Page 167 of Dark Little Game
But after all of the recent events in my life, I can’t exactly think straight, either. The only thing that makes sense to me, in my mind, is one thing.
I could paint something that Rayne would love.
I purchase six blank canvases, all of different sizes, and a set of dozens of oil paint tubes. I get all of the supplies and chemicals needed, things that I used to have in my room, back when I was younger.
When I arrive back at Onyx House, I set up in the sunroom in the back, leaning a canvas on a table against the tall windows.
And I start to paint.
At first it’s nothing. Just bold colors, anywhere my instinct tells me to go.
And some time not too much later, Rayne finds me, coming up behind me and putting his arms around my torso.
The moment he touches me it’s like I’m lurched back into my own body, intomyself.
“Hi, love,” he says simply.
I turn in his arms and kiss his temple. His cheek. Then his lips.
“I’m so lucky,” I tell him as I pull away.
“I am. And it looks like you’re making something beautiful. Hunter, you’re painting again.”
I nod at him, and he smiles. That smile alone is a gift.
“First time I’ve wanted to since Lune died.”
“It’s already perfect. Can’t wait to see how it turns out, though,” Rayne says.
I breathe deep, nuzzling against his hair.
He smells like sunscreen, as usual. He smells like home, to me.
“You make me feel like I have a reason to make beautiful things again.”
“You’ve always had a reason,” he says. “I’m just glad I could help you remember that. Still want you to hurt me, though. In thegoodways.”
I hum, running my palm up his shirt and gripping the fabric in my fist. “I will always hurt you in the ways you beg for, Rayne. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“Want you to tie me up. Have your way with me. Threaten me with everything and watch how I respond to every threat.”
I bite his lower lip, giving it a little tug. “You love it.”
“And I always will,” he tells me, stroking his palm along my hair. “It feels so good to be yours.”
Epilogue
RAYNE, SIX MONTHS LATER
Hunter’s first gallery show is an explosion of color.
He’s not used to drawing attention to himself.
With anything other than violence, at least.
When I arrive at the show with Weston, Noah, Ollie, and Roman, I scan the room and spot Hunter at one end, leaning against the wall.
He’s wearing a black suit with a crimson tie, and his hair falls perfectly in a messy swoop.
