Chapter 2 #2
It does, I think. He is like a god. Too massive and intimidatingly attractive to be a mortal.
A creator god… my eyes are drawn to the designs again. “Is this all your work?”
“Yup.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” he replies, with a flash of diffidence, and it’s endearing.
I keep leafing through the book, mainly to distract myself from how jittery his proximity is making me.
He starts telling me about his designs, his inspirations. He has a thing for creatures of myth, and his renderings are so vivid they leap out from the pages.
For a few beautiful minutes, I let myself drift, enjoy the exciting-uncomfortable feeling of being close to him.
Then I snap out of it. Remember why I’ve been putting myself through all of this. I clear my throat. “Are you from Perdue?”
He straightens up, drags his knee away from mine. “Nope. Been here a few years though,” he says. “You just moved here?”
I hesitate, because I really don’t want to lie to him. Not because he scares me, but because I sense he’s not a guy you should lie to. He feels too—well—powerful. A fierce, alpha being. An immortal who knows the thoughts of puny humans. “Yeah, that’s right,” I say at last.
His gaze sears the side of my face. “And you thought you’d celebrate by getting some ink?”
“Yeah.” I concentrate on breathing slowly, praying my cheeks don’t start to burn.
“And that’s why I’ve seen you stalking up and down Main Street the past couple of days. Going into one store after another.”
My heart starts to pound. “Just introducing myself to the locals,” I mutter.
He sighs. “A lot of people come to Perdue asking questions, poking their noses into things they shouldn’t.” His voice is low, but there’s a vibration of danger in it, and the little hairs on my forearms stand on end.
“I’m not one of those.”
“Then prove it.”
When I dare look at him again, his eyes are glowing with a predatory light. There’s such a weird mixture of nerves and desire in my stomach that I feel queasy. “Prove it?” I echo.
“Tell me where I’m going to tattoo you.”
Oh, god.
My stomach drops like a speeding elevator.
“Y-you know, I can’t really afford it. Guess I was just window shopping and I got carried away,” I blurt out, hot all over.
He raises one of his thick, dark eyebrows and, damn, he looks sexier than ever. “My treat. I’ll tattoo you for free. Any design you like.”
I gulp. How the hell am I going to get out of this one?
“Tell me where,” he repeats.
He has the unwavering gaze of a predator, I think, and my gut turns another notch.
I’ll do this. For my brother. For my mom.
I think of someplace not too obvious, where only a lover would see it. I lift a trembling finger and point to the area just inside my hip bone.
His tracks the movement of my hand and his nostrils flare. “A sensitive spot,” he comments.
“Mmm… hmm.” I don’t trust myself to speak.
“You’ll have to pull those jeans down a little and lie on my bench.” He indicates the black leather seat in the back.
I’m pretty sure he’s calling my bluff. But suddenly I want this to happen. I want him to inscribe his own design onto my body. I want him to…
Mark me?
I have no idea where this impulse came from. But it’s there. A fierce need, beating right through me:
I want his mark.
I swallow hard. “Okay.”
“And what kind of design speaks to you?”
I lick my lips. A little cluster of flowers—I saw one like that. I riffle through the catalog and show him.
“Good choice,” he says, and I glow under his approval. I want him to be pleased with me, however ridiculous that sounds.
“Let’s go.” There’s a challenge in his eyes and I’m sure he expects me to back out.
But this is happening.
I leap up and stroll to the bench. It’s a little high for me, though.
He’s right there. His big presence at my back. Forge’s hands grasp my hips and lift me effortlessly onto the seat. He guides me into position, until I’m reclining against the cool leather. Comfy.
Or it would be if I wasn’t basically lying on my back now, right in front of the sexiest man I’ve met in my life.
“Unfasten your jeans,” he says.
Heat pours through me yet again. I can’t look at him as I fumble the top button open, undo the zipper, and lift my ass as I shuck my jeans over my hips. My panties are bright pink lace, and they emerge like a beacon. They couldn’t be more attention-grabbing if they tried.
By the time I’m done, my cheeks are burning, and when I finally look up, I think I might as well be naked for the way his gaze is roving over me.
“You can use this modesty cloth, if you want.” He hands me a black square of fabric. I tuck it over myself, but it’s kind of late for modesty, and from the little tug in his lips, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.
He looks at the design again, then he takes something like a sharpie and makes some marks on my skin.
“Looks complicated,” I mumble nervously.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just making sure it’s perfect. Since it’s going to be there forever, and all.”
Forever.
I’m probably going to walk out of his shop in an hour or so, and I’ll never see him again. But I’ll have his mark forever.
It’s a tingly, breathless thought.
“This bit here—” He shows me a small blank space at the bottom of the design. “Was supposed to contain a word, or words. Anything come to mind?”
My heart gives a little jump. I might’ve screwed up in Perdue. I’m probably never going to be able to help my mom. I’m about to get a ridiculously spontaneous tattoo. But at least I can do this one thing.
“Demetrius,” I say.
Forge jerks backward, like he’s been punched.
The silence that follows is thick.
Then his face kind of hardens and he looks twice as scary as before. “Demetrius?” he repeats. “Is he your—?”
The front door of the shop bangs open.
Forge whips around, but I can’t see much from the position I’m in.
“Meredith,” he grunts.
“Hey, Forge. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Crap. It’s the woman from the bar—the one who told me to stop poking around Perdue. She’s going to tell him what I’m really doing here.
And he’s no longer going to look at me with smoldering eyes.
Ridiculously, I try to haul myself down from the chair, hoping to dash out the back. But it’s late. Way too late.
A moment later, the tall, stern woman is peering down at me, hands on her hips. “And what are you still doing here?”
Shit. Totally busted. “Oh, I’m j-just—” I stammer.
“Maya is a friend of mine,” Forge butts in.
My mouth falls open.
“A friend?” Meredith’s voice is dripping in sarcasm. “You didn’t mention you had a friend here, hun.”
“I-I guess I forgot. I’m such a scatterbrain sometimes,” I gabble.
“What can I do for you, Mer?” Forge sounds irritable.
I frown. Why is he protecting me like this?
“Oh, I came to speak to you about a new security threat in town.” She looks at me pointedly. “But it can wait. I’ll catch you later.”
She shuffles off and when the door bangs shut behind her, relief floods through me.
But then Forge rounds on me.
He’s all mad and growly, but he also seems wounded, like I’ve hurt him somehow.
“No more games, Maya. You’re going to tell me exactly what you’re doing in Perdue. Right now.”
I swallow hard. I have a terrible sense neither of us is going to like what we’re about to find out.