Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(104)

So, his best friend and former publicist, Liam, was brought on to scout talent. Aiden produces, and Callie takes care of the business aspect of things. They’re small but growing steadily; enough that last month, Symposium called with an offer to buy them out of business.

Aiden refused, of course, and now Orphic Productions is handling the relaunching of Calliope Santiago’s pop career.

My thighs tingle as the tattoo gun flickers on, and tendrils of anticipation stretch through my limbs. The design takes approximately six hours, and by the time it’s done, pain radiates up my side. The artist slathers me in antibacterial ointment and wraps it, and I resituate my clothing before heading out.

It’s dark now, which is my preferred time of day to venture into public. My return to King’s Trace was met with about as much fanfare as my fake death—so, none, essentially. I sometimes wonder if anyone even really registered that I’d “died” in the first place.

We’d released a small press statement after Mellie was taken away, explaining what had happened three years ago, and that seemed to sate most curiosity on the subject.

Still, on occasion, people will turn and stare, maybe a little longer than necessary. And while before that may have made me cower, now I just let it happen, aware that the only thing I can control in life is my own personal thoughts and feelings.

And my scars, while not pleasant to look at, are mine. I won’t let anyone else’s reproach dictate how I feel about them any longer.

The only one whose opinion on the subject that matters would never make me feel bad about them, anyway.

Besides, acceptance comes from within. Having someone around to remind me of that is nice, but my worth is supposed to start with me.

At least, that’s what I tell myself. Sometimes I still want to hide, to protect my brain and heart from more pain.

It’s not always easy, but I’m trying, and that’s what matters to me.

Parking outside the house, I notice the lights are on in the bedroom; not wanting to block our view of the lake, Aiden refuses to ever close the curtains, which means the wildlife is often an unfortunate witness to our frequent trysts against the window, or on the floor in front of the bed, or whatever surface he can pin me to.

Aiden James is insatiable, and he doesn’t take well to separation from me.

Then again, neither do I. It’s been three days, and my core is already clenching wantonly as I head inside and up the stairs.

He’s just getting out of the shower when I walk into the bedroom, my toes sinking into the plush white carpet. His back is to me, and I take a second to admire the colorful smattering of images etched into his skin, soaking in the fact that I get to stare at them for the rest of my life.

Chin tilted up, he’s studying the painting hanging above the bed, eyes narrowed, but his back muscles tense when I enter, so in tune with me that he knows before I’ve even said anything.

“I don’t know if I like this here,” he says, turning to face me as I approach. I push up on my toes, and he threads his fingers through my pink hair, angling my face so he can press a hungry kiss to my lips.

“You bought it,” I say against his mouth. His tongue flicks out, and my clit pulses at the promise of what’s to come.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I want the reminder of Caleb in our bedroom.”

I snort, rolling my eyes as he deepens the kiss. He’ll never admit it, but he and Caleb became pretty good friends in the recent months; we take turns flying out once a month to visit, and the two have bonded over art in its various forms.

He even commissioned Caleb for album artwork.

It was awkward at first, coming clean to Lunar Cove about my real identity, but they moved on pretty easily, accepting Riley Kelly without too much fuss. Well, all except Mrs. Lindholm, who still looks at me like I’m a demon when I visit.

Aiden grunts, snaking his free hand around my waist, tugging me into him. When I wince, he retreats, scowling down at me. “What were you doing at a tattoo shop today?”

I quirk a brow. “Are you stalking me again, boyfriend?”

His nostrils flare, possessiveness rearing its head in those stormy eyes. “Always, pretty girl. You know I’ll never stop.”

My body hums, electricity zinging through me with his words. Maybe his obsession shouldn’t please me as much as it does, but part of why we work so well is that we’re both fucked in the head. Equally tangled up in one another.

Pushing away from him, I lean back on the bed and spread my legs, teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Undress me and find out why I was there.”

Dropping to his knees quickly, Aiden’s ringed fingers glide up my thighs, flipping my skirt back to my waist. He dips his head to my pussy, licking my seam once, before the plastic wrap on my hip catches his attention.

Reaching up, he slowly peels the cover away, revealing the two-headed serpentine design that starts at the corner of my thigh and stretches over the scar there, incorporating it so that you almost can’t even tell the skin beneath is mangled at all.

It winds around the angel tattoo he gave me, bright purples and greens and blacks that I fall in love with all over again when he unveils it.

“My logo?” he says, tracing the inflamed edges almost reverently.

I smile, letting my head fall back on the mattress. “Seemed fitting, considering you gave me the idea.”

A strained sound tears from Aiden’s chest, and he crawls up my body, peppering kisses along the way.