I should turn over and try to get some sleep since I have no earthly idea what tomorrow holds when it comes to my schedule, but I can't. I groan. I won't be able to sleep until I know for a fact Nyx and Atlas are in the house somewhere and unharmed.
Slipping my feet into my slippers and throwing a robe over my silk nightdress, I tip-toe out of our room to ensure I don't make too much noise and wake Finn down the hall.
I wind down one level and with a trembling hand reach for Nyx's door. I suck in a breath and shove the door open wide enough for me to peer inside. A shirtless Nyx is sprawled across his mattress akin to a toddler in a crib. There's no way he's actually comfortable in such a twisted and haphazard position,but when he releases a snore that could rattle the rafters, I sign in relief. He's fine. He's safe. It was all just a horrific nightmare. Satisfied, I close his door and make my way back upstairs.
If I was up late, I'd be in the kitchen. But there's only one place Atlas would be. His art studio.
With soft steps, I ascend to the attic where a glowing light beckons me further. When I turn the corner, relief washes over me. A shirtless Atlas is hunched over a canvas and he's sketching like a wild man with charcoal and candlelight being his only tools.
He's safe. My heart steadies.
I should go back to our room and allow him privacy, but as if he can sense my presence, he stops working and slowly twists on his stool to look at me. His smile thrusts me into the memory of us kissing in the bathtub. His hands skimmed over every inch of my wet skin until he found the exact spot I wanted him to find.
"Is everything all right?" Atlas' question brings me back. His brows pinch together when I don't immediately answer. "Nightmare?"
I cross my arms over my chest. It's much colder up here than it is in our room.
I offer a smile of my own to soothe his nerves. He doesn't need to know about another nightmare. Especially when this one is different. Up until this point, I've had the same nightmare. This one was just about Nyx. And I can't bring myself to burden Atlas with this. Not when he's seeking peace of his own up here. "I'm fine. Woke up and you weren't there so I wanted to make sure you were ok."
He extends his hand. A silent invitation. So, I approach him and once I'm within reach, he wraps his arm around me pulls me to sit on his lap. It's then I have the opportunity to see what he's working on.
I gasp. "Is that Seraxes?"
"My first attempt at drawing her. I hope I did her justice."
My eyes glide from her snarling muzzle down her scales and sharp talons right to the tip of her pointed tail. He's managed to capture her in flight, and I swear she's the most majestic creature this realm has ever beheld.
"She's beautiful," I whisper in complete awe of his talent. "You never cease to amaze me."
He grins and squeezes my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I was planning to add you next."
"Oh, don't!"
Atlas' eyes widen in surprise. "Why not?"
"I would love to keep this piece just her if that's all right with you." I explain. "And I don't want you muddying it by adding me."
"You could never muddy anything." He kisses my shoulder. "And of course, you can keep it once it's finished." He sighs, his breath tickling the back of my neck. "I wish you'd let me add you though."
I know I'm impeding his artistic vision but there's something about Seraxes in this piece that screams perfection. Plus, if it's to be hanging in the Harland House, I'd prefer to see her in all her glory.
"I'll make you a deal," I whisper, twisting to straddle him. "Keep this piece the way it is, and I'll let you draw me."
"I hate to break it to you,Strenlys," he flashes a devious smirk, "but I already draw you." He motions to the wall and my lungs constrict. There are a few charcoal sketches of me, portraits of different facial expressions and then there's a large painted canvas of me in my Lumos state.
"You are my muse," he whispers against my neck. "And I plan to add more to the collection."
"They're beautiful."
"But?" There's a teasing in his voice that fuels my boldness.
I slip off his lap and backpedal across the studio. "But you've not drawn me like this." My robe slides off my shoulders and drops to the floor. Before he can say anything, I lower the front of my silk nightdress to my waist and his eyes fade from green to purple.
His muscles tense. He leans forward to stand but stops when I tsk. "Ah, ah, ah," I sit on a secondary stool and pose. "Sketch. No touching until you're finished."
"You wicked woman," his voice is low and rumbles in his chest. "You're not playing very fair."
"I know." I smile.
