In this world and the next, she had the same tattoo.
When she had gotten it and how it had escaped his notice, he had no idea. Of course, when he first discovered it, the tattoo was the last thing he had cared about.
But here it was again, painted into her lovely porcelain skin and peaking out at him from beneath her cream colored shirt; it was a reflection of the world they had lost and the one they had gained.
"When did you get that lovely design, dearie?" He asked, surprising the girl. She had been hard at work dusting the various antiques he had lingering around the shop and hadn't noticed his re-entry into the shop. She had stretched to reach one of his higher shelves, lifting the edges of her shirt; no one could really blame him for looking.
"Oh, this thing?" She lifted up the edge of her shirt to let him see it in full. It was a blooming rose, thorns and all, colorful design etched beautifully into her flesh, with the vines and leaves curling downward around her hips.
Belle shrugged indifferently. "Spring break of my senior year. My friends dared me to do it, since I was such a daddy's girl." She sniffed with annoyance. "When Papa found out about it, he was furious, of course. The only thing that cooled his temper any was that it was a rose. I told him I was honoring the family business." She laughed and returned her attention to the shelves. "Regardless, I wasn't allowed to leave home for a long time."
"But why do you ask, Mr. Gold?" She called over her shoulder, turning her head and winking at him. "Simply enjoying the view?"
He growled in response and she laughed again as he snaked his arms around her tiny waist. "That, my dear, is not the point of my query." He nuzzled her side, cheeks delightfully rough with stubble. "Just a curious thing, you see. I never knew you had a fondness for roses."
She sighed in pleasure as he held her. "What girl doesn't?" she giggled, twisting to face him. "Roses are my father's business, after all." Gold's calloused fingers massaged her hips and traced the lengthy vine across her taut, young skin; his Scottish brogue deepening as he did. "Point taken, dearie." He kissed the blooming crown of the flower, guiding his princess down and engulfing her lips with his. She lifted her lips from his briefly, sighing in his ear. "And besides, they're my favorite."
Rose petals at his lips, Gold decided that they had been his favorite for a long, long time. Not that he would tell her that.
