delight in its freedom. It was untethered and flying, streaking across the sky.

Cliff stood there, one hip slightly jutted out. Pixie’s eyes dropped to the front of his jeans.

Below the tight material she could just make out the slightest suggestion of his cock, and her whole body erupted with goose flesh. Her breath stopped, started. Her pupils dilated and a fine sheen of sweat covered her body as that heat crested and covered her. He was so damn sexy, commanding even, standing there looking skyward. He could call that wild creature back so easily, and it would come to him.

She held her breath as the bird plunged downward.

Suddenly fear shot through her. What if it came at her with its talons and beak? It would rip her to bits if it wanted to. She froze, unable to move and no idea what to do except cover her head with her arms to protect herself.

Cliff stepped in front of her. It was a casual but incredibly protective gesture that made her feel both protected and heated.

The eagle soared upward again, its massive wings beating. Pixie felt the air from its passing against her flushed cheeks and forehead.

Cliff’s body was right next to hers now. She could smell his cologne and the spicy scent of the shampoo that he used. Her hands lifted and she reached for him, reached for the strong flex of his shoulders. Just as on impulse she had moved toward him, she then dropped her hands. She tore her eyes away from him and looked up again, watching the eagle zoom after its prey. “I thought they couldn’t hunt anymore.”

“Most can’t,” Cliff said. “But this one’s still wild. He’s going to be one of the ones that make it back. They’ve never fed him. They’ve kept him hunting for his dinner. It was hard for a long time because his wings were in really bad shape; someone tried to clip them, probably because they wanted to keep him as a pet, but he managed. He’s a fighter.”

She whispered, “Maybe some things can’t be tamed no matter how badly someone hurts them, trying to tame them.”

He hesitated a moment before answering, “I think so.”

The eagle snatched its prey and flew away to a nearby tree. Cliff waited. She did too. Randy stood at a distance, watching the eagle take its meal. A small bead of sweat ran down Cliff’s face, lodging right above his upper lip. It hovered there, a small salty drop that she wanted to lick away.

Cliff clapped his hands a moment later, oblivious to Pixie staring at his lips. “Braveheart’s done. We have to call him. Do you want to help?”

“Me?” She looked toward the tree. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you. That way you’ll know how to call him the next time.” He put two fingers to his mouth. She watched, fascinated, as he whistled—a long series of short and sharp whistles. The eagle screamed in protest. Cliff whistled again and held his arm up.

The eagle pushed off the branch he sat on and flew a few circles before coming to Cliff, landing on his arm. Randy put the hood back on it and made a few adjustments while Cliff held his arm steady. He asked Pixie, “Do you want to touch him?”

She nodded. She knew her mouth hung open as air gushed in and out with the excitement she felt.

Cliff chuckled. “Easy now. He can’t bite through that hood, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.”

Wonder filled Pixie as she stroked the mighty bird’s feathers for a brief moment. “Do you really think someone cut his wings just to keep him?”

“People will do the damndest things to keep what they want.”

He was right. She should know. She let her hand drop away and Randy took Braveheart onto his wrist; Cliff took the gauntlet off and passed it back. “Thanks again, Randy.”

“No trouble, Cliff. Anytime.” He smiled at Pixie before heading back to Braveheart’s cage. “Nice meeting you too, sweetie.”

“Thanks for letting me watch.” Pixie smiled sincerely, her eyes still trained on Braveheart’s beautiful body. She watched him disappear with Randy into his cage.

Cliff’s hand met her back, down low. Another thrill shot through her body. Her legs shook as he said, “Come on, I’ll show some of the other birds they have here.”

She was hoping he would show her to the nearest bed. She nodded, and he guided her across the ground. They walked a little distance and she stared then burst into laughter. Peacocks strutted and stalked across a large section of ground and she asked, “What are they doing here? Please tell me you don’t feed them to the raptors.”

Cliff shook his head. “No, not at all. They come from farms and everywhere else. Lots of people want them for lawn ornaments but when they figure out they are actual living creatures; they get to be a problem.”

“I see.” She scrutinized his face for a moment and asked, “How do you know about this place?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Oh, Randy’s my uncle.”

“I’m jealous,” she said wistfully. “I wish like hell my family was as cool as yours.”

He turned away from the peacocks. His eyes rested on her face, watching her intently. “I take it they’re not very cool?”

“Hell no. I told you they think almost everything is a sin. They’re also narrow-minded bigots who hate anyone and everyone who doesn’t look like them or believe what they believe.” She shrugged. “Just to sum it up.”