Page 27 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

Byron’s voice catches me off guard, and I fucking hate it. “Was it Kevin who helped you that night?”

I watch as he turns around to face me, rinsing the soap from his body. His arms are above his head, his V-cut defined, and the snakes inked on his side stretch. Who would have thought my fascination would come in the body of a man?

“You ask a lot of dumb questions, but given your education, I should expect that. But to answer your question, yes.”

Byron turns off the water with a scowl on his face. I hand him a white towel, and he snatches it from my hand.

Feisty. Just how I like him.

It will make taming him so much tastier.

He doesn’t know it— yet, but we’realready past the point of choice.

Before we walk out the bathroom and into the bedroom he stops, the towel wrapped around his waist, and he looks at me over his shoulder. “Why?”

Why? The question really pulls the rug from under my feet, and given the look on his face, he must have noticed the small reaction he pulled from me. Fuck, even I felt that. Felt. I could laugh at the thought that I can feel anything but satisfaction and pleasure, but right now, something else stirs. Something I don’t fucking want.

“I like breaking and remaking things, Byron. You lack perception, and maybe this is why you’re here with me.” I pause and smile. “Again.” I finish with a wink before moving past him, but I feel the quickening in my heartbeats, and the way my stomach twists in a knot. I don’t fucking get it.Why?

Why?

Why?

What the fuck am I supposed to answer? Why I kill? Why I create? Why am I fascinated with a man even though I know I’m not gay? From the very start, I was forced to love soft curves, black long hair, red manicuredhands. And he... he’s nothing like her. NOTHING. My hands involuntarily fist at my sides, nails digging into my palms so hard I might break skin, my vision focusing on the bed. The sheets are black, but I can still see the red... still see the stain.

“My sweet... sweet boy,” she purrs against my ear, my hands grip her waist, driving her into me all while I drive myself out to the abyss... the void... that consumes me whole.

From behind me, Byron coughs, and for once, I’m thankful his presence pulls me out of the void. The air is too tight in my lungs, my throat too dry, but I push through it, latching onto the anger instead. “Get dressed, the clothes are on the bed,” I say before storming out of the room, leaving him alone and heading towards the kitchen. There’s not many places he can go, and I’m in the mood for a hunt... to destroy... but first, my second surprise, another step toward dark. Then we can play. Then I can continue feeding my addiction.

After our little session, from the shock I’m assuming, or maybe it was the sex, Byron fell asleep on the floor.I close my eyes and picture him laying on the ground, blood trailing down from his forehead. My hand involuntarily moves to the sore spot on mine. Red puffy eyes from his tears, and I can still taste the saltiness from them. But that wasn’t enough, not for what he will need to do in the end.

He needs more conditioning.

I didn’t become Ren Sato in just one day—it took years to mold this monster. But I don’t have time. Kevin can only keep his sister busy for so long, soon she will begin looking for her brother, so time isn’t my ally here. If she finds him before I finish, then all of this—all theworkI put into him—will be wasted.

I begin to plate our dinner with a smile as I take a step back after placing the hot plates on the small dining table. Two lit candles sit in the middle of the wooden table, with two plates on each end. I even have a joint rolled in the middle, sitting between the candles, and two beers. A little reward goes a long way when conditioning,and this is his.

It takes me a moment to gather myself, something I never needed to do until now. I don’t know why, but I breathe in deeply, then I open the door.

Byron stands with his back toward me, sporting a cashmere knit sweater and dark blue jeans and no shoes. He didn’t need those—I want it to hurt when the time comes.

“You look handsome, Thorn.” I say, coming up from behind him, but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t evenbreathedifferently when my arms wrap around his waist. That... irritates me. Nothing, not even when I place a soft kiss on the crook of his neck, intoxicating myself with him.

“Dinner is ready, indulge me with your presence,” I say before pulling away, grabbing his arm, and walking him out of the room. Really, more like dragging him. He’s on autopilot, but his body, while compliant, still has that lingering defiance.

That won’t do. Not for what comes next.

I watch as he takes a seat, taking in his surroundings, and I take my seat in front of him. Twisting off thecaps from the cheap beer, I hand him one. “You know, despite my success, I never had this.” I use a finger gesturing between us.

Byron raises an eyebrow as he reluctantly takes the beer and takes a swig, then another. “You never had a meal with someone?”

Good. He’s talking back. This might turn out better than expected.

“I mean, yes, but I always wore a mask for the world. It’s nice to be me,” I say as I take a swig from my beer. “It’s lonely being one way and pretending to be another. To hold an image in order to be digestible for others.” Placing my elbows on the table, I use them to lean in. “Aren’t you tired of pretending?”

Byron takes a long sip of the beer, then picks up his fork, playing with his food, or rather, inspecting it. “I don’t pretend.”

I follow his lead, grabbing my own fork and stabbing into the broccoli. “You do. I watched you always pretending to be one way.” Pointing my fork at him. “You went back there, to the studio. You wantedme to find you...” Leaning in closer. “To take you.” Bringing the fork to my mouth, I take the broccoli and chew it, slowly, before finishing.

---