Chapter 25
My studio was an old carriage house that my grandmother had never used. The forest had grown up around it, but she’d carved it out of the trees, refurbished it, and converted it into my sanctuary when I turned sixteen. I wanted to take Dimitri straight there, but neither of us had on shoes, and the smooth stones on the inlet’s shore had been rough enough. The path to my studio was unpaved and littered with rocks, branches, and pine needles, so I rerouted us through the house so we could both put on shoes.
“Where are we going?” Dimitri put his hand on my chest to balance as he slid on his shoe, then bent over to tie it. We’d put our pants back on outside but not our shirts, and when Dimitri bent over, the too-big waist of his borrowed pants slipped down his hips. My fingers itched to strip them off him in the middle of the foyer, but I quelled the urge, knowing I would have him bare and under me almost as soon as I had him in my studio.
Then the only thing he’d be wearing was my claiming bite.
My cock thickened behind my zipper, and I adjusted myself while Dimitri wasn’t looking.
Clearing my throat, I answered the question he’d asked. “You’ll see when we get there. It’s not far.”
“Okay. I trust you.” He put on his other shoe, and I ushered him out the front door. From where we stood just outside the front door, it was impossible to see the carriage house, and I took Dimitri’s hand, twining our fingers together as I started down the wooded path that led to the place that felt the most like me.
The trees swallowed us up, hazy sunlight barely making its way through the thick branches as the sun hid behind a cloud.
“It’s so quiet out here,” Dimitri whispered.
“It is. I love living here. The city is right there—at night you can see the lights—but out here, it feels like a different world.”
Dimitri made a small noise of agreement as we wound our way deeper into the trees. Before long, I tugged him off the main path, and down the smaller one that went up to the carriage house’s front door.
“What’s this?” My mate stared at the little building with wonder in his eyes, and seeing his expression made me light up inside.
Stepping up to the door, I tapped in my code. The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open wide. “Come in.” The main light switch was right inside the door, and I hit it with my elbow, bathing the space in a warm yellow glow.
Dimitri gasped as he took in my space. While my room at the house was immaculate, this space was not. A worn red couch was in the middle of the room in front of a gas fireplace, a soft, brightly colored afghan tossed haphazardly over the back, and several mismatched pillows piled in one corner from the last time I’d fallen asleep out here. Two old end tables sat on either side of the couch, paint rags and mason jars full of brushes covering the surface of each. The rug under the couch was one of my grandmother’s castoffs that had been given new life in my studio a long time ago. It was now threadbare in places, but I refused to get rid of it. A dented apartment-sized refrigerator was backed up against the wall behind the couch, the handle mottled with multicolored handprints and fingerprints.
I walked deeper into the small house, and Dimitri followed until we were standing in the middle of my studio. The equipment set up along one wall made it look almost like a science lab, but that was where I mixed the pigment paints I needed to match old applications. I also used the equipment to produce my own pastels, though that was a medium I hadn’t pursued in some time. I had several large easels in the space, each serving a different purpose. Two paint-splattered adjustable stools were shoved into a corner, and several industrial rolling storage carts with wooden tops were wedged in beside them, each overflowing with every supply I could possibly need. Some of the drawers were partially open and more rags hung from hooks on one side of the cart closest to where we stood. Canvases ready for paint were stacked against the opposite wall next to a large drying shelf, and completed works were in their own vertical rack.
A pottery wheel blocked the back door, and a hunk of white marble with a half-carved bust was on a carving pedestal next to it, my chisels, rasps, and other tools laid out beside it.
An old golden yellow chaise had been shoved under the window, and that was where I wanted to lay Dimitri out and claim him as my own. I could already picture what he would look like spread out in my sacred space. The light in this section of the carriage house was harsher, brighter, and whiter, better for matching colors and the direction of brush strokes, but Dimitri didn’t seem to mind as he took in my sanctuary with wide-eyed wonder.
He walked through my studio carefully like he was on hallowed ground and flipped through the completed paintings with reverent hands. When he got to the Lichtenstein I’d forged, the one that was about to be sent north to Jean-Paul Bouchard for his daughter’s wedding, he held out his hand, his skin immediately changing to match the paint on the canvas.
His head swung to face me. “Is this real?”
I shook mine in answer.
“You did this?”
“I did.”
“Quin, this is nearly perfect. I would never know I’m not looking at the original work. I’m not sure even an expert could tell the difference if the original was here and they were displayed side by side.”
I shrugged. “I told you I was good.”
“I’ve seen your forgery of The Evolution of Man . I should have known from that alone.” He nodded at the painting he was still holding. “But this is beyond perfection. This is impeccable. It’s a masterpiece.”
“Thank you.” I crossed the room and gently took his hands from the canvas, holding them in mine.
“You’re welcome.” He looked around the room before his eyes settled on mine. “Thank you for showing me this. You hide your artist’s heart behind the designer labels and professional polish, but this”—he looked around again—“this is who you really are.”
I should have known he would see my studio for exactly what it was, the truest expression of my soul, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. Dimitri’s understanding unlocked something primal, possessive, and needy deep in my core. He was mine, and I needed everyone who saw him to know it.
I had to see the proof of it on his skin.
“I need to be inside you, Dimitri. I need to claim you and make you mine. Here. Now. Please.” The last word came out on a growl I couldn’t contain.
“Yes.” The word had barely passed his lips before my mouth closed over his and I lifted him into my arms, biting at his lips until they opened for me and my tongue slid inside. The first taste of him washed over me, and I wanted to devour him. He gave me back everything I was giving, his lips and teeth and tongue dueling with mine as he wrapped his legs tighter around me. I wasn’t sure how we always ended up like this, with Dimitri in my arms, clinging to me like I was the only thing tethering him to reality, but I loved it. I loved holding him in my arms. I loved that he knew I was strong enough to hold him up in more ways than one.
His borrowed pants slid down his waist again as I carried him back to the chaise, and my palms connected with the smooth, bare flesh of his ass. I loved to touch Dimitri, and I’d become addicted to the electric arc of sensation that jolted through me when our bare skin brushed.
Hell, I’d become addicted to him.
And after tonight, I’d never give him up.
No one would ever take him from me because I would protect him with every cell in my body.
I tried to be gentle when I set him down on the chaise, but the huff of breath he let out told me I’d maybe been a little aggressive.
I started to say I was sorry, but Dimitri shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Show me who you really are.”
His words were my undoing, and I grabbed the bottle of lube I’d stashed in my pocket, hopeful this was where the day would take us, and shoved my pants down, kicking them and my shoes away.
Dimitri’s eyes went wide as his hungry gaze slid over my body. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants where they rested low on his hips. His green eyes sparkled like peridots in the bright overhead light, and his cheeks were flushed, his lips already swollen from my kisses. I loomed over him, my fingers finding the waistband of his pants and pulling them down and off in one fluid motion until he was bare beneath me.
His form begged to be carved or painted, to be captured forever so everyone could observe his beauty, and my fingers itched for a charcoal pencil and a sheaf of paper. Instead, I reached out, tracing my fingers along the lines of his arms, the contours of his chest, the muscles of his legs, committing each shadow and play of the light to memory in full color and branding every inch of him with my touch. There was no part of Dimitri my fingers then my tongue and lips didn’t find until he was whimpering and desperate beneath me, and every beat of my heart was etched with his name.
“Quin. Quin. Quin.” My name fell from his lips like a chant, and I reached blindly for the lube where it had fallen next to him. The time for teasing was done. I slicked my cock and grabbed the back of his knees, pulling him up and almost off the couch as I lined up my cock and slid inside him, burying myself to the hilt on the first thrust.
A shudder raced down my spine as his body welcomed me home, his inner muscles clenching around me as he held me deep inside him.
This was where I belonged.
Dimitri was mine.
He rolled his hips, I snapped mine forward, and we found a rhythm that drove us both toward the edge hard and fast as our fingers scraped over flesh and our bodies slapped together, creating a symphony of erotic sound that echoed around us, our moans and cries of pleasure the chorus. When I’d imagined claiming my mate, my mind had always conjured images of careful plans, candles, Egyptian cotton, gentle lovemaking, and a civilized bite. But that was before I met Dimitri and realized my mate wouldn’t just see the parts of me I put on display. He would see everything. And this, this primal rushed frenzy of lust and love, was so much better than I ever dreamed it would be. It was messy, and hungry, and loud, and perfect.
Dimitri gripped my arms, trying to pull me down to him, but with his legs over my arms, it was impossible. With our bodies still connected, I lifted him into my arms again, turned, and fell gracelessly onto the chaise, the worn chenille soft against my back and Dimitri hard and solid against my front. He pushed up, straddling me, and found an angle that made his eyes roll back in his head. His olive skin was flushed as I watched him ride me, my fingers pressing bruises into his hips.
But finger-shaped bruises weren’t the only marks I wanted left on his skin, and I tugged him down, his breath stuttering in his chest as my lips and teeth found the spot at the base of his neck that would bear my mark forever.
“Do it. Quin, please. I’m yours.” Dimitri’s lips slid across my collarbone, his tongue dancing over the sensitive skin of my saddle patch.
My fingers bit deeper into the flesh at his hips as I called just enough of my orca side forward to elongate and sharpen my teeth. Dimitri trembled, and I knew he was doing the same. I let my teeth graze over the spot, then on a breath, I bit down, breaking the skin at the same time Dimitri’s sharp chameleon teeth punctured my flesh.
For a second the world went white, then there was an explosion of color so bright it ripped my orgasm from me. I came deep inside Dimitri’s body as I felt the hot rush of his release on my chest. Fully bonded, I felt Dimitri’s orgasm like it was my own, pulsing through me on waves of color, neon and glowing, and lighting me up from the inside out until I felt like rainbows must have been shooting from my skin like light reflected through a prism. Through our new mate bond, I felt his joy, his contentment, and his love, and the words spilled from my lips.
“I love you, Dimitri. I will love you forever.”
“I love you, Quin. I’m so glad you were the one to save me.”
Dimitri settled his head on my chest as we basked in the afterglow and our new bond settled firmly into place. My cock softened and slid from his body, but neither of us made any move to get up or clean up.
We were just going to do this again.
And we did.
Until we fell asleep wrapped in the old afghan from the couch, Dimitri’s fingers painting pictures in his cum on my abdomen.
I woke to sun streaming in through the windows, and rolled off the chaise slowly, trying not to disturb Dimitri. Wrapped in the fraying blanket, his face relaxed in sleep, he was heartbreakingly beautiful, and I needed to draw him exactly the way he was in that moment.
My favorite sketchbook and a drawing pencil were tucked away on top of one of my supply carts, and I grabbed them before settling on the floor next to the chaise and beginning to sketch.
The image came together quickly, the lines flowing from me, through the pencil and out onto the page.
Last night, Dimitri had said my forged Lichtenstein was a masterpiece, but as his form took shape on the page, I knew it was him who was the work of art.
“What are you doing?” Dimitri’s voice was sleep-roughened as he blinked his eyes open and found me with my sketchbook perched on my knees.
“You took my breath away, and I had to draw you.”
He sat up and held out his hand. “May I see?” I passed him the book and watched as his eyes filled with tears, a wave of happiness pulsing through our bond. “This is how you see me?”
I nodded.
“Quin, you’ve made me look beautiful.”
Climbing to my feet, I settled next to him on the chaise and held his face in my hand, my gaze dropping to the shiny pink skin of my claiming bite before my eyes found and held his. “You are beautiful, Dimitri, and more precious to me than you will ever know.”
A happy tear escaped from the corner of his eye. “I love you so much.”
Our declarations dissolved into a passionate kiss that was well on its way to something more, when there was a knock on the door.
“Quin? Dimitri? Are you up?” It was Cal’s voice on the other side of the door. “I know you guys claimed each other last night. For the record, I get it now, Quin.”
“What do you want? We’re a little busy. Newly mated. You know how it is.” Dimitri giggled under me as I threw my twin’s words back at him through the closed door.
“You need to get unbusy, and you probably need to shower. Marcus and Jules have info. We’re all meeting for breakfast.”
I dropped my head to my mate’s chest, groaning while he laughed.
“We’ll be right there.”
My lips found Dimitri’s again, and I pulled the afghan up over our heads, trying to keep our bubble of happiness intact for just a little bit longer while my twin continued to bang on the door like the annoying asshole that he was.
Dimitri laughed. “He’s not going away is he?”
My sigh ruffled the dark hair that hung over Dimitri’s forehead. “Not likely. No.”
He pushed at my chest where I was pinning him to the chaise. “We should get up.”
“No.” I closed my mouth over the claiming mark on his neck, sucking hard, and he moaned, his cock twitching against my hip. “We should stay right here.”
Cal’s banging increased. “No fucking! Family meeting.”
Dimitri giggled again. “Is he always like this?”
“Yes, and it’s too late to turn back. You’re mine forever now, so you’re just going to have to figure out a way to deal with it.”
He brushed our noses together. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Including dealing with my pain-in-the-ass family?”
“Anything.”
We caved to Cal’s incessant knocking, slipping back into the house and up to my room, but we absolutely did not hurry through showering. By the time Dimitri emerged from the glass-walled enclosure, his knees were shaking and I’d added a bite mark to his ass.
When we finally made it downstairs, every member of my—our—family was crowded into the kitchen. Felix was perched on Nero’s lap, scowling at his laptop that sat on the kitchen table while he nibbled a piece of bacon. Jack and Cal were sniping at each other under their breaths while exchanging a look that told me their banter was foreplay. Hadrian was reading a magazine. Ben and Athina were tucked into the corner, looking at something on Ben’s laptop, which he was balancing between them, and Julius, Marcus, and Eli were deep in conversation near the coffee maker.
The room went quiet as every eye turned toward Dimitri and me as we walked into the room, then the silence broke into a cacophony of catcalls, wolf whistles, and cheers.
“Ignore them,” I hissed to Dimitri under my breath as I pushed Julius away from the coffee maker and reached for a cup. “Coffee?” Dimitri nodded, and I filled the cup and passed it to him. “Cream and sugar are probably out somewhere since these heathens never put it away.”
“I drink it black, but thank you.”
I filled my own cup. “Me too.” Knocking my mug against his, I settled myself against the counter by the sink and pulled Dimitri in tight next to me, then turned to face the room. “I thought we were having a meeting.”
Nero cleared his throat. “We are, but I think congratulations are in order first.” He lifted his coffee cup in a toast, and the room dissolved into cheers again, my stoic older brother leading the pack with a wide, knowing smile on his face. As quickly as he’d whipped them into a frenzy, he settled everyone back down with a sharp whistle. “Marcus, you said you had something to tell us?”
Felix raised his hand, bouncing a little in Nero’s lap. “Actually, can I go first?”
“Sure, Lucky.” Nero pressed a kiss to his mate’s temple, and Felix beamed at him before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning to his laptop screen.
“So, our theory that the gala would bring out all the parties interested in the painting was one hundred percent correct. Since it was revealed that Malveau bought the painting there has been a ton of dark web activity focused on acquiring the painting. All through illegal channels.”
Cal’s brow creased. “But Malveau doesn’t have the painting.”
“Right. But it seems like only half the dark web knows that. The other half is looking for information about what happened to the painting after it left Dasselaar’s estate. I’m keeping an eye on the speculation, and so far none of it is pointing to us.”
Jack nodded. “That’s good, then. We’re in the clear.”
Felix shook his head. “Not quite. There are a few people offering large sums of money for details about the painting.”
“The kinds of offers that someone who’d just lost two hundred fifty-seven million would make in an effort to recover something they believe was stolen from them.” Julius pushed off the wall and crossed to stand next to Felix so he could see over his shoulder.
“So, who is it?” Hadrian closed his magazine as he asked the question.
“We don’t know. The posts are anonymous and the source is being bounced through a bunch of different IP addresses. I’ve been trying to isolate it, but so far I’m not having much success.” Felix looked disappointed. “I think all the offers are coming from the same person, and given what I’ve been able to trace of their digital footprint so far, I think it’s the same person who went looking for an accomplice inside the FBI before he stumbled upon Agent Cooper.”
Nero gripped Felix a little tighter at the mention of the dirty—and very dead, thanks to Cal and Jack—agent’s name. “But you don’t have any idea who it is?”
“Not yet.” Marcus’s low voice echoed through the room as he spoke for the first time. “But if we assume that whoever hired Malveau to buy the painting is the same person who turned Agent Cooper and sent him after Felix, then we have a lead.”
Nero nodded for Marcus to continue.
“During the auction, Julius saw that as soon as the money left Malveau’s account and Dasselaar confirmed receipt of the funds, a deposit in the exact same amount Malveau paid was deposited back into his account. That transaction was initiated by AB Holdings Limited. Jules sent me the details, and I found exactly what he had. The company is a shell corporation based in the Cayman Islands. So I kept digging. It took me a long damn time, but I was able to trace a transaction from Grove Core Industries into one of the shell accounts.”
Nero’s brow furrowed. “Why does that sound familiar?”
Felix tapped at his laptop and turned the screen Nero’s way. “Grove Core is a global company specializing in sustainable, bamboo-based products, including furniture, textiles, biodegradable packaging, and construction materials. Their worldwide headquarters are in Shanghai, but they have offices around the world. Last year, the US CEO, Tessa Li, and her husband were killed in a car accident. The circumstances were suspicious and there was evidence of foul play, and while the investigation played out over months, no one was ever arrested or charged with a crime. Li’s job and her two children went to her brother, Ethan Lin, who is the new US CEO.”
“I know Ethan Lin.” All eyes swung to Julius. “Well, not personally, but since Grove Core’s US headquarters are here in Seattle, I did some digging into him for my, uh, little side project. He always seemed legit, working his way up through the ranks of the business started by his great-great-grandfather. As far as I could tell, there was no ill will when his sister got the CEO job. He’d been CFO for several years at that point, and by all accounts seemed content in that role.”
“But since his sister died and Ethan was installed at the helm, the company has faced losses and their global stock price has fallen. He could be looking to acquire the painting so he can turn around and sell it as a way to give the company an infusion of cash.” Marcus waved his hand from side to side like he thought that was an unlikely scenario. “Or he could be looking to use the painting to wash some of his money like we think Malveau was trying to do. Or there’s a chance he has no idea money is being funneled out of his company to shell corporations that appear to be funding a search for the painting. I can only trace things so far without accessing the company’s internal records, assuming anything relating to illegal dealings isn’t immediately destroyed.”
Felix shook his head. “I’ve come up empty so far too.”
“Which means I’m up. If the company is starting to struggle, they’ll be looking for some guaranteed, high ROI investments.” Julius smiled a shark’s smile like he smelled blood in the water. “Time for me to go hunting for a new client.”