Chapter 1 #2
If I didn’t think I’d get arrested for it, I’d choose violence, but I have too much to do next week to get myself thrown behind bars.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, stepping to the left and trying to catch Vyla’s eye from behind the bar.
She’s too busy pouring a row of shots, though, and doesn’t look up.
Can I successfully remove myself from this guy’s path of destruction without putting myself in danger?
I can’t even tell what kind of monster he is.
Truth be told, I forgot he was one until now.
I assumed he was a human man, based on his disgusting behavior, because that’s what I’m used to.
Weren’t the beasts who roam Mapletown supposed to be better than this?
I feel his thick fingers close around my forearm, and I wonder how much of a scene I’ll have to make in the middle of this crowded bar just to get out of here alive. If the goal is to scare off a creep, I like to go big or go home.
“You don’t want to be rude, do you?” he grits out, pulling me closer.
I look around for someone, anyone, to come to my aid, but no one is paying attention to me. They’re all dancing and lost in their own worlds. I’m on my own in this.
Story of my fucking life.
The words come tumbling out, laced with venom. “Rude is actually my default setting, especially when dealing with shrimp-dick assholes who––”
“I really don’t like what I’m seeing here.
” A low, rumbling voice from behind Finn or Fergus, or whatever his name is, interrupts my rage spiral, and I realize I’ve now been interrupted by three men this week.
If this one’s name is Jake, I’m pretty sure my brain will implode. “Care to explain, Finny?”
Ah, so the creeper’s name is Finn.
I look around, unsure of where the hell this newcomer came from.
One moment, I felt trapped and alone in the middle of the crowd with Finn, and the next, he’s here, this giant man with a disapproving gaze narrowed on my harasser.
He’s wider and almost a foot taller than most others in the room, with striking light blue eyes and short inky black hair, a clump of it in the front already pure silver.
The concentration of silver in that one spot makes it look intentional and effortlessly chic, but based on the small holes and stains on his t-shirt, and the thin scars covering his arms and neck, I’m guessing this is just how his hair looks naturally, and he’s too busy to worry about the maintenance of a single chunky highlight on his head.
His trim salt and pepper beard surrounds lips that look far too soft for someone who could have ties to the mob, and why the hell am I staring at his lips?
“I know you wouldn’t be putting your hands on a lady in my bar without her consent now, would ya?
” he asks the creep as he crosses his gigantic arms over his chest. The bulge of his biceps is almost comical, and I lean an inch toward him, waiting to hear the seams of his shirt snap under the pressure.
Finn lets go of me, and I rub the skin on my arm, trying to erase the memory of his hold.
“Nah, Dom. It’s all good,” Finn says, his eyes nervously flicking between me and Dom.
This must be the owner of the bar, I realize. Natalie’s boss, Dominic. She went on and on about how he’s too beautiful to look at, but in a rugged way, and I detect no lies. When his eyes land on me, a flutter in my belly catches me by surprise. He looks like he was carved from a block of marble.
When’s the last time a single look made me feel this way? Not even one memory surfaces. Well, one does, but I was a teenager, so hormones likely deserve the credit there.
“I was trying to buy her a drink, is all,” Finn adds.
I open my mouth to lay out how many times I said no, but Dominic steps forward, shaking his head.
“See, I saw that happen when y’all were standing near the restroom.
I also saw her say no.” His Southern twang flows through me with a pleasant warmth, like a glass of barrel-aged whiskey.
He clears his throat. “Help me understand why you continued talking to her beyond that point. Because we both know that’s where it should’ve stopped. Don’t we, Finny?”
“Well…” Finn replies, but Dominic grabs his shoulder, and I can tell by the slight narrowing of Finn’s gaze that his grip is tight.
“You’ve been coming here, what, six years? Since the day I opened, yeah?”
Finn nods, his lips curving up on one side, making him look eager to impress the bar owner. There’s a treasure trove of daddy issues in that expression that Finn will have to work out someday.
Whatever. Not my problem.
“Right, and”––Dominic puts a hand over his heart––“I appreciate that. I do. The thing is”––he tips his head toward the bar––“that sign has been here since the very beginning. And I know you know what it says, don’t cha? Go on and recite it for me.”
Finn shifts his body to read the sign, but Dominic’s knuckles turn white as he keeps his top half immobile.
The smile pulling at the bar owner’s lips is friendly, but everything else about his body language and tone indicates that he’s not fucking around, and based on the way Finn is trembling, I’d guess this level of seriousness is a rarity for Dominic.
I also wouldn’t be surprised if Finn was shitting his too-tight black jeans.
“Uh,” Finn begins, voice shaky, “touch others without consent, be prepared to taste cement.” Then his voice turns panicked as he pleads, “Look, man, I’ve had one too many, and I didn’t mean any harm.” He turns to face me. “I didn’t mean it, okay?”
“It’s fine,” I say to Finn, my head starting to throb. I want this to be over. “Just leave me alone, okay?”
Things move quickly after that. Dominic calls a tentacled man wearing a finely tailored tuxedo over to us, and they discuss some kind of report.
“Dom, come on, man. You don’t need to report this. Why can’t we just forget about it? She said it’s fine. I-I thought we were friends.”
“Report it? To whom?” I ask, eager to be filled in.
The tentacled man, whose name I learn is Otto, nods, patting his rounded belly.
“All over it.” He starts tapping on his phone, and I notice the Mapletown Sheriff’s Department logo on the back of his phone case.
An officer in uniform shows up a few minutes later, putting Finn in handcuffs and hauling him outside.
Dominic replays the events from his perspective once the officer returns inside, and when he’s done, he nods in my direction. “Did I miss anything, um…?”
“Lindsay,” I tell him. “Lindsay Abbadelli. My grandmother was Penelope Abbadelli. She lived in the Victorian house on the hill up the street. And no, you’ve covered everything.”
I notice a twinkle in Dominic’s light blue eyes, making them look almost silver, as his gaze roams over my face, down my neck, and lower, as he asks, “Natalie’s friend?”
“Yeah.” Why is he looking at me like that? What did Natalie say about me?
The officer thanks us as he leaves, and Dominic smiles at me, lopsided and boyish, distracting me entirely from the previous events of the night. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Oh, god. “Whatever you’ve heard, just know it’s my parents’ fault, and my therapist agrees.”
He lets out a deep belly laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his thick neck.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips as I follow the veins and jagged white scars down into the neckline of his shirt, and I’m barely cognizant of it until his eyes land on my lips and he swallows. Do I suddenly have a neck fetish?
“Here,” Dominic says, guiding me through the crowd with his hand a respectful inch from my lower back.
Even without the contact, I can feel the heat of him through my clothes.
“Allow me to turn this night around for you.” He has me take the empty stool closest to the kitchen.
There’s an opening on my right that allows the bartenders to go in and out, so there’s no one else on that side of me.
I feel protected here, on the outskirts of the crowd. “What can I make for you, Lindsay?”
I consider my options and shrug. “That whole thing killed my buzz, I’m afraid. I’ll take an ice water.”
When he places the water in front of me, he rests his forearms on the bar, lowering himself until he’s at my eye level. “To each their own, but to make up for that earlier nonsense, drinks are on the house until you choose to leave.”
“Seriously?” My mouth hangs open. I’m a sucker for freebies.
He seems amused by it. “Absolutely. This is the best night of the year. If I’m being honest”––he leans in––“I’ll be more than a little heartbroken if you leave here with a bad taste in your mouth.
That’s unacceptable. So if you want to go back to drinking and dancing the night away, I’ll make sure everyone else in this bar leaves you the hell alone. How does that sound?”
“What’s going to happen to him?” I ask, pointing to the front door.
“Finn?”
I nod.
“He’ll be required to enter a rehab facility for his behavior, since it’s illegal.
The facility is in Iceland, and the program takes a year to complete.
If he passes the exam at the end, he can leave, but he won’t be able to return to Mapletown.
He’ll be randomly assigned to one of the other towns populated by our kind. ”
“Wait,” I mutter, trying to process this.
“Grabbing someone without their consent is illegal here? And he’ll never be able to set foot in Mapletown again?
” That seems…harsh? Or maybe it’s precisely the outcome he deserves, and I’ve grown too used to the lack of accountability for sexual predators in the human world.
“Correct.” Dominic watches me for a moment, and his expression softens into a look that feels like a hug.
“Mapletown is protected territory from most humans, but one wrong move could expose us. That would put everything and everyone in danger. You think we want a guy like that leaving here tonight, thinking he can behave that way with no consequences?” He lets out a sigh.
“His next offense would be worse. Violent. You and I both know it.”
“Wow,” I reply in a stunned voice that sounded a little too breathy. Am I getting horny over Mapletown’s laws? Maybe. Definitely.
No wonder Natalie wants to stay here forever.
I never thought much of this place growing up.
We’d come visit Nonna Penny, and it seemed like a boring, quiet little town without anything fun to do.
Your average rural stretch of land where no one ever leaves and nothing ever happens.
Well, nothing might be a stretch, but at least violence against women is minimal.
That’s something. A big-ass, meteor-sized something.
Out of the corner of my vision, and I spot a calico cat figurine sitting on the bar a few inches to my left. “What’s that?”
He follows my gaze. “Oh, that’s Polly.”
“Polly?”
“Yeah, she was the original familiar of Mapletown. Martha Crane’s familiar.”
“Oh, the witch who founded the town and created the bubble around it?”
“Indeed,” he replies. “Polly was known for wandering, stopping into the new businesses that would pop up, keeping her eye on things. We like to honor her this way.” He presses the head of the figurine, and it bobbles adorably.
I feel my shoulders loosen, and as I watch the rest of the Mapletown residents continue to dance and drink with abandon, I decide to give this night another shot. “May I have a martini?”
Dominic chuckles proudly as he drums his fingers on the bar. “Coming right up, m’lady.”