Broken Songbird (Vicious Games #2)

37. Chapter 37

I t was a long night, and I should be exhausted, but I’m buzzing with energy.

Watching Flash cradle his newborn son on his bare chest and Maya eating her fill of sushi from the door of their room gives me such a sense of pride in the both of them.

They both did so well, working together in a perfect symbiosis to bring into the world a healthy baby brother for AJ to adore.

Being here with them to support a monumental step in their lives, watching a new life enter the world, having the privilege of sharing that elation with new parents—this is what I’m meant to do. I’ve never been more certain than right now.

“Scar,” a familiar voice whispers from down the hall, and I turn.

Most of Savage Wings, led by Creed, move as a unit toward me, and I bite back a laugh. Seeing a bunch of burly dudes dressed mostly in black with motorcycle club cuts walking the light halls of a maternity ward is an amusing sight.

“Well?” Heartbreaker whispers, stopping by me and peeking into the room.

“Another boy,” I announce to the group.

A soft rumble of cheers come from the group, and they…exchange money?

“Who won?” Maya calls loudly enough for all of us to hear.

Heartbreaker chuckles and takes the question as an invitation to enter the room. “Rita, as always, Hawk, and Uncle Theo.”

Maya nods along and then looks at me. “The club ran bets on the gender, weight and date of birth of our new member.”

“Oh,” I laugh.

“We got another future rider,” Flash comments softly, gazing down at his son lovingly.

An arm snakes around me, and I’m surrounded by my favourite sweet-smoke and leather scent.

“How are you doing?” Creed asks, low so only I can hear.

“I’m good,” I breathe.

“Did they pick out a name?”

I nod. “Uzoma. It means ‘One born during a journey’.” I turn to Creed, smiling at his bewildered expression. “But they’re calling him by his middle name, Reid.”

“That’s Flash’s dad’s name.” Creed’s smile softens at me. “It also means ‘red.’”

It takes a second to click. Oh.

I turn to look at Maya; she watches Heartbreaker sway Reid slowly in his arms as she holds Flash’s hand. She’s probably exhausted, but she seems so settled, content.

“This is why I want to do this,” I comment absently.

“Be a midwife?” Creed asks.

I nod. “It’s not just bringing new life into the world or even saying goodbye to ones not ready. It’s witnessing and helping a family start or expand.” I turn to face him. “But it’s especially because I want to support those who don’t have the desire for that family, and to give babies the opportunity for this .” I gesture into the room with a tilt of my head.

“To have a home,” Creed finishes, understanding my sentiment. “To have family.”

“Family finds each other eventually,” I say, tears pricking my eyes. “I just hope to make someone else’s journey to finding theirs quicker than mine.”

“I’m happy the Sakuras came into your life,” he says. “And Del.”

“And you,” I add.

His honey-brown eyes shine as he cups my face. “Thank you for giving me the honour of being your family.”

I stretch up on my toes and kiss him. “Thank you for being my soft place to land. You’re the guiding hand in the dark I always needed.”

He kisses me back, deeper this time. A gagging sound pulls us apart.

“Can you add to the club’s membership elsewhere?” Heartbreaker comments dryly.

I roll my eyes, turning to him. “Don’t be a hater because you’re not involved in the process.”

He gives me that heartbreaking smile. “I can be.”

“Not if you still want to breathe,” Creed says.

Heartbreaker chuckles, draping his arm over Creed’s shoulder. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you haven’t done that before.”

I raise a brow.

Creed elbows Heartbreaker in the ribs, making him laugh harder, then steers me out of the room.

“Good luck!” Heartbreaker says after us down the hall.

Creed sighs. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You told him about the hotel room, huh?” I ask lightly as I hit the elevator call button. I smirk at him. “Is he jealous?”

Creed returns my smirk, leading us into the open elevator. “Of course. He didn’t get to witness a goddess come.”

I slap his chest with the back of my hand, and he laughs as we ride the elevator to the ground floor.

Moments like this, big ones like Maya’s new baby or little ones like Creed being playful, put together the shattered pieces of me bit by bit and there aren’t enough words or actions for me to express my gratitude.

The elevator doors open as an idea pops into my mind. “We need to make a stop before we go home.”

Creed slows the motorbike to a stop in front of Lost Souls Ink. I climb off and walk to the curb as he backs the bike in next to Hawk’s beast of a machine and switches off the engine.

I pull off my helmet and hair tie, shaking out my tresses, and try to work out why this street seems familiar. Creed takes my helmet as it clicks.

“See that black door with gold detailing?” I point to the door that’s between two shops across the road. “That’s Couteau D’Or , one of my favourite restaurants. Their desserts are fantastic .”

“That’s a tiny restaurant,” Creed comments.

I smile, following him to the door of Lost Souls Ink. “The restaurant is on the second floor. The door opens to a hallway with an elevator at the end.”

He huffs a response as he opens the door of the tattoo shop.

I step into a clean shop, with dark walls covered with various tattoo art, a small reception desk with a glass display cabinet of piercing paraphernalia and a curtained entrance to the back that’s currently open.

Hawk and Ink are sitting right at the back at a tattoo station—Hawk’s got a bottle of beer in his hand, looking at his phone, and Ink has his arms crossed over his chest as he peers over at us.

“Everything good, Pres?” Ink says, pulling Hawk’s attention to us.

“Can we come through?” Creed asks.

Ink nods, and Creed takes my hand, leading us around the reception into the back area. It’s a roomy open space with four tattoo stations, one in each corner. All of them have a black leather flat bed and a stool on wheels, various other types of rests, multiple clean trays and portable drawers, and walls covered in more tattoo art.

“Maya have her baby?” Hawk asks me as we stop in front of them.

I nod. “She did.”

“Who won the bets?”

I smirk. “Rita, Heartbreaker, and you.”

His face lights up as he stands. “I better go collect my winnings from Darwin before he decides it’s beer fund.”

Hawk downs the rest of his beer, then claps Ink and Creed on the shoulder, kisses me on the cheek, and leaves.

“You here to see me?” Ink says, looking at Creed.

“Not me,” Creed starts.

“I want to get a tattoo,” I declare.

Creed blinks at me, surprised. Ink just nods, his face stoic as ever.

“What are you thinking about getting?” he asks.

“I think it’ll depend on what you recommend.”

Ink’s steel-grey eyes narrow on me questioningly.

My eyes flick to Creed before I focus back on Ink. “It’s a cover-up. The scar…on my thigh.”

The room is silent.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” I continue, walking towards Ink and perching on the edge of his tattoo bed. “And from what I researched, I know you’d have to be intentional about placement and design for scarring.”

Ink still says nothing as his eyes search my face. He eventually nods and sits straighter, pulling a large tablet from its charger on his station. “May I see it?”

I nod and shrug my leather jacket off. Creed steps into the space and takes my jacket, then fills Hawk’s vacated seat next to Ink as I kick off my riding boots and take off my jeans.

Thanking myself for wearing briefs instead of a thong today, I stand in front of Ink and Creed in nothing but a T-shirt, breathing slowly as I show the scar I haven’t let anyone else other than family see.

Ink looks up from the tablet, and he stills. Eyes trained on my thigh, something dark flashes across his face.

“I know it might have to be a big piece,” I say, proud that my voice doesn’t waver. “And I know I should wait longer before tattooing over it, but I want it gone.”

Ink sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, then drags his eyes away from my leg and up to my face. “Are there any elements you want to include?”

Tightness in my chest loosens as Ink switches to business mode. I nod, perching on the edge of the bed again. “I was thinking maybe something with flowers. Colourful if possible.” I gesture to my jacket in Creed’s lap. “And the Savage Wings skull.”

“Scar,” Creed says, drawing my attention. “Tattoos are permanent.”

I frown, confused. “I know that.”

He seems concerned. “Do you really want a reminder of a motorcycle club permanently on your body?”

My face softens. “I would much rather the permanent reminder of the people who welcomed me in like family than a person who tried to destroy me and mine.”

“But—”

“You and the club have played a huge part in my life. I want to remember that, and not this .” I gesture to my thigh, both our eyes following.

The initials healed quickly and fairly flat, but they’re still a light pink and obvious. I cover it every chance I get, not wanting to invite questions from other people or have the glaring reminder of one of the worst times in my life.

I pull my gaze away from my thigh to Ink, who’s sketching quickly over his tablet, occasionally glancing at my leg with a sullen focus. After a few silent minutes, he taps a few times on the screen and then turns it in my direction.

“Today we’re only doing the outline so we can change the colours to whatever you want,” Ink says.

I know he’s waiting for me to approve the design, but I can’t stop staring. He’s drawn the Savage Wings skull in all its damaged and dark glory, surrounded by an explosion of life. Flowers and other greenery somehow highlight the skull’s darkness but also complement its harshness with vibrance.

The surprise added design element is what’s stopped me.

“The birds…” I trail off, my throat tight with emotion.

“Songbirds,” Ink admits softly. He points at the three within the design. “Superb Fairywren. Red-chested Robin. Golden Whistler.”

“How did you…”

“For months the club only knew you as Songbird,” Ink explains with a shrug. He’s referring to my birthday weekend last year when Del and I stumbled into the Savage Wings bar after running off from Enzo’s club. Del only called me ‘Songbird’ that night.

“Creed wouldn’t shut up about you,” Ink continues.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Creed reasons.

Ink gives him an exacerbated look. “You were.”

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, looking at Ink with a huge grin.

His stoic face never changes as he nods once, and then puts the tablet down on the bed next to me and turns to his station.

“You prone to fainting?” he asks, pulling out a giant roll of cling film.

“No,” I say absently as I pick up the tablet, this time really assessing the design.

“Have you eaten recently?”

That pulls my attention. I glance up at Ink, his steely gaze on me again. “Uh…no.”

“Shit, did you even eat at Savage Wings last night?” Creed asks.

My cheeks heat as I eye him sheepishly and shake my head.

He stands immediately. “I’ll get you something.” With that, he kisses me briefly and heads for the door.

I watch him leave, then turn back to Ink. “Can I add something to the design?”

“Of course,” he says, finishing up wrapping a tattoo gun grip with medical tape and putting it on his tray.

I turn the tablet to face him and point out a section near the bottom of the design, explaining to him what I want.

Ink regards the design briefly, then nods. “I’ll keep that in mind as we work on it. It’ll take at least three sessions to complete so we don’t aggravate the scarring.”

I smile. “Perfect.”

Ink looks up at me with a hard expression. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

He assesses me with his signature passive expression for a moment. I try not to squirm under his scrutiny, not wanting for him to think I’m questioning my decision. Like the solidifying moment at the hospital about becoming a midwife, this decision has the same feeling. It feels right .

Ink must see that resolve in my face, because he nods, stands and plucks the tablet from my hand. “I’ll get consent forms and print this up.”

Creed and I pull away from Lost Souls Ink well into the evening, the moon shining brightly in the clear sky. Creed made not one but two trips to Couteau D’Or and somehow convinced them to give us both lunch and dinner as takeout, even though it’s one of the top fine-dining restaurants in Melbourne.

He even got us a serving of each dessert, which I might have eaten almost all by myself. By Ink’s reaction to them, he must not be a dessert guy.

With my new leg tattoo covered in a healing adhesive film and Ink’s aftercare instructions echoing in my head, I tighten my arms around Creed as he rides lazily through the streets, heading home.

Tattooing wasn’t the most pleasant experience. It was a weird sensation that hurt in more places than not but knowing even now with just the outline that the scarring from the most harrowing experience of my life is now obscured by a work of art brings so much peace to me I feel physically lighter.

Maybe I’m a little light-headed from the hours of low-level pain. Either way, I can breathe easier. The scar may still be there along with the memories, but I’m replacing those dark recollections and confronting physical reminders with beauty and light and love.

We arrive home quicker than I expect, and I climb off the bike while we wait for the garage door to slide open. I pull my helmet off and put it on its shelf, then stand in the driveway, gazing out to the ocean across the road, watching the moonlight on the water as Creed backs the bike in.

Warm arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hard body. Creed’s leather and sweet-smoke scent blends with the salty brine and cool night air, and I relax further against him.

“I love it here,” I sigh.

“Me too,” he says, his voice vibrating through me.

I turn in his arms, then loop mine around his neck.

Creed cups my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “You must be exhausted.”

I pull his hand down my face, wrapping his hand around my neck. “Not that exhausted.”

Creed frowns, confused, but he doesn’t move his hand.

We haven’t had sex since before the dress shopping day. Creed hasn’t mentioned it once, just took my cues with intimacy for the last two months, and I’m beyond grateful.

“I miss you,” I whisper. “Like this .”

My favourite honey-brown eyes search my eyes, that singular focus looking for any discrepancies.

My hands slide up the nape of his neck, into his hair and I grip onto the top length.

Sparks crackle in his eyes as his arm tightens around me and his fingers flex slightly around my throat.

There it is.

I stretch up onto my toes, pressing my neck harder into his hand, our lips just brushing. “Take me.”

It feels like the world pauses, waiting for Creed’s next move.

Then my breath hitches as his hand grips my neck tighter, restricting airflow. He then steals all oxygen when he crashes his lips into mine for a bruising kiss.

Heat bursts through my body, lust and desire pumping through my veins as I melt at Creed’s mercy.

Using his grip on my throat, he pulls me back, his wild gaze stripping my soul bare.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his gravelly voice making me shiver.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”

He chuckles, both dimples popping. “Good. We have a lot to catch up on, princess.”