Read Savior: A Tattered Club Story (Tattered Social Club Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Pauline Allan
Savior: A Tattered Club Story (Tattered Social Club Series Book 1)
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Savior
Copyright 2016 by Pauline Allan
Cover art by Mina Carter
Formatted by Wizards in Publishing
Published by Sinful Escapes Publishing
Table of Contents
This book is dedicated to the couples who have shared their love against all odds. When others persecuted their choice, they endured and fought for the freedom to love.
Also by Pauline Allan
See Me
Gilded Lily (Book One in the Hot Southern Nights Series)
In His Bed (Forbidden Fantasy Series)
Coming in April: Claiming Dane (Book Two in the Hot Southern Night Series)
Savior
With a violent past, Niko Malikov knows revealing any weakness could be a death sentence. Growing up on the rough city streets was a lesson steeped in violence. He has always been the go-to guy and, now, his successful career at The Tattered Social Club as one of their premier artists has proven anything is possible. Anything but revealing his secret. A secret that would destroy the man he’s become. That unshakeable strength is wounded when a young man walks into the shop wearing a pair of skinny jeans.
Ethan Cohen sold his soul for a bed. With the scars of his past still visible, he’s ready to move on. Nervous and determined, he enters the Tattered Social Club to get a tattoo from the hottest artist in the state. All he wants is a phoenix tattoo, but the gruff bulky guy sitting in the studio has no plan of letting that happen. Ethan knows from the moment they steal that first kiss, the man with the painted skin isn’t ready. Maybe he isn’t either. Against everything his broken heart is whispering he wants. God, he wants to be wrapped in those strong arms, but he’s fighting for freedom with a man unwilling to be free.
So different. Falling into each other’s shadows. The undeniable need. The savior.
SAVIOR
A Tattered Club Story
by
Pauline Allan
CHAPTER ONE
Ethan cringed at the sound of the leather seat groaning as Charles shifted to lean closer. When the man’s dry lips pressed against Ethan’s cheek, he turned, trying to avoid anything more.
Charles sighed, the same sound he made when Ethan disappointed him, which was often these days. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m going to stop by the development before running a few errands. I can’t trust those idiots to run a circus, let alone a project this size.”
With nothing to say, Ethan gripped the door handle and fought back the stinging wetness brimming at the corners of his eyes. The car reminded him of his father. The shiny black exterior and the rich aroma of expensive cologne a looming presence with a statement of wealth. A false sense of superiority destined to keep the masses in their places. He hated this car.
He hated Charles.
The knot in his throat seemed to swell as he tried to swallow. With a trembling hand, he fumbled at first to unlatch the seat belt then stilled his fingers. Remembering why he’d contacted the tattoo shop in the first place coordinated his grip. This time when he pressed, the buckle clicked.
Charles grabbed his biceps, not as hard as he had last night, but making Ethan flinch when his thick fingers dug into the tender bruise. “Nothing trashy. I don’t want that beautiful skin marred for Saturday night.”
Marred? Ethan thought about his thighs, knowing Charles didn’t mind what had been left there. He never cared if the wounds were fresh or faded, whether Ethan had put them there himself or if they were Charles’s handiwork. Saturday nights were reserved for the gentlemen’s club and those assholes never cared either. All the A-listers with fat wallets and wives to escape spent hours fucking and whipping their play partners.
Ethan hated Saturdays, too.
“I won’t get anything offensive,” he half-heartedly promised before slipping out the door.
“Good boy.” God Ethan hated those degrading words, even if they were what he deserved to hear. He shut the door, harder than needed, and stepped back onto the sidewalk. The gentle hum of the engine faded as the car rolled away from the curb. Maybe going back to being broke was going to be tough, but freedom always carried a price.
He pulled the wallet from his back pocket. Standing outside the shop, he counted the twenties he’d taken from the envelope he kept hidden in his room at Charles’s place. Taking the money out of his modest savings probably wasn’t the smartest move, but putting ink on his skin felt right. Getting to this point in his life had been hell, and finding the courage to make it on his own made him want to leave a positive mark as a reminder.
He had too many sad reminders marring several areas already.
With two credible references, he’d made the call to the Tattered Social Club and scheduled a consultation with the hottest artist in the city. Now, standing in front of the large plate glass window his heart pounded against his sternum.
Niko Melikov wasn’t cheap, and he never took on a client without meeting first. Ethan had to respect the man for having such passion for his work. The photos in
Professional Ink
proved the fact.
Ethan looked down the sidewalk. The buildings stood side by side like a mismatched puzzle, a few in various stages of reconstruction, while several remained stuck in the era they’d been designed. A little nervous to be standing on this side of the city, he decided it was probably best to get inside. The area didn’t seem like it would welcome the techno they played downtown at the gay clubs.
The lobby held the heady rustic scent of cloves mixed with the lemon oil soap Maria used to clean the woodwork back home. Framed tattoo samples hung in neatly spaced rows on the crimson colored walls. Ethan wiped the palms of his hands down the front of his jeans. Was he really going to do this?
The leather couches were laden with worn creases as if they’d organically sprouted in the masculine space. Men and women dressed in everything from heavy combat boots to strappy high heels sat on the couches and comfy chairs as they waited for their turn in the back.
A guy emerged from a door behind the glass counter across the room, the brim of his purple-and-gold baseball cap was drawn low, the bill squeezed, molded to the man’s liking. When he looked up at the clients, the fading sunlight from the window caught the side of his face. Ethan’s stomach flipped. The scarred flesh looked raw with pink and white threads riding close to his cobalt-blue eyes. What in the hell had happened?
From the way he suddenly looked away, Ethan figured he’d seen the surprised stare too many times to count. Ethan shot his gaze back to the waiting clients.
“Can I help you?” The woman standing behind the counter tilted her bright-red lips into a warm smile. The deep curls neatly sculpted to frame her apple cheeks seemed to make the question cheerful.
Ethan hesitated, waiting for one foot to prompt the other to make the first move. “Yeah, yes...yes. I have an appointment with Niko Melikov.” Feeling like a total pussy, he forced himself to walk to the counter. “This place is really cool. It’s not what I expected.” He scanned the decorative wood paneling rising halfway up the walls. “The pictures in the magazine didn’t do it justice.”
“Thank you. We love the place. Been in the family for decades. My name is Scarlet.” Her pale pink nails clicked on the keyboard. “New consultation, thirty minutes. Were you interested in an original piece or would you like to pick something from our stock designs?”
Ethan thought about the money he’d stashed in his room at Charles’s house. “I’m not sure.” Figuring there would be no way he could afford to have Mr. Melikov create an original tattoo for the limited budget his part -time paycheck allowed, he added, “Maybe one from the wall?”
A female voice chimed in from behind Ethan. “Do you do piercings? Sorry to butt in, but I have to be back at work in twenty minutes.”
The receptionist curled her lips into a tight grin. “As you can read from the sign on the window, this is a tattoo social club. The words ‘tattoo and piercing social club’ do not appear on the window. So…no, to answer your question.”
The blonde huffed and spun toward the door, mumbling, her platform heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
Ethan smiled. He liked Scarlet with her electric blue hair and feisty attitude, the mix of someone stepping out of a 1950s-inspired graphic novel. “I assume you get that request a lot?”
“Ugh, yes. The Professor refuses to add a piercing service. We’re overbooked as it is. At least two women come strutting in here every day wanting something obscene pierced.” She shuddered and laughed. “Anyway, you’re welcome to take a look at the designs on the wall to get an idea of what you’d like. As for the prices, they range depending on the design, colors, time involved. I have to tell you, other than The Professor, Niko has the highest prices. All of our artists are phenomenal, but Niko is in a stratosphere of his own. You can discuss prices and such during your appointment. He should be ready in about ten minutes.”
Ethan, tucked his hands in his pockets wondering what kind of guy would call himself The Professor? Figuring it’d be rude to rude to ask, he just nodded. “Thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. There’s coffee in the nook over there and sodas in the glass fridge next to the table. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Ethan fought the urge to turn and run for the door. Courage was his new friend and now was the right time to embrace the feeling. In a few weeks he was going to start a new life, one of independence and no compromising his self-worth. This was going to be the perfect way to do it with a bang.
He started searching the frames on the wall near the corner where a set of glass shelves housed a display of cigar boxes. Several looked new while others were so worn he could barely make out the names scrolled across the lids.
The colorful samples organized on the wall varied in color, size, and character. Some looked vintage with blue sparrows clutching bright-red twisted ribbons in their beaks. Ethan almost laughed at the macho tigers ready to attack. Black panthers, scrolling thick tribal lines, and flowers galore painted the pages.
Maybe an orange and yellow koi fish would look good? He’d read somewhere they signified a new start. The article might have been bogus, but the way the fish looked like it was weaving through water seemed really cool.
He stepped to the side, overwhelmed with the rainbow of colorful prints. The bright yellow and orange feathers spread wide from the body of a phoenix caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if pretty was the right description, but it was the first one to spark his imagination. The phoenix was probably the better choice. Besides, choosing a design off the wall had to be much cheaper than having a custom tattoo.
“Don’t tell me you want the Chinese symbol for strength tattooed above your ass crack, because I don’t do shit like that.”
Ethan shrugged with a silent laugh. He had no intention of having any writing on his body he couldn’t understand. “No.” The artist standing behind him had to be Niko Malikov. Ethan turned around. “I was thinking about a phoen—” When his eyes met the exposed skin stretched over bunched shoulders and thick biceps, the knot in his throat was back.
