Page 12

Chapter twelve

Roisin

I talked for hours with Brandon about my home and family. The words came from my mouth in a flow of never-ending love for them all. After I hesitated to talk to him on Earth, I was at such ease around him we could have been together forever. The flickering flames from the fireplace cast alluring shadows over his handsome face as he sat eating the food one piece at a time, as though enthralled by my voice. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my voice was like Mothers where she influenced us to a small extent with her singing. I sang little over the years, but when I had, there was no effect like when my mother sang. She was truly special, and she made all her children feel special, too.

Brandon stopped eating and curled into the chair, a deep yawn stretched his masculine jaw. The sharp edges drew my gaze to the painting easel set up by the window. My fingers itched to paint him. As I talked, his eyelids lowered, his breathing grew heavy, and soon he was asleep. Should I be offended my talking put him to sleep or happy he was comfortable in my presence to fall asleep?

I stared at his handsome face for a long time as I had for the last few days waiting for him to wake. At least this time he was only sleeping, and I didn’t have to worry that he might not wake. I frowned. At least I hoped he had healed. Since he was a human, I couldn’t be too sure, but Tay had been rather kind while she’d worked on him. She was abrupt, but I assumed that was her demeanor. Tonight with her had been strange. Those bizarre items she’d pulled from her pouch were even more strange. And why did she make me bleed over them?

I didn’t understand her demon magic.

While they had us locked in this room, I’d never discover anything to help us. I strode over to the door and tried the door handle. It didn’t budge. I kicked the bottom of the door, then cursed under my breath at the throb in my big toe.

My gaze snagged on the easel. I suppose there wasn’t anything else for me to do. Brandon was sleeping soundly in the chair, the firelight flickered softly over his still face. Dia, he was even more alluring like this. What would happen if I snuck over there and placed a tiny kiss on his unsuspecting lips?

I shook my head. It was like I was in a daze whenever I looked at Brandon. I strode over to the easel and set to work. Soft music hummed from my throat as I worked with the paints, mixing colors and stroking the softest of brushes over the canvas. Each dab of color added another element to the painting and soon I was so entranced by my process that I almost had the entire image of Brandon sleeping painted before he woke.

He woke lazily, stretching his arms above his head and drawing my gaze to the thick muscles of his biceps. Brandon appeared strong enough to fling me over his shoulder and carry me away. I almost laughed aloud at that thought. His eyes fluttered open and snagged on my face as though he, too, experienced the attraction between us. My breath paused for a beat as though he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t.

His lips kicked up at the corners. “What are you up to over there?”

“Painting.” I waved my paintbrush in the air. Drops of pastel pink paint fell onto my dress. The pink I’d been using to paint his lips and daydreaming about kissing again while doing it. My cheeks heated.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you painting?”

“Nothing,” I said, reaching for the nearest item to cover the painting, but there was nothing in reach.

He stood and walked toward me. My blush intensified. I stood and spread my arms.

“You can’t look.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not finished.”

“So?”

He stepped around the easel, so I spun quickly, keeping my arms wide and trying my best to cover the painting. Brandon leaned left, and so did I. He leaned right, and so did I.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“Good.”

He was so close that I saw his nostrils flare. A second later, his firm hands landed on my waist, then he lifted me off my feet, spun us around, and put me down. I gasped, but he’d turned back to the painting.

“That wasn’t fair,” I said, while my body was running wild with arousal at his touch. The way he’d lifted me sent my heart into overdrive.

“It wasn’t fair of you painting me while I slept.” He kept his back to me.

Suddenly I was unsure of my painting when I always recognized people loved them. Had I painted him in the hopes he’d love it?

“I mean, my eyes are closed, and I’m wearing clothes. How about next time I be naked with my eyes open?” He turned around and gave me a saucy smile.

“What?” I gasped the word.

“I’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”

“I… I’m…”

He chuckled. “Does that mean you haven’t painted nudes?”

My cheeks flamed. “No.”

“Good. I’ll be your first.”

“Brandon. No.” I shook my head. “I don’t do those sorts of paintings.”

“Pity.” He shrugged. “You’d be exceptional at it, but then you already are an amazing painter. This is good. It’d hang in one of our art galleries and thousands of people would admire it. ”

“You’re only saying that because you like the thought of it being you hanging in an art gallery.” I dropped the paintbrush into the tin of cleaning solution.

“I look good.” He smirked.

“I should have painted something else. I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”

“Maybe… unless you tell me why you painted me.”

“There wasn’t much else to paint.” I waved my hand around the room.

Brandon reached over my shoulder. My body flared with instant awareness. Was he going to touch me? But he wrenched open the curtain behind my back. Sunlight spilled into the room, breaking the cozy atmosphere of us being secluded. Alone.

“I guess this snow-covered wonderland outside wasn’t much else?” He raised an eyebrow.

He was so close that if I raised onto my tiptoes, I’d kiss him. I couldn’t even look away from him to see the scene outside the window, but I understood from days of staring at the Winter Court that it was indeed a magical scene and one worthy of painting.

I licked my lips because words were failing me now. His eyes flared as they tracked the motion. Every inch of my body stilled for a heartbeat, then I pushed past him.

“I need to wash up. I have paint everywhere.”

An embarrassing wave of heat washed over me. I dashed across the room and shoved the bathing chamber door shut. One glance in the mirror showed my bright red face. What a hideous sight. Whenever I was around Brandon, he made my emotions go all over the place. How would I keep denying our attraction while the demons had us trapped in a room together?