Page 49 of He Who Sleeps

As if on cue, Michael and Gabe rolled in a sectioned dolly. They followed the warehouse porters into the exhibition room and watched as the guys added each piece, seven of them, to the easels. They were each wrapped, so what they actually were was hidden.

“Seven? Just seven?” Lorne asked as they stood there. “Should they unwrap?”

"Go for it." Easton gestured for them to go ahead and turned slightly so he could watch her face as the covers came off.

At first she wasn't sure what she was seeing. His bold approach to mixed media meant that sometimes the eye had to adjust the dimension of the image until it coalesced into focus and then...oh, holy fuck...it was her.

On the first canvas, she was literally aflame...a session with Plague. It had to be. Bent over a gravestone. Ghost, no question. The third was harder until she got closer to it, and realized that the shading on her naked body was done with needles. It must have taken him hours. "I've had this collection for over a year now," he was telling Lorne in a conversational tone, but his eyes were on Petra as she stared at her naked body, on display for the world to see.

She swallowed, and then again, trying not to let it affect her. But they were...beautiful. Each of the pieces, one for each of the guys, was her in the throes of passion. Her on her knees, head bowed, habit keeping her largely hidden. She knew it hid the cum that had run down her face after Finn had baptized her. Her tied up in silks, the way Goblin had left her after he’d fucked her within an inch of her life. Her lying on the ground, her face obscured, a hand around her throat as she arched. That was when Emerson had fingered her. And finally, her tied over the Sybian, handprints on her ass.

Memories came back to her and she rolled her shoulders, stifling a whimper and a moan. She looked to Easton and bit her bottom lip.

“This is... Easton, you have outdone yourself,” Lorne said. “The light, shadow, composition.” He looked them over. “What are we calling this series?”

"Worship.” He very carefully didn't look at her as he said it, but the back of his hand caressed the curve of her hip discreetly.

The touch... Snake was actually touching her! Her body clenched and she bit her lip again. Fuck, what she wouldn’t give to jump into his arms and rub against him. Not that she thought he would welcome that in the least.

“This show is going to be the most celebrated so far, Easton. To think you have been sitting on these for a year? Don’t get me wrong, your other shows have been fantastic. But this? This is transcendent.”

"I had a good subject. As a muse, she is...inspiring." He said it casually, unaware of the effect the words had on her. Or perhaps too aware.

“Dare I hope she attends and I can meet the muse?” Lorne asked with a smile. “This show...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “We need to talk price per piece, but...” He whistled softly, still in awe.

Petra looked to Easton then, reaching over her chest to hug her own bicep and taking the opportunity to run her finger across his arm softly, before relaxing her stance. She wanted to talk with him, but everything with Snake was on his terms.

She watched them walk out of the room, leaving her alone in the exhibition, faced with her own memories.

“Ms. Franklin? Are we okay to leave these?”

She looked to Gabe. “Yes. And I think you guys are done for the day?”

“Just the drop off of the seller’s piece,” Michael said.

“Well then, once that’s been installed, take the rest of the day.” She knew Lorne was planning to leave as well, which was why he had given her so much of his to do list. And she understood why he’d wanted to handle his eleven o’clock himself.

Alone in the room, she looked over the pieces more, falling in love with them harder. Easton was a talent, but this...he made her look like a goddess.

After ten minutes or so, presumably during which they signed contracts, Lorne and Snake reappeared. Lorne waved her goodbye, but Snake lingered by her desk until they were alone.

"So?" He smirked. "Am I still a meanie?"

“Kinda, but for different reasons.” She smiled at him. “They are beautiful. Seeing them, seeing how ethereal you made them, how much movement and care they each had...the effect is overwhelming. Honestly, I would jump into your arms and show you, but we aren’t there yet, are we?”

“No. And, honestly, that might take a while. But I'm trying." He looked so raw and vulnerable in that moment.

She nodded. “That’s all I can hope for. One day you will let me kiss you for this,” she offered. “Thank you for making me look beautiful.”

"I didn't make you look anything other than what you are," he told her. "I just captured what I saw."

“Like Carter does with his pictures?” She smiled. “I kinda like being your muse. And I wouldn’t mind being her through the year,” she said hopefully. “No strings...of course.”

"I actually used some of his photos in these works," he said. "I'd like to paint you from life, but a lot of what I do is afterwards. I take the shapes and forms and then I layer them, sometimes for many months."

“That sounds intensive, and...fun.” She grinned. “I’m always here for that, Easton,” she said softly, trying to keep her distance. The man was broody and beautiful and being there with him was in no way awkward. She liked talking to him, wanted to spend time talking about artists, what his favorites were. She took a shot. “What’s the rest of your day looking like? Lorne just left and I have a lunch break coming up.”

"Well then, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't escort you to lunch?" He laughed. "You can tell me about your favorite artists." It was like he had read her mind.

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