“This one is so beautiful.” He studied it intently, turning his head. “The colors are so intense. It says so much, but also nothing at all.”
He took my hand and intertwined our fingers.
“My wife painted that back in our youth,” the owner came out of the back room. “She made me promise never to sell it before…”
He never finished that sentence, letting the question of before what hang in the air. But I knew. I’d looked her and this placeup after the first time I came. She died in childbirth, the baby joining her with the goddess. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it.
“It was her wedding present to me so of course I could never sell it.” He beamed with pride, just like he always did but his voice was tinged with sadness.
I never told him I was an artist. I didn’t want to have him think that I loved this painting as a way to get a foot in the door. He and her memory deserved better than that.
“Thank you for letting us see it.” Heston didn’t take his eyes off the painting as he spoke. “It’s… everything.”
And so was Heston. Sure, we had a lot to figure out, but he was my mate and I was his. And seeing him admire this piece as I did… it told me our connection was going to be deeper than anything I’d experienced.
That was if he didn’t freak the fuck out when I showed him my beast.
Chapter 21
You’re a what?
Heston
“Thank you for getting me out of town for a few hours.”
It was my day off from the café, but I had to work this evening doing my cleaning job. Devyn kept pestering me to give that up, but we had to pay rent and utilities and buy food.
Once again, I’d left Dad with Dean. My friend was a lifesaver. He’d just texted saying Dad was with him in the office and he was having a great time chatting to guests as they checked in. It got me thinking that I should have been taking Dad out more. He was very social, much more than me, and being with other people and not staring at our four walls would improve his quality of life.
“I had an ulterior motive.” Devyn got up and wandered away, before glancing over his shoulder.
I crooked my finger at him. “If you wanna fuck or get a blow job, you need to be a teeny bit closer. I’m not a magician.”
“Mmmm.” He flipped his head back and studied something up above. I followed his gaze, but couldn’t see anything unusual. Trees, sky, a few scattered clouds.
“Devyn?” He reminded me of Sebastian when I last saw him. Gods forbid the man I loved would bring my stepfather to mind. Devyn wasn’t listening to me. It was almost as though I wasn’t here.
“Yeah.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and faced me. “That word you used… magician… it’s appropriate ‘cause I’m about to show you something that people would label ‘magic.’”
I waited for him to wink. It never came. No matter, he was referring to his cock, or maybe his tongue. His hands were also magic. But the faraway look in his eyes didn’t suggest foreplay.
“That’s odd.”
His head jerked up. “What is?”
“I could have sworn your eyes were lighter than they are now, which is dark, almost black.” I peered upward. Did he look at the sun? Was that the magic he was referring to?
“As lawyers say ‘You opened a door, Heston.’”
I narrowed my eyes. I never got the chance to become a lawyer, but I’d watched enough TV dramas to understand the concept.
“Go on.” I sat on a log while a trail of ants carried away crumbs from our lunch.
“When you were a kid, did you read fairytales?”
I nodded. This had to be regarding his father, the family, and the impending marriage. But Devyn was the black sheep, so this tale he was weaving was about him. Off the top of my head, I couldn’t think of a fairy story about a black sheep, but Shakespeare’s plays were riddled with them.
“What I’m about to show you is kinda like a fairytale.” He bit his lip. “But maybe not.”
