Chapter Twenty-Four – Raeka #2
I don’t let my lack of skills stop me from trying, though. I do my best, and Colter looks as though he does the same, concentrating so hard on his own canvas that he’s totally in his element.
I try not to watch him for too long, just glance at him here and there, but the more I look over at him, the more I see his confidence when he’s deep in his work.
Strong strokes with the pencil, not hesitant at all like me when I’m sketching something out.
Every so often those amber eyes of his glance over at me, and I just give him a goofy smile—because what else am I supposed to do?
He really is cute. Though he hides in hoodies, he’s got that boy next door thing going for him. With his brown hair just a bit too long, I can easily imagine running my fingers through it and tugging when—
Crap. No, no, no. Don’t finish that thought.
I don’t know how long we’re at it, but it definitely feels like hours pass.
I’m so focused on my own canvas that I don’t even care how long it takes, how long we’re there for.
I don’t get thirsty or hungry; I don’t even have to break to use the bathroom.
I’m knee-deep in my wall-slash-window-slash-ceiling design.
If I was bad with the pencil, I’m ten times worse with the paintbrush. I don’t know how anybody can paint straight lines. If you squint real hard and tilt your head a bit, most of the lines look straight. Kind of.
Hey, I never said I was an artist. I warned Colter that my skills rival a third-grader’s, so if he laughs at me… well, I won’t be too mad since I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before, which I guess makes sense since he doesn’t speak.
And just like that, I’ve never wanted to hear any other sound more than I want to hear Colter’s laugh right now.
I let my mind wander off after that. If he could speak, what would his voice sound like? Would it be deep and low, reminiscent of Gideon’s? Or would it have its own signature timbre?
I looked up articles about the accident.
It was pretty big news when it happened eleven years ago, and of course it was: the Chase family were all famous, especially in the richer circles of society.
Alexis Chase never took her husband’s name when they married; the opposite happened.
He took hers, and when Colter was born, he remained a Chase.
Alexis was one of the head designers of the fashion branch of the Chase business, while Gideon stuck to jewelry.
One night, Alexis, Terrance, and Colter were driving back from some charity event an hour or so away.
It was late, pitch-black out. Just an unremarkable night to them…
until a drunk driver swerved left of center just around a curve in the road and caused the Chase vehicle to launch off the side of a cliff.
Honestly, from what the articles said, it’s a miracle Colter didn’t die.
The car hit a bunch of trees on the way down.
Some of them broke. One of them impaled his father, who was in the driver’s seat.
Another pinned his mother’s body in place, stopping her from escaping the car.
Based on Colter’s statement, he couldn’t get the seatbelt undone, so he had to sit in that car with his dead father and his dying mother and wait until emergency services came.
And by the time they arrived, Alexis was gone.
I can’t imagine what it was like. Something like that would be traumatizing no matter what age you are, but for it to happen to a ten-year-old kid? It’s no wonder he’s traumatized.
Gideon became the de facto guardian for his nephew. Homeschooled him, took care of him, did everything he could for him, including getting him an omega when he put in an offer for me. He really wanted his nephew to have a life again.
Not going to lie, it’s a lot of pressure to put on little old me, but at the same time, I really do want Colter to learn to overcome his past. I want to help him.
I want to make him feel better…which is an odd thing for me, since I don’t normally give a shit about how other people feel.
Most of the time, I’m what some might call a bitch.
Hey, I’m a Whittenhall. Bitchiness runs in my blood.
But back to the current state of my painting: it’s not good.
It’s not good by a longshot, no matter how hard you look at it or use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
I can’t layer paint worth shit. It literally looks like a child did it.
The window is not in any sort of rectangular shape, and where the floor meets the wall is basically one wavy line.
Ew. I want to burn this painting.
Once I’m done, I set my paintbrush down on my lap and stare at it for a while. I frown at it, but there’s no use. It’s shit, and no amount of staring at it will change it. I glance over at Colter, finding he’s ducked his head and I can’t see him over the canvas.
My curiosity gets the better of me, so I slip off my stool without making a single sound, and I creep over to him to see what he’s working on.
Whatever it is will put mine to shame, I don’t doubt, but what I see makes any smart comments I might have ready to vanish.
He’s only started to paint, but I can see the sketch and can put it together myself.
Me. He chose me as his subject.
I’m sitting on the stool on his canvas, my right arm lifted to my own canvas.
He literally drew me as I was a few feet away, and unlike my shoddy work, his sketch is damn near lifelike.
The curve of my cheek, the way I bite the corner of my mouth when I’m concentrating really hard, even the gentle waves of my hair.
“Oh, my God,” I say, my fingers curling around the paintbrush in my hand even tighter. “That’s… that’s amazing. How’d you do that so fast?”
He carefully puts down his paintbrush and reaches for his tablet. Years of practice. This is the only thing I do.
“Do you often have human subjects?” I mean it as a joke, but the way his amber eyes study me, way too intently, make my cheeks heat up.
No. You’re the first.
“That’s… insane,” I say. “You have to be lying. You have to invite girls up here all the time and try to woo them with your skills—” When he shakes his head no, I quiet down. “It’s really something. It’s beautiful.”
He types something then shows it to me: You’re beautiful.
Even though he didn’t say it aloud, it’s still like he spoke the words himself, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. “You’re sweet. Too sweet. I don’t know what to do with you, Colter Chase… but I can think of a few things.”
Before I think better of it, I step closer to him and lean in, pressing my lips against his cheek and giving him the softest, most gentle kiss known to mankind. And what would you know, as I do it, I wonder what it’d be like to actually kiss him.
I mean, he doesn’t leave the house. He hasn’t dated. That means he’s never been kissed, never had sex. It might be a turn-off for some girls, but for me… it isn’t. With how earnest he is, with how sweet he can be, I actually like the thought of no other girls knowing what his lips feel like.
Or, you know, other body parts of his.
He’s mine.
That thought nearly knocks me off my feet, and I can’t handle how serious things got in my head, so I do something to lighten the mood as I pull my lips off his cheek: I bring my paintbrush to his nose, dabbing some paint there.
“There,” I say, flashing him a grin. “No painter is complete without a bit of paint on his face.”
I go to step away from him, to put more distance between us so I can think straight again, but Colter doesn’t let me go.
He grabs me by the hand and pulls me back to him as he slides off his stool, and the way he looks at me makes me wonder if he had a similar thought just now, if he looks at me and thinks: mine .
It’s an alpha thing, being all possessive like that, and normally I wouldn’t think it’s hot… but when it comes to this one, all the rules are thrown out.
His hand lets go of mine, only to curl around my lower back.
He leans his forehead down against mine—he’s a good eight or so inches taller than me, not as tall as Pax or Gideon, but tall enough.
His nose brushes against mine, and I feel the transfer of paint almost immediately.
I shiver against him, and in doing so he only holds me tighter.
What is wrong with me? Why am I okay with this? This shouldn’t feel so… so damn good. So right.
Ugh. I blame the alphas in the house. They got my mind all twisted up, had my hormones working on overdrive. This isn’t me. This is some other omega who wants all the D she can get.
And yet, even when I try to reason with myself, to force myself to pull away from him, I can’t move a muscle. I’m frozen right where I am, curled into him, with his hand on my lower back and his face leaning against mine, his hot breath blooming across my skin.
I sigh out his name, “Colter.” And I’m seconds from saying more when I hear someone else enter the room.
Colter and I both snap out of it, both of us instantly letting go of the other and taking a good step away from each other as we turn to face the third person in the room: Gideon.
To his credit, Gideon doesn’t appear upset at what he saw at all. Which is good, because he shouldn’t be; let’s not forget he brought me here for Colter to begin with, not for himself. Even if he is mad, he has no right to be.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping to speak with Raeka,” Gideon says.
A moment passes, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Colter nod once. Just as well. Whatever was about to happen between us is over now.
I wipe the paint off my nose and say, “Sure.”
I follow Gideon out of Colter’s studio. We go to his office downstairs. He doesn’t instruct me to close the door, so I don’t. It’s only once we’ve both taken a seat that Gideon speaks, “You and Colter looked… close.”
“Um, yeah. I guess we were.” Why does this feel so awkward? And somebody please tell me why, even though I can’t smell him, I want to crawl over his desk, plop myself on his lap, and feel those arms of his completely encase me?
Fuck. I’m losing my mind here.
“Good,” he says, although there’s an underlying sentiment I detect, perhaps a bit of envy?
Maybe he wishes he would’ve been in Colter’s place.
“I’m sorry to have had to interrupt, but I’ve just been made aware that the board of Chase Jewels is throwing a dinner party for all the higher-ups.
I don’t normally entertain the idea of going to these things, but I’ve heard whispers of the board thinking about running a no confidence vote. ”
I don’t really know what that is, but it doesn’t sound good. “Why would they do that?”
“I’m almost as much of a recluse as Colter.
They accepted it for a while, but lately, they’ve been pushing for things to return to the norm, for me to go back into the office.
They’re unhappy with sales figures lately—and I can’t blame them.
” He rubs the side of his face, appearing perturbed, like the idea of this dinner party really does bother him.
“I need to start making appearances. Need to start going back to the office, too. Pax will still be here, of course, so you and Colter won’t be alone when I’m gone. ”
“It’s no big deal,” I tell him, wanting to make him feel better, for whatever stupid reason.
“No, I suppose it isn’t, in the grand scheme of things. Still, the dinner party will be the test.”
I blink. “Test? Test for what?”
The look he gives me right then tells me I’m not quite fully grasping it, yet. “Test for us. The board knows I moved an omega in. They believe I’m courting you. I won’t be going to this thing alone—you’re coming with me, as my omega.”
Where’s a glass of water when you need to take a huge sip and spit it out all dramatically? I really should’ve known that’s where this was going; why else would Gideon bring me here? This talk isn’t about him returning to the office. It’s about us making our first public appearance together.
“Oh,” I say. “Right. That makes sense.”
“It’s Saturday night,” he informs me, which means the dinner party is only a few nights away. Crap. Less time to overthink things, at least. “Do you think you’re ready?”
“Totally. Are you?”
He chuckles softly. “I hope so. To be honest, I’ve put this off for years now.
I wanted to stay home with Colter as long as I could, since…
” The way he trails off makes me think there’s something about Colter he doesn’t want to talk about.
The details of the accident, maybe? “I hope you and I can handle it.”
“I’m sure we can.”
“We have to sell it, make it believable. I want to show the board members that I’m moving on to the next phase of my life—” He swallows hard. “—with you.”
Oh, so that’s what he’s worried about. Making it believable. Acting like we’re actually a couple. I’m less concerned about it looking real and more worried about it being too real.
“It’s a black-tie event,” he goes on.
“I have a few dresses that’ll work.” Heck, it’s my first excuse to dress up since the Omega Garden. I love getting all dolled up. I used to hit up the omega-friendly nightlife all the time, but lately… well, obviously my life has changed up a bit.
“No. I’m going to visit a few shops tomorrow and grab you something new.” The way he says it is very alpha-like; there is no room for argument.
Not that I would. I love getting new clothes. I’ll never turn down a new dress, even if it is from Gideon, whose style is kind of plain. I mean, all I ever see the guy in is dress pants and long-sleeved, button-down shirts.
“How can I say no to that?”
He leans forward and folds his hands as he stares intently at me. “You can’t.”
Gideon taking charge. Huh. For some reason, I never thought I’d see the day. I kind of like this side of him, and it makes me think about how close we got in his room. How hard it was for me to pull away from him.
God, this is getting messy, isn’t it?