Page 147 of Bonds of Fate

“Yes. Gray, I promise I will give it a try, no matter what.”

“Do you want to paint each other and then roll around on an enormous canvas?”

“I’m sorry?” Nix admits he hadn’t expected that. “You know what? Don’t explain it. Show me.”

“Yes! Help me?”

Grayson takes a minute to put more wood on the fire just as it starts to thunderstorm outside. The Art House is silent except for the rain and the crackling of the fire. Together, they roll theblank black canvas out on the floor. It’s large, maybe ten feet by ten feet square.

“I’ve had this body-safe acrylic paint for a while. That way, we won’t have to bathe in turpentine, and if it gets anywhere it shouldn’t, then…oh, Goddess. Shut up, Grayson.” Grayson rubs a hand down his face, and Nix decides that an embarrassed Grayson is asnack.

Nix giggles and reaches for his alpha’s shirt buttons. “Oh, pray tell, where might I be getting this paint that I wouldn’t want to have regrets?” Nix asks, voice deep. He gets the few remaining shirt buttons undone and leans in to kiss his mate right over his heart, then moves to lick his nipple and tug on that tempting piercing.

“Angel,” Grayson whines. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t tease. Poor baby. Come on, then. Paint me like one of your French girls.”

“That’s not very nice,” Grayson says with a pout, and Nix has to repeat it back to him with a giggle.

“I can be very nice.” He pulls the strings, holding the flowy shirt closed, revealing his tiny white panties while waiting for Grayson to say something. “Gray?”

His mate touches the healing wound he received this afternoon and looks up in shock. “Nix. Rowan said you were hurt, not that you almost lost your guts on the gym floor. What–”

“Please, Gray. Don’t. Not right now? I just want to be here with you and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a few hours. Can you give me that? Please?” The memories leave a bad taste in his mouth, and he doesn’t want to take the shine off the wonderful evening they’ve had.

Grayson hesitates, but in the end, he takes a deep breath and gives Nix a small nod. “Okay. But later?”

“Mmm.” Nix is noncommittal on purpose, and he hopes he won’t have to talk about it all. He takes his palms and runs themdown over his belly in what he hopes is an alluring way, and it’s easy to get Grayson’s attention back where he wants it—on them and pleasure.

“Fuck me, Angel.How are you even real? You were made for me.” His soulmate runs a soft finger down the center line of his body, from his forehead over his nose and lip, down his throat and over his breastbone, to his navel, where he stops and circles it gently, careful to avoid the wound this time. It causes the ache that’s been simmering in Nix’s belly to burst into flame, making his scent bloom.

Nostrils flaring, Grayson groans. That slim finger rubs over the head of Nix’s dick through his panties. “These are so pretty, Angel. I want to buy you a hundred more pairs. Then you could wear them every day. Do you like red? Or maybe pink? Fuck, yes, pale pink.”

“Luca might mutiny,” Nix says, panting quietly at the pleasurable sparks from just that single finger.

Grayson huffs. “Even he can’t possibly complain about how pretty you are in these.” Nix is aware of the irony of who they belonged to before Nix came to ruin them in Grayson’s Art House. Grayson crouches down and then looks up through long black lashes, face glowing in the heat of the fire and light of the candles. “Can I?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

Grayson places the softest kiss on the front of the panties, right over the head of Nix’s dick, suckling at the moisture there before he tucks his fingers in and draws them all the way down. Standing, he slides Gideon’s borrowed shirt down Nix’s arms so he can lay both items over a nearby stool. He adds his shirt to the growing pile.

“Oh, Gray. It’s been too long since I saw you this way. Pants, please.”

Grayson complies, and in seconds, they’re both bared to the firelight. He’s so long and lean, covered with smooth golden skin, and Nix can’t wait a moment longer. “Gray, if we are painting, can we do this? Because I need you sooner rather than later.”

“Impatient,” Grayson huffs out with a small laugh. “I want to remember this forever, Angel. Gonna hang this in the living room so everyone can see the art we made the night we joined our souls together for eternity. You can hang on for me, right?” It’s whispered as his soulmate tilts Nix’s chin up and runs his thumb over his wet lower lip.

Oh, fuck. Nix hopes Grayson doesn’t mind slick mixed with the paint on his canvas because it’s coating the insides of his thighs.

“Yes. For you. Anything,” he pants.

Grayson fills his palms with lavender and yellow paint from the bowls on the workbench. The first touch is cool, but it slowly warms under Grayson’s large palms. He slides them over Nix’s shoulders and down over his chest, slicking over Nix’s hard nipples and down his belly.

The shapes of his large hands are marking Nix in ways that are more than skin deep.

He adds pale blue, and Nix is already breathing hard. Grayson is focused on how the color covers Nix’s skin, but when he reaches the tops of his thighs, he looks up, and there is fire burning in his gaze.

“Oh Goddess, Gray,” Nix begs. “Yes.”

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