Page 20 of Timber Hollow

20

The Forge

twenty three days to full moon

M y body still aches from the were-fucking Jay gave me on Samhain, days later. I have no idea what came over us, but fuck . I can't wait for next Halloween. After giving me a headstart, Jay chased me back to the apartment where he’d promptly fucked me in the shower before tucking us into the bed.

Ever since that night, he's taken to sleeping in my bed. I know I invited him, but I hadn't anticipated how much self-control I need to exert just to get to sleep. Even after working a shift in the bar, when I'm practically dead on my feet, sleep evades me when I first crawl in next to him. Sometimes, he'll roll over just as I'm settling under the covers and wrap me up in his arms.

When he does that, I have to tell myself it's nothing to obsess over. He's asleep. It's natural. It doesn't mean anything.

I still wake up alone, though. Jay is gone to work by then, his side of the bed long since cold.

Instead of joining the Pack on the full Moon run, I'd gone with Aggie, then went out again by myself, just to prove I still could.

This week, I have to go to the Forge and make something for the store. I'd worked my schedule out with Ivy so that I would go in later to the bar, spending a few hours making jewelry before slapping the shit out of some patrons.

I'm to show up at the Forge for work at ten today and get a refresher course. It's been so long since the last time I had the opportunity to flex this particular skill set. The best I ever accomplished as a teen had been a few necklace pendants. So we'll see what happens now, I guess.

Already, I feel tired. I'm only up about two hours earlier than normal, but it feels like so much more than that. Driving over to the Forge takes no time at all, even if my knees are jittery as I shift gears, turning the Stingray down streets as familiar as the back of my hand. It's cold today, so I'd dressed in jeans and a long sleeve, this one in a deep green shade. Trusty combat boots on my feet, and a flannel picked up from the floor on my way out complete the look.

There's no dress code at the Forge unless they'd changed that since I've been gone. The brick building is relatively nondescript, with only one sign indicating what the building houses. By the looks of things, they've added on a bit as well.

Good for them.

I don't recognize any of the cars, but I'm not exactly looking, either. I just keep my head down as I walk in, waving to the receptionist. It's a middle-aged man, name tag reading Dan.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"I'm Artemis. I'm to work here— Alpha's orders." I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. The only people allowed to work at the Forge are Pack members, so I'm not worried about letting out our secret.

"Perfect! Let me get your instructor." He says, picking up the phone and dialing a three-digit code. "Hi…She's here…Yes…Are you sure?… Of course." The receptionist barely taps the button to disconnect the call before he's dialing another three-digit code. "Hi, we need you in the lobby…Thank you." This time he sets the handheld device down on the receiver, turning his attention back to me. "It'll just be a moment. While I have you, why don't you sign a few things?" Dan says, grabbing a small stack of paperwork from various files, and placing them on a clipboard in front of me with a clicky pen.

It's all standard stuff, like my name and address, which I have to look up in my messages with Aggie because I realize that I don't know the actual house number.

How fucking childish. I chide myself, feeling more immature by the minute that ticks by in this fucking town. Within the time it takes me to fill out the handful of forms, my so-called instructor comes through the double doors to my left.

Dante emerges from them, apron tied over his jeans and shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows. I hate myself for expecting it to be Jay.

"Welcome, to the wonderful world of metalsmithing." He says, spreading his arm wide and holding one of the doors open for me to walk through.

I huff a laugh as I enter the Forge—where the action is— for the first time in at least a decade. It still smells the same, the metallic tang on the tip of my tongue, cloying fire, and just a tinge of burning plastic in my nose. The HVAC system is on over time, recycling the old air with fresh air from outside on a continuous loop.

Everyone seems to have their own station, a desk with a rounded portion to the countertop, and various drawers filled with tools. I hadn't lasted very long here as a teenager. I'd enjoyed the creating part, sure, but the monotony, the constant microscopic attention to detail eroded my patience. I doubt my mom still has the pendant I made her, a purple stone in the center with some fancy filigree around the edges. I had been proud of it, but thinking back on it I don't think the craftsmanship had been… well any good.

Beyond that one, the other trinkets I had made had all been small, simple things. Which is probably all I will manage now. At least I'm not depending on my creations selling to be welcomed back. Magnus just said I have to make something. Not that it has to be good, or sell .

Dante leads me around the edges of the room to what I assume has to be his workbench and an empty one beside it. "So. What exactly do you remember?" He asks, handing me an apron.

"To be honest, not a whole lot. I didn't last here very long before I left."

Dante hums and nods his head, rooting around on his desk for something. Eventually, he finds a circle of metal, a silver ring blank. "Start with this. Make something. Don't use what you can't remember how to do, and we'll see what you manage."

I blink at him. "That's it?" I ask, reaching out and taking the ring blank from his outstretched fingers.

"Yep. Show me what you can do without me." Dante says, settling himself on his stool and going back to what he'd been working on before coming to get me from the lobby. I stare at him for a minute, and he staunchly ignores me, picking up a file and resuming his work.

Grumbling under my breath, I sit at the empty desk, opening drawers to see if I can find any tools that look familiar. There's an assortment of files in one drawer, and a series of clamps in another. A different one holds a soldering iron and spools of silver and copper wire. Of course, there are also many ring sizers, clamps pliers, and such in the other drawers.

Dante turns on a Dremel tool, leaning over his piece with a mask on so he doesn't breathe in the filings. I can't help but notice that my desk does not have one of those.

"How come I don't get power tools?" I sass, still rifling through the drawers for the file I want.

"You get power tools when I'm sure you're not going to burn the place down." He fires back, voice only slightly muffled through his mask.

"Pft. As if I'm going to burn the place down with a Dremel tool." I say, rolling my eyes.

"From what Jay says about you, I would wager that if anyone can manage it, it's you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Get to work." He barks, and I'm surprised I don't have whiplash.

Hours later, after struggling the entire time with that fucking ring blank, Dante decides that I'm not half bad. "You get power tools tomorrow." He comments as he's cleaning up his desk, a rag in my hand to clear filings off of my station.

"I'm surprised you don't still think I'm going to burn the place down." I fire back, mocking his voice and rolling my eyes.

"If you didn't when you dropped your ring on the ground the tenth or twentieth time, I think we'll be okay." He remarks, cutting me an amused look.

" Shut up." I hiss, fighting back a smile.

“You can keep that– by the way. It was just a test.” He remarks, hanging his apron on the small rack, taking mine to do the same with.

“Cool.” Funnily enough, it slides easily over my thumb.

"Have time to get a bite?" Dante asks, turning off the little light above his desk, reaching out to do the same with mine, corralling me towards the exit.

"Nope. I have to get to the bar."

“Ah,” Dante nods. "Until next time then, Ace." He says, holding the large double doors to the Forge open for me.

"Ace?" I ask, spinning to walk backward in the parking lot.

"Yea. You're ace at holding on to things." He quips, stalking towards a lime green motorcycle. His helmet matches the color of the body, sitting on the back seat.

I laugh, saying "Shut up, Magpie ," as I open up the Stingray.

"Magpie?" He questions, looping the chinstrap of his helmet through the buckles, the open visor allowing me glimpses at his grey eyes.

"Yeah. How many shiny trinkets did you buy at the festival?" I sass, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dante's laughter is muffled in his helmet, but his shoulders shake with it. Then he shakes his head, closes the visor, throws his leg over the bike, and turns on the engine.

It's a loud bike, but the Stingray is louder. I can't help myself as I rev my engine a few times. Dante flicks open the visor of his helmet, shouting "Wanna race?" and miming the twist of his throttle.

I shake my head, pointing at my non-existent watch. Dante shrugs back and takes off. I do the same, following him through a few turns until he signals for the road the apartment is on. The rest of my drive to the bar is uneventful, and I quickly change my long sleeve for a tank top, flannel thrown over before I leave my car. As I walk into Coyote Bills, my phone buzzes in my pocket a few times, but I ignore it for the moment, finding Ivy to tell her I'm here but I need something to eat before I do the booth.

Lucky for me, she is in the kitchen with Cook. They're peeling potatoes, but their conversation halts when I enter the room.

" Aye , Boss lady! Just the woman I'm looking for." I greet, giving Cook a nod when he mimes eating. The guy's got one helluva' instinct when it comes to feeding people.

"Sounds foreboding. What if I don't want to be the boss?" Ivy quips, smiling at me.

"Oh. It's nothing big. I was just coming to tell you I needed to eat if you don't want me hulk smashing my guests because I'm hangry." I give Ivy a bright megawatt smile, trying my best to look innocent while walking backward toward the sink to wash my hands.

Ivy laughs while I scrub my hands, and says "Fair enough." Then, she hands me Cook's abandoned potato peeler. The two of us manage to peel a handful or so before Cook makes a show of plating a pile of fries, sprinkling them with salt and pepper, and a cute little crock of gravy on the side. He hands the plate to me with a flourish, grinning ear to ear, even if he is missing a few teeth.

"Why thank you, kind sir!" I say, accepting the plate. It only takes me a few minutes before the food disappears, the crock of gravy practically licked clean. My phone buzzes in my pocket again, so I pull it out after depositing my dirty dishes in the sink.

I have four messages from Ethan and one from Jay.

Naturally, I go to Jay's first because apparently I just can't help myself.

Where are you?

Work?

Three little dots appear and then disappear. He doesn't respond.

My wolf whines in the dark recesses of my mind. With a sea of tangled emotions swimming in me, making my fingers tremble, I open Ethan's message.

You need to be in the office at 9 AM on the 10th.

Don't be late or the car is mine.

Your disgusting books are being shipped to you.

Got it.

Don't fucking tempt me, Artemis.

Wouldn't dream of it.

Turning my phone on silent, I stuff it back into my pocket and shoulder my way through the crowd to the bar. It's rowdy in here tonight, but maybe that's just me. Almost as if I turn on autopilot, I help the girls out in the bar, thinning out the people waiting for drinks. It doesn't take long before I make my way to the edge of the bar where I do slap shots. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the top of Saint's head, his curls tied back in a floppy bun.

Fuck. That probably means Jay is lurking around here too. Despite myself, I can't stop scanning the crowd.

Still, I keep asking my patrons what they want to drink, and if they want to be praised or otherwise after I slap them. None of my boys join the line for slap shots, though. And it makes my blood boil.

Ivy and Angel close the bar tonight, so around midnight I stalk out the rear exit, walking towards the Stingray in the back lot. I'm watching my feet, wrapped up in my little ball of rage, so I don't notice until it's too late that Jay is leaning against my car.

Almost immediately, the rage is gone, but it leaves this yawning hole in my center, instead. I stop dead in my tracks, a few feet of distance between us.

"Hi." I greet. My voice is flat. Emotionless. At least I have that going for me.

"Hi." He answers, holding my gaze.

The moment stretches, the sounds of the night filling the silence between us. And I can't take it anymore. So I toss him my keys, giving him the barest of warnings. Then I walk around him to drop my flannel in the car. Jay asks "What are you doing?"

I ignore his question, instead giving him one of my own. "Will you take my car back to the apartment?" He's trying to catch my gaze again, trying to get me to look at him.

"When you tell me where you're going, sure."

"Nowhere," I answer, dropping my jeans and phone to the passenger seat on top of my flannel.

"Liar." Jay fires back immediately.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jay," I answer, closing the door and stalking towards the dark trees. I'm going to lose this tank top and these underwear, but at the moment I can't seem to care.

He grabs my arm, stopping me before I can make it more than a few steps.

"Let me go, Jay, or I swear you will never see me again," I order before he can open his mouth. Blue eyes stare me down, flay me down to my soul. Jay doesn't say anything, his fingers trembling for half a heartbeat on my arm before they loosen one by one.

A whine works its way up my throat, but I keep it locked down as I step away and call my wolf forward, shredding through my clothes in an instant. I know Jay watches me leave and can hear it minutes later when the Stingray starts up and drives away. Someone else is driving his car. I can hear that , too.

My wolf and I chase the Moon through the trees, more than half her face darkened. We run, and run and run— until the urge to leave Timber Hollow stops shredding my soul. And until the Sun turns the sky violet and pink.