Page 54 of The Art of Obsession
I lower the revolver and tuck it into my belt holster, letting my gaze sweep over the others. “Let this serve as a reminder. This exhibit is sacred. What you are about to witness is not just art—it’s life. A glimpse into the human soul. It is not entertainment. It is enlightenment. Disrespect it—orher—again, and the next chamber won’t be empty.”
The room is silent as I leave, the weight of my warning suffocating the air.
Hardening my jaw, I open the exhibit door. Everleigh scrambles out of the desk chair, nearly knocking it over.
“Acheron,” she says softly but with disbelief.
First, I lift a finger, signaling her to wait as I light the antique lanterns strategically positioned around the room. They will cast a soft, warm glow about her figure when she’s on the bed.
Even now, they illuminate her. The pale pink chemise clings to her curves like a second skin, the delicate fabric shimmering, teasingly sheer. Soft curls frame her face, making her look almost ethereal. I can’t compare her to an angel. It wouldn’t do her justice.
I take her in. “You look lovely,” I say, my voice softer now, the edge of earlier violence replaced by something tender. My gaze lingers on the faint imprint of her nipples beneath the chemise. She dressed for me.
Her cheeks flush, though she tries to hide it with a roll of her eyes. “It’s what was in the wardrobe.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
My cock throbs painfully in my pants. My fingers twitch in my gloves, aching to begin. Tonight will make or break her—it will bind us or destroy her entirely.
“It suits you.”
I step toward her, wondering if she reads the approval in my eyes.
Her eyes pinch in silent accusation, wondering where I’ve been all day. “Is this where you tell me it’s time to become part of your grand masterpiece?” she asks sharply.
“No,” I say, low and steady. “Youarethe masterpiece. Everything else is just the frame.”
Her breath hitches before she scoffs and turns away, brushing her fingers along the hem of the chemise. “Grand words for someone who keeps so many secrets,” she mutters.
“Secrets have their place,” I reply, stepping toward the wall. With a click of a hidden button, the room transforms with fairy lights flickering to life and painting her in hues of gold and rose. Startled, her wide eyes reflect the lights and turn to silver flames.
“What are you doing?” she wonders.
I don’t answer but merely gesture to the ceiling above the bed where the glass slides back, revealing a massive, ornate mirror framed in gold.
Her lips part as she stares upward with awe. She turns to me, traces of fear crossing her features at the not-so-subtle implication. “What are you doing?”
I don’t give her time to process. With one final click, the wall opposite us shifts. The one-way glass transforms, revealing the group of men seated in the adjacent room, their eyes fixed on us through the nowtwo-way glass.
A strangled gasp escapes her lips, and she shrieks, stumbling back. “What—what is this?” Everleigh demands, her voice shaking as her gaze darts between me and the spectators.Damned soul that I am, I feed on her terror…and prowl toward her.
When she bolts for the wardrobe, her intention clear, I move swiftly. Before she can reach it, I sweep her into my arms, her struggles futile against my strength. “Let me go!” she cries, thrashing, her fists pounding against my chest.
I hold her tightly, my voice calm but firm. “Be still.”
She freezes, her chest heaving as she glares up at me, her eyes blazing with fury and dread. “You brought me here forthem? To be some kind of?—”
“No,” I interrupt, my tone cold as steel. I lower it to a deep purr. “Not for them. Forus.They are here to witness, not to touch. To see art in its rawest, purest form. You are not an object to be ogled, Everleigh. You are the embodiment of something they’ll never have. That’s why they watch—because they cannot possess.”
Her breathing slows, but her body remains tense in my arms. Her expression wars between fear, defiance, and curiosity. Finally, she looks away, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. “You’re insane,” she murmurs, but the fight in her voice is waning.
I set her down gently on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Perhaps,” I admit, stepping back. “But insanity has its purpose. Tonight, it will create something unforgettable.”
For her sake, I turn to the glass, addressing the audience beyond. “Gentlemen,” I say, my voice carrying authority. “You are about to witness art in action. Respect it—or leave.”
I glance back at her, the soft glow of the fairy lights catching the faint sheen of tears in her eyes. “Everleigh,” I say, my tone softening, “you are more than they deserve to see. But tonight, I will show them what true beauty looks like…through you.”
She doesn’t respond, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as she struggles to steady herself. But she doesn’t bolt again. And that, for now, is enough.
She looks up, those eyes of silver flames locking on me, burning through the tear-stained glassy film. “What now, Acheron?”
