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Violet’s lying in bed, the sheet draped over her middle, protecting her ass from the chilly winter air. The lupines burst from the sheet, spreading up until they’re hidden in her golden hair that’s draping over the side of the mattress in waves. I held her for a while, only getting up when the sun kissed the curtains and gave me enough light to draw her.

It’s a tough call for me between creating something beautiful from her pain and owning her body as I try to knock her up. The former satisfied my ravenous nature with her for a while. But now, despite having her four times last night, I’m tempted to wake her up again.

I stifle my inner beast. She should rest.

Violet shifts, a quiet whimper pricking at my ears when she accidentally rolls onto her back. This is the most extensive piece I’ve created on her; even with salves, she will hurt for several days.

I definitely created more scars to enjoy later.

Violet’s eyes flutter open, her bruised lips tugging up and making it hard for me not to go over and suck on them some more.

“Morning.” Her lyric tone is clear enough to make the birds stop and listen.

“Morning,” I say as I set my sketchpad to the side. Taking one final drag of my lavender, I blow the smoke in her direction before snuffing it out in the ashtray. I rise and walk over to her side, gently running my fingers through her hair and along the curves of her body. Her skin flinches, her eyelids closing for a moment. “Rest; I’ll get you breakfast.”

“Okay,” she whispers. Her eyes fluttering closed again, while her smile still graces the space.

I’ve hardly allowed us to have any mornings together. Never again. From now on, all our mornings will be spent together.

I walk out, closing the door as much as I can without latching it.

“Can I hurt you after?” Dahlia’s voice pricks my ears.

“Absolutely,” Dean whispers.

When I step around the corner, he’s leaning back against the counter on his elbows, wearing nothing but his boxers. He’s always showing off his beloved burns. Dean bites down on his lower full lip to stifle his wide grin, and he nods.

“Dobroye utro, druzhishche.” Good morning, brother.

“Good morning.” I brush past him

“So, how is she?”

“She’s good. Resting” I say as I grab two mugs from the cupboard and fill the kettle.

“No,” he chuckles. “I mean, how is she?” Dean bites his lower lip again, grabs his groin, and rolls his hips. “Sounds like a good time.” I glare, then grab a couple of tea bags and a bowl.

The fucker.

“Do you have any yogurt?” I ask as I reach for the refrigerator handle, but he slams his hand against the door. His grin spreads from ear to ear, unable to contain his cocky smile.

“She likes me, you know.”

He talks like I don’t know that. She might have an unresolved crush on him, but she chose me. I take a deep inhale. He loves to push my buttons.

Not today.

“Fuck off, Dean.”

“Given just a couple more weeks, I’d have beneath me in bed, moaning my name as she strangles my cock with her tight pussy.”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, I slam him against the fridge, “Shut the fuck up.”

“She’s a good kisser.” My blood boils, heat rising through my chest until I swear steam is coming out of the top of my head. “Soft, pliant. So innocent. So willing.” Pulling him back, I slam him against the fridge again. He only laughs. “My lips have been all over her since you’ve been away, druzhishche. She feels good beneath me.”

“What?!”

Violet