Chapter 5
The sound of heavy banging roused Calliope from her slumber with a groan. Her head was pounding, her shoulder and neck aching something fierce, and her body felt strangely clammy and warm and weighted down.
Good grief, how much alcohol was in those bloody drinks last night?
Her eyelashes fluttered as she filtered in the light streaming through her windows, her vision a blur of colors that felt more Monet than Mondrian. A groan beside her pulled her attention as she sat up, and the heaviness fell from her chest, down her abdomen, landing in her lap.
She rubbed her eyes as her vision sharpened, the light of late morning illuminating the scene in front of her.
Paint tubes strewn about the floor, dried acrylic sticking to the floorboards in puddles, clothes lining the pathway from the door. A plastic, black mask that had been crushed, stained with bright cadmium red paint.
And then the sound beside her deepened, the weight in her lap sliding between her thighs, and all at once Calliope remembered precisely what happened.
Flashes of Zorro—no, Theodore—permeated in her psyche.
His perfect kiss, his deep voice promising her anything she wanted.
His wicked mouth driving her into oblivion not once, but twice. His cock filling her.
She turned in earnest, panic and anxiety culminating inside of her as she looked at Theo—naked, spatters of paint covering his golden skin like a Jackson Pollack painting.
Her heart climbed into her throat as she remembered him on his knees. Her words to him a spell all their own.
I want you to worship me.
What was she thinking? How had she let herself be so... so... open?
“So loud,” he murmured groggily, tugging her hip with his hand.
All mine.
His words reverberated in her brain.
The loud banging on the door continued, getting louder, faster.
“Callie! Wake up!” An aggravated, high-pitched voice called out, one quite familiar.
“Will you stop yelling!” It was hard not to recognize Spike’s—Hecate and Hades’s former cursed hellhound shifter who had recently found his mate in her friend and former student, Izzy—deep and sophisticated voice, even from rooms away, and Calliope sat up straighter.
Izzy and Spike were not ones to bother her at home. Especially on a weekend.
Theo groaned, rubbing his eyes and his forehead. “What the hell is all the yelling?”
Calliope leapt up from the floor, her nerves frayed as she tried to figure out which fire to put out first, though her head was pounding and her body felt too cramped and achy from the fact she’d slept on the floor... with Theodore.
Oh my Gods.
Theo sat up as she sprung toward her door.
“Callie...” he murmured, his voice groggy but also carrying a hint of alarm.
But she could not answer him right now. She could not focus on Theo at all, only the incessant loud shouting and heavy fists on her door.
She threw on her pink kimono robe, cinching and tying it as fast as she could as she padded across the floor to her door, not stopping to look back at the man she’d left on the floor in her bedroom like a shredded piece of decoupage.
“Callie! God, I swear if you’re lying dead in there, I’m going to kill you!” Izzy screamed just as Calliope reached the door and hurriedly unlocked it, throwing it open.
On the other side of the door stood Izzy, dressed in a Monster F*cker t-shirt and black jeans and boots, her blonde hair disheveled, sticking out in all sorts of directions as if she, too, had risen from a dead sleep.
Spike stood beside her, his dark hair also equally messy, but he looked a bit more put together with his black jeans, white shirt, and matching leather jacket.
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Calliope, whose head was practically splitting.
“What are you raving on about?”
Izzy did not waste a second as she rushed indoors, entering Calliope’s humble abode and Spike sighed as Izzy started her debriefing.
“Spike and I thought we’d get to the fucking gallery early you know, so like... we could clock out a little bit early and check out the show over at Bandwidth later this evening and—”
“Slow down, Isabelle,” Calliope said as she hurried after the vampire, Spike sighing in exhaustion as he chased the rambling vampire as well.
Izzy threw her hands up in the air. “Would you just listen?”
“I’m trying,” Calliope said as Izzy headed straight for her kitchen, making a beeline to her coffee pot.
Isabelle and Lorelai had visited her on occasion, mostly when they wanted to borrow a brush or paint, or possibly even submit extra credit outside of lecturing hours, so it wasn’t as if Calliope was bothered by her friend’s level of comfort in her home on a regular day, but today was certainly not a regular day for Calliope. Not by a long shot.
“Where the fuck is the coffee?” Izzy huffed. “You always have coffee.”
Calliope sighed as she pushed past Isabelle and headed for the cabinet to grab her coffee filters and grounds as Spike chimed in.
“I think what Iz is trying to say is—”
“If you would stop interrupting me, and let me talk—” Izzy huffed as Calliope felt her pulse rising.
“Spike? What the hell are you doing here?”
Calliope stopped mid coffee ground pour, as Theo’s voice permeated through the air. It was like the world froze and her legs had turned to stone.
“Theo?” Spike’s surprised tone fell on her ears and she had to remember to breathe. Because Spike said his name.
“Who the hell are you?” Izzy asked, her tone slightly judgmental.
Calliope sucked in a breath as she turned slightly to see Theo, breathing a sigh of relief as she noticed he was dressed. Haphazardly, with his blue button-down half hanging out of his black dress paints, his sleeves half rolled and undone, his hair sticking out every which way.
“Theo was my lab partner in bio last semester,” Spike muttered.
“How do you know Callie?” Theo asked, and Calliope could hear an edge of something sharp in his voice. Jealousy or anger, or... possession?
No, that would be silly, that would mean—
“She was my Painting 101 instructor last semester.”
“For the love of all things holy, can we do meet and fucking greets another time!” Izzy huffed as Calliope blinked, coming back to the here and now, starting the coffee pot as fast as she could before she stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Loudly.
The students in her midst ceased their squabbling, all turning to look at her.
“Isabelle, please. What are you and Spike doing here at—” She checked her wall clock, noting the time was nearing almost noon. She—and Theodore—had slept nearly nine, ten hours almost.
She’d never slept so long in all her life! And this certainly wasn’t her first hangover.
“Eleven thirty-eight in the morning?”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “That’s what I was trying to say! Spike and I were headed to the Gallery—”
“The Leehan Gallery?” Theo asked, as they all turned to look at him.
“Is there, like... another gallery on campus?” Izzy bit as Calliope pinched the bridge of her nose.
“There is not. Izzy, please get to the point—”
“Are you hung over?” Spike asked, the innocence in his voice almost comical.
Though Spike may have looked like a man who could murder you and not blink an eye, he was far from dangerous or murderous.
He’d only just become human again after nearly a century, and was still learning how to navigate the modern world.
With Izzy by his side, and his friends, which included Calliope.
And apparently, Theodore.
What were the odds?
“Spike—”
“Anyway, as I was trying to say,” Izzy huffed as the coffee spat ominously, “Spike and I went early to check out all the shit on the schedule for the new work study joining the shit show—”
Theo raised his hand, and Calliope felt as if her head was going to explain.
“Theodore...”
“Um... am I supposed to come in today or something?”
“What are you talking about?” Callie bit.
“The Leehan... Gallery... that’s... my work study this semester.”
Calliope felt the blood drain from her body at his words.
“I’m sorry, what—”
“The Leehan Gallery... it was all I could fit into my schedule this year, and... uh... how did you know I was here?” Theo asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowing.
Spike raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t. We’re not here for you.”
“What does Callie have to do with the gallery?” he asked.
Izzy huffed in annoyance as the coffee pot beeped. She grabbed the pot as Calliope tried to focus on her breathing.
Her shoulders felt heavy, the world moving at the speed of sound around her, and she was starting to think she may explode.
She was not equipped enough to handle all of this with a hangover, an achy back, and short patience.
“Callie works at the gallery, duh. She’s our boss.”
Theo let out a nervous half-laugh as his verdant gaze met hers. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Callie is... the manager of the gallery?”
Spike nodded. “I mean, she’s faculty and Brian’s right hand since he took over so—” Spike said as Izzy poured herself a cup of coffee, not bothering to offer anyone else a mug.
She continued her spiel. “Can we focus here? Yes, Callie is the manager of the gallery. No we’re not here for you—” Isabelle regarded Theo with a judgmental look before gazing back at Calliope.
“We’re here because when we got there, the gallery was already open... sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?” Calliope asked, noting that Theo had gotten marginally closer than she had realized. She shifted out of his space, feeling equal parts anxious and vulnerable.
Theodore was a student. And not just any student, but her student. A student who would be working underneath her in the gallery.