A golden haze swirled around her ears in the shape of … horns? He wasn’t quite sure. “Fabiana.”
She didn’t answer, locked to the piece, her eyes wide and glowing red, so different than the indigo-blue gaze he’d become accustomed to. He didn’t even look at the painting.
“I can’t … I can’t stop. Oh goddess, Adonis. I can’t stop it.”
He tried his best to pull her into his arms, but she jerked away with a scream. He could only stand to the side, helpless, as she shouldered this alone. This pain, this trial.
“I’m here,pequeña.”
Other colors blended in—dark gold, pale peach—doctored and worked until he could see they were skin tones. Slowly, the picture emerged while Fabiana wept silently, unable to control her limbs. It was the two of them, wrapped in a fierce embrace, her nails digging into his shoulders as he knelt at her feet. One leg was hiked over his shoulder and his face was pressed into it, toward the viewer of the painting, and his eyes were closed.
Adonis had never seen anything more beautiful come through such pain.
Her head was tossed back in the painting, her mouth open and her canines extended in full view. For a moment, the image moved like a slow live photo, her hair flowing in the wind, him pulling her closer to his waiting mouth, her chest heaving.
Stinging eyes didn’t stop him from staring at it, from taking in every come-to-life stroke Fabiana made. As her brush worked, so too did the image become more real until he swore he could make out the individual strands of her hair like a camera had captured it on zoom.
“We are beautiful together,” he whispered, hoping to soothe some part of her pain.
Fabiana sighed and fell back, but he caught her. His hands touched a waxy-like substance on her bare arm. He moved, and the film flickered for a moment, matching his skin tone before snapping back to hers.
She’s wearing something.
Adonis smoothed his hands over her body, the black gown she’d worn to bed only enough to cover a bit of her thigh. The film was everywhere, but she wasn’t hurt. When he touched her neck, he could barely decern the difference between the suit and her skin just under her ears. He put his nose there, and her scent was barely evident until he forced the suit down, breaking the seal.
There.
The suit was the culprit.
But he couldn’t talk to her about it, not now.
“Fabiana?” He pushed her hair from her face to see her better. “Come on, baby. Look at me.”
She groaned and frowned at him.
“Open your eyes.”
Like through quicksand, she did as he asked and the normal indigo color was there. The odd horn-shaped dusting faded and she took a deep breath.
“What did I paint?”
He shifted her in his arms so she could see her work.
Fabiana gasped. “That’s us.”
“Yes.”
“Why would I …” She shook her head. “I’ve painted you before but not like this.”
“What was it?”
Fabiana shrugged, her gaze still locked on the painting. “You were on your knees like this, but I held chains that wrapped around us. I did it shortly after that meeting you when wanted me to lift my head.”
Adonis cocked his head to the side. “The mate-bond maybe.”
“I don’t understand why you always seem to be kneeling. I don’t need anyone to do that for me.”
“You have a very bad habit of only looking at things from one angle when it comes to you, despite that scientific brain.”
