Shattered: A Dark Stalker Romance by Audrey Rush

Author:Audrey Rush [Rush, Audrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

Rourke

Was it a gift for an artist to enter that phase of mania where they couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything because they had to finish their works, jot their ideas down, stroke it out on the canvas, because otherwise, they would die, or worse, forget? The next time I found Melissa, she was painting, and there were canvases all over her bedroom: on the bed, lining the floor, on the chair. Some brushstrokes reflected the light, indicating that they were fresh.

I stood in the doorway. Her shoulders stilled, in tune with me, knowing that I was there now. But she continued her final strokes. A tree again, though this time without the black outline like before. It was more in the style of her other works. The crisp day behind the tree fogged over, the vacant branches decaying in the winter. The roots reached, gazing outward, only to die once they reached the surface.

Glancing around at the canvases, I realized that they were different versions of this same idea. A tree with growth below the surface, and death above ground. Sometimes with serpents or a piece of fruit, some with a harsh black outline, others with fog or a sunset.

“And this one?” I asked.

“Hopefully the final version,” she said. Her brushstrokes were tiny and elegant, blending into one another, creating an airy sense of light in the fog.

“Is it an authentic reflection this time?”

She nodded, then settled her brush on the easel’s tray. “Are you jealous that another man’s tattoo inspired me?” she asked, staying focused on her work.

I smiled. I wished she could have seen my wry expression. Jealous?

“I know you’re mine,” I said.

Her muscles visibly clenched, and a grin flitted across her lips, then vanished. It was arrogant of me to assume that she was mine. I could kill Melissa at any time, and I had no guilt or sympathy holding me back from something like that, which meant that I had incredible power over her, but she had power too. She could turn me in to the police. Uproot my life. She could even have her friends deliver the information needed to lock me up.

Our relationship was built on a balance scale. Neither of us moved too quickly.

She flipped around on the stool, her glossy brown eyes full. She shifted her weight.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” The intensity in her words was almost laughable, but I crossed my arms, matching the tone she wanted: a judgment for her confession. “I hurt one of the women I work with.”

The drama was palpable. I could snatch it from the air and eat it with sharp teeth, watching Melissa cringe and dissolve with every bite. I indulged her.

“Explain yourself.”

“She got in my face. She wouldn’t stop. So I hit her.”

“It’s that simple, then?”

“I just—” she started, then shook her head. “I tried—”

“Start from the beginning.”

She sat up on the stool. “If we start from the real beginning, she picked on Iris back when they were kids.

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