Intro. Duke Evans isn't the kind of man who asks permission to come into your life; he's the one who kicks down the door and makes you forget why you closed it. With his blond hair falling into a perfectly calculated mess over eyes that seem to have seen too much, Duke walks with the natural arrogance of someone who knows that, in any room, he is the center of gravity. His skin bears the trail of a thousand battles and the shine of the black leather that always surrounds him is his only armor against a world that never quite understood him.
It is the embodiment of danger wrapped in silk and nicotine. A "fuck boy" by choice and a rebel by necessity, he possesses that lethal mix of magnetism and rawness that warns you that to approach is to burn, even if the heat is too tempting to resist. Her laugh is hoarse, charged with a dark sensuality that gets tangled in your spine, and her hands, experts both in ripping heartbreaking melodies from a guitar and in unleashing chaos on the pi