Chapter 2
Maya
If I had to sum up Perdue Town in a single image, it would be a door slamming in my face.
Or hitting my ass, after I’ve been booted through it.
I slump on an old metal bench on Main Street, staring blankly at the line of dark, shuttered stores opposite. My back is aching and my feet are killing me. I must’ve combed every street in this weird town—twice over.
This isn’t about you, I remind myself. This is about finding your brother and helping your mom get better.
Just wish this everyone wasn’t so hostile though.
The least-unfriendly person I’ve met so far is a bar owner, and her warning is still ringing in my ears:
Folks come to Perdue to get lost. You won’t do yourself any favors asking questions here. Move on.
Her message was clear: what I was doing could get me in a ton of trouble. And this town is a law unto itself. There would be no one around to protect me.
Did you come in a car? she asked. I nodded.
Then take my advice—get in it and drive to the next town.
I wanted to tell her Perdue was my only lead. Which I’d only found after weeks and weeks of searching. Instead, I trailed out of the bar, promising I’d be gone by morning.
Right after I’ve spent the night sleeping in my car. Because I’m almost out of money.
I don’t know what else I can do here, anyway. All the posters I put up around the town last night have been torn down. And I’ve knocked on the door of just about every business—no matter how goddamn surly the owners are.
Except for one place—a tattoo shop, just across the street. It’s an eerie-looking building. Dark Moon Tattoos is inscribed over the door in stark black lettering, while iron bars cover the window. Behind them, the interior of the shop is dim.
But there’s a man, standing in the doorway, eyes burning like those of some nocturnal beast.
And his gaze is trained on me.
Shivers break out on my skin and I rub at my arms.
He sees me. And that’s something new. Because I’m not used to people noticing me. It’s how it’s been all my life, and I don’t have an issue with it. Means I get to fly under the radar more often than not.
But this stranger’s attention is making me all hot and tingly and uncomfortable.
I marched up to the store earlier this morning, only to scurry away like a terrified deer.
Great analogy, Maya. But it’s apt, because the way he’s observing me makes me feel like he’s a hunter and I’m a morsel of prey he’s thinking about devouring.
I drop my chin into my hands and peer at him surreptitiously. I can’t make out much more than a huge, dark shape. A fierce face. How old—twenties or thirties? Is he handsome?
Why do I care?
I don’t know the answer to that, but the fact is, I do care.
My heart is beating uncomfortably fast and I feel nervous in a way that has nothing to do with the sense of danger that crackles from the shop.
Something is calling to me. There’s a tug at the core of my being.
Drawing me toward him.
Toward this intimidating stranger who’s now moved from the doorway and is pacing back and forth behind the barred window, like a caged animal.
Drop it, the soft, weak part of me says.
Go back to your car. Eat a gas station dinner and admit defeat.
Everything I’ve done in this town so far has been a gigantic waste of time.
I’ve heard a ton of angry words today. No reason to think this’ll be any different…
except maybe this time I won’t get away unscathed.
I’m strong, I remind myself. I’ve got this.
I take three deep breaths and haul my exhausted ass off the bench. Then, as if an invisible force is driving me, I march toward the shop.
It looks darker than before. Maybe he just closed up. I squint through the barred windows, seeing nothing.
Okay, I can leave now. I can quit feeling all breathless and stirred up.
I’ve tried my best. Box ticked.
I wipe my perspiring palms on my jeans and turn to go—
And the door swings open.
My heart lurches, but I turn back slowly.
There’s no one there. Strange.
I take a deep, calming breath and walk up two dark stone steps. My legs are like jell-o. I’m not sure if I’m going to make it—
As I cross the threshold, he appears.
Holy crap, he’s tall. Massively built, too. His face is partially hidden in the shadows, but I make out dark hair, a beard, and glowing green eyes.
He frowns, looking me up and down.
I expect him to say something. Like, hello, or come in. Or—more appropriate to Perdue Town—fuck off.
But he doesn’t say a word. Just scans me, silently, while my body tingles.
“H-hi,” I stutter. My mouth has turned as dry as dust. “I’m interested in getting a tattoo.”
Damn. Now I really sound like an idiot. Should’ve thought this one through.
He gives a deep nod and gestures into the store.
I take several more steps. When the door swings shut behind me, I’m so keyed up, I jump and choke down a yelp.
He makes a soft sound—chuckle, growl, I’m not sure what.
A light flicks on, and I think my mouth just fell open. Because he’s the most scarily handsome man I’ve seen in my life.
He’s all hard lines—square jaw, razor-sharp cheekbones, and straight, firm lips.
Thick black eyebrows sit low over narrow green eyes.
His hair is jet-black, razored at the sides and left longer on top, and his beard is sharply sculpted.
A long, silvery scar marks his left cheek, and tattoos creep up from the neck of his black T-shirt.
“A tattoo?” he says, and there might be something mocking in his tone, but I only notice it tangentially, because, his voice—
It’s growly, gravelly, like an avalanche of boulders cascading right through me and knocking me senseless.
“Yeah. Do I need to make an appointment?” I manage to croak.
He spreads his hands. Which, like the rest of him, are huge. The backs of them are covered in tattoos, while his palms are paler and callused. Rough hands. Perfect for running over my…
“So happens I’ve got a free spot right now,” he says.
I gulp. I’m not really planning on getting a tattoo, of course. But I was hoping I could buy some time, get him to loosen up until I could slip in a couple of pertinent questions.
I’m doing well so far. He’s gotten me so flustered I can’t even think straight.
“I don’t know what I want, though.”
“Maybe you’ll find something in my catalog.” He points to a coffee table, where a couple of leather-bound books are laid out.
“Okay, I’ll take a look.”
“Sure.” His lips curve up a little at one corner, like he’s amused by me. Like he has me all figured out. He probably has. Again, I have that weird sense that he sees me in a way that no one has before.
I scuttle over and take a seat by the coffee table. Half of me wants to get the hell out of here, so I can quit feeling so nervous and edgy. I don’t understand why my body is responding to him like this. It’s never happened before, and it’s kinda freaking me out.
But the other half…
The other half wants to drink him in. The other half is busy flattering myself that he’s been watching me because he’s attracted to me.
Yeah, right.
He’s way out of my league.
But he might be the key to finding your brother, I remind myself.
That’s what you need to focus on, Maya. And forget the fact your nipples are so hard you can see them poking through your shirt.
I open one of the books, and he walks away from me. I release a long, shaky breath.
Okay, focus, focus, focus…
Damn, his designs are… something else. I leaf through the catalog, transfixed, as one masterpiece after another bursts from the pages. He’s a genius. An actual genius.
I’m so engrossed that when something clunks down on the table beside me, I startle.
It’s a glass of water. Just a glass of water.
But my head has snapped toward him and he’s suddenly real close.
Leaning over me, barely inches away. I can see the little gold flecks darting out from the emerald green of his irises.
The thickness of his eyelashes. The little crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
As if he’s also registered how close we are, he stills.
The air shudders between us. I hear the sound of his breathing, slow but heavy, and his scent fills my nostrils.
Rich, spicy, dark. Full of leather and ink and danger.
His lips are firm at the edges, but full in the center.
Kissable lips. How would they feel, crushing against mine?
My vision goes blurry. There’s a deep, strange ache in the core of my body.
“Thought you might be thirsty.”
“W-what?”
“Ice water.” He points at the glass.
“Oh—” My cheeks warm. Is he making a comment about my reaction to him? Jesus, I hope I’m not being that shamefully obvious.
Hopefully, he’s just being kind. Kindness I could sure use right now.
“Or you want something a little stronger—?” He frowns. “You’re old enough, right?”
“Twenty-one,” I confirm, and the relief that sweeps across his rugged face takes me by surprise. “I’m fine,” I say, sensing that throwing alcohol into this crazy mix of nerves and desire would be a very bad idea.
He sits down beside me, legs apart.
I take a cooling swig of the water. And choke when his denim-clad knee brushes mine.
Oh god.
“Easy.” His huge hand lands on my back, and he pats me gently. The heat of his palm floods through the thin fabric of my shirt. It feels good… more than good. Somehow it sweeps all the way through my body, homing in to my core.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“You’re welcome—” His voice is low and husky. “What should I call you?”
“Maya.”
“Pretty name,” he says, and I like that he likes it.
“You?” I ask when his own name is not forthcoming.
“Forge.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That your real name?”
“Kind of a nickname. But the only name I ever use.” He gives a dry laugh.
My lips work, and I barely stop myself from asking if he’s a forger.
“I was always good at working with my hands,” he supplies. “My mom said she should’ve named me Vulcan, after the god of blacksmiths and creators, and somehow I ended up being called Forge.” He shrugs. “Guess it fits.”