Page 20

The work Emilio was doing wasn’t any of the things he needed to do for the pack.

It was the artwork Rocco never should’ve stumbled across at the bridge.

The thing he kept for himself so he didn’t have to deal with the kind of looks he’d received from the pack when they learned he was moving to Europe to study, or when he’d returned with his father a traitor.

The looks that questioned if he was a lone wolf. If he even belonged here.

His family had never treated him like that. He knew that. But that didn’t change the need for him to protect this core piece of who he was from being perceived. Everyone walked away from him, eventually. He couldn’t deal if they walked away from his art as well.

Standing back, he took in the progress he’d made since the day Rocco visited.

Luckily, he’d just been working on the base layers of paint that day, so his fiancé wouldn’t have realised what he was looking at.

Now, the wall under the bridge depicted a dreamlike underwater scene, and he was ready to start the three-dimensional aspects of the piece that his anonymous name was known for .

He hadn’t figured out how he was going to deal with Rocco chasing off his usual air witch yet, but that was future Emilio’s problem.

He’d deal with it once he’d secured the person or people he needed to finish the piece off.

At least with the problems faced by the pack in the city right now, there would be no shortage of sacrifices he could choose for his art.

Craning his head back, he looked up at the supports for the harbour bridge overhead.

It wasn’t too high here. Only just high enough for what he needed.

Balancing on the saddle of his motorbike, he stood tall as he threw a rope onto one of the rusted metal pipes above him.

They weren’t structural, whatever they were, but they should hold long enough for what he needed.

He suspected they’d been used by city staff cleaning graffiti before it became as rundown and abandoned as it was now.

Once he’d secured the rope, he pulled himself up until he could drill into the concrete to attach the hooks he’d need to suspend his ropework.

It was dusty work that made his sensitive nose wrinkle in distaste and his arms and neck ache from the angle despite his strength.

At least the pole he’d tied on to let him slide along the space to do what he needed instead of having to drag a ladder out here.

With the final hook in place, he moved on to installing the Bluetooth speakers and lighting in the far corners of the wall he’d painted.

His art was always an immersive experience, more so than his human fans and critics would ever realise.

The looming dread that a creepy soundtrack and disorienting lighting would provide was perfect for what he had planned.

He was interrupted by his phone vibrating while he drilled the final screw as the sky started to lighten with pre-dawn.

He needed to get back to the MC clubhouse before anyone noted his absence.

The phone number was international—his agent.

The only reason it even came to this handset was Luca’s handiwork, which ensured it was untraceable.

“Yes?” he answered.

“I’ve got a new commission for you. Full creative control as long as it shows the gritty side of New Trinity. They want it to stream on New Year’s Eve.”

Emilio’s brow furrowed. Had someone realised he was here?

It wasn’t a risk he could take. Not least because a highly publicised work in his hometown drastically increased the likelihood of someone discovering him, and he was already working on the bridge.

He never created two works so close together.

“Not interested.”

“They’ve promised to start a scholarship in your name for vulnerable supernaturals at your old college if you do it. One with a gallery showing at the National Museum of Modern Art at the end of it.”

Dammit. That was the kind of programme even he struggled to create, no matter how much money he threw at it, because of the negative connotations associated with his family name. Would it be worth it?

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think long. You’ve got 24 hours.”

Hanging up on his agent, he let out a low growl of frustration before sliding back along the pipe he was suspended from toward his bike.

As if his change in mood was the final straw for the strained metal, a loud screech ricocheted off the surrounding concrete.

The rope he was hanging from gave a final death rattle of a jerk before his body started falling, heading straight for his bike.

Fuck. This was going to hurt his ride as much as him.

He’d barely had time to form that thought before invisible hands scooped him up, softly lowering him until he reached Rocco’s physical arms.

Emilio growled again. How had he missed the tug in his chest from Rocco being so near? He should’ve realised the annoying man wouldn’t just let him leave. He’d been too distracted by his work to notice.

“I would’ve been fine.”

Rocco wasn’t looking at him, though. He was too busy taking in the underwater scene painted on the wall that was still lit by the lights he’d been installing.

“Holy shit. You’re Cadmium ,” Rocco whispered.

Emilio’s breath caught in his chest, and he fought not to show a response. What were the chances Rocco would recognise his art? Let alone know the anonymous persona he went by.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You produced ‘Six of Knives’ and ‘Enough Rope to Hang.’ Your partnerships with air witches were what inspired me to specialise in glamour. You’re the reason I do what I do.”

“Put me down, Rocco.”

Rocco squeezed him closer, nuzzling into his hair, before finally placing him back gently on his feet. How could he keep the man quiet?

“If you tell anyone?—”

Rocco looked offended. Actually, he looked the angriest Emilio had ever seen him.

“I would never.”

“I don’t trust you.” Lie. And there was nothing he could threaten Rocco with that his wolf would let him follow through on, anyway. He wasn’t in the business of idle threats. When he gave his word, he kept it.

“Let’s make a deal then,” Rocco said, too much eagerness showing in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ll keep your secret if you use me for all your future works. You don’t contract any other air witches. I’m the only one whose power you draw with. ”

Emilio glared at him. This was worse than their arranged marriage.

It meant Rocco would be involved in the thing he cared about most forever.

The most intimate partnership he entered into and it would be with just one man for the rest of his life.

A man his wolf wouldn’t stop howling was theirs.

A man he wanted to bend over his bike and drive to heights of pleasure he knew no one but him could provide.

And too much of his soul was screaming for this to deny him.

Fuck.

“Fine.”

“Call your agent back. I can help you with the commission. I can keep you hidden.”

“Why?” Emilio asked.

“Because you’re only for me.”