That itself was a victory, and she felt the tears culminate in her eyes, her chest tightening.She took careful, calculated steps across the living room, remembering every strewn piece of clothing.Every kiss, every touch.Every word uttered.
She remembered his promises.
Anything you want.
She remembered his deep, phthalo green gaze and the red paint smudged along his skin.
When she arrived at her canvas, Calliope stared at the white, bare block in front of her.She grabbed for her palette, fished around across the strewn tubes of paint on the floor, looking for her ultraviolet blue.She grabbed her cadmium red, noting the tube itself was rather full.It had been too long since she used the color, clearly.
She squirted the paint onto her palette, not even bothering to mix it with a palette knife.Her fingers slid through the cool liquid, blurring the colors together.She stood there for what felt like eternity, blending and sliding her fingers through the soft, cool acrylic, watching as it stained her fingers and hand.And when she’d gotten several varying shades of purple—from plum to lilac and in between, she took her fingers and touched them to the canvas.
One streak of violet paint stained the surface, bleeding into the taut fabric and it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Calliope closed her eyes, letting the tears come as she followed her inner muse, the inspiration taking hold.Her fingers glided across the canvas over and over until she opened her eyes to see the shape of a star.
A spark.
Shimmers of violet and mauve and purple and blue that hadn’t mixed well, streaks of red that refused to be diluted in anything.
Relief flooded her.
She’d done it; she’d broken her block.
Calliope grinned as she sauntered to her bathroom, removing her clothes if only so she could bathe and ready herself for bed.And as she crawled into bed, she breathed in deep, the faint scent of Theodore’s cologne clinging to the air.To her pillow.
She closed her eyes, breathing in deep, the scent igniting her inner spark.Warmth flooded her, her memories once again circling her like prey.
His mouth, his tongue, his laugh, his eyes...
Theo filled Calliope’s psyche, and she was too tired to fight.So she let herself wander down the memory of his kiss, his touch, his smooth voice.She let herself remember just how he could please her.
And the thought of his devotional tongue sparked desire in her loins once more.
She knew she shouldnotpursue such fantasies.She’d promised herself tonight would be a fresh start, that she could put aside what had happened and start the semester anew.
But Calliope knew as she let her hand travel underneath her nightgown, as her fingers slid between the fabric of her already soaked panties, that there was no forgetting Theodore Lange.
Because fate had brought him to her, that she was sure of.And Calliope had a feeling if they somehow found the diviner, it would divine the truth in its stone, the same way it longed to divine through its dust.
Theodore could not see the color of the diviner unless he was divined for someone.
Perhapsher.
It was wishful thinking, Calliope knew that.For she’d only seen the color of the diviner on her own, not with another person.Even when she’d lain her gaze upon it, when Mars and Athena and Isabelle and Spike and Lorelai had been there, she hadn’t seen a line toward...well, anyone.All she’d seen was the thin violet line, shooting out, but without an end.It was short, perhaps because she had no divined mate.Perhaps, the diviner was only showing her her openness to be a muse, to be open to so many.
But now, perhaps, Calliope thought, it was because Theo was simply not in her proximity yet.
Her fingers slid inside her entrance as she tried to push the thought aside.She could not afford to fall for such fantasies.
But the fantasy of Theo wanting her, of himgivingher what she wanted more than anything else—to behisin all senses of the word—was too much to fight.
And so Calliope gave herself to her fantasy, telling herself it was just for tonight.Tomorrow, things would be different.
Tomorrow she would call Mars and inquire about his knowledge of supernatural shifters, of his experience with the diviner, and she would find a way to bring the diviner back, and when she did bring it back, she’d know for certain if she was right about Theo.
Until then, she vowed she would keep her distance from him.She had to.Because if Theo wasnotthe mate she wished him to be, it would be too painful to bear, if she was too entangled.
She closed her eyes and chased the memory of his lips on her clit, his fingers pumping inside her.She tried her best to mimic his movement, but it was no use.It wasn’t the same and it would never be the same.
