Inside Out
Inside Out
Rowyn Ashby
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (
http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/
).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
Inside Out
Copyright © 2012 by Rowyn Ashby
ISBN: 978-1-937976-95-8
Edited by Rachel Firasek
Cover by Mina Carter
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: October 2012
~ Dedication ~
All my gratitude goes to the amazing romance writer Elizabeth Jennings. She inspires me on a daily basis, along with our international writing buddies from her Women’s Fiction Festival in Matera, Italy. Thank you, FGM.
Also, a great big thanks to the powerhouse Christine Witthohn for her famous Brainstorming retreats. Your drive is contagious.
Thanks also to Annie Melton, Executive Editor at Etopia Press, and my editor, Rachel Firasek, for believing in this project and cheering me on. You ladies make magic!
And of course, my husband, ever supportive. I love you.
Chapter One
The darker side of South-east London, England. April.
With her cello case strapped to her back, Olivia Hart bit her lower lip, squinted up at the neon sign that read Skin Deep Tattoos
,
and plunged into the unknown. The sound of the bell jangle startled her, and she stumbled over the threshold, almost gagging at the breeze of strong, chemical scents blasting her face. The aroma brought to mind an enchantress’ love potion brewing for her next victim.
A single, naked bulb swaying from the ceiling lit the place, casting shadows that crept back and forth across the walls in an eerie dance. A battered, brown sofa sat askew opposite the entrance like an ominous roadblock. Cases topped with red velvet and covered with all sorts of handmade trinkets ranging from crystals to keepsake chests lined the walls. Music boxes of every color, shape, and size claimed their places between the crafts.
One in particular caught her attention, and she gingerly lifted the lid. Inside stood a ballerina, her raised arms held back long, black hair that fluttered as she turned. Beautifully etched features hinted at a story of sadness. A strange sensation played in Olivia’s chest, like when she tried a piece of music for the first time but felt she already knew it.
She had fallen down the rabbit hole into a different, arcane world where the street noises disappeared, leaving an unnatural silence. The essence of madness practically screamed inside her head. A warning sensation of imagined signs reading
Get Out
bounced in red block letters off all four of the black, narrow walls. Olivia shuddered. Something about this place compelled her, yet she wanted to go home.
She had to stop being such a geek and get on with it.
“Are you lost, princess?”
Olivia whirled around at the sound of a husky, female voice. An exotic face towered over an amazing body, materializing where only a moment ago there was nothing, almost as if she had seeped out of the wall. The woman stood tall and sensual, in an in-your-face way that was reinforced by the black nail polish on the tips of her slender hands. Her pierced eyebrow added a bit of bling to her ensemble. Chunky metal bracelets cuffed her wrists, and although Olivia didn’t see any tattoos, she had a feeling that under her skintight leather suit lurked a whole showcase of ink art.
A closer look at the wall behind the woman revealed a dark curtain concealing an opening, and Olivia wondered whether this was more of a black magic shop than a tattoo parlor.
With one last glance at the ballerina, she squared her shoulders. “G-good morning.” She hated the catch in her voice. Sensual women made her feel like blasted Cinderella—before the fancy ball.
The sex bomb passed a slow glance up and down Olivia’s body. “What’s a delicate blossom like you doing in this den of sinners?”
That was an easy question. She wanted her husband to stop treating her like a porcelain doll in bed and would give anything for him to let go and show her his
real
side.
Olivia hesitated and tried to shake the strange feeling of déjà-vu nagging her. “I’d like to get a tattoo done, please.”
The pierced eyebrow shot up, and a sly smile lit up her beautiful face. “You?”
Olivia nodded, her cheeks heating. A tattoo would boost her confidence. It had to. Her marriage needed it.
“You realize that tattoos are forever, yeah?” The woman’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
Olivia smiled. “Hopefully, so is my marriage.”
“So, you’re doing it for a bloke?” Catwoman shook her head. “Blimey. Centuries pass, but some things never change.”
Olivia cringed beneath the other woman’s gaze. Yes, she wasn’t exactly tattoo material, but she couldn’t think of anything better. She’d tried the baby-doll nighties, the strawberries, and champagne, but in bed, Shane kept treating her with the utmost delicacy. Not that she wanted to be handled like a hussy. And while the sex blew her away, Olivia wanted to see his darker side. She’d caught a hint of it a time or two when he slipped—which wasn’t nearly often enough. He kept it hidden beneath his impenetrable control. Olivia wanted to see Shane
unleashed
.
“Right.” The woman in black passed along a three-ring binder. “Here’s the book. Take a look, and tell me what you want and where, or if you’ve got anything specific in mind.”
“I’ve no idea, but I’d like something original. Something that will—”
The beautiful brunette watched her with a strange light in her eyes. “Wake your man up?”
“Oh, he’s awake.” Olivia giggled softly as the heat in her cheeks turned to fire. “I’m the problem. I’d like to be more…uninhibited.”
“And you think a little ink’s gonna do the trick?”
Olivia shrugged. “It’s a start.”
Catwoman rolled her eyes. “Right. Where do you want it?”
“How about something on the inside of my wrist or ankle?”
“
Christ,
that’ll do wonders for your sex life.” The sarcasm dripped from her painted lips. “How about black and blue spikes around your nipple?”
Olivia gulped. “I beg your pardon?”
Catwoman twisted her lips and shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Maybe an arrow pointing to your love nest?”
Sweat began to form on Olivia’s upper lip, and she instinctively swung her gaze to the door. Maybe she should go home and forget the whole crazy idea.
“Look at this,” the brunette commanded, moving her thick mane off her nape and leaning over. She ran her index finger over the bold lettering laced over her skin. “This is my name in Sanskrit. Hunter.”
“Oh.” Olivia stuck her hand across the counter. “Olivia. Pleased to meet you.”
Hunter stretched her fingers out before her, but only to show her another tattoo on her wrist. “And this,” Hunter pointed at another marking, “is my zodiac sign. Leo.”
“Oh, I’m a Leo too. I was born—”
“This rose here”—Hunter continued to ignore her, pointing at the tiny black blotch above her breast—“is…oh, who am I kidding? I know what
you
need.”
As Olivia watched in horror, Hunter unzipped her suit, shoved down the tight leather to stand completely naked except for a skimpy, black thong. She had an amazing body and obviously loved to show it off. The honey-colored eyes and long hair were a bonus. Now from this woman, she could learn a thing or two.
“Tattoos are the gateway to good sex. They drive the blokes wild,” Hunter’s husky voice caressed Olivia’s ears. “Have been since the beginning of time.”
Hunter grinned while Olivia glanced around the room, trying to look at anything other than the naked beauty in front of her, but the girl incarnated perfection from her pointy breasts, down her flat tummy, over round but slim hips, and to her long and lean legs. Olivia groaned inwardly at her own round thighs and not quite petite bottom. She tried to think of an excuse to leave. Staying was pointless. Not even the sexiest tattoo in the world could make her look—or act—like Hunter. Not even if she died and went to sex heaven.
Hunter turned her butt toward Olivia, bending at the hip, laughing at Olivia’s gasp. “Perfection, isn’t it? I know. Good genes. This tattoo,” she said, wiggling her bottom, “is an original. The only one in the world. It’s a magical tattoo.”
Olivia raised one arched brow. “Magic?”
“Don’t look so skeptical, Blondie. My Caspian great-grandmother was a sorceress.”
Olivia leaned over as close as her upbringing allowed her, and studied the intricate pattern on Hunter’s left cheek. “What does it mean?”
“It’s a prayer for sexual prowess. Not that I need it.”
“How positively extraordinary,” Olivia whispered. “But of course it’s not real magic, is it? I mean—”
“Not real magic?” Hunter scoffed. “You think I’m wasting my time here, then?”
“No, of course not, I meant… Will it give me confidence?”
Hunter eyed her from upside down through her thighs. “Do I look like a shrinking violet to you?”
“No, but…”
Hunter straightened, stuffed her arms back into her sleeves, and zipped up her leather suit. “It’s always the same story. Women say they want to change, but haven’t got the balls to go through with it. I don’t think you’re ready for something this big.”
“Oh, but I am.” Olivia stepped closer. “Please. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want to be different. Sexy.”
Hunter studied her. “Be careful what you wish for. This tattoo could change your life. More than you imagine.”
Olivia watched the sorceress’s prodigy. Lost in the depths of those spellbinding eyes, again, Olivia got that strange sensation of familiarity. The very air seemed still as they assessed each other.
How had she even made it here? Plumstead was a long way from Canary Wharf—in miles and in lifestyle. What had possessed her to take the bus and get off
here
? How did she even know where to find a tattoo shop? And when had she decided to get a tattoo? When she left for cello practice this morning, she was perfectly fine, albeit for the odd, compelling sensation. Like someone had guided her to this place.
Hunter represented everything Olivia had always wanted to be—tall, dark, sexy, and confident. The tingles along her skin alerted her again as she hesitated for a brief moment, took off her cashmere wool coat and dress ensemble, and shimmied out of her lace panties under Hunter’s amused stare. Shane was worth the humiliation and the pain. Anything would be better than this restless unease.
Hunter buzzed away on Olivia’s butt for what felt like hours, but was closer to only one. The pain wasn’t near as bad as she’d feared. And that was great, because Olivia had never tolerated it well.
“Am I sexy, yet?” Olivia forced a giggle over her shoulder as Hunter dabbed at her butt cheek in between the pricks.
Hunter glared at her. “Don’t mock the magic of my ancestors.”
Olivia sobered immediately. “Sorry.”
Her gaze wandered around the black walls that were bare except for a portrait of a woman. Long, black hair framed an oval face with high, Asian cheekbones. Hunter’s own honey-colored eyes shone back from the canvas, so intense Olivia had to look away. She saw Hunter watching her with the same powerful stare and slightly shifted.
“Don’t move,” Hunter ordered.
“Sorry. That’s a nice portrait of you. Whoever painted it must be madly in love with you.”
Hunter’s brow furrowed in concentration as she worked, not looking up. “Love, me? Ha. That’s Zhaniya, my great-grandmother. And the painter is
her
lover. She posed for that the night before she killed him.”
“Oh, my.”
“He cheated on her, and she drowned him in the Caspian Sea.”
“Talk about a problem solver. And this happened before or after her love tattoo?”
Hunter pursed her lips. “Don’t be flippant. She regretted it immediately.”
Olivia blushed. “Sorry. Do go on.”
