Tattooed Moon by Tiana Laveen Page A

process took hold of her and wouldn’t relinquish her to her former glory. She’d changed. She no longer liked herself. The unhappiness and heartache was killing her slowly but surely, and she wondered if she’d ever wake up and feel okay again. But then, one evening, she found herself on her knees…
    God, I need you…help me get through this!
    Some days, she had to give herself pep talks simply to open her eyes and face the newfound daylight. Other days, she promised herself she was okay, everything would be just peachy, and then she’d find herself wishing she could just go somewhere and disappear without a trace.
    She only wanted to be free again. She wanted to forgive herself, forgive her mother for leaving like that, forgive God, forgive the world and everyone involved with aiding in her pain. She didn’t know what would make it better, and for the festering sore inside of her heart to finally heal, but then she’d seen a co-worker donning a beautiful tattoo of a bird on her arm and it struck her. She could step out of her comfort zone. Just maybe, she could do something personal like that, something totally different, and memorialize the woman that she’d never forget, and owed everything to. She was a successful accountant with a major firm because of that woman. She had a sense of self, because of that woman. Milan’s mother raised her to be self-sufficient and goal-oriented, but to also have fun while she was doing it.
    Milan understood how to be responsible and enjoy life, but now, enjoyment was something she could no longer comprehend, let alone relish. Being responsible felt like a shackle attached to her ankle, dragging her down farther than she already was, and at times, that felt pretty fucking low.
    I can’t do this, today…
    She pulled herself out of the depressing thoughts before they mounted too high, destroying her entire week. This was a constant battle, but today, she wanted to attempt to win this mêlée. She took hold of the beautiful sketch Julian had drawn and focused on it, smiling down at it like the fine thing that it was. She went somewhere else, somewhere that was safe, but much to her own surprise, her thoughts morphed into more pleasant territory—Mr. Savant himself. His appearance, his smile, his eyes…his body. She grinned to herself, then palmed her heat-flushed cheek and tossed the drawing aside. Oh my…
    He sure was cute… Men hate being called ‘cute’. I didn’t call him cute though; I’m just thinking is all. No harm in that…
    She’d seen her share of glorious eye candy and enjoyed appreciating, unwrapping and tasting the flavors before a hearty bite and swallow. Her world was open, though she had to admit, Julian wouldn’t have typically been her type, despite her eclectic desires. She went for a more ‘put together’ package—the suits, ties, a polished look. Julian had elaborate tattoos running up and down his damn arms, some menacing, with glistening, jagged teeth and black-skulls with hair-raising, soulless eyes while others were the polar opposite. Those ones were the most moving, profound and magnificent, while yet a few she viewed, she didn’t understand, but still found to be well constructed and amazing.
    Some were done in white ink, barely visible, but their beauty astounding. Some looked tribal, and those spoke to her in a special way. A part of her at the time of her consultation wanted to ask him about all of his body art, she was certain that beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt and slightly fitted jeans covered a world of fleshy art she could never imagine but then she’d get distracted by his piercing blue eyes and the silver bar running through his pitch black eyebrow. He had an alluring scent that caught her by surprise as he leaned over during her embarrassing breakdown, snatched a tissue, and handed it to her. A mixture of zesty soap, sweet incense, and something earthy…
    He must be old school…
    She also didn’t miss the hint of