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  Right Now

  Copyright September, 2013 Marie Hall

  Cover Design and Photos by: Regina Wamba of www.MaeIDesign.com

  Models: Tanner Jensen & Rosa Rorth

  Formatted by Author's HQ

  Edited by Anne of www.victoryediting.com

  MarieHallWrites.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. However, should you run into zombies, demons, vampires, or shifters you should probably scream. Really loud. And then run away.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Marie Hall, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this e-book.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Marie Hall. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Marie Hall, Honolulu, Hawaii, United States of America

  Dedication

  To my readers. Thank you for all the notes of encouragement, all the love you felt for Ryan and Alex. How his story touched so many of you. You guys are why I love writing…

  Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage…

  ~ Lao Tzu

  Right Now

  Sometimes in life…

  Things were supposed to get better when Ryan met Lili. I was supposed to move on, get a life… but I’m stuck and lost. Things with my father are not good. There are demons in our closet, big ones. Ones I want to kill him for. I’m seeing a shrink; I’m trying to get better… but my life feels out of control, like I’m a raft adrift on the sea. I don’t know where to look, how to get anchored again. And then I meet Zoe Stone. Something about her draws me out of my rut, makes me laugh for real, smile, and for the first time in years I want to be more. But what will she think when she discovers who I really am?

  …all we have…

  When Alexander Donovan, aka the golden Adonis, walks into my tattoo parlor, I know I’ll do anything to make that man mine. There’s an instant connection, a need to know more about him. about him. But there’s also a mystery surrounding the guy. When people look at him, they only see the man who laughs, who cracks jokes and makes the world think everything’s okay. But I see the truth… I see the darkness that lurks so deep inside few would ever recognize it. I want to help him, I want to be with him. Now I just have to make him trust me enough to let me in.

  …is Right Now.

  Chapter 1

  Alex

  Be opposite.

  I stared at the slip of paper in my hand longer than I should have. It was just a fortune from a stupid fortune cookie, nothing spiritual or profound about it, but the words sank into my brain, echoing through my skull like the blare of a horn.

  Be opposite… instead of what?

  Not opposite? Not me? Not this screwed up twat I’ve become?

  I was sitting in a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant with a pair of brunette twins I’d picked up at the club an hour ago. My head was pounding like someone took a damn pile driver to it, and the twins wouldn’t stop giggling and laughing like a bunch of drunken baboons.

  “Alex,” Claudia or Claudette whispered, hooking her finger at me as she jerked her head toward the women’s bathroom.

  The girls were hot.

  Tight little bodies. A Cindy Crawford mole above their lips, size-D breasts, and dressed like college coeds trying out the whole hooker fantasy, right down to the fishnet stockings on their supple thighs.

  But see, that was the thing. Women like that, they’re a dime a dozen. If I wasn’t here with them, I’d have been here with someone else.

  Always someone else.

  My head was driving me nuts and the greasy lo mein wasn’t making me feel any better.

  Twin One, wearing a Union-Jack-inspired crop top, was running a brightly painted ruby-red fingernail along the edge of her V-neck, forcing my eyes to the heaving mounds of yummy goodness tucked beneath the lacy bra playing peekaboo beneath her sheer top.

  Twin Two was running her hand up Twin One’s arm, and they both looked at me like they were still hungry.

  The restaurant was pretty much dead, just a few leftover stragglers from the club next door, and no one was batting a lash at us. In a college town stuff like this happens every Saturday night. Austin’s motto: Keep Austin Weird… Yeah, we fit right in.

  I got up from my seat, yanked Twin One up, and led her to the bathroom.

  Sex was sex, right? Didn’t matter where you had it, so long as you had it?

  That’s what I used to think.

  But leaning against the stall ten minutes later while the twins went down on me, mouths taking turns… I was still a limp noodle.

  I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I knew banging sorority twins in this skanked-up shit hole just wasn’t doing it anymore. Curling my nose, I shoved the twins off and pulled my pants up.

  They were laughing, hugging on each other. “Can’t even get it up. What a freak.”

  And maybe I was, because these girls were hotter than any Playboy pinup and it just wasn’t working.

  “Screw this,” I hissed, tossing a twenty in their laps. “Pay the bill and get a cab.”

  “Whatever, dick.” Twin Two grabbed Twin One and they sauntered out, their tiny asses failing to even inspire a hint of drool in me as they drunkenly waltzed out the door on dangerously high stripper heels.

  I walked to the sink, then splashed some water on my face, trying not to lean against a wall littered with hardened nubs of old, chewed-up gum and whatever the hell else had been plastered on it.

  This place was a nasty dump. But I didn’t want to go back to the house. Not just yet. Ryan and Lili were there, and their kid, Javier. Ever since Lili’s mom died, she’d been living with us—almost a year now.

  In four months they’d be getting married. Which was a good thing, I guess. I mean, hell, I liked that my asshole cousin had finally found someone sane and healthy who made him laugh and made him realize living was okay.

  But it sucked to be in the middle of their love fest, to hear the sounds pouring through their walls almost every night.

  I didn’t belong in that house anymore.

  Grinding my molars until my jaw ached, I glanced down at my limp body. What the hell had that been about back there?

  Looking into the mirror, I barely recognized the face staring back at me. Who was I? I didn’t have a freaking clue.

  Walking back to the dining room, I saw the fortune still lying on the dirty table. I grabbed it, shoving it into my pocket and heading out, not sure where I was going.

  I wandered the empty streets for at least an hour; it was well past one in the morning and I should have probably headed home, but Austin was still jumping and I wasn’t ready to go back. In the distance I heard the echoing beats of bass music thumping through the clubs and the squeals and giggles of those who’d had too much to drink.

  I
kicked an empty silver can and watched as it skittered across the slick asphalt. It must have rained while I’d been at the restaurant with the girls.

  The neon glow of lights reflected off the shiny blacktop surface.

  It was summer break and the night was muggy, the sky obscured by heavy clouds. I took a deep breath and, for the first time in my life, seriously wondered what the hell I was doing.

  When I said I didn’t have a clue, I meant it. I was a year away from graduating college and still wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do with my life.

  For so long my main goal had been to take care of Ryan, to make sure he survived the hell my shit of a father had put him through. But Ryan didn’t need me anymore.

  In fact, no one did.

  I was free.

  For the first time since I’d turned six, I was free and I didn’t know what to do about it.

  I grabbed my head with one hand and played with the piece of paper in my pocket with the other, just standing there and feeling like I was at the proverbial crossroads. I was empty.

  Just a great big ball of nothing.

  There wasn’t even any noise in my head to distract me. Hot chicks couldn’t do it. I’d taken a year off school because I couldn’t focus and basically just sat around while my life moved on without me.

  As I rubbed my finger along the scruff on my jaw, the flicker of a neon light hooked my attention. It was coming off a sign from across the street: The Garage.

  Flash art covered the walls and doors: old-style sailor tattoos and more modern tribal art. I flicked the paper in my pocket again.

  A pinup painted on the side of the wall wore a Bettie Page smile while reclining on her side, her entire body covered in ink. A blue bikini and screw-me red heels were the only things she had on.

  Never in my life had I wanted to paint my body; the thought had never even crossed my mind.

  Until now.

  “Be opposite, huh?” I muttered as I quickly crossed the street. “I’ll show you fucking opposite.”

  I wasn’t really sure who I was talking to, maybe the universe. All I knew was that sheet of paper had challenged me and it wasn’t going to win.

  Feeling all sorts of reckless and stupid, I opened the door, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights. More tattoo art covered the walls. Groups of people crowded the small space, pointing and giggling over the designs on the walls; grinding metal bled through the speakers and the constant hum and buzz of needles made a small smile latch itself to my face.

  The room smelled of ink and rubbing alcohol. There were four stations, each set up with a menagerie of inkwells and a large silver contraption that could only be a tattoo gun. Two guys were working. One of them—tall, blond, built like a freaking tank, and sporting a wicked goatee dyed flaming red at the bottom—was bent over a girl’s thigh, drawing a cherry blossom tree.

  The design was massive—the branches started off at the center of her ribs and ended with the roots at the midpoint of her thigh. She was lying on her side, face scrunched up with pain as she bit down on her knuckle.

  Next to her was the other guy, dressed all in black from head to toe with a silver chain dangling from one of his pockets. He was about my height and build with cropped black hair. He was working on a short Asian guy’s back. That piece was also massive, a Chinese dragon and a tiger coiled around each other while their claws scaled his shoulders. Unlike the girl, the guy was in Zen mode, eyes shut and chatting with the artist behind him.

  “Hey.” A soft feminine voice pulled my eyes away from the pieces. “You got an appointment?”

  I lost my words. Like they literally flew out my head the moment my eyes landed on her.

  She was short, her head reaching only to the base of my neck—which meant she was probably not all that short since I was six and a half feet tall. Clearly Asian with maybe a mix of something else. Her skin was dusky and pearlescent, almost seeming to gleam under the lights, and every inch of her had some sort of design. She wasn’t exactly covered, but she was a framework of art. Mostly shades of white, black, and gray, with pink and red splashes of color throughout. A pink-and-white lotus-flower trail started at her neck and disappeared beneath the halter of her black-and-white polka-dotted dress.

  Her bangs were razor-blade straight, and her hair hung heavy to her waist. There were even tattoos on her face—small, feminine ones. Three tiny stars rested at the corner of her big, honey-colored eyes.

  I blinked, swallowing hard.

  She wore a huge red flower in her hair, and the only makeup she had on was around her eyes—black eyeliner that turned her already cat eyes dangerously sultry.

  Dressed differently than any other girl I’d ever seen, she wore her fifties throwback dress with rockin’ red suede pumps.

  Damn, the girl was smokin’. Every inch of her. And what I couldn’t do back in that flea-infested bathroom I felt starting to happen here. I cleared my throat and shifted around, hoping the God of Thunder would behave himself.

  By the time my eyes made the rounds, she was wearing a small smirk on her plump lips. “What are you doin’ here, vanilla?”

  Her eyes were roaming my body and my skin prickled under her hot gaze. I knew I wasn’t bad to look at—dusty blond hair, an athlete’s body, and gunmetal-silver eyes that girls always fawned over.

  But looking at her and looking at me—we couldn’t be more opposite.

  “Vanilla?” I asked.

  Giving a very satisfied smirk, she hopped up on the counter and crossed her legs, showing off very feminine curves and the tiniest, most delicious pair of ankles I’d ever seen. A gold ankle bracelet jingled as she bounced her foot.

  “Means you look like you took a wrong turn.” She gestured to the room, never taking her honeyed gaze off me.

  My lips twitched and I leaned forward, resting an elbow beside her. Close enough that I felt her heat, close enough that her scent of jasmine tickled my nose and made me hungry and crazed. Damn, she was hot.

  “Those kids looking at the wall look just like me.” I lifted a brow and she leaned in, so close her minty breath washed over my lips.

  My entire body tensed up, and I had to curl my fingers into the counter to stop myself from yanking her hot little body against mine and having my way with her.

  “Yeah, but you can spot the posers a mile away. The ones who would never do something like this when they’re totally sober. So…” She walked her finger across my collarbone, making my flesh shiver and heat flash down my spine. “What are you doing here, va-nil-la?”

  The way she broke up the word, the way she eased closer into me, damn… I was coming apart. She hadn’t even really touched me and already this was the best foreplay I’d ever had in my life.

  Turning on the charm, I smiled and eased my hips just a little closer to her. She wasn’t the only one able to play this game.

  “I want you to draw on me.” I threw down the gauntlet. Hell, she could draw a grim reaper all down my back if she wanted, so long as her hands touched me somehow, someway.

  Shaking her head, the flower in her hair brushed against my forehead. “I’m not an artist yet. I do body modification.”

  I got hard as a rock. My gut got hot; my thighs shook a little because I knew that almost everyone who did it also owned some metal on them somewhere.

  Looking at her again, I searched for the piercings. And sure enough, I was right. Her earlobes were stretched. Not as big and gaudy as some I’d seen, just small little holes that were actually dainty-looking on her.

  Flicking her hair across her shoulder, she grinned. “Sorry, vanilla, the rest you don’t get to see.”

  I gulped, able to imagine where she had them.

  She laughed and I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. Feeling like a prepubescent teen all over again, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, because I had to know. I wanted to know.

  A secret smile danced across her face, b
rown eyes twinkled. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? I’m hurt, really I am.”

  I frowned. “What are you—”

  The guy drawing the tat of the dragon and tiger looked up with a hard fix to his square jaw. “Z, he bothering you?”

  Her smile still firmly in place, she shook her head. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Dude looked pissed and suddenly I was too.

  I don’t know why, but some caveman crap came over me and I narrowed my eyes right back at him. I didn’t care if he was the boyfriend or not—actually I did—because something about “Z” (and I really had to find out her name quick) sparked a heat of fire inside me I’d never felt before.

  “You two dating?” I tried, but I couldn’t keep the growl from my voice.

  She hopped off the counter and my balls just about shriveled up. I didn’t want her to walk away. I wanted to talk to her, to… what… was I seriously wanting to talk to her?

  Since when?

  Z turned to go and I brushed her arm, desperate to keep her around.

  “Look…” She glanced at my hand, which I dropped quickly. “We’re not dating anymore. Ryko’s a good guy, but he’s also slightly territorial.” She narrowed her eyes back at Ryko, who was still glowering at me. “He also happens to own the shop and doesn’t like to see me loafing. I’ve got work to do. It’s been nice, vanilla, but since you don’t have an appointment and we’re booked until closing, either make one for later or I’ll see you around.”

  “Wait.” I forked my fingers through my hair. “Pierce me.”

  Her lips twitched. “What?”

  Fuck me, what the hell was I doing? From a tattoo to a piercing? The universe had to be laughing at me.

  “I want a piercing.”

  She licked her upper teeth, and my heart clenched at the sight of her pink tongue. Were they pumping drugs through the ventilators here? My head was fuzzy and spinning and all I could smell was her jasmine and I know my pants were tenting and I could care less.

  “I thought you said you wanted to be tatted?” Her eyes took on a knowing glint.