Page 106 of Valkyrie Unknown

As I fell into the actual painting, there wasn’t a lot of conversation, but it was still comfortable sharing this space with Azzie. Over the past seven months, we’d spent a lot of time together. At times I watched her train with Davyn, and that was always fascinating.

It has the potential to be intensely hot, too.

Other times, she’d watch me work. Neither activity allowed much for talking, but we did that too. We’d compare notes about which parts of our past were the same and which were different. There was also a comfort in simply being near her.

Now, she was quiet aside from the occasional gasp or faint groan when the brush met more sensitive parts of her back, or when I drew my fingers along her skin. The atmosphere in here made it easy for me to fall into the art. To lose myself in the lines and the discipline she radiated and the faint scent of baby powder.

Davyn chided her occasionally for wearing anything perfumed, including deodorant, and she insisted she knew better, but she clung to modern conveniences. In my opinion, both reasonable, and one of her endearing quirks—the way she balanced a human world and a magical one.

Thinking about quirks brought my mind back to the frustration with Finn’s departure tonight. Not where I wanted to be, but apparently I couldn’t avoid it.

Growing up, I hid so much of myself from the people around me and from me. My art. My desire to talk a problem through instead of solving things by being the guy who shouted louder than everyone else.

My sexuality.

When I met Finn, I was in my fifth or sixth year of being drunk. I’d fucked him in defiance of everything that held me back in my old life. Coming out to myself and getting sober at the same time wasn’t something I’d recommend to anyone, but he was there for me through both.

Part of me twinged occasionally with thoughts likeit’s dangerous to be openly bisexual. People get hurt for things like that. Despite that, I could see myself falling for him under other circumstances. Ones where he wasn’t hiding massive secrets.

For Azzie too, if she’d stop insisting she liked being alone.

Maybe I was the fucked up one—picking people who were emotionally unavailable and proud of it.

At least I knew Davyn was just eye candy.

It’s dangerous. People get hurt.

The thought repeated in my head and I cringed. My hand jerked, and I drew a line across Azzie’s back that wasn’t part of the image.

“Fuck.” The curse slipped past my lips before I realized I’d said it aloud.

“Is everythi?—”

“Don’t move.” I stopped Azzie before she could turn. Not that anyone would get hurt, but I didn’t want her to make things worse. “It’s all good.” I cleaned up the mistake, but there was already a faint line staining her skin, reminding me of the misdraw.

She stayed perfectly still. “Are you okay?” Concern tinged her question.

“I’m fine.” And not in the mood to get into what I was thinking.

“The mind goes to shitty places when it’s allowed to wander.” Her voice was soft.

Because that was another thing we had in common. Not that childhood trauma was unique to us. “Yeah.”

I finished the rest of the image without further incident, but the ghost of my mistake nagged me.

“How’s it looking?” She asked after several minutes of me staring, not drawing.

“Something isn’t right. Give me ten more minutes.” I could turn the line into a sword, but that was more aggressive than I wanted from this design.

The picture was ruined. Nothing like what I wanted. A mistake. A fuck-up. Again.

I didn’t want my mind falling into that spiral.

Azzie reached back with her left hand, not moving otherwise, and found my free hand. She squeezed lightly.

I had no idea how her touch calmed me the way it did, or how she’d known I needed that, but I did know I had the power to do the same for her. The touch was enough to prompt me enough to press the brush to her skin again, and I let the image spill from me. Faint flowers growing from a fallen sprig.

When I finished, I took a picture with my phone and handed it to her. “All done,” I said.

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