Page 39 of Yearning For Her

The vinyl flooring was designed to look like dark, distressed wood, pairing well with the faux brick faces on three of the walls. A large window allowed sunlight to stream inside for a natural glow that would reach its peak right about the time Amanda was due to arrive. The queen bed was positioned in one corner, its white, shabby chic pillows and blanket already neatly arranged. A free-standing, clawfoot tub stood in the opposite corner near the window, and beside that, a tall, vintage mirror with a thick decorative border.

Old chests filled with various costume pieces and props sat closer to the entrance, along with a folding privacy screen, her computer desk, and most of her equipment. Various backdrops and rugs stood neatly beside the door, each a quick, easy means of changing the room’s ambience. The lights and reflective umbrellas were already in place for today’s shoot.

Apart from some of her equipment, almost everything in the studio had been bought secondhand. Thrift stores had been her biggest source, though yard sales and even a few small antique shops had proven fruitful for some of the more vintage items.

Kian’s boots thudded on the floor as he walked deeper inside, his fingers brushing over surfaces as his eyes roamed. He made a thoughtful hum and offered her a quick, heated glance when he reached the bed, but he said nothing before resuming his unhurried exploration.

Willow exhaled. Why was she so nervous? What he thought didn’t matter to her. She was proud of this place, proud of what she’d built. Eli’s opinion hadn’t changed that—he’d only referred to the studio as her she-shed—and Kian’s opinion, for good or ill, wouldn’t change it either. She’d learned to hang the brick panels, lay the floor planks, run the extra wiring, and change out the doors. She had remodeled every inch of this space herself. It was hers.

But Kian… He simply fit. Somehow, despite the softness of the décor, his elegance and the surreal, timeless air he projected matched this space perfectly.

Willow picked up her camera from the desk and turned it on. “Can I…take a picture of you?”

Kian paused, slipped his hands into his pockets, and turned toward her. He ran his tongue over his teeth, again drawing her attention to his canines. “As an immortal being, it’s best for me to avoid appearing in photographs. It prevents a lot of unwelcome questions when people find a decades-old image and notice the stark resemblance.”

“This would be just for me.” Arching a brow, she stepped closer to him and smiled. “And it only seems fair, considering you swiped a picture of me. Consider it a trade.”

“A trade.” He let out a huff through his nostrils and narrowed his eyes. “It’s always a trade with fae, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know. You’re the first I’ve met.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I’m just the first you’ve known about.” Lifting a hand, he swept his hair back. The pale strands shimmered like spun silver in the light coming through the window. “A photograph for a photograph, then. You’re the artist, Violet. Direct me.”

Excitement buzzed through Willow. She hadn’t known if he would agree, but now that he had, she had no shortage of ideas she wished to explore with him. So many poses, so many angles, and all with this natural light bathing his pale skin…

But no. One photograph. That was the deal.

She worried her lip as she looked over the room until, finally, a flash of inspiration struck her. “The mirror. Stand in front of it with your body angled toward the window.”

Kian sauntered over to the place she’d indicated. Willow followed behind him, looping her camera strap around her neck and tugging her hair free. Once she was beside him, she reached up and, after a brief hesitation, adjusted his hair so part of it hung on the side of his face with the rest over his shoulder. Then she dropped her hands to his shirt to undo a couple more buttons and spread his collar wider.

When she glanced up at his face, he was staring at her, and his lips were curled in a smirk that almost made her weak in the knees.

“You can keep going if you’d like,” he said.

“I’m sure you would like me to.” She returned his smile. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to…drop your glamour?”

“Are you going to accept that you’re mine and give in?”

“Nope.”

“Then you have my answer, as well.”

She chuckled, raised the camera, and stepped back. She stopped when she was satisfied with the way he was framed in the viewfinder. “Look at me through the mirror and keep your body angled toward the window, but pose however you like.”

His smirk lingered as he turned his face toward the mirror. He met her gaze through the reflection, and she watched as he transformed.

Kian didn’t drop his glamour, but his smirk faded, and the playfulness that had danced in his eyes shifted into smoldering, desirous heat. He braced a hand along the top of the mirror’s frame and leaned toward it, fingers bent to make his pointed nails look even more like the claws they truly were. When he grasped the edge of the mirror lower down with his other hand, his posture became like that of a beast about to pounce.

His eyes bore into hers, and she couldn’t tell if their glow was due to reflected light or his magic. The hunger on his face, the yearning, the invitation…

Willow’s breath quickened as heat flooded her pussy. This was exactly how Kian had looked when he’d spread her legs, dropped his mouth between her thighs, and devoured her.

And his expression said that was exactly what he wanted to do with her now.

This was how she wanted to capture him, to forever memorialize him.

She clicked the shutter button.

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