Page 46 of Brutal Reign
To be fair, I didn’t identify River’s oddly specific flavor of chapstick by the way it tasted when we kissed. She’s been carrying that shit around for years, and details are kinda my thing. But I’ll let her believe whatever she wants, too.
“Prove it,” Seb challenges, licking his lips as he steps into her space. “Dare you.”
What the fuck is he doing?
River slaps a palm against his chest, shoving him back. “What the hell is your problem?”
“C’mon, it’s not like we haven’t done it before,” he drawls, hooking a thumb in my direction. “Or would you prefer to kiss Acey boy?”
She shakes her head, scoffing, “Never gonna happen.”
“Again, you mean,” I mumble.
She hits me with the same icy glare she just flayed Seb with.Good. Not only do I deserve it, but this is the way it needs to be, and we can’t lose sight of that just because she’s now invading our everyday life.
“Fuck you guys,” River growls, shoulder-barging between us to stomp off down the aisle.
“Only if you ask nicely!” Seb calls after her tauntingly.
I whack him on the arm, giving a little shake of my head.
Enough is enough. We’ve already accomplished what we set out to do; there’s no point in adding more fuel to the fire.
We both shamelessly stare at her ass while she walks away, mesmerized by the sway of her hips in her faded blue jeans. This whole thing would be a hell of a lot easier if River wasn’t a goddamn smoke show. Seb lifts a fist to his mouth, biting down on it with a groan as she disappears from sight.
“That went well,” I mutter, thrusting the pack of tweezers at his chest.
Seb grabs for it, brow furrowing. “What? We said…”
“I know what we said,” I interrupt, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket. I finger the joint resting in there, suddenly needing a hit more than ever. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You think I do?” he scoffs.
“Nah,” I grumble, shaking my head. “I think we’re both fucked.”
The gentle humof the tattoo gun is like a balm to my soul as it vibrates in my grasp, my wrist flicking in well-practiced movements as the needle deposits ink beneath Seb’s skin. When I came up here to join him at training camp, I didn’t give up my pursuit of tattoo artistry altogether. I simply hit pause on the formal training, bringing my kit along with me so I could try to get some practice in during downtime.
This is the first time I’ve had the chance to get it out, and it’s exactly what I need. The ritual of tattooing relaxes me. That’swhy I’ve got so much ink on my own skin– each design was a cathartic release, every image telling its own story. The more detailed pieces were my dad’s creations, done in his signature Callum Conway style, while I’m still working to hone my own unique aesthetic. With practice, I hope my designs will be as recognizable as his are someday.
This skull I’ve been inking on Seb’s bicep is one of the more detailed pieces I’ve attempted. If he had the patience to sit for a full session, it would’ve been finished long ago, but instead I’ve just been working on it slowly over time. He said he wants a full sleeve eventually, but at this rate, he’ll be an old man upon completion.
A lot of the recruits are up here in the lounge with us tonight. This week of squad drills has been intense, but with the promise of the full moon tomorrow, we’re all in good spirits and eager for the weekend reprieve from training camp. Not everyone’s going back home– my buddies and I have decided to stay here and run with the Goldenleaf pack to change things up– but even so, the prospect of having a couple days off has relieved some of the tension that’s always weighting this place down.
I lift the needle from Seb’s skin, wiping the excess ink off with a cloth and taking a second to admire my artwork, my eyes tracing over every delicate line.
“You done?” he asks, craning his neck to peer down at his arm.
“Not quite,” I murmur, chewing my lip in consideration for a moment before diving back in to tackle more of the shading. Even though I’m in the zone, that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to everything around me. I’m always acutely aware of my surroundings, and there’s a lot to pay attention to here in the lounge.
Beau and Eli are seated on the couch across from us, the two of them mashing the buttons of the Playstation controllers intheir grasp while trying to pull out the win in the street racing game they’re playing. Chandler and her posse are across the room, while River and her friends have taken up residence on the sofas in the back corner, talking quietly amongst themselves.
I lift the needle from Seb’s skin again as I see Jake striding across the lounge in River’s direction, pausing to watch him approach her out of the corner of my eye.
“Hey Riv, you goin’ home tomorrow?” Jake asks.
The closer he gets, the more rigid her posture becomes, though her demeanor is deceptively casual as she replies, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Want a ride?” Jake drawls smoothly. “I was thinking of leaving here around three.” He turns to Hayden, adding, “You can catch a ride with us too, if ya want.”