Only Skin Deep: Paranormal MMM Romance, page 1
Only Skin Deep
ENCHANTED INK
BOOK ONE
KELEX
A TWISTED E-PUBLISHING BOOK
Only Skin Deep
Enchanted Ink, 1
Copyright © 2023 by Kelex
Edited by Marie Medina
Proofread by Alexis Woods
First E-book Publication: August 2023
Cover design by Natasha Snow © 2023
Logo copyright © 2023 Twisted E-Publishing, LLC.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Coming August 2023
Coming September 2023
Also by Kelex
About the Author
Welcome to the world of Enchanted Ink! For a price, master tattooists can place a beautiful spell directly onto your skin. Want to be wealthy? Beautiful? Loved? You’ve come to the right place. Just make sure the price you’ll pay is worth it, as the cost isn’t always in gold.
Luca Galioto can tattoo just about any spell, but his specialty is healing tattoos. He’ll need to create his masterpiece when his mate, and Salem PD detective Ash Montgomery brings in a human suffering a demon’s curse to end all curses. Luca uses every ounce of strength to save the man—especially when they both sense he’s their third.
Colby Kennedy doesn’t believe in witches, demons, fated mates, and the things that go bump in the night. Yet he struggles to ignore the all-consuming lust slamming into him every time he looks at Luca and Ash. No matter his need, he has his brother to care for and a business to run. He doesn’t have time for nonsense.
The demons won’t stop coming for Colby, putting everything he holds dear in jeopardy. When he’s forced to admit he needs Luca and Ash’s help, it draws them ever closer—but can he accept their world and his place in it before it’s too late?
Author’s Note
Trigger Warning
In this story, you’ll meet Daniel, a young man living with Down syndrome. He has a starring role and I absolutely adore this character—I think you will, too. I asked a disability sensitivity reader to read it prior to publishing to hopefully ensure that his character was treated respectfully.
There are a couple of scenes where a minor character uses a slur, and it is refuted IMMEDIATELY.
Using the r-word—or any other slur—isn’t cool, but sometimes we write characters who are assholes. Assholes who care little about morality. We know these people and run into them out in the real world. It makes sense that they exist in our fictional worlds at times, too.
Maybe one day slurs and the assholes who use them will be a thing of the past. Organizations like Spread the Word to End the Word are out there working to help make that happen.
First of all, thanks go out to Taylor, Rachel, and a ton of folks who attended GayRomLit 2022. You were the spark for this series and I hope we’ve given you what you wanted.
Secondly, I want the world to know just how much I adore JP Sayle. We’ve spent months messaging and brainstorming, had many, many video conferences, and built a world bible that’s growing every single day.
Can’t wait to walk the streets of Salem with you in October, my friend.
And lastly, many, many thanks go out to Mat for taking the time to read this story—even though they were ill—to ensure Daniel’s starring role was as badassed as possible.
Chapter
One
Mondays were the worst. For that reason, Luca Galioto typically took them off. The weekends were always the busiest, with Enchanted Ink full of people and the energy high. He fed off that chaotic vibe. The shop was full then, between clients coming and going, and the lookie-loos, checking out the binders full of artwork or scanning the bright runes covering the walls.
Mondays were like walking into a morgue. Yet there he was, walking in on his day off.
For a good cause, he reminded himself.
The best of causes.
The bell above the lintel rang as he opened the door around half past noon. And it was as bad as he’d expected. The lone pair of tourists in the waiting area turned to gawk at him instead of the runes on the walls. The first-floor apprentices were lollygagging about, most of them lying across their tattoo chairs, reading on their phones, or simply staring into space. One noted his glare and started an avalanche of greetings sent his way.
Luca offered a nod and a wave to the apprentices and then snarled playfully at the couple staring at him as he passed. He sidled up to the front desk, where Atlas, their receptionist and researcher extraordinaire, hooked a thumb toward the elevator, never looking up from the screen of his phone.
“She’s early.”
Luca chuckled, grabbing the messages Atlas slapped on the counter for him. “She always is.”
Atlas barely glanced up from whatever he was watching. “I took her up. She’s waiting in your studio.”
“Thanks.” He scanned the little slips of pink before glancing up. “How’d she look today?”
“Tired.” Atlas finally gave Luca his full attention, his standard scowl relaxing. “Be prepared.”
Luca steeled himself, worried about what he might find when he arrived in his private studio. The front door swung open, sunlight spilling in. Their gawkers disappeared, and another couple entered to take their place. He observed the apprentices and whipped his head in their direction, giving them his best ‘somebody help them’ look.
Doyle was the first who jumped up and shuffled toward the couple. He gave Luca a grin and a wink, ever the flirt.
“That boy has the hots for you,” Atlas murmured.
“Yeah, well… the feeling isn’t mutual.” Luca had never responded to Doyle’s flirtation, and wouldn’t, especially after Ash mentioned it. If it was overt enough that his mate noticed, then it wasn’t all in his head as he’d originally chalked it up to be. Now Atlas?
“If you want me to, I’ll tell him to lay off.”
“Nah… leave it be for now.” He wasn’t sure if mentioning it might make it worse. The guy would eventually get the hint, right? Although, it had already been months. Luca lifted his gaze to Atlas, ignoring the situation. “Who’s watching the kids today?” Luca probably shouldn’t have asked—he didn’t want the job. The apprentices wore him out with their constant barrage of questions, but it didn’t appear anyone was keeping tabs on them at that moment.
“Cassius. He’s around here somewhere.”
“Cassius? Why’s he doing it?” Their strong-willed leader rarely took the apprentices under his wing anymore. He was often too busy with other matters.
One of Atlas’ brows rose, his gaze trained on his phone. “You want to take over?”
“Nope. Better get upstairs.”
“That’s what I thought!” Atlas yelled over one shoulder as Luca escaped toward the elevator.
He reread the messages in his hand as he waited while the elevator beeped along its descent. From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.
Doyle.
Again.
Turning his back, he focused on the messages—a new client and a returning one ready to get onto his schedule. The elevator door opened, and he walked inside, ignoring the stare he sensed on his back. As soon as the doors closed, he breathed easier.
Maybe I should have Atlas speak to him.
Better yet, Ash. A smile flashed across his lips at the image of his mate judiciously threatening Doyle into compliance.
Luca traveled up to the third floor, where his private studio was located, and jumped off the elevator. Only apprentices worked the first. The master tattooists each had their own private studios on the second and third. Once in his, he discovered Mrs. Stephenson napping in his tattoo chair.
He stood in the doorway and smiled, deciding to let her sleep a little longer. Atlas had been right. The heavy dark circles under her eyes stood out even more against her pale alabaster skin. She’d lost weight, he was sure of it. Her cheekbones were sharper, her clothes baggier. After a deep breath to calm his nerves, he washed his hands and arms, prepped his tools and inks, and whispered an ancient rite for strength before gently waking her.
“Oh?” Her lashes fluttered as she sat up. “Did I doze off?”
Luca sat on the rolling stool beside his chair. He gave her his most winning smile, refusing to show a single ounce of the concern he felt screaming in his veins. “It’s all good. Gave me time to prepare. ” He smiled. “How’re you doing? It’s been a while.”
“I’m doing well,” she clearly lied. “How are you?”
Luca bit his tongue a few seconds before speaking. All his life, he’d been accused of being too blunt. Diplomacy wasn’t in his DNA, so he avoided confrontation unless it was absolutely necessary. For her, he’d do his damnedest to avoid being insensitive and not call out her fudging of the truth. “I’m good, thanks. I assume we’re back for a touch-up?”
“Yep,” she murmured, unbuttoning her blouse without further preface.
She swept it open, no longer ashamed of the thickened mastectomy scars she bore. He surveyed the tattoo he’d created, where the swell of one breast had once been. The faded lines were so faint that they were practically gone, and he knew then that she was not fine at all.
Biting the inside of his lip, he fought the frown coming to his face, sure he lost that battle. “You should’ve come in sooner.”
She turned her face away. “I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Life… it got in the way. I've had my hands full with my family.”
He sensed it was a lie—or at best, an exaggeration of the truth—but wouldn’t press her further. It would do no good. Only the touch-up would.
“At least you’re here.” He forced a big smile. “Ready?”
“I am.”
He adjusted his chair before he went to work. Luca laid the first black line along the upper swell of Mrs. Stephenson’s chest, reconstructing the faded tattoo he’d given her at least six times before. The first experience had been uncomfortable. Seeing his old seventh-grade teacher with her shirt open was not what he ever would’ve envisioned while sitting in her class all those years ago, but then there was no way he could’ve imagined where his life would take him back then.
For the next four hours, Mrs. Stephenson chatted about the general state of the world, her kids, her grandchildren, and her neighbor’s adorable dog that came to visit her every afternoon since she’d become ill—a visit she was sadly missing because of their appointment—and how much she missed teaching since she’d been forced to retire.
Luca talked very little. He poured his heart and soul into that tattoo, giving her everything he had to spare. She deserved that, and more.
When it was done, he coated his work in the soothing salve Oz made right there in the shop. She wouldn’t need anything else. He was a healer. His tattoos mended within minutes. He helped her from the chair and led her to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. One recessed light flooded the spot, illuminating the swirling lines of his refreshed work. It was new again, pulsing with life. Her eyes misted over as she eyed his work. “Beautiful, as always.”
He struggled with his own emotions. Mrs. Stephenson had been his safe place. The thought that she wasn’t safe nearly broke him. The cancer grew too powerful.
She turned to wrap her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I adore you. You know that, right?”
Luca swallowed the lump in his throat. “Back atcha,” he said, his voice catching.
When she stepped back to smile up at him, he noted a bit of her color returning. The circles under her eyes didn’t seem as dark, either, but that might only be his imagination. He was desperate to see her well.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small coin bag. “I realize it’s not much, but I want you to have this. Please take it this time.”
“No,” Luca murmured, lifting a hand. He sensed the gold and silver inside. Pure. “You keep that and spend it on your grandkids.”
Her hand dropped. “Luca… I'm aware all magic comes at a price.”
Luca watched the swirling magic of her tattoo, the glow brightening as it settled over her skin. Yes, all magic had a price, but she wasn’t paying it. She would never pay it, at least, not from him.
“I won’t take your money.”
“If I’m not paying the cost, I understand who is…”
Luca smiled, refusing to reply. Mrs. Stephenson’s entire family was witches—one of the chief covens in Salem. Generations of her ancestors, her parents, siblings, cousins—all—had powers. Powers which she did not possess. It had long ago placed her in the role of outcast.
She’d gone about her life as a normal human. Instead of joining one of the associated guilds, she’d become a teacher because she loved children. That had been the second black mark in the eyes of her family. The third, when she’d married a normie and started a non-magical family, had sealed her fate. They’d exiled her and her bloodline, leaving her adrift in a city filled with her own kin.
Years later, Luca, the scrawny little witch—and an outcast himself—had come into her classroom and she’d sensed his power almost immediately. While she didn’t have her own, she sensed it in others. Instead of hating him for having what she lacked, she’d protected him, particularly after noting the bullying he’d gotten from his witch and non-witch peers.
Being a healer and only twelve, he hadn’t had the experience yet to develop his secondary talents like battle magic and protection. Sure, he could heal a bird’s broken wing or make a cut disappear, but that only served him after he’d had his ass beaten. Although, it confused the hell out of the normies when he never seemed to wear their bruises and split lips very long.
Mrs. Stephenson had intervened more than her fair share to keep him safe. She’d allowed him to stay in her class during lunch, or after school, or whenever he’d felt unsafe in order to keep him away from his tormenters. Not just that year, but the years that followed. She’d switched grades and moved to Salem High the very year he’d transitioned there, and while she said it wasn’t because of him, he still thought it had been.
“Luca, I won’t let the burden fall on you.” She placed the bag in his palm and wrapped his fingers around it. “Take it. Please.”
He took it with no intention of keeping it. While she watched, he tucked it back inside her purse. “No.”
“Luca!”
Luca chuckled.
“Why? Will you at least tell me that? Why do you refuse to let me pay? And don’t give me that line about it being a service to the community. I’m one person.”
Every single time he’d tried to tell her, he’d grappled with what to say. Or speak past the lump in his throat, just as he struggled with one again. Something told him not to hold back any longer. She might not have much longer.
Luca coughed to clear his throat. “Do you have any idea how many times you saved me as a kid?”
She searched his face, and she’d likely lost count herself—though she probably didn’t consider it saving. In her mind, she’d simply been doing her job. If that was the case, other teachers would’ve intervened, and most hadn’t.
“I’m only repaying the favor.”
Mrs. Stephenson scoffed. “Apples and oranges. I don’t have magic.”
“Oh, but you do,” Luca whispered.
She frowned, gazing up at him.
He lowered to his stool, so they were closer to eye-to-eye—and to give him a few more seconds to consider his words. Her eyes glittered with tears, and he fought to hold his own back. “What you don’t seem to realize is your magic is unadulterated compassion. You gave freely of your magic to kids like me for forty years, Mrs. Stephenson. I will forever be in your debt, and I bet I’m not the only one. I’ll give you a million tattoos if it keeps you here, pain-free, for a little while longer.”
Fat tears hung on her lashes. “Luca…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He brushed his palm over her back, closing his eyes. He drew in her scent, the same jasmine perfume she’d worn since he was a child. There were so many memories—both good and bad—wrapped within that scent.
