Chapter 6

Sienna's POV

After yesterday, I was looking forward to a calmer day at work. I had a few appointments booked, and then I'd probably take a walk in the park.

I loved my life.

This life I had built for myself out of nothing. That was why I didn't want anyone coming in and trying to upend everything.

I had a shitty apartment, yes, but I was saving little by little and putting it towards a deposit for a house.

I was young and had my life ahead of me. I didn't want anything ruining that life, especially not supernatural creatures.

Call me a coward all you want, but I would prefer if they went back into hiding like they had been my whole life.

I didn't want to know about fucking wolves. I didn't want to know about shifters. I was happy being blissfully ignorant, living the life I had always wanted.

I checked my watch, and my client was running late.

Great. A good way to ruin my day.

I had just three appointments booked today, and they were unfortunately scheduled close to each other, so if one ran late, it would affect the schedule for the whole day.

I waited for twenty more minutes before he showed up.

"I'm so sorry, miss. I had an emergency," the man said as he walked into my store.

He was a lot younger than I thought, especially with his old-sounding name.

Eustus.

Who the fuck in this century bears Eustus?

"So you want a tattoo of a wolf on your shoulder?" I asked, and he nodded.

When I first got the request, I wanted to say no but decided against it.

He was offering pretty good money, and it wasn't far-fetched for a client to ask for that tattoo. I've had people ask for stranger things, so I put aside my suspicions about him being a shifter and took the job.

His name also helped put me at ease. I mean, the name Eustus gave old man, and I figured even if he was a shifter, he was probably too old to give a fuck.

Now that I knew they existed, I was sure I probably had tattooed a few shifters before, so it wasn't a big deal.

Now that I saw he was younger, it only stressed me out more.

Younger men were oftentimes assholes. They were entitled and very handsy, not to mention their insistent obsession with wincing at every stroke of the tattoo gun.

Get a grip, Sienna.

He's paying good money.

I pep-talked myself and got to work.

.......

I was still doing the finishing touches when the second client came in.

She was a woman.

She had booked a consultation and a possible tattoo today if everything went well.

"Hi, welcome in. I'll be done in a while," I said, smiling at her.

"Oh, it's no biggie, go on. I'll just look around," she said, staring at the different pictures of my work I had up on the walls.

I focused back on the tattoo. I was done with the line work and most of the shading, but he would still have to come in for some finishing and defining.

He was a pretty chill client, and that helped a lot with doing his tattoo. He sat still, didn’t wince, and was eager to make sure the tattoo came out great.

I had already read him to be a difficult ass, but he proved me wrong. Again, a lesson to me to not judge a book by its cover.

"Okay, we’re done with our session for the day. You'll have to come in again in a week for the finishing touches," I said to Eustus, putting down the pen.

"Wow, this looks beautiful," the woman said, looking at the tattoo and the sketch on paper.

"Thanks," I said, feeling pride in my work.

"Can I have that?" she pointed to the tattoo, and I opened my mouth and closed it.

God, I hated when this happened.

"Ma'am, we can customize something that fits you even better," I said with my best customer service voice.

"Yeah, no. I want what he has on his arm," she said, pointing again to the client who was putting on his shirt.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we don't do exact copies unless both clients ask for it together. I can give you a variation of what he has," I explained, and she shook her head.

"You're the one doing the tattoo. It shouldn't be hard for you to recreate what you just did. I'm not asking for something difficult. I'm asking you to create exactly what was on his arm," she shrieked angrily.

"Ma'am, this tattoo was designed with the client's personal taste, preference, and body type in mind. If you want something similar, we can design one with you and your aesthetics in mind. Something that you'll both love and enjoy," I explained and offered to her, but she shook her head.

The client was already getting ready to leave.

He dug his hands into his pocket and handed me five hundred-dollar bills.

I stared at them in shock.

Holy fuck.

"I can accept that," I said, staring at them in shock.

Even the woman had shut up to stare.

"That's a tip for doing a great job," he said, and I just stared in awe as I collected the money from him.

I was lying, of course.

I can take the money, and will. I fucking need it. Plus, it's five hundred bucks?

Who wouldn’t?

"Thanks a lot," I said, still in utter shock.

"Can I buy this from you?" he asked, pointing to the sketch I had done for his tattoo.

"You can have it," I said, handing it to him. But he shook his head.

"I'd prefer to buy it," he said, digging his hand through his wallet and bringing out two hundred bucks again.

"Oh, this is too much. I can't take it," I said as I reached for the money and took it.

What!?

Did you really think I'd not take the money?

Come on, I'm poor as fuck. Of course I'd take the money.

He took the sketch and put it in his pocket.

"Thanks for today. See you later," he said and walked out of the store.

Both I and the woman stared after him in silent awe.

"The tattoo," I said, snapping back.

The woman stared at me for a while before walking off out of my parlor.

It was a good thing she left a deposit before coming that I had no plans to refund.

I sat in my empty studio with the money in my hands and cried.

I heard the door ring, announcing someone's entrance.

I turned and saw him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"