Limerence II by Claire C Riley Read Free Book Online

and filthy and I open the shades to let some light in before I try and find the paints. I already feel better just being here; the change of scenery, the change of schedule—it all seems to settle my nerves and make me feel more alive than I have been in a long time. Or maybe it’s the small remembrance of my old life, a memory of the old Mia that I find so comforting. Either way, I’m just glad for the distraction, and for a break in my routine.
    I drag a large standing easel from the cupboard and a dusty blank canvas, standing it on the small ledge of the easel. I mix some colours, but then my mind feels blank on what to actually paint. I look around the room for inspiration, but find none, and then I think of the beautiful red-haired woman, her eyes so full of pain and yet her body strong and determined—her mind slowly swirling into madness as she is stripped of everything that makes her her . Does she think this is all a dream—a nightmare of sorts that she cannot wake up from? Or does she actually know what is happening, where she is? Does she feel pain? I think of Donny’s hand moving slowly up her thigh. God, does she feel pleasure?
    I mix the colours rapidly, the ideas coming quicker than I can keep track of, and then I am lost in myself, to the smells of paints and water, to the sound of brushes dancing across paper. I change the water several times, feeling hot under the glow of the sun coming in through the window. I strip out of my boots and work barefoot, paint splashing on my toes as I mix more paint in a frenzy. Images flash before me, and I know I need to get every one of them on paper, or at least the ideas of them down. This beautiful redhead, this delicious-tasting woman, deserves that much—to be immortalised forever on my canvas.
    I will remember her, I promise myself and her. I will remember her taste, and her eyes. I will always remember her: my first taste of fear.
    The hours rush by and I have no idea what time it is—only that I’ve been happily lost in my work for too long. By the setting of the sun shining through the window, I know that I have lost all track of time and Evan will be cross with me because I have missed his training session. But it wasn’t really my fault; I couldn’t have stopped even if I had wanted to. The images so clear in my head and begging to be released on to the paper were so inexplicable that once I began there was no stopping until it was complete.
    I finally put down my brush and palette as the sun bows down, and I climb atop one of the tables to stare at my work. My arms should feel tired from holding the brush for so long, my legs should be aching from standing all day, but neither of those things happen. I feel attached to my old life in so many ways and yet so far removed from it. My muscles have the memory of what is expected of them, but my vampire side quashes those lies away. The painting stirs things in me which I haven’t felt in a long time, and I need to make sense of it. And for the first time in a year I want to sleep. Not because I am bored, but because I feel tired, worn out from…just being, I guess.
    The redhead’s eyes stare back at me, her face framed by fire and blood, her tortured expression so beautiful that I feel both repulsed and turned on by it. I stare at her, seeing into her soul, feeling her pain and her thoughts as though they were my own.
    “It’s beautiful.”
    I jump and turn to see Evan standing in the doorway.
    “I’m sorry I missed our lesson.” I bite my bottom lip, wondering what punishment I’ll get. She perks up at the thought of a spanking, and rolls her eyes when I dismiss it immediately. She’s been deceptively quiet since my breakdown the other night, and though she hasn’t been gone completely, I do feel like maybe I’m making some headway in getting control over her—and maybe getting a decent life for myself, if so.
    Evan comes all the way into the room, his steps strong and unfaltering. He comes to