Page 6 of Spark (Damselverse #2)

Chapter six

Xavier

M y hand is frozen as I grip the paintbrush tightly, trying to peer deep inside myself and find my muse.

Lately, she eludes me, and I end up snapping the paintbrush in half, dropping the discarded pieces into a waste basket.

That’s the fifth paintbrush this week, but no matter how hard I try, I just cannot paint. My creativity is blocked, and I can’t ascertain the reason.

What is an artist without his ability to paint, to create…?

The second anniversary is coming up after all, and her memory comes rushing back to the front of my mind, chasing away all other thoughts.

She haunts me still, and if only I could rid her from my mind. She’s the reason why I can’t paint, why I can’t find my muse.

Sydney took it all away from me, smirking at me from the deep recesses of my mind, and I will never be free.

Never be able to paint without thinking about her…

She always loved my art. Well, at first.

Only a toxic queen like Sydney could steal a man’s desire to paint.

I’m just running my fingers through my hair, covering myself in paint per usual, when I get the text.

It's Nolan, and I roll my eyes, reading his message. Now my phone almost ends up like my latest paintbrush.

He's not fucking serious…. Especially on this day of all days.

Apparently, Nolan thinks that he and Dacre have found our pack’s true Omega, the one to break the curse that has been lingering above us all like a black cloud of death these last few years.

No. I refuse. I refuse to let another Omega in.

Not after the last one broke my heart.

As far as I'm concerned, Omegas are trouble. They will only bring our pack to ruin.

I can’t allow that to happen.

For one, they’re too much goddamn work, more work than they’re bloody worth. I’d much rather fuck my way around town with endless women than be tied to one person ever again.

Finding your match is a prison sentence. I truly hope for Nolan and Dacre’s sake that their Alphas are mistaken.

I refuse to be at the mercy of another human being. One who has me wrapped around her little finger, making me do her evil bidding.

Now my art is my only escape. But even that part of my life is letting me down lately.

My muse just refuses to be found.

Maybe she has truly gone, and I will never paint or create another work of art ever again.

The phone buzzes next. I grit my teeth, barking when I answer, “What? I’m painting.”

Well, that’s a terrible lie. I’m not painting at all. I’m brooding.

Nolan pauses a few taunting seconds, and I am just about to blow my fuse when he croons, “And a hello to you too, X.”

Grabbing my stool with my boot, I draw it closer, perching at the edge. My knee jostles up and down as I hiss through clenched teeth, “Just spill it, Nolan.”

“Just promise me you won’t explode.”

I squeeze the phone, gritting my teeth further, “I promise.”

Oh, I will blow my fuse.

“I take it you got my message.”

I did.

When I don’t reply, he goes on. “Dacre and I are hoping to bring her home today. That’s if she agrees to stay with us.”

My eyes find a bird outside the window as I say, “And you think she may be your scent match based on a hunch?”

“I don’t think. I know it.”

My eyes couldn’t roll back any further. If they did, they would go all the way back into my brain. “For fuck’s sake, Nolan… Hunches are bad. You should know that after…”

I don’t finish that sentence, the words frozen in my throat as the memories grip me in a chokehold again.

It's too hard, and they should know better than to bring an Omega home. They know how I feel about them, yet they are still going against my wishes.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Nolan, you know all that scent match shit is bullcrap.”

“Well, just maybe she’s different than your Sydney.”

My Alpha growls. “Don’t speak her name. And she is not mine. Not anymore.”

Why does my voice sound so sad? I couldn’t wait to see the back of that Omega, but there are moments where I think 'What if?'.

What if things could have been different with us?

“I know you have a complicated history with Omegas, Xavier. But in the end, Sydney was just one Omega. One. Things could be different this time if you just opened your heart to new possibilities.”

“That’s where you're wrong, N. I don’t have a heart. Not anymore.”

Nolan is silent for a few beats. Then his voice is low as he whispers, “She is different. I just know it.”

I scoff. “Oh, pray tell.”

“You’ll just have to see. Look, if she turns us down, then you've got nothing to worry about. You can go back to brooding and painting to your heart’s… no, lack of a heart’s content. Got it?”

Painting? There’s only brooding going on here.

“Fine.”

“Just in case she does agree to come home with us, you can prepare the bed in the guest room. The one at the end of the hall.”

The one closest to my room, and I lose my patience at last, growling down the phone, “Prepare it yourself. After all, she’s your Omega, not mine. And FYI, Omegas call their beds nests, dipshit.”

Oh, something he will come to learn very soon if he's adamant to go through with this. And if said nest isn’t perfect, then there will be hell to pay...

I don’t even have to be in a room with Nolan anymore to know when he's smirking his shit-eating grin. “You’ll see… and thank you for the heads up. I can always count on you, X, the Omega expert.”

He hangs up at last, his mocking laugh echoing like a death bell. I glare down at the phone. He needs to be careful with his words.

Omega expert? The bastard.

Yeah, there’s a reason for that, but I know he means well. Still, his words rub me the wrong way as I try to keep it together. But I lose the battle, kicking my canvas and easel in a rage as my roar rebounds through my gallery.

All my older paintings mock me now, all those disturbed, disfigured creatures as I storm out of the gallery, making my way to the guest room.

It's not the biggest in the house, but it has a huge en suite and a walk-in closet. Perfect for an Omega.

They like their space after all, and lots of blankets. Too many blankets, as a matter of fact, as I find the linen closet, searching for blankets of every texture. Don’t forget cushions and pillows, too.

Now, I make my way to the bed, creating the perfect nest that any Omega could dream of, making sure the pillows are stacked just right.

Then I layer the bed with all the blankets, starting with the woolen for lining, and then the velvet for warmth, as I step back to admire my work.

What do you know… It's a work of art, and at least I haven’t completely lost my touch.

Hopefully, it’s enough to satisfy the Omega. If she’s not happy, then she can always find the front door and fucking leave.

Nothing is ever good enough for Omegas. They are demanding, picky, and extremely exhausting.

No wonder my muse is eluding me lately.

Even though it has been two years, I'm still drained. There is no spark of creativity or magic left in me as I have lost all hope.

Now there’s nothing to do but wait.

There’s still a good chance she will say no , and if so, then I went through all this trouble and effort for nothing.

A part of me hopes she refuses, but the other is curious.

Just maybe she is different, as Nolan says.

And maybe pigs will fly and Santa Claus will come down the chimney as I close the door to the nest at last.

But then I move back to the bed, grabbing several pillows as I rub my scent on each of them.

They sleep better when an Alpha’s scent is close by. As Nolan would say, “I’m the Omega expert after all.”

Then I place the pillows back where they were, shutting the door again.

Well, I guess there is nothing to do but wait.

Just maybe she will refuse, and we can go back to the way we were.

Omegaless.

The way I prefer it.