Chapter one
Rory
I’d done about three hundred laps around the shop today because it was dead.
Beyond dead.
Dead like we’d opened up shop in the Underworld—but then we’d be busy because dead people were probably bored and would line up to get tattooed and pierced.
Tattoos of the Damned would be such a killer shop name. Granted, I was a fan of Alchemy Ink in a big way. Not only had Owen taken me under his wing to let me apprentice with the old lead piercer, but he’d also believed in me when I was a hot mess. Emphasis on hot. I was still messy, but when it came to piercing, I knew my shit.
“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to staple you to the wall,” Nyx called over from her stall. She leaned back in her seat, sketching some gorgeous piece of art on her pad—at least I assumed. Maybe it was just an elegant pile of snails.
“My book is shit today,” I complained, throwing myself onto one of the tables in the empty stall. I flung my arms overhead. “Mark my words, this’ll be the start of my decline. No one will want to get pierced by me ever again.”
“Babes, it’s snowing out,” Nyx said, casting a glance toward the front of the shop, as if we could see through the walls. “Flurries scare people away, so actual snow’s a nail in the coffin. If it starts sticking, Owen’s going to make the call to close anyway.”
I rolled off the desk and started pacing again, earning a glare from Nyx. Not like she was hopping out of her seat to strangle me, so I’d keep strutting my stuff. The fear of client retention was real, though. I’d been piercing for a few years, but I wasn’t well known enough to be crazy booked out like some of the popular piercers in Philly, and sometimes a light book landed like a personal failure.
And I’d stacked up enough of those in my twenty-five years, thank you very much.
Mrs. Hechinger’s scathing words on my eighth-grade report liked to circle around and bite my ass on the best of days.
Doesn’t have focus or follow-through. As an adult, he’ll be lucky if he can keep a job.
I strode out of the back and up front to the waiting room, where clients would be waiting if we had any right now. The scent of the incense we always burned tickled my nose, and the neat aesthetic up here made me want to muss it up a little. The white walls and black tiled floors offset the myriad of knick-knacks on the shelves, all fitting the whole alchemical theme, from glass beakers to brass weights and an assortment of crystals for good measure. True to what Nyx had said, the snow was falling lightly outside, not enough to be a problem on the roads but enough to scare away any customers.
My feet tapped along the tile flooring, the sound echoing, and when I stepped close to the glass, it was cold from the snowy outdoors. The feeling of being trapped started to rise up, which meant I needed to occupy myself with something, but without clients coming in, that would be difficult.
Maybe I could convince Nyx to let me give her a piercing. Despite the number of tattoos she’d accumulated, she only had one hoop in her right ear. So much room for expansion.
Headlights swung in the direction of the shop as a black Toyota Ram pulled into the parking lot. The truck didn’t belong to anyone who worked here, so either someone was doing a turn-around, or we had ourselves a walk-in.
I slid behind the counter, figuring that if it was the latter, we could pretend at professionalism, as though we weren’t just shooting the shit and getting in one another’s businesses day in and day out.
A guy got out of the car, about average height with a ball cap on that obscured his features. He wore a thick black coat and jeans, his black boots kicking up the fluff that had settled in the parking lot. The closer he got to the front door, the more my interest piqued. Those jeans clung to muscular thighs, and he had the sort of broad shoulders I loved to cling to while getting dicked down. Even with the bulky jacket obscuring his torso, I could tell his body was a ten out of ten.
Please let him want a piercing.
The door creaked open and he stepped inside, some snow dust shaking off him onto the floor.
Then he looked up, and I caught full sight of him.
The breath snagged in my throat.
Goddamn.
I was at work. I was at work. I was at work and wouldn’t bend over the counter and beg him to fuck me.
This guy had a few years on me, at least a decade if I had to guess, which only made him sexier. The black strands that escaped his ball cap were tousled and his skin tanned. His deep brown eyes glowed, and the thick scruff around his mouth was peppered with a few silver streaks. His lips were luscious, and with his strong nose and solid jawline… yeah, I was drooling at this point.
He ducked his head, tugging on the brim of his cap. “Uh, I wanted to know if you’ve got any openings for a piercing?”
Hallelujah. My hopes and dreams were answered. Getting to spend time up close and personal with him was the best way I could think of riding out the rest of this shift.
“You’re in luck,” I said. “Because of the snow, my book’s clear. I can take you now.”
Or he could take me. Whatever.
