Dreams Come True
I stood at the basin in our bathroom wearing my bra and panties, my eyes moving over my body.
Nothing there.
This was because, when I got out of the hospital, approximately half a second after Tack carried me into the house (even though I could walk, just not very fast) and he laid me in bed, he’d started researching. He found the best plastic surgeon in the country and since then I’d taken two trips out to Los Angeles to have procedures to erase the scars from the five stab wounds Grigori Lescheva’s henchman had given me.
“Got that day burned in my brain,” Tack had growled after he’d handed me the plane tickets and explained our destination. “Do not need to look at your beautiful body and have it burn deeper. But you definitely are not gonna live with the scars ‘a that shit in your head and on your body. No f**kin’ way.”
After his explanation, I decided, who was I to argue?
So I didn’t.
It was just over nine months since that day and all physical remnants of it were gone.
My man saw to that.
I shifted so my back was to the mirror and looked down. Above my hipster panties was Tack’s dragon. His tattoo artist was just that, an artist. The tattoo was the… freaking… coolest. All in black, its wings spanning the small of my back, the tips skimming my hips, spiky head turned to the side, the dragon’s body curled up as if to attack with its feet, its talons pointed to my behind.
It hurt like hell to get but Tack was right, it was worth it. I liked having his mark on me.
I liked how much he liked it more.
And boy did he like it.
These thoughts made me turn back around. I leaned into the counter and both my hands slid along my belly, my eyes dropping there and I caught sight of my rings.
The second day I woke up in the hospital, I did it with a huge-ass diamond ring on my left finger. It was a raised princess cut diamond, two carats with smaller round diamonds surrounding it, more diamonds set in the gold in the rise up to the bigger one.
The minute I saw it, regardless of the drugs pumping numbness through my system , I smiled.
Pure Tack.
The biker boss to end all biker bosses, his woman was unconscious when we officially became engaged. He did what he did and got what wanted however that had to come about.
I didn’t argue about that either. When Tack walked into my room five minutes later, I just lifted my hand (albeit weakly), wiggled my fingers and whispered, “I accept.”
Tack had just smiled back, came right to me, bent in and kissed me.
It kind of sucked that our engagement kiss was soft, gentle and brief seeing as I was highly drugged, had five stitched holes in my body, IVs and was recovering from an alarming loss of blood.
But none of that made that kiss any less sweet.
We didn’t have a huge-ass wedding and we didn’t delay in that either.
Lying in a hospital bed, my dream changed. After what I endured, what Tack endured trying to find me and the fact that my heart had stopped beating for one minute and forty-six seconds, my priorities changed.
Live life. Do not delay. Ever.
That didn’t mean our wedding didn’t kick ass.
It so did.
The minute I was up to it, Tack put me on the back of his bike and we lucked out that the weather was good the whole way as we rode over the Rockies and into the Napa Valley.
It was a long ride.
I loved every f**king minute of it.