Page 25 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I blink, realizing Briar has finished quickly and is now staring at me.

I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. It makes me uneasy, and I can’t grasp its meaning.

My stepdad never really told me much about her, only that he always described her as this monster. For whatever reason, she has her sights set on me.

I need to get rid of her.

Now.

“It’s fine. Now, kindly fuck off, please.”

A flicker of expression passes across her features, but it vanishes before I can decipher it. Instead, she grins that stupid grin. “It’s okay to admit you like it.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. “Fuck you.”

“When?”

I feel my face heat up, and my heart accelerates faster than I need. I turn back to my painting—yes, my painting. She may have helped tie everything together, but this is my work.

“You said you would give me hell once we were out of the restrooms.”

“I said I would make your life a living hell.”

She takes a step closer to me, causing me to stiffen. If I lean back, I will either fall off my chair or press my back against the wet paint. She is so close that I can count the lashes framing her eyes and how they brush against her skin whenever she blinks.

She's too close. I can’t stand it.

“I guess Earth is my hell, and you’re my fallen angel,” she murmurs.

I suck in a breath. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She stares blankly at me for a few seconds, making me uneasy. Before I can tell her to go away again, she blinks and grins again. Her gaze drifts behind me, and her eyes widen.

She steps away and around me until she walks to a nearby bush with white flowers. I frown as I watch her brush her fingers gently against one of the flowers until she plucks a random one.

She stares at it for a few seconds before returning to me.

How she looks at me makes my hackles rise, and I wait to spit more insults at her so she can leave me alone.

Before I can do that, she walks back with her arm extended toward me, the flower in her hand.

What the fuck?

“A gift for you,” She says softly.

Her eyes carry a glazed look, and I bite back my words. Swallowing hard, I accept the flower from her with a stiff nod.

She grins once more, her face radiant with excitement.

Then she turns and walks away, finally leaving me in peace.

Crazy woman.

Chapter 4

Briar

“Do you think he’s the type of man that likes being called a good boy?”

---