Page 39 of Possession

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Would you like to see?” he asked.

I did, but I didn’t. Declan had a way of recreating reality. He’d show you who you were, he’d give you a glimpse into his mind, he’d paint you with veracity and passion and there would be no way to deny the truth.I was terrified to see how he saw me now.

He didn’t give me a chance to say no as he turned the sketch pad toward me. I was there but I wasn’t. It was shadows and mist and my body had been stirred by the air. My profile the only strong line. My head was tipped down, my arms slightly raised as if in prayer, my silhouette lost into the gloom behind me. It was sad, and striking… it was perfect. I kneeled down in front of him and took the sketch book from his grip with trembling fingers. I stared at the girl in the picture. It was sure and clear and abstract. It was steadfast and fleeting… it was exactly how I felt. I was Clark’s wife, but I was also Declan’s heart, and I was stuck between worlds, just as he’d depicted me.

My eyes found his and I was anchored. He lifted his charcoal-stained fingers to my face. I closed my eyes and let my body incline to his. His citrus scent was mixed with earth and rain. And, as he held my cheek, I licked my lips, ready to feel his mouth on mine, ready to feel awakened, ready for him, but his hand fell, and my eyes opened as he eased the drawing from my hand.

“Are there parts of you that are still his?” Declan’s voice was a deep whisper and it hit me hard in the chest, cracking me open.

I shook my head, but I knew it was a lie. There was so much I still needed to work through. A marriage to a man like Clark didn’t just fade away.

“I want to wash him away, make it as if he never existed.” I stood, my knees aching from the chill of the concrete.

Declan sat completely paralyzed.

“Nothing of Clark remains here.” I pointed to my chest.

But there were some things I thought would never go away.

My eyes closed as his body hovered over me. The weight of him was suffocating. The damp feel of his breath on my neck curdled my stomach. I wanted to lose myself in something else, thoughts of Declan, thoughts of his mouth on mine, his hands on my hips, but Clark had robbed me of that. His brutal grunting distracted me from the fantasy, keeping me chained to the present. The painful pinch of his body moving inside of me had to be a sign this wasn’t right, this wasn’t love. Clark’s eyes avoided mine as he growled through his release. I should pray that this time his seed would take, but God doesn’t listen to liars.

“Nothing of mine was ever his.” The memory turned my heart to ice.

Declan stood, closed his sketchbook, and then held my face with his free hand. His thumb moved with a gentle touch across my cheekbone. “I’m sorry that you ever thought you had to give yourself over to him.”

“I lost sight of myself, Declan, but I’m getting better. I’m still in here…” A nervous laugh erupted from my lips. “At least I think I am.”

“You are, I see it sometimes. When your guard is down, the Paige I’ve always known… she’s still there.” His smile was comforting as he lowered his hand from my face.

“‘I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart; I am, I am, I am.’”

“The Bell Jar,”he said with a sideways smile.

“You remembered?” I shook my head in disbelief.

“It’s your favorite book, Paige. How could I forget? You know, you could get that quote as a tattoo.”

“No way.” I laughed again, but this time with feeling.

“No?” He quirked his eyebrow. “I could do it for you, if you wanted.” He ran his hand through his hair and dropped his gaze as he grabbed his satchel and placed his pad inside.

My heart flapped out several shuddered beats before it found its proper rhythm again. “Maybe?”

“Tonight?” He grinned and I laughed once.

“I’d rather see your paintings, if that’s all right with you.” My smile was brightly woven within the words.

“Then let’s go.”

He’d said he lived walking distance from The Gallery, but I’d driven us to his apartment anyway. I’d had a small panic attack when I’d first seen the tattoo shop because I was certain Liam would most likely hate me. We’d pulled around back, down a narrow alley and parked. The shop was closed and when I’d ask Declan if Liam would be home, he’d said he’d texted his brother earlier and he’d gone out with some girl. From our conversations at the studio, I knew Kieran lived at home still, so when Declan lead me up the rickety and rusted stairs behind Avenues Ink, I had a small wave of relief that we would be alone. Declan’s hand was wrapped tightly in mine as he opened the apartment door. Once inside, he flipped on the lights, and the shade of the night evaporated, illuminating the entire space in a white glow.

The ceiling was high and, from what I could see, the apartment was very modern. Everything felt cold except for the beige area rug. I only glanced around the place briefly before my eyes landed on Declan’s paintings. They were in various sizes, hung in steel frames against the exposed brick of the industrial-themed apartment.

“Declan, this place… it’s like your own personal exhibit.” I couldn’t hide the wonder in my voice as I pulled him to one of the paintings.

My eyes devoured the linear form of the triangles and circles clashed together in black paint. The shapes seemed to bleed in white lines down the canvas.

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