Page 14 of Partnering with the Artist

“I…yeah. I think I get it. Art is hard.”

“Very. Which is why it’s helpful to have a model. Drawing from reference is good. Drawing from life is better.” He cups my chin, looks into my eyes. “I have nothing but artistic awe and respect for you. You’re so…” He blinks, draws his hand away, and glides his fingers through the longer waves of his hair, pulling them off his brow. “Anyway. If you’d take a seat, I’d like to get some cursory character sketches down today.”

I rise, meandering my way back to the daybed, feeling a little—or a lot—less dirty when I sit again. “I don’t need to sign any contracts?”

“My older brother told me to absolutely not scare you todeath with an NDA. Your sister will be employed formally. So long as you don’t need this on a resume, I don’t mind paying cash. It’ll be less annoying for taxes. Which my older brother also informed me I’d have to handle by myself concerning you if I were serious about this. With all due respect to the US government,no thanks.”

As Zakery swings his rolling chair back around to his tablet, replacing the stool with it, I get the strange feeling his older brother wasn’t entirelyforhim having a personal model.

That’s…comforting.

It’s actually comforting when Zakery tells me I’m free to play on my phone as long as he doesn’t need me to pose a certain way.

I am, in essence, making fifty dollars an hour to sit around and play Puzzle Page. And that I can definitely live with.

Chapter 5

?

Bullets dodged are still knives twisted.

Maelin

Please! If you’re out there, foxy baby, let me be your alpha! My pack wants one more. ;)

A full-body shudder pours down my spine as I gag, checking the comments on Harry’s Leopard post to find that his creepy ASMR girlfriend—MoonWoof—is on board with expanding the “pack.” I did not know that when Harry told me he needed to befree with his pack, he really meant he needed a harem of women.

Huh. Maybe I should be less offended that he knew better than to assume I’d support him in this if polyamory is what he wanted. I’m strictly a monogamous kinda girl. He didn’t have to be so cruel about it, though, saying how Iblocked out his sun. He could have talked to me like an adult that recognized I had feelings and we had history and—

“Everything okay, princess?” Zakery asks.

“Um.” I swallow rising emotion and grimace at the picture Harry posted of me, fleeing him, in my fursuit. “Yeah.” I can’t believe he took a photo of someone activelyrunning away from himthen had the audacity to post it online. How much of an attention addict is he? How mentally unstable and egotistical do you have to be to not only want multiple women—against at least one of their wills—but also want to be theiralpha?

I can’t believe how blind I’ve been.

For seven entire years, I excused this self-centered behavior left and right. Out of love. Because we all have our flaws. I know I have my fair share… It’s wrong of me to accuse anyone else ofthem when I’m not the most selfless of beings either.

Desperate to think about anything else, I look up and find Zakery limp in his chair, head thrown back, spinning slowly.

I blink. “Um. Areyouokay?”

His head cocks toward me as he grinds the spin to a halt. “Sure. Why?”

Well, for one, he’s not smiling that calm, almost iconically soft smile of his that I saw all over the internet when I was—per Morana’s demand—researching whether or not these brothers were known for shoving assault claims under the rug. And, for two, he was just twirling in his spinny chair like a restless child.

It has been several hours since he started drawing. Since I’ve just been lollygagging on my phone the entire time, maybe he’s the one who needs a break. Before I can ask, though, he huffs. “It’s just…your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re radiant. Reflective pools of pure exquisite allure. And, obviously, these feeble mere mortal hands that I have…” He pulls a shaking breath into himself. “…cannot get them right. Do them justice. Do themhonor.” His eyes narrow—icicles. “No. Nothonor. Glory.”

Some of the kids at the school where I went used to say that if you looked me in the eye, I’d steal your soul. That was, of course, until they learned that if you said stuff like that, Morana would rip the soul out of your body.

If I’m honest, I’ve always thought my pale green eyes looked somewhat soulless, too. Given their position in my ghost-white face, I understood why kids found them disturbing.

It’s strange how Zakery can’t seem to speak highly enough of them.

“May I see what you’ve done?” I ask.

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