Page 153 of Insolence
“Yeah, well, I told you.” Skin heating beneath her gaze, I finish posing her in front of the damask curtains.
Half-eaten toast and pickled blueberries, a jar of pepper jam, and a round of cheese clutter the small table. She’s recently taken it upon herself to introduce foods she loves that I’ve never heard of.
Most I enjoy, some not so much. The blueberries are vile.
“Portraiture isn’t my strong suit,” I mutter and sit down, satisfied with the composition.
But the truth is, I haven’t dreamed of starting the actual painting. I cherish these stolen nights too much. They’re our small escape from reality, our private enclave from an unjust world.
“You want to know what I think?”
“I’d say no, but you’re going to tell me anyway. So. Go ahead.”
Her eyes wander over my face. My arms. My hands smoothing paper over the hardboard in my lap. “I think I’m your special little project, El Asher.”
The tension between us is suddenly so thick I can taste it. The way her cheeks flush so prettily, I wish she wasn’t as exquisite as she is. So charming and beautifully bratty.
Gods, who am I fooling?I adore her.
In my more honest moments, in my heart of hearts, I know I’m ultimately going to do whatever she wants. Be whoever she wants me to be. Even now, part of me realizesI am lost.
Too many seconds blur by before I notice I’ve gone motionless. Gaping at her like a man possessed.
As much as I resent Tiss leaving money all over the atelier, her patronage makes it possible for Ma to travel back and forth to Nehel. The extra income allows her to curate important connections, eventually landing the prestigious post as Head of Manuscript Restoration in the Great Library.
As for Pop, he notices too much for my liking.
“Be careful with that one,” he says one morning. He’s caught me straggling in at dawn, my fingers black with charcoal, a stupid grin plastered on my face. “She’s not for you, El. Pursuing her is prancing through a minefield, and you know it.”
Reminds me of the delicate conversations he and Ma had with me growing up. About how our shop, our half-decent place in society, could be easily taken away with how we look. Where my parents are from.
“I’m always behind you, El. But do me a favor and dial it back with her.”
Nothing inappropriate has even happened between us. “I’mnotpursuing her,” I snap, not meaning to.
Pop folds his newspaper. Gives me a look like he knows better.
And he does.
Since realizing my inadequacy, I’ve been bringing my cock and its harness in my satchel whenever I attend our sessions.I’m never going to use it with her, is the lie I tell myself.It’s just a comfort, knowing it’s there. Like armor.
Winter drags on. It becomes impossible to keep my feelings hidden when Tiss complains about the upcoming wedding. The pressures from her friends. Her father’s expectations.
The demands of her husband-to-be.
He, of course, wants them living in Cantana the minute they’re wed. The Madocs are the ruling clan there, where they have an estate nearly as splendid as the Grand Arcade.
While Bard Fiach gives her a great deal of freedom, once married, she’ll belong to Illiam. She’ll be expected to devote herself to raising his children. Managing his estate. Hosting his friends and business associates.
If she manages to stay in Aronya Dar, we’ll see each other maybe once a month—if that. If he sweeps her away to Cantana, there’s a very real possibility I’ll never see her again.
Either way, our weekly meetings will become a thing of the past. I can’t think about it without my heart threatening to rupture.
On this particular night, potential change is tangible in the air between us, shimmering like a promise. Like a threat. And she won’t stop rambling about it all.
“Where doyouwant to live?” I say, at last.
Tiss studies me from where I’ve posed her—reclining on the burgundy sofa. Eyes riveted on my forearms, she watches me roll up my shirtsleeves until a familiar blue streak appears. Usually, my pulse speeds up a little when I see it.
