"Must be brave, stubborn, and impervious to the tempers of loved ones."
The first line hissed with history.
"Hours are endless, pay is non-existence, quitting absolutely forbidden."
The second line ached with truth.
"Able to function on no sleep, refrain from running when times get hard, and be more than just a living canvas but a lover."
The third thrummed with honesty.
"Other attributes required: forgiving, opinionated, and not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong. Must also enjoy being touched and kissed at any time of my choosing."
The fourth glowed with promise.
"Call or email 'YOUR HEART, HIS SOUL' if interested in applying."
The final made my future unfold.
The advert was so similar to one I should never have applied for.
A twist of fate that brought two destined people back together.
A job I would take in a heartbeat if the employer could offer such terms.
But I wasn't free.
Neither was Gil.
Therefore, my interview could never happen.
Tears beyond my control rained heavy and hard down my cheeks. I was allowed to hate him. I was meant to curse his very existence. I had no trust where he was concerned. No obligation in any form.
Yet, I cried for him and for me.
I cried for both of us because it wasn’t fake breakups, molesting teachers, or blackmailing murderers who’d broken us.
It’d been the lies.
The tricks.
The shadows that’d always surrounded Gilbert Clark and the ones he retreated to rather than staying in the light with me.
No matter what happened.
No matter if I died tonight, he died, we all died, this had died.
Us.
There is no more us.
His arms wrapped me in a cage, his love imprisoning me.
I tried to stop crying. To put aside my grief and wake up.
But slowly, stealthily, finality crept over me.
My eyelids no longer opened.
My brain no longer operated.
My head lay on Gil’s shoulder, needing support.
He clutched me closer as the final dregs of energy siphoned out of me. He stroked my hair and kissed my ear as I gave in to the cloud of unconsciousness. “Hopefully, by the time you wake up…this will all be over. You’ll be free. You’ll never have to see me again.” He angled my chin, his lips claiming mine.
I tried to pull back, to stop the kiss, to study his godforsaken eyes, but he caged me closer. He pulled heat and hunger from deep within, sending me into lullabies with his taste on my lips and his grief on my tongue. “I’m so sorry, O. So sorry for ever thinking I could make you happy. You deserve so much more. I love you. I love you with every fucking part of me, but I can’t stop this. At least sleep is a gift I can give you. The only thing I can give you.”
Voices were far away and not of my dream world as he lowered me down until I lay on the stage. My eyelids fluttered as he turned on the air compressor and the first lick of unwanted paint landed upon my skin.
But I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t fight.
Gil was an artist.
Art was his drug.
The creation of beauty helped him cope in the depths of his despair. He needed art to function, to survive.
And with his talent, he stole my function.
Brush by brush, he destroyed me.
Colour by colour, he sentenced me to die.
He snuffed out my survival.
He’d poisoned me so I’d sleep.
So I wouldn’t be awake when my purpose as his masterpiece was over.
The headline caught my attention.
“Hours are negotiable, pay is minimal, clothing absolutely forbidden.”
The second line piqued my curiosity.
“Able to hold your bladder and tongue, refrain from opinions or suggestions, and be the perfect living canvas.”
The third made me scowl.
“Other attributes required: non-ticklish, contortionist, and obedient. Must also enjoy being studied while naked in a crowd.”
The fourth made me shudder.
“Call or email ‘YOUR SKIN, HIS CANVAS’ if interested in applying.”
The final made my heart race.
I should’ve kept scrolling past the advertisement.
I should’ve applied for the boring receptionist job at minimum wage.
I should’ve clicked on any other job where I got to keep my clothes on.
But I didn’t.
I applied.
My interview is tomorrow…
“Um, hi? I’m…eh, here for the interview?” I stepped warily toward the noise.
Another curse followed by a loud thump.
“I heard you the first time.” A man appeared from the darkness.
A man with shaggy dark hair, five o’clock shadow, and eyes so maliciously green they masqueraded as body parts but were really well-honed weapons.
A man who was bleeding from his temple, limping, and holding his elbow as if it needed reattaching.
“Sorry, I didn’t know if—” I gulped as something long ago tugged in remembrance.
No.
It can’t be…
Recognition slammed into me as forcibly as it slammed into him.
I stumbled under the weight.
Punched by the unbelievable.
“Gil? Oh, my God. Gil!”
Older.
Darker.
More gorgeous than he’d ever been.
I fought every instinct to go to him.
Did my best not to grab him, kiss him, shake him, slap him.
A gust of air blasted through the warehouse as if the winds of fate woke up, felt a tug on whatever linked us together, and clapped its hands in glee, saying, ‘Yes, this will be fun. Let’s put these two back together again.’
“Olin? Fuck…it’s you.” His gaze tore over me as hungrily as mine tore over him.
Time stood still. It reversed. It plopped us right back in the past where this boy had held my heart, and I’d captured his, and together we knew it would always be about us.
Us.
There is no more us.
I stumbled toward him, desperate to be nearer despite so much pain. “I can’t believe this. What are you doing here?”
“What am I? What are you?” He tripped in my direction, his face etched with lines I hadn’t seen in his youth, his body all angles and threats. As fast as he’d headed toward me, he halted as if yanked back by a rope. His face fell. His shock at seeing me morphed into hardness.
I didn’t understand how he could change so much in a few short seconds.
Goosebumps decorated me as coldness settled like a cloak around his shoulders.
“I’ve been back in Birmingham two years. I—” I stopped talking, unable to share the secrets that followed such a statement. “I…”
He closed his eyes, shutting me out as if battling something deep within him. Deliberately, he took a step back, his chin coming up, his coldness settling into ice.
The silence that’d chased us in our fledgling romance returned, thick and heavy.
My back prickled. My mouth turned dry.
Too much distance existed between us, swelling with memory of how things had ended, why we were strangers now, and just how much heartbreak had been left behind.
Along with silence came shadows, creeping over Gil’s expression, shutting down any remaining signs of his shock and gratefulness at seeing me. Heartbeat by heartbeat, he hid any sign that my visit was a welcome one.
I struggled, not knowing what to say.
His gaze no longer held happiness, just aching emptiness and suspicion. “How did you find me?” He didn’t give me chance to reply. “You can’t be here, Olin. You need to leave. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
After chasing her dreams to become a full-time writer, Pepper has earned recognition with awards for best Dark Romance, best BDSM Series, and best Hero. She's an multiple #1 iBooks bestseller, along with #1 in Erotic Romance, Romantic Suspense, Contemporary, and Erotica Thriller. She's also honoured to wear the IndieReader Badge for being a Top 10 Indie Bestseller.
Pepper is a Hybrid Author of both Traditional and Self-published work. Her Pure Corruption Series was released by Grand Central, Hachette.
Her books have garnered foreign interest and are currently being translated into numerous languages, including already released titles in Italian, French, German, Hebrew, and Turkish.
Win a signed copy!
(Open internationally)
💕 Below is a third-party ad. Click it if you like it, ignore it if you don't! 💕
(I receive a tiny commission if you click on an ad.)
odd
ReplyDelete