Maybe this was what she needed. Swallowtails hard, she found the box of brushes and paints placed right at the side table.
She grabbed a paintbrush, staring at the blank canvas for a moment before plunging into a flurry of strokes. Each stroke seemed to mirror the turmoil within her. The room filled with the therapeutic sounds of brush against canvas.
As Amara painted, the emotional weight on her shoulders began to lift. The colors on the canvas reflect her inner struggle, evolving into a beautiful yet chaotic masterpiece. As if her hands had minds of their own, she breathed heavily she started with a deep grey color and then kept on moving her hand.
With each stroke, Amara found peace and a means to express the complex emotions she grappled with. She kept on painting without realizing what she was painting, but one thing she kept in her mind was that she needed an escape.
******
The soft glow of the setting sun spills through the window, casting a warm hue across Amara's apartment. Amara stands in front of the canvas, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions. As she dips her brush into vibrant colors, it's as if her hands have disconnected from her mind, moving with an autonomy driven by an unspoken need for escape.
The strokes of the paintbrush become a rhythm, a cathartic dance on the canvas. Amara's eyes are distant; her gaze fixed on a place beyond the four walls that confine her. She paints with a feverish intensity, each stroke an attemptto distance herself from the haunting memories of the night before.
As the day progressed into evening, shadows played on the walls, and Amara's fervor intensified. The room echoed with the delicate sound of the brush against the canvas, a rhythmic heartbeat that mirrored the tumult within her soul. Paint splattered on the floor, on furniture, on Amara's clothes, evidence of the emotional storm that engulfed her.
Finally, as the last rays of sunlight faded, Amara stepped back, her breath catching in her throat. The finished painting loomed before her, an unintended masterpiece born from the depths of her subconscious.Theeyesonthecanvasstarebackather,intenseandpiercing,capturinga familiarity that sends a chill down her spine.
Trembling, Amara recoiled from what she just painted. The eyes she had painted belonged to the man she should resist— the man whose lips met hers in a forbidden dance only hours ago. The air in the room thickened with a sense of foreboding as Amara, her clothes now adorned with the colors of her stumbled backward.
She gazed at the painted grey smoldering eyes with specks of blue between them in shock, a silent fury to the desire she sought to bury. The room was silent, save for the uneven breaths escaping Amara's lips, a predicament to the dangerous allure that now stared back at her from the canvas.
The lines between dream and reality blur, leaving Amara standing on the precipice of a truth she could no longer deny.
She swallowed hard and averted her gaze to look at the window. She couldn’t she couldn’t be in love with him?
She yelped in surprised as the doorbell rang. Suddenly she forgot how to breathe and instantly covered the canvaswith the cloth before stumbling out the room as she rubbed her dirty colored hands on her dress breathing heavily.
Her hands trembled as without thinking twice she opened the door. Heart almost in her throat. But as soon as she opened the door, her unfocused gaze met with a bouquet Peonies in a strong veined hand. Her eyes moved to the owner of the hand as she gasped with wide eyes and almost felt like fainting.
“Kaelith…”
Kaelith stood confidently in front of Amara's door, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. His smile carries a dangerous charm, and Amara tried to conceal her expression of confusion and fear.
Her eyes widened as Kaelith shoved the bouquet into her hand smirking.“I thought I'd bring you something beautiful, just like you.”
Amara took a step back, burning under Kaelith's intense gaze. She glanced at the bouquet, wariness in her eyes as her voice trembled.“Why are you here?”
Kaelith whispered leaning casually against the doorway. “I couldn't resist seeing you again. You left quite an impression last night.” There was playfulness in his voice unlike the rage he left with. She wondered if this was the same person.
Amara's eyes widen in realization, and she swallowed hard as she clutched the peonies to her chest. The baffling scent entrapping her senses.“That was a mistake… It shouldn't have happened.”
Amara expected him to snap, to grit. Instead, he chuckled. “Mistakes can be the most interesting part, don't you think?”
Amara's confusion intensified as she struggles to maintain composure thinking about the painting in herroom. She didn’t know what she wanted, so she just let him step forward.
Kaelith took a threatening step towards her and this time, Amara stood her ground.“I'm just here to fan the flames.”
Amara clutched the bouquet, her gaze desperate as she looked into his grey eyes.
Kaelith leaned in, his breath dangerously close to her ear as whispered.“And about what I want with you, why not save the question for another time? But for now, I need you to come with me.” Amara gasped as Kaelith grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her to his strong chest as she shook her head.
Before she could open her mouth to say something,Kaelith clicked his tongue.“And I was not asking.”
SheswallowedasherheartpoundedassheleftthebouquetonthetableinhasteasKaelith dragged her out.
CHAPTER 27
Amara couldn’t process what was happening. One moment she was in the apartment, and the next moment, Kaelith was dragging her to God knows where. His hold stole like yet gentle on her, she gasped when she almost stumbled trying to keep up with his long strides.
