Grace's Eternal Ink Vow

The needle's hum faded into memory, but Grace's blue eyes burned brighter now, pulling me back to Eternal Needle. Her lavender waves framed a face no longer trembling—sweet innocence sharpened by desire. She stepped through the door, sketchbook in hand, whispering vows of ink and skin that promised to etch us together forever. My pulse raced; this was no fleeting buzz. This was eternal. The chime of the door cut through the low hum of my tattoo machine, and there she was again—Grace, my Grace, stepping into Eternal Needle like she owned the shadows under the neon glow. Her lavender waves caught the light, framing those wide blue eyes that had haunted me since her first trembling visit. She wore a simple black tank and skirt that hugged her petite frame, but it was the sketchbook clutched in her hands that made my chest tighten. Remy lounged against the counter, his smirk as oily as ever, wiping ink from his fingers. 'Back for more, sweetheart? I told you, Jax's lines are amateur hour. Let me finish what he started.' His voice dripped with that false charm, eyes raking over her like she was fresh canvas. Grace didn't even glance his way. She crossed the shop in three determined steps, her fair skin flushing just a touch at the cheeks. 'No, Remy. I'm here for Jax. Only Jax.' Her words landed soft but unyielding, slicing through his ploy like a fresh needle. I felt a surge of pride, hot and possessive, watching her choose me right there in the open. Remy scoffed, pushing off the counter. 'Your funeral, doll.' He grabbed his jacket and sauntered out, the door slamming behind him. The shop fell quiet, just the buzz of the fluorescents and our breathing. I pulled out a stool for her,...