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Eric shook his head. “I can’t.” He stamped his feet as if that would keep the circulation going in his limbs. If he’d known Rebecca would want them to huddle in the far corner of Accendos’ walled garden, he’d have put on a thicker jacket. Given the icy wind, his gonads might be frozen forever.
“And why not?” Rebecca widened her stance and crossed her arms over her breasts—still glorious, even if hidden by a fleece. “A portrait of Alexander when administering a scene would go for—”
“Hundreds of thousands. I know that.” But paint his portrait? While dominating someone?
How did he explain it to her? For the last year, as they’d traveled, he’d itched to capture Alexander’s essence on a canvas, not just wielding his dominance like a Samurai sword but, well, doing anything.
But oil paint on a canvas could never contain the man. How did one catch the exact blue of his eyes, especially when they deepened like a sea about to break over a levy when a correction was required? Or the way the light ignited the silver in his hair as he circled a willing submissive, deciding what he’d like to do next? Eric's mind went to mush just thinking about doing the man justice.
The frost had left intricate patterns on the grass tufts under his feet. That was when he realized his gaze had dropped. Such an automatic reaction even when thinking about Alexander.
Rebecca’s hand cupped his chin and raised his face. Her eyes held too much concern. “What’s wrong, really?” she asked.
The genuine problem with painting Alexander was deeper, wasn’t it? Eric slipped too easily into Alexander’s thrall when he was in full Master mode. How the hell would he be able to hold a drafting pencil when his fingers ached to reach for his cock—or Alexander’s. Or any part of Rebecca. Anything to connect with them both.
He took her fingers, surprisingly warm in the cold, in his. “I love the idea of the three of us starting a mentoring program at Accendos.” That had been the bait on her fishing line to lure him in. The idea of starting a school for people like them. “I’d trust no one more than Alexander to teach the next generation of people like us. Hell, even having an art auction to raise money for it. But what you're asking me to do …”
He spun away. He couldn't do it. His feet crunched the brittle limestone pebbles under his feet as he headed back to the house.
Rebecca jogged alongside him, her breath leaving a hazy entrailin the frigid air. “You think his ego doesn’t need it. But people around him need it.”
“People?”
Her hand gripped his arm frantically. “Please.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking at all. I have no painting skills when he’s in full … Alexander mode.”
“Who does?” She chewed her bottom lip. If anyone understood, it would be her. “But you could try.” She dropped her hand and gestured for him to follow her. “Do you have a notebook on you right now?”
She knew he did.
His hand found its way to his backside, and he felt for the small black moleskin he kept in the back pocket of his jeans. It was a comfort to find the flat surface there. Inspiration could strike at any time. The old spark had somehow been ignited recently. Ever since he’d painted Rebecca a few weeks ago, his hands needed to sketch and capture everyone around him. Everyone except Alexander.
The sound of a branch snapping off a distant tree sounded—probably from being weighed down by ice. He understood the feeling.
She took a big breath, letting it out in a white cloud that hovered before her face. “Your lips are turning blue. Let’s go inside.” She slipped her arm into his and led him back toward the house.
She still walked too slowly. “Do you know the hardest part about being separated from Alexander for all those years? It was not knowing if he was happy. If he was living the way he wanted to. Even apart, he was ubiquitous in my life. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of him. Like he was gently guiding me all the time just by existing.”
Eric understood that. Even when not physically in the room, Alexander was present.
“And it’s the same for so many people.” She drew closer to him. “He doesn’t realize what he’s done for the people who cross the threshold of this place. So about my school idea … If he could mentor the next generation, well …”
“He’d find a larger purpose.” While the man had plenty of it to go around, they knew Alexander. If he wasn’t expanding, he didn’t feel he was doing enough.
“And”—she cocked her head. Oh no. He recognized the storm brewing in her gray eyes— “you and I can offer ourselves to be the demo leaders, which means …”
One side of Eric’s lips inched up. Finally, blessed warmth spread through his body like wildfire at the thought of Alexander using them as his stand-ins. “That’s the best part of the idea.” Being handled by Alexander in any way, shape, or form was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Still didn’t mean he’d be able to paint the man doing it. “We can still raise funds without a painting.”
“Not as quickly or as much. Just consider what I said. We’d get there so much faster.” Her warm hand slipped into his. She raised it up to her mouth, and she sent hot breath over his skin as if to warm him.
“I will.”
A sly smirk formed on her face. He was an idiot to say yes, but stopping Rebecca from egging him on? Futile. The woman was as stubborn as Alexander. Scratch that. Maybe worse.
They strode toward the Library, where they knew they’d find Alexander. As soon as they stepped into the large archway, Eric’s gaze alighted on the back of Alexander’s head, the silver in his black hair shining under dimmed lighting. He sat in an armchair witnessing the scenes playing out in the room. The club had relaxed since Alexander had been traveling with him and Rebecca. However,relaxedwasn't how Alexander had wanted his home-turned-club to operate.
A woman in the far corner keened as a ginger-haired man, someone Eric didn’t recognize, twisted her nipple with some force. The day had started early. Saturdays were like that at Club Accendos.
