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“Why? Why would you ever need to end a life unless it was in a combat situation?”
Now he stopped, taking a deep breath then returning the second brush to a jar filled with liquid. My eyes were drawn to the burnished color the various paints had made, the ugly copper reminding me of the way blood appeared after it had dried in the hot sun.
“I assure you that it was all about combat, Eden. Because there are instances when no other method of eradicating the problem will work.”
I had no reply, but my mind was slow in processing what he’d just admitted. Had he been a member of the armed forces? With the crude tattoo on his arm, that was plausible. He didn’t appear angry that I’d asked him something terribly personal. In fact, his eyes were shimmering from the various forms of lighting. He slowly walked to a file cabinet, opening one of the drawers.
When he pulled out a camera, a knot formed in my stomach. I knew exactly what he had planned as the next item on his agenda.
Cause and effect.
Behaviors and consequences.
I’d heard the words from my father dozens of times when I was younger. It was his way of reminding me there were rules to follow and if I broke them, there would be swift punishment. There was no reason for me to be thinking of that now, but I could almost see my father’s face the last time he’d told me. It had been the night I’d sneaked out of the house, meeting my friends at a party. Not only was I underage, I’d also been forbidden to go near the two boys from my school. My father had called their father a worthless pig more than once.
That had only made the need to take a taste of the forbidden that much more enticing. I didn’t have a chance to get to first base with either one of them before the police showed up. I’d been escorted back home in a police car, the humiliation trailing behind me for the rest of the semester. Then I’d been sent away to boarding school because of my bad behavior.
I almost laughed as the memory brought an entirely different set of feelings. I’d hated my father from that minute forward, confessing my love for one of the boys. That had only made things worse.
It was the first night home that Easter my life had turned into a brutal nightmare. He’d made me continue my lessons, as if I cared about music any longer. The last words I’d said to him were that I hated him. If only I could go back in time.
“Undress,” Cruz said quietly, as if the statement was to be expected.
“Why?” I purposely allowed the odd question regarding death to drift away.
“Because I told you to. And because I need a muse. You’re the only person capable of providing the inspiration for my art.”
When I didn’t respond right away, he closed the distance, raking his fingers through my strands of hair. “I don’t know if I can do that,” I told him, feeling more self-conscious than I ever had before.
“You can do anything you want, Eden. If you don’t follow my order, there will be consequences.”
His choice of words triggered another bad memory, but his husky voice brought me down from the rails, the tingling sensations returning. He kept the camera in his hand, taking a few shots. I immediately placed my hands over my face, embarrassed at what he was doing. I’d always shied away from the camera even when I was young. Now the thought of being dissected left me with another fear entirely.
I closed my eyes, willing the impromptu session would end. Then I sensed his presence. I slowly lowered one hand then the other, easing hair from my face. When he lifted my chin with a single finger, the sparkle of his mesmerizing eyes pulled me into the moment.
“You’re beautiful, Eden. Without a doubt the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Just relax.” There was utter sincerity in his eyes and for a few seconds, I was sucked into a vacuum of believing him.
“I’m not a model.”
“I’m no photographer, but I have a keen eye for beauty.” He tipped his head over his shoulder, drawing my attention to the painting he was working on. I had to admit that he’d captured a reverent expression that glowed from his masterful artistry. He took a step away, snapping several additional pictures.
I knew I couldn’t hide or get away. After I made several funny faces, he gave me a stern look. Then he moved toward a bookshelf in the room. I had no idea what he was doing but when I heard ‘When I’m Gone’ by Katy Perry, I burst into laughter.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, resuming his task.
“I thought you more of a Frank Sinatra kind of man.”
“That will cost you, lady,” he growled. “Dance for me. Just relax.”
I’d stalled as long as I could. As I started moving, the dance beat was exactly what I’d needed. I started to move, finally closing my eyes, following the rhythm. As I shifted in circles, getting more and more into the music, a funny thought crept into my mind.
Maybe the ballet classes had come in handy after all.
I studied the room as I twirled, curious as to what it had been before he’d turned it into a studio. There were blank canvases lined up, hundreds of paints that had yet to be used. Thick drop cloths covered the entire floor, but only a few splotches of paint had marred their pristine condition. The man was fastidious in everything he did.
As one song turned into a second, I realized I was enjoying myself more than I expected. I knew he was continually taking photographs and when he issued his command a second time, I didn’t freeze in fear.
“Undress.” The single word was huskier, the tone creating a series of shivers.
