Somehow, the praise affected Noah more than it ought to, bringing on a sense of pride not often felt. The needle stung a bit, coming nowhere close to true pain. Every few minutes, Slade stopped to swipe away blood, his hands encased in gloves.
“You don’t have to wear gloves, you know,” Noah murmured.
“I need to maintain appearances.” Eventually, Slade stopped, turning off the buzzing machine. “Take a look. See what you think.” He held a hand mirror by Noah’s ankle. A perfect paw print, slightly red around the edges, now graced his ankle.
Damn. Awesome! A smile spread across Noah’s face. A tattoo. He had a tattoo! “That’s so cool.” His smile fell. “Wish I could keep it.”
“Well, if you don’t mind me reapplying after every shift, you could.”
A nice thought, but constant reapplication meant staying with Slade, with hunters possibly on their heels. Noah couldn’t be selfish enough to put his rescuer in harm’s way.
“Well, at least think about it. Hey! You’ve stopped bleeding already. The piece looks a few days old. We’ll have to be careful about your healing abilities if you come with me. I was going to wrap your leg, but you don’t seem to need the normal aftercare. I’ll put ointment on.”
Once more, super careful fingers caressed Noah’s skin. He shivered.
“Cold?” Slade asked. “You can get dressed if you want to, but go easy on the leg. Or do you want to shift now?”
Once more, Noah studied Slade, who didn’t appear expectant, curious, or anything else Noah might have expected. “I’ll shift now if you don’t mind.”
“Would you like me to leave the room?”
Would Noah like that? He’d only ever shifted in front of Paul. Never a human, except for the hunters. “If you don’t mind.”
Not a bit of disappointment came from Slade. “Okay. While you’re taking care of business, I’ll go get the steak dinner I promised you. I’ll be back in a few.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Noah curled on his side on the bed, imagining gray fur, a long nose, and four paws. He looked through different eyes at the room a moment later, hopping down from the bed and crossing the room to Slade’s. Laying his head on the pillow, he took a big whiff: soap, cologne, shampoo, and something purely Slade. Then, committing the scent to memory, Noah leaped from one bed to the next and willed himself human. He promptly collapsed. Damn. Shifting twice in a row wore him out.
He’d dressed by the time Slade returned, food trays and drinks in hand. Ah, the scent! Pure heaven. Noah’s stomach rumbled.
Slade laughed. “Gotta feed the beast, right?” His smile fell. “I didn’t insult you, did I?”
How strange and unlike what Noah previously believed of humans. Slade cared for Noah’s feelings. “It’s okay. The last thing I want is for you to be watching what you say around me.”
“No, I reckon not.” Slade laid the meals out on the table. “C’mon, let’s eat.”
He didn’t ask about the tattoo or Noah’s shift until after the steaks were gone, the trays discarded, and Noah sat on his bed, propped against the headboard.
“Can I?” Slade asked, pointing at the ankle, now covered by sweatpants.
Noah lifted the leg of his sweatpants, showing clean skin. He missed the wolf’s paw already.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Under his breath, Slade added. “Oh, no. Too late.” To Noah, he said, “I believe I’ve found the best canvas ever.”
Why did a few words of praise make Noah want to purr like a cat?
Chapter Sixteen
Noahlayonhisstomach on a tattoo bed, shirtless, gripping the table edges above his head, but not hard enough to show distress. Slade probably watched for discomfort. About five people gathered around.
Humans watching caused more unease than expected. Slade’s occasional gentle touch—a stroke to the shoulder, a pat to the arm—calmed both Noah and his wolf.
“You don’t use a stencil?” a woman asked.
Slade’s grumbling voice also provided comfort, drawled words unhurried, like a slow caress down the spine. “No. I do most of my work free hand. Normally I work out the design ahead of time. My model wants a dragon and left the pattern up to my discretion.” Noah had signed forms in an unreadable scrawl before getting started.
A firm hand stroked Noah’s upper back. Slade’s, based on the combination of calluses, tender touch, and response from Noah’s wolf, who quite liked Slade’s attention. Noah tuned out as Slade explained about ink and needles, focusing on the timbre of Slade’s voice and his touch. The now-familiar buzzing started.
Slade leaned close to ask, “Are you ready?”