Page 27 of Allure
Syra flipped her hair off her shoulder in an exaggerated movement. “Don’t you know you’re in the presence of greatness? People fawned over my artwork. I was in high demand while you were off galivanting in parts unknown.” Her laughter echoed in the car.
“Listen here, little star. I am still the greatest. I build things from scratch. Who do you think is going to be in charge of all the furniture in Sirens?” His smile was wide and bright. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that had her smiling. She liked Asli playful like this; it was almost as disarming as his charming side.
“Um, the furniture store, duh.” Syra barked out a loud laugh at the horror on Asli’s face. He looked so offended she almost felt bad.
She felt lighter and the energy in the car shifted. The undercurrents of sexual tension were still there, but they weren’t as heavy and oppressive as they were before. She buzzed in her seat, talking about each painting she crafted. It had been so long since she had been able to share this part of herself with someone it felt like coming home after a long trip.
No one got her art like Marco did. It was one of the many things she missed when she left him. He had been open and encouraged her to explore, play, and not be weighed down by what she should do but what she felt like she could do. She was at her freest when there was a blank canvas in front of her.
The more she talked to Asli, the more that freeing feeling came back to her. She was rambling, she knew she was, but years of keeping that part of herself hidden because it hurt too much to explore felt like she had opened a lock on the inner parts of herself. It was pouring out of her now, and Asli was there to catch it all with ease.
“I would love to take you to my studio.” He spoke once she stopped talking to catch her breath. “I can show you exactly why I’m better than you,” he teased, “and there’s an exhibit I want to take you to. It might inspire you.”
The silence seemed to stretch after he asked her to come to his studio, even with the music playing it hadn’t added to the heaviness of the silence. There was something there underneath his words that felt like he was asking more of her. It was ridiculous—one artist asking another artist to come play—but she couldn’t deny the undercurrent in his words.
Maybe that had to do with the start of the car ride or them getting closer to Orchard Tree, but she couldn’t find her voice to tell him yes or no.
“You know you don’t have to, right? I just thought since you’re going to be doing the artwork for Sirens you might want to bounce some ideas off of me and see the things I’ve done for new inspiration.” Syra could tell he was trying to ease the discomfort that started to fill the space in the car.
“I know, it’s just that I don’t…I mean,” she let out a breath. The war she had going on inside of her needed to stop. “You know what? I would love to. Shoot me an email tomorrow and we can set up a time.” Her voice held steady even as a warning whispered in her mind to proceed with caution.
Asli nodded and pulled into a parking lot. She hadn’t even realized they had arrived, but when she looked up she saw what could only be described as a castle. “Holy shit,” she whispered and reached for the door handle, eager for a closer look.
A warm hand landed on her thigh, stopping her. “We have to wait until someone comes and gets us.” She looked down at where he touched her, and a little fire started in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she was here at Orchard Tree—a sex party.
To network, she reminded herself, even though she could feel the lie for what it was.
“You’re in for such a treat tonight.” Asli sounded genuinely excited. “I’ve been to plenty of parties like these, but Orchard Tree is possibly the best.”
“That’s good. I am excited,” she murmured, watching his hand against her skin. “It’ll be good to learn what we can so we can better our customer experience for Sirens.” She felt him shift closer and her pulse jumped.
Her eyes dipped down toward Asli’s lips.Kiss me, her mind whispered, and he smiled as if he heard the command in her mind.
“I’m excited too.” His voice was soft as he leaned closer. “I’m excited to see how prettily a star like you explodes under the right touch.”
Colton waltzed into Dos Amigos, a restaurant on the outskirts of Lockwood. He took an empty seat at the bar and ordered a non-alcoholic drink since he still had to drive tonight. He couldn’t get the smell of smoke to clear from his nostrils, no matter how many showers he took and nasal rinses he’d done. He glanced down at his hands, expecting to see black soot still covering them, but nothing remained of his early afternoon activities except for a small splotch of skin that was a little tender to touch.
That’s what happens when you play with fire. You tend to get burned.
Colton rubbed his fingers together, letting the quick burst of pain shoot straight to his cock. The bite felt delicious—it wasn’t enough to keep him hard, but knowing what was coming added to the cocktail swirling around in his system. He could already taste his victory—already taste the tears of those he couldn’t wait to see on their knees.
He pressed his fingers together harder, needing more of the bite that came from pain but it never came. He let out a breath and glanced around Dos Amigos, taking in the customers who were out for an evening of fine dining. So many pretty women with their delicate skin on display made his palms itch. It had been over a week since he played, and even with this afternoon’s activities, it hadn’t dulled his need to watch a pretty thing break apart.
A smile spread wide on his face when he caught Joel Hernandez having dinner with a woman who looked an awful lot like his ex-wife, Syra, and similar to the missing woman, Christina Benson. Joel clearly had a type, one that would be his downfall.
“Fucking idiot,” Colton muttered under his breath, turning around to face the bartender who dropped off his non-alcoholic drink. He couldn’t decide if Joel was stupid or ballsy to parade around a look-a-like if he wanted his ex-wife back and didn’t want the cops knocking on his door.
The loud scraping of the barstool next to him sliding across the floor made him wince. His fingers curled into his palms, pushing his nails into his skin to keep from reaching out to grab the person next to him and bashing his face against the bar top repeatedly. He hated the sound and wasn’t too fond of the person who sat next to him.
Colton debated the merits of hitting him while they sat together in silence. He wouldn’t be the first one to speak. He could carry out his plans on his own; it was his partner who needed him.
“You’ve been busy. I heard about the fire on Elm.” Joel spoke low enough that the words wouldn’t be heard by anyone near them, but this wasn’t a conversation to be had in public.
“And you keep fucking women who look like your ex-wife,” he paused, “and who will end up disappearing.” Colton flashed a smile when he felt Joel wince beside him.
“She’s still my wife,” he grounded out. “She still has my last name and is legally tied to me.”
Colton scoffed; maybe he should tell her that. From what Colton watched at Gregory’s, it seemed that her and Marco were intimate. The man was practically ready to tear through that coffee shop to get him just for peeking in on them. He’d never seen Marco resort to such haste and anger. He was usually well-reserved no matter how hard Colton had tried to rile him up in their long history. It was commendable if not a little annoying.
