Page 101 of Between Imminent Fates
Waving a dismissive hand, she opened her mouth to ask the second question, but he wasn’t ready to let it go. “Oh yes, we are. Snakes or spiders?”
Celeste thought it over. Derikles’ eyes flicked to the purple lip stain she’d applied that morning for an instant, before he focused on the pancakes again.
“Spiders, but only if they’re massive. I can’t do the little ones; they freak me out.” At his appreciative nod, she asked him another. “Do you, or have you ever had, a fear that seems silly?”
A faint blush hinted on Derikles’ cheeks. Now Celeste was invested.
“I hate automatic sliding doors.”
“Doors?!”
His pink cheeks had her nearly fanning herself. Embarrassment kept his eyes averted as he explained further. “Yeah, the doors into a supermarket or a mall? I hate it when you’re almost to the doors and they start closing. Even elevator doors freak me out.”
Trying her hardest to keep from laughing, Celeste nodded sagely. “I can see how you’d be freaked out. Super scary.”
“Alright then, tell me yours.”
“Oh.” She was suddenly coy. “I, uh, I have trypophobia.”
“Which is?”
“An aversion to seeing clusters of small holes or bumps.” She gave herself a shake to rid her mind of the mental image. “It freaks me out.”
“Wow.”
“Wow what?”
A smug grin. “Mine doesn’t seem so bad now.”
Both of them chuckled, and he grabbed syrup and butter and slid them in front of her. Topped with fresh cut strawberries and blueberries, Celeste was absolutely in love with his flapjacks and couldn’t resist telling him multiple times throughout the meal. She’d cleaned her plate and barely refrained from licking it clean.
It was long past time to thank him and return to clan lands, but part of her continued to yearn for the time away. The thought of returning to Ontario, even after a blissful night away, still set her off balance. As real life set in, her shoulders slumped.
“Come on, get your mind off going back.” Derikles tilted his head toward the hallway in invitation. “You can sit for me.”
“Painting or photography?”
He tossed a teasing look over his shoulder but didn’t answer. She shadowed him anyway, following him through a loop of hallways until he led her into a gallery full of canvases and painting supplies.
Celeste took a moment to merely soak it all in. Brilliant lighting shone over where his canvas was set up, the stacks of paintbrushes were perfectly aligned, and the blank canvases were cornered in a neat row.
Derikles put a chair in the middle of the room, sweeping his hand down gracefully in invitation. “Your throne, milady.”
She’d never been so thrilled to strike a pose.
An hour later, she’d become enthralled with the man. The way his eyes studied every single part of her was like a caress. Derikles would observe her intensely, then hide behind his easel while he stroked paint over canvas.
Though she didn’t dare move, her eyes eagerly devoured the room. His work was exceptionally realistic, and her anticipation rose with every one of his brush strokes.
Celeste didn’t know how long she sat there.
An hour. Two. Three, even.
Nothing had ever been quite as freeing as being completely still. She didn’t fidget or bounce. She didn’t have to think about where to place her hands or shift her body. Everything had already been thought out, and she finally had a moment to take a deep breath.It was the peace that she’d been missing.
When he sat back in his chair and began a scrutinizing review of the portrait before him, Celeste finally spoke. “Done?”
“Done.”
