Chapter 34
Imitation
Sinta
I had to be close to my period by now. I was practically miserable at this point.
Sluggishly making my way from my last class of the day, Art, I silently bemoaned the fact that it was only Thursday and I’d had to come to class at all. Sadly, my little break didn’t start until tomorrow, so I had to attend all of my normal classes for today.
Imelda and Yelana hadn’t been much better, both of them just as miserable and Yelana kept pointing knives at people.
Clutching two art textbooks to my chest and making my way through the throngs of students without actually paying attention to them, I wasn’t at all surprised when I slammed into someone.
“Sorry.” I mutter, stepping back.
“So you should be.” The female spits, shoving me out of her way. “Wannabe little serpent. Be grateful you are even allowed to breathe.”
I glare at her hate-lined face. I didn’t even have the energy to snap back at her.
She storms away, and each of her friends take their turn shoving or sneering at me as they go.
Sighing, I try to continue walking.
But I run into someone else.
Immediately stuttering out an apology, I step back and look up at my collision victim.
Fade gives me an easy smile, his beautiful features pulled into a look of concern. “Gorgeous, you should be careful.” Eyes roving my face, frowning, he steps closer and reaches out to cup my cheek. “Are you not feeling well?”
Smiling weakly, I shake my head. “No. Shark week.” Is all I offer.
Features dawning with understanding, he nods and glances at the textbooks in my arms. “Are you heading to class?”
“Just finished. I was going to head home and tuck myself into bed.” I sounded miserable even to my own ears.
Humming, he rests his hand on my nape, sliding it beneath my loose hair. “Would you like to accompany me? I need to spend a few hours on an art piece.”
I was stuck between saying no and accepting his offer. I’d never been good at sculpting, I’d glimpsed sketches of Fade’s work left lying around the loungeroom, and I was very curious.
Biting my lip, I debated the options and felt like my head was going to split from the pressure.
“There is a lounge in the workspace. You can lay on it and be comfortable.” He adds, his accent making it sound indecent.
But it won me over.
“I’d love to.” I agree.
Smiling – the biggest I think I’d seen him give – he curves an arm around my shoulders and guides me back down the hall, past my own art class, and into another.
This one had separated sections – like cubicles – that clearly belonged to different students.
He leads me to one in the far back framed by two windows. A bench before one of the windows, a table with a spinning plate upon it, a stool, a chase lounge against the cubicle wall, and a small shelf containing supplies occupied the space.
Letting him lead me to the lounge and smiling when he waited for me to situate myself on it, I watch him wander away to collect something covered by a sheet from a large commercial fridge – the best way to preserve wet clay – and carry it back.
He places it on the turn table, then leans over and pulls a dividing screen up between us.
Allowing only a glimpse of Fade’s head above it.
“Are you private about your works?” I question.
“Only this one.” He murmurs. “Are you comfortable?”
“Very.” For an old-looking chase, it was very soft.
“Excellent. I have been thinking of a date for us, but I thought for now we could spend time together this way.” He says as he begins to gather supplies.
“That’s fine with me. I need to decide what century of art I am doing my focus piece on.” I pick up one of the textbooks titled ‘A Millenia of Art’ and settle back against the chase’s raised arm. “Do you need silence?”
“Talk if you want, Magnifique. Your voice is like a song.” He murmurs.
Smiling, I open up to chapter one and begin to read through it.
I manage to make it to chapter three in the time I am sitting there, Fade working away on his piece behind the screen, but no matter how hard I try it takes me three or four attempts to read a single chapter.
Because my mind keeps drifting to him.
Things may have been sorted with Rapid, and Elijah had that steady reassuring presence that made me inherently sure he was there for me, but Fade……. Despite the little chat we had the other day, he was so reserved.
He kept his emotions locked down tight, always held himself taunt and mannered.
I didn’t want to think ill of him, but I found myself questioning his commitment, or if he even was committed, simply because I couldn’t read him.
And now that he was here in front of me I couldn’t keep the thoughts from encroaching on my focus.
“Fade?”
“Oui.”
“Are you really interested in dating me?”
He’s silent for a minute, but he hasn’t paused his work. I can hear the drag of his tools and the gentle motion of clay.
“Oui, Magnifique. I thought I was clear on that.” He says, and I can hear the confusion in his voice.
“You were – or at least you were clear about taking me on a date. But it’s been a week, and I thought we would have gone out before now.” Swallowing, I admit. “I can’t read you; you keep your emotions behind a wall. I’m not usually needy, but I can’t even tell if you are excited to see me sometimes. It makes me second guess things…..”
His work behind the screen pauses, and I can see his head dip down.
“I see.”
I wince at the two shortly spoken words, fiddling with the textbook. “I don’t mean to upset you—”
“I was raised by my older siblings – My oldest brother and my sister. I was a difficult birth, and it killed my mother. Her death and the breaking of the mate bond killed my father.” Sighing, Fade rolls his stool around the table to face me, his face still unreadable but his eyes sad. “My older siblings are emotionless. Robots, humans might call them. They hunger only for power and status – my father’s influence. They tried to make me like them, but after a few years my grandmother migrated from Faerie and saw how they were trying to raise me. She immediately took me in.”
Swallowing, having a distinct picture of a lonely, stalwart little boy afraid to show emotion in my head, I stare at Fade with a heavy heart.
“She tried her best to reverse the damage, but by then I was already eight years old and very, very quiet.” Examining the clay on his fingers with a sharp focus, he hums a sound. “She did help me, after all I feel just like others thanks to her. But some damage still remains, and because of that I struggle to show emotion. So, I rely on my word to reassure people. When I say something, I mean it. My word is my bond.” Pinning that sharp focus on me, my pule skips at the attention. “I will do more than date you, Sinta. But first I will take you on a date. I simply want it to be perfect.”
Standing, prowling over to the chase, he cages me in his arms and leans down so we are face-to-face, our eyes locked in a stare I didn’t have the will to break.
“Be assured, Mon Magnifique, I have every intention of making you mine. I look after and spoil what is mine.” Dragging his silvery eyes down to my lips, he murmurs. “And you’ll learn to love it.”
I don’t know what kind of spell he has me under, but it forces my brain into a spinning malfunction.
One that had me blurting, “I’m a Dragon.”
Gods, if I could have slapped myself in that moment, I would have.
His lips tick up, amused. “I know. Gargoyles have very similar powers to Seers and Oracles.” He drawls.
I gape at him like a fool.
Taking advantage, he swoops in and takes a kiss full of passion and blazing, blistering heat. He rocks me with the intensity of it, his tongue curling around my own and guiding it into a silky, captivating seduction.
I melt into the kiss with a moan, mewing a disappointed sound when he pulls away.
“Are you reassured now, Magnifique?” He purrs.
“Oui.” I rasp.
“Bon.” Pulling away, he settles back before his work but tugs the screen down, revealing to me what he had been doing.
It was a bust. A white clay bust of a nude female figure arching against some hidden force, the body lithe and athletic with perky proud breasts thrust forth and a taut abdomen, the waist dipping invitingly between the vaguely hourglass curves of the chest and hips.
It also had a smattering of scales along the shoulders.
“Is that—” Standing, moving around to stand behind him, I take in the very moving – perhaps even provocative – bust of my middle and shoulders. “You sculpted me?”
“I have been sculpting you. For some days now.” He says, his fingers carefully directing a tool to mould and shape the detailed scales on the left shoulder. “I plan to display it in my room.”
“But how? We haven’t,” I blush. “You haven’t seen me naked yet.”
I catch his small smile. “You took your shirt off on the beach after we went swimming. I saw all I needed to.”
Imitation was the purest form of flattery. Everyone knew the true meaning of that saying was art – paintings, pictures, sculptures.
Recreating the beauty of someone through fine works.
I couldn’t have described the effect of flattery before. But now I could safely say it was drugging and silken as it wound through my chest.
“It’s beautiful. I wish I could sculpt like that.” I breathe.
“You said you are an artist?” He questions.
“Oui. But my prowess lies with sketching and painting. Art like this is a skill all of its own. I’ve never been able to master it —not even partially.” I watch his fingers nimbly work, comparing it to the fine movements I make with a paint brush at times.
Wholly different and yet achingly similar.
Shuffling back on the wide seat of his stool, Fade gestures before him. “Here.”
I give him a surprised look.
“Come, sit.” He gives me another rare grin. “I want to gaze at this piece and remember you pressed against me, curled in my arms, as we worked on it together.”
Grinning, I quickly seat myself before him, my back to his chest, and let him take my hands and show me how to work the thick clay.
“Just like this.” He murmurs against my cheek, his big body hunched around me.
“Thank you.” I murmur.
He kisses my temple, his lips whispering against the skin. “You are welcome.”
Twice now I’d felt an overwhelming happiness.
Twice now I had the same urge to cloister it and protect it with all I had.
These boys were going to be my undoing; I just knew it.
Elijah
“So, keep my hands to myself and don’t feed anything without checking with you first.” She recites.
“Yes.” I chuckle, leading the way to the school’s menagerie.
“How dangerous are these animals? Scale of one to ten?” She prods.
“Ten. All creatures of Faerie are dangerous in their own way. Most are cute, but almost all are able to kill you. The rest will just severely maim you.”
Sinta stares at me, like she’s hoping I’m joking. “I’m rethinking my desire to visit Faerie.”
“They won’t attack you without provocation.” I murmur. “And I’ll be here.”
“My hero.” She croons, her smile small.
Coming up to a tall wooden structure that really does look like a barn – an expensive one with a stone base and polished wood – I offer my hand to Sinta as we approach the large double door.
She slides it into my grip without hesitation, our fingers lacing, and follows me inside.
“Remember, don’t approach—”
“Oh my gods, why is there a unicorn shifter locked in a stall?” She demands, horrified.
It was a beautiful black beast, tall and proud with a thick mane and tail. It’s coat was so black it had a violet sheen, and the ribbed horn atop it’s head was a mix of dark pearlescent purples.
“It’s not Fae. A lot of shifter Fae share their beast forms with pure blooded creatures.” Leading us closer, but not close enough that she could try and touch the beast, I smile and dip my head in a respectful nod. “This is Majesty. She’s Headmistress Bladgood’s bonded steed – and a biter.”
As if understanding us, Majesty tosses her head and snaps her large blunt teeth.
Sinta rears back, and her eyes flash reptilian for a moment. Her dragon likely recognised the threat Majesty had essentially thrown at her.
I watch Sinta’s eyes for another flash of her beast, but they remain her beautiful emerald-acid green.
I wonder if she knew her eyes had been doing that lately, knew her dragon was coming closer and closer to the surface.
“She’s beautiful.” She murmurs as I palm her hand and leads us away. “But it’s kind of hard to miss that evil look in her black eyes.”
“She’s not evil, but she does have a horrible temper. Ms Bladgood is a legend, she once rode Majesty into battle and emerged victorious with the enemy’s head mounted on Majesty’s horn.”
She blanches and throws a look back at the Unicorn.
Majesty is watching her, her head lowered, and those block-like teeth bared.
Sinta quickly looks away and steps closer to my side.
I can’t help my low laugh, my fingers clutching her hand tighter and pulling her into my side as we walked.
My lion chuffs a sound, watching her like he always does, a quiet satisfied rumble settling in his chest.
He liked it when she was close – sometimes he pushed me to shift just so he could cuddle with her. Since he was the size of an elephant, that obviously wouldn’t go down well.
“That is Kork – he tends to trash the cafeteria when he gets loose, so he’s on lockdown.” I gesture to a hare with an impressive rack of antlers atop it’s head, the creature about the size of a small pony. “He’s a jackalope. They’re primarily carnivores, but they are too lazy to hunt their own food. Quite often they’ll steal it from other predators.”
Kork hops to the front of his stall and presses his cute bunny face to the bars, big brown eyes wide and sad looking.
“Aw, poor cutey. It must suck being locked up.” She croons to him as we pass.
His nose twitches adorably.
But then he lifts his lip and we catch sight of the razor-sharp teeth inside his mouth.
“Jackalopes aren’t common in Faerie, are they?” Sinta nervously question.
“No. They typically roam the wilds.”
“That’s good. Very good.” She mumbles, her hand flexing in my grip.
“Are you okay?” I laugh.
“Oh, just wondering how any of you are still alive. Faerie officially seems like a nightmare to me.”
“It’s not that bad. Fae thought earth was a horrifying place when they first came here – now look at us. Thriving alongside humans.” I point out.
“I guess.”
Tugging her along, I lead her all the way to the back of the barn past dozens of stalls to stand before a huge enclosure, the space like a zoo habitat for big cats.
Only there wasn’t glass separating us from what was in there, but thick metal bars.
“I want you to meet someone.” I murmur, letting go of her hand to step forward and unlock a small square door on the front of the cage.
“Ah, is that safe?” She inquires nervously.
“Perfectly.” Bending, I let out a shrill whistle. “Pork, come on. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”
“Pork?”
The large plants in the habitat rustle, a purr leaking out from the fauna.
The cutest little golden lion cub trots out with a loud rumbling purr, headed straight for me. I feel his psyche, like a warm phantom touch, brush against my mind in a familiar greeting.
Scooping him up, I stand and hug the cat to my chest, my face buried in his scruff.
Purring, the cub cups my head with his paws and proceeds to groom my hair.
“Oh my Gods, it’s so fucking cute.” Sinta whispers, her eyes wide and her hands twitching, like she’s fighting the urge to pat Pork.
“He.” I correct, lifting my head. “Pork, this is Sinta. Sinta, this is Pork.”
Beaconing her closer, she steps up next to me and gives the cub an awkward wave. “Hi Pork.”
Big golden eyes watch her with a steady curiosity, taking her measure in a way only cats seem to be capable of. His mind brushes against mine, our bond vibrating with curiosity and interest.
He studies her, takes in her scent, examines her aura.
“Pork is my familiar, he is a Cursed Lion Cub. I keep him here because he’s more comfortable that way. And he has a bad habit of stealing our clothes to make a den.” I tell her, running a hand down his spine.
“That’s adorable. I would totally hand over my clothes to this cutie pie.” She laughs.
“Tomashi went ballistic every single time.” I laugh with her.
“Why is he called a Cursed Lion Cub?” She questions.
“He’s about eighty years old. He’s cursed to look like a cub for the entirety of his existence.” I explain, to which she makes a sympathetic noise.
Pork pushes his mind against mine, projecting happiness and acceptance, as well as affection.
Emitting a chirping sound and leaning towards Sinta from my arms, extending a large plate-sized paw, he rests it on her arm.
My lips tick up in a satisfied, and slightly relieved, smile.
“Hi handsome.” She croons, gently running her fingers over his fur and rubbing her thumb against his massive toe beans.
I almost warn her about the giant claws contained there but decide not to. He’s established he likes her, and therefore he won’t hurt her.
“He likes you.” I whisper as she and Pork have a moment.
“I’m glad.” She murmurs, watching Pork’s gorgeous eyes grow soft and languid with pleasure.
His body vibrates with the force of his purr – you would think the little guy had a motor engine in his chest.
He sends me a feeling of lethargy and the image of nighttime, turning those eyes up to mine.
“I better put him back in. It’s about his nap time.” I whisper.
“Okay.” Pulling away, she watches me place a languid Pork back into his enclosure.
Sparing us one last look and showing us his impressive teeth with a huge yawn, he trots off into the brush and disappears.
“He’s amazing, Elijah.” She beams. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”
“Thank you for wanting to meet him.”
Taking her hand again, pulling her close, I wrap her up against me and settle my eyes on hers.
“I have a confession – this was a test.”
Her brows furrow. “For what?”
“Pork is a good judge of character, he can tell a lot about people just from a look.” I explain. “I wanted to see what he thought of you.”
She studies me, finding nothing but earnest honesty and what I think is happiness. “And did I pass this test?”
I smile. “Pork doesn’t let just anybody touch him. He’s killed people for less.”
I laugh as she jolts back, her eyes wide.
“Don’t worry, you definitely passed.” I snicker. “I knew you were a good person, but I wanted to be absolutely sure.”
“Right.” Glancing at Pork’s enclosure, she shakes her head. “I’d like a warning the next time you decide to expose me to a potentially dangerous animal, please.”
Grasping her chin, turning her face up to mine, I press a firm kiss to her lips. “I promise, in the future, I will warn you.”
“Thank you.” She hums.
Head dipping, I kiss her again. And again. And again.
And again.
Suffice to say, we were a little late for dinner.