"Have you ever smelled a craving?"

Adonis works under the hood of an SUV. When I barged in here unannounced, I had expected him to be in some snug tank top and baggy pants while working, like how books describe hot mechanics, but instead he's in a navy long sleeved coverall.

He pulls out a bright red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands with it, then his sweaty face. Any movement he makes my traitorous eyes catch, because the curiosity I have about him buried deep down isn't buried as deep down as I thought.

Stuffing the rag back in his pocket he asks, "You mean like how you smell something then crave it?"

"No, like you imagine it without even being around it and then you swear you can smell it."

"No. Sounds like something a pregnant woman would say."

My butt wiggles on the workbench I'm sitting on and every once in a while I hand him tools he needs. "That would mean I'm the new Virgin Mary." He drops the tool he's working with making me smile. "Right now, I smell blueberries and I want some."

"How are you smelling blueberries in a mechanic shop? You should be smelling metal and B.O."

"I told you," I say jumping off the workbench. "I imagined it and now I smell it."

"Why are you here, Tater Tot?"

"To keep an eye on you and make sure you don't dish out my secret." I begin organizing his tool station. "And it's a good thing I am because this place is a mess. Don't worry though," I say smiling at him. "I won't be annoying you the whole time. Once I'm done organizing these I will be going to the office to paint."

"Does your dad know you're here."

I roll my eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

"Twenty-two." He grunts as he takes something off the engine.

"Does a twenty-two year old typically need to be telling her daddy where she is at all times."

He begins cleaning the piece as a smile makes its way onto his face and that dimple is exposed. "When she's hanging out with a motorcycle club she does, especially ours."

I wait trying to decide if I want to ask him my next question or not. "Hey, Adonis?"

Cuing in on my tone he gives me his undivided attention which makes my skin heat up.
Looking away I fiddle with some tools. "Does everyone in the club suffer from PTSD?"

The workbench squeaks and I glance over to my right to see him leaning against it, staring at me. "Pretty much. Some are worse than others." My leg starts bouncing. "Ask it, Tater Tot."

"Does my dad?"

Adonis rubs his oily hand through his dark blonde hair and the messier it looks the more attractive he is. Good Lord. He smirks at my comment but it fades when he realizes I'm waiting for an answer. "That's something you need to ask TreeTrunk."

"I did. He wouldn't answer and changed the subject." I hang a wrench up and Adonis gets off the bench.

"I'm craving apples all of a sudden," Adonis mutters.

I glance over at him with a small smile. "Oh no, did you just imagine an apple and then smell only to have a craving. I'm already rubbing off on you."

He mumbles something under his breath that I can't hear. He goes back to clean the car part and as I'm about to tease him more some guys come barging in.

"Yo, Adonis. Who's racing tonight and you better have put me on the roster?" A big teddy bear guy with eyes the color of nutmeg asks.

"You're in and you're racing against Bricks," Adonis says while he puts the piece he just cleaned back on.

Teddy Bear whacks Adonis on the back with his big paw, but Adonis doesn't seem phased at all. Probably because he's bigger in terms of muscle. Mr. Teddy Bear has a little bit more around the belly.

"It's going to be tough for you tonight, Ducky. This guy's good." Adonis wipes his hand once again but pauses when the door's bell rings and his multicolored eyes catch on to the bombshell redhead strolling through. She flicks her long silky locks over to the side effortlessly and her perfectly loose curls bounce along with her walk.

Her lips are big and red and her eyes are such a deep brown, they're almost look black. She wears a black turtleneck with a high-waisted skirt that shows off her killer legs and long high heeled boots. She's the epitome of curvaceous beauty.

"Why, hello, my adorable little Scarface." She stops in front of Adonis and kisses his scarred cheek leaving a perfect smooch mark on it. My heart drops all the way past my stomach into my butt.

Behind her strolls Nova who looks bored. "Hey Nova." Everyone's attention snaps over to me. He looks up and gives me that weird nod guys do. "Hey, Mini Muffin."

"Who is this little stray you picked up? Is this her car you're working on my darling?" She's a fast talker and her voice reminds me of an anchor woman. She snakes her arm around his and flicks her hair back once again looking like she belongs in an ad. Her territory has been marked.

"Cutest little stray I've ever seen. Why what's your name, little kitten?" Teddy bear guy asks as he makes his way over to me. He puts both his arms on either side of me, trapping me and my alert systems go off. "Names Ducky."

"Teddy Bear seems more accurate to me," I say wide eyed and innocently.

"I'll be your Teddy Bear any day and time. Just call and I'll come snuggling."

I can't help but bust out laughing, which is what Ducky must've wanted. He goes to touch me but Adonis somehow outmaneuvers him and easily gets between us. "Down Duck. It's TreeTrunk's long lost daughter and Ace's twin. Tater Tot, Ducky. Ducky, Tater Tot."

"Shut up!" Ducky booms having no problem with being cut off by Adonis. "For twins you don't look all that much alike."

I poke my head around Adonis. "We're fraternal."

"Why does she have to be so cute. She's exactly my type, man."

Adonis hits Ducky's chest making sure to not touch his cut. "Back down."

"Yeah, yeah I got it." Ducky waves.

Heels hitting the concrete with purpose makes its way to me. Adonis touches the girl's shoulder squeezing it. "Down Dana, no need to bring out the claws."

"No claws needed, my muffin. Just as long as she knows her place," she remarks, tilting her head with a condescending smile.

"Well, you're fun," I say, lifting my brow for effect.

Her smile lifts a little as she humps. "Why is there paint all over your clothes?"

"Oh, man." I widen my eyes and sigh sarcastically. "That's a tough question to answer. Um, I paint."

She's not amused. "Is that why your clothes are so shabby?"

"Dana enough," Adonis states calmly but authoritatively.

Ignoring him I smile sweetly at her. "No, I just like the comfy homeless look."

"Why are you hanging around Adonis like some mutt?" she hisses. "Don't tell me you've imprinted on him like a baby duck?"

"Oh, no more foreplay, okay, because I don't trust him," I answer.

She puts her hand on her hip. "What do you mean and I want you to stop."

Narrowing my eyes, I bite out. "Hey it's your boyfriend's fault for barging into my garage and learning something I didn't want anyone to know."

"What? You into necrophilia or something."

I take a note from Adonis. "Or something. I don't want him to say anything so here I am."

Her face reddens and is close to matching her hair. "Adonis is no rat, witch."

Adonis comes between us. "I said enough, Dana."

I leave my perch and smile up at her. "I don't trust anyone. Never will. Now if you'll excuse me. I'm going to go paint now."

Dusting myself off, I go to head to the office but am stopped by a guy standing in front of me holding out his hand. "Nails."

"Oh, hi Nails, Georgie," I say shaking his hand. He's a lot prettier than the other guys. He's more movie star handsome with dark coffee long hair and matching smoldering eyes with big lips. He moves out of the way and I'm soon inside taking in a deep irritated breath. Witch. Psycho Witch. I shake away the memory.

Keeping the door open so I can hear, I start unloading some of my paint supplies and set up my easel and canvas. "No touching the tools, Duck."

"Why do you have to be so weird about your tools and who organized this? It must be killing you?!" Ducky fires back and I smile.

I can hear their conversation which seems to be about some kind of racing tonight as I stare at the canvas but the word witch just fills my mind and nags at me. Smacking my latex gloves on my leg I look around the small office and decide organizing may help calm me. Plus, I hate painting in dusty areas. If a speck of dust were to get on my canvas it would literally be a catastrophe.

Sorting and organizing files is surprisingly easy since whoever takes care of things around here is pretty organized. I go over to the coffee machine and clean around it and a filter falls on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and see a tiny picture all the way in the corner picking up dust.

"Wonder what that is?"

I reach back and grab it. It's a school picture of a little girl and with the way it's damaged and creased on the sides tells me it's old. The girl in it is the type that melts your heart with how adorable she is. She has Shirley Temple like features. Big round rosy cheeks and innocent doe eyes with a smile that warms your heart. Her raven hair is short but thick with loose curls and her bright green eyes beam with joy.

Something about it though makes me sad. I plop my butt on my heels and examine it while I sit on the floor. It triggers a feeling in me that I can't quite understand, but in a fraction of a second, I'm reminded of the child silhouette I had painted last night.

A sharp pain shoots in the back of my head and my free hand grips my tight curls as my eyes shut from the pain.

"What do you have?"

My eyes shoot open and Adonis stands in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his face set in a playful manner.

"Um," I say looking back at the little girl. "I was cleaning up and found this." I flip the picture around so he can see it. "I'm guessing it's of somebody's daughter and they're probably—"

Before I can finish my sentence, the photo is snatched from my fingers.

Woah, hey there!

Adonis says nothing, only stares at it and I see a deep sadness in his forest green eye. It disappears in a blink and he looks at me. "It's my sister. I thought I had lost it."

"Oh, I'm—"

"Adonis, you've got a customer needing an estimate!" Nova yells, interrupting me. Adonis vanishes putting the picture protectively in his wallet and stuffing it in his pocket.

I dig my fingers into my hair and try to rub out my oncoming migraine. I'm tired. I take a deep breath to retrieve at least some of my usual energy. Last night took a toll on me. I ended up sleeping for an hour, maybe two. And now it's like someone slugged me in the back of the head with a baseball bat.

The image of the shadowed girl in the wallpaper starts creeping into my mind and my head pulsates. Why don't you remember me? Sighing, I slap my hands on my knees and go over to my canvas. I need to paint something in order to try to forget about the one from last night. Fill my mind with another project. Never in any of my previous episodes have I heard voices.

I'm still not right because of it.

My head tilts over as I think about what to paint. Looking up, I see Adonis slide under a car then my mind goes back to the picture. Without thinking I slide on my latex glove and get to work. My mind turns off and all I see is the image I want to convey on the canvas.

I focus as Adonis comes in and out every once in a while after his buddies leave, to have some coffee or check paperwork. After a while I hear the door open again and don't even have to look up to know who it is. He strolls in grabbing yet again another cup of coffee. I pay no attention to it and only know by the sound of the coffee filling the tiny cup. It's silent and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand, knowing his eyes are on me.

"You're a lot different all of a sudden. Quieter," he says.

Wiping my forehead with my dirty gloved hand, my eyes flit up and lock on his and just like I had thought he had been staring at me. He shows no shame in being caught and sips on his coffee. "Sorry, I just had a long night."

"Dana can be a bit much but when she warms up to you, I can see you becoming quick friends."

I want to laugh but my head is killing me so instead I raise a brow. "I don't think so."

He smiles. His beard today is still in impeccable condition but his hair looks knotted from working under cars and I find myself wanting to dig my fingers in to comb through the snarls. I get back to my painting instead.

He moves to sit down, but not before taking the top part of his coverall off and letting it hang as his white tank top sticks to his muscular back. I wish I was sly with checking a guy out, but I'm not and stare transfixed. Those impressive arms are covered in black and white tattoos making my mouth practically water. Most girls in my position would probably be falling madly in love. Me? Nope. My bizarre brain is in love with his artwork and completely consumed by it.

How I hadn't noticed his tattoos before is beyond me.

Well, he did have them all pretty much covered up.

My eyes trace the cross on his neck that's simple and faded. The sleeve on his right arm is a stunning design. He has a compass, a knotted rope, a maze formation, and another much larger rugged cross. How everything connects is remarkable. It's by a chain that's attached to what looks like a pocket watch stopped at a specific time. It's under his tank top so I can't tell.

"2:43," He answers. "When JoJo was born."

My eyes lock onto his and I swear nothing gets passed him. He's highly intelligent and I can see his brain working as he watches and observes, reading me like an open book.

The left sleeve is an intricate picture of a lion roaring over a lamb protecting it from an unidentified evil. Above it is an image of Jesus with the crown of thorns on his head looking down with the thorns continuing like a vine around his arm filling all the empty space. I notice some Hebrew and tilt my head in curiosity.

Wonder what it could mean.

"God sees me." I smile knowing that time I had spoken out loud.

Whoever the artist had been knew what they were doing. His golden skin is gorgeous against the black, grey, and white ink. But his artwork isn't the only beautiful thing about him. The man is pure muscle from head to toe. He's big with broad shoulders and a physique to kill.

My dad's words from last night float in my mind as Adonis sorts through some files I organized while drinking his coffee.

He's a man who's ten years older than you, one who struggles with PTSD and is dangerous because of it.

"Oh, and, Tater Tot?" My eyes connect with his and he's smirking and my face burns furiously. "You'd never annoy me."

My face heats up but I steel my posture and return my fingers to my artwork. "You say that now." My eyes peek back up and he's watching me with keen interest. "You're going to get me slaughtered by your girlfriend if you keep this up. Death by acrylic red nails doesn't appeal to me."

He takes another sip. "She's not my old lady."

"What's an old lady? And does she know that? I mean looking at you two together would definitely make people's heads turn. With both of your genetics you'd make the world's most beautiful babies."

It's quiet for a beat of a moment. "An old lady is your woman and all the men have to back off if they value their lives. She knows."

I let my epic eyebrow language do the talking for me by raising one.

Suuure.

His gorgeous eyes stare at me, but I break it. He has a way of analyzing me that puts me on edge. He can try as hard as he wants, but not even I can figure myself out.

"Why are you always so calculating? What are you trying to find out?"

He sets his cup down and walks over to stand right in front of me and my canvas. My heart thunders, hoping he doesn't see what I'm painting and stays where the canvas is turned away from him.

He gazes at me from right over the tip and I push on with my work. "Because you want someone to figure you out."

My breathing stops and my eyes shoot up to his. "And why would you say that?" I whisper.

"Cause everyone wants that."

I dip my finger in the black paint. "Everyone but you. You probably only let people in so much. From what my dad implied you seem to have a limit with even your club." His hand appears at the top of the canvas and my heart stops. The blood drains from my face, but I quickly continue talking to him. "What have you figured out so far?"

His eyes swipe down my face. "You're an enchanting little thing holding onto a lot of secrets, some you don't even know yourself. You came here to find answers about your episodes and what happened between your parents. If it was your fault."

Bullseye.

I don't stop my finger from forming the image in my brain. Licking my lips that feel dry all of a sudden, I reply, "You're pretty good. My turn?" He nods for me to go ahead. "Something about your sister's death haunts you." I pause as his hand grips my canvas and his knuckles turn white. "You think it's your fault and I'm taking a shot here, but you and Dana were together but she got too close and you ended it. She's not over it but you are. You struggle with PTSD and are dangerous and have a hard time living in the norm."

As quick as a snake Adonis is right in front of my face. His chest almost hits my face, but there's probably no intimacy in the closeness, even still, my whole body heats up as I back away a little. My neck strains to look up at him since he's so tall. His good eye is such a murky green it makes me shudder as that orb reflects something hidden, something dark.

Being an artist has made me very intuitive over the years and imaginative with how I see things or people. Adonis is like a gold mine for me. A complicated tapestry that's so beautiful, but awfully complex.

"You don't know me."

"I don't know you," I whisper, our breaths mingling. "But I do see you, just like how you see me."

I want nothing more than to break the code so I can get to know him. I don't know why either. We've barely had any interactions yet I can't stop myself from being utterly fascinated by him, and no one fascinates me, or at least really has.

Breathing is becoming a difficulty as he continues to glower at me. His muscles coil, but he keeps himself calm and that's when I realize I'm talking to a grown man and how true my dad's words had been.

His smoldering eyes make me feel like I'm in a South American swamp. One is clouded in a thick veil of mist and I'm trying hard not to suffocate in it. While the other is a foreboding unearthly green that the earth conjures up when something is wrong with the environment.

Torment. Under his either stoic or charming expression, I see a whirlwind of