Page 15 of The Hellhound's Mate
He turned over onto his back and peered at me curiously. “Someone’s taking them?”
“To a gallery that sells my work, yes.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t quite read his expression, but then I had a realization that should’ve occurred to me way before now. “And I’m just now realizing that you’re in two of those paintings,” I said a little sheepishly. “Is that alright? I can keep them back. Destroy them even, if you want me to.”
“No, don’t do that. I just didn’t realize that someone might want to buy art that had me in it.”
I looked him over, my big hairy beast lounging in his bed, and grinned. “Believe me, Saph, there are thousands of people who would happily have your portrait on their wall for eternity. Not just me.”
“Oh.”
I had a feeling he was blushing under all that midnight fur, but I got serious again. “But are you sure it’s alright? I can hang them up here instead.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll get your permission before I do any more of you,” I promised.
I couldn’t resist staring at him again, loving his relaxed and sexy pose with his cock just peeking out of its sheath. I licked my lips.
“No,” he said with a chuckle. “You can’t paint my cock.”
“Right. No painting penises. I’d keep it if I ever did, though.” I smirked at him. “Hang it over the bed so I could stare at it while you fuck me from behind.”
His cock slithered out further, and a growl shook the air around me.
“You won’t get anything done before your people arrive,” he rumbled, “if you keep talking like that.”
I smirked, but carried on with leaving the room. I really did have things to do.
Though this would be my fifth show at Vera Dubois’ gallery, I still felt the stress and pressure to perform well and keep her inviting me back. One of the few art galleries in the West Village of Manhattan, Vera blended with the queer and eccentric businesses and theaters around her by showcasing art that celebrated sex, horror, and humanity—at least that was what her brochures said. My work fell into all three categories for the most part, and the addition of Saph in some of them only added to my aesthetic.
In one of the paintings, he was stepping out of the shadows, looking dangerous, and creeping toward a pale man in a shear wrap that left nothing to the imagination. It wasn’t exactly a self-portrait of either of us, but it was damn close and was the piece I’d done after initially thinking I wouldn’t mind Saph chasing me through the cemetery. I hoped Vera appreciated and was titillated by the question of whether the man was about to be ravished or devoured. Or both.
I smiled to myself as I got into the upstairs shower because I was pretty sure I’d tell her exactly what happened to the man when the beast pounced. Let her think it was my wild imagination and not a normal night with my boyfriend.
CHAPTER
NINE
“Darling boy, this house ismagnificent.”
Vera Dubois swept through the front door in a red slip dress dripping with black beads, a fluffy, black fur stole hugging her shoulders. A tiny little pill box hat perched in front of her chignon with a stiff veil covering one makeup-free eye. Her other eye sported ridiculously long fake lashes and red glitter eyeliner. Her black lipstick and nail polish had such a high gloss that I could see myself in both.
And I didn’t question how a woman of seventy-five managed not to break an ankle in black patent leather platform heels that had her several inches taller than me because I wished I owned the same pair.
“You’rethe one who’s magnificent, Vera,” I said as I kissed her cheek. “A goddess made flesh, as always.”
“Flatterer.” She swatted at me playfully, but her attention was still on the house. “That stained glass is divine. And all this gorgeous wood!”
I couldn’t help smirking as my mind conjured the “wood” I’d left behind in the basement just hours ago.
“And you,” she said with a grin as she looked me over. “Country living agrees with you. I can see how you’re glowing!”
I felt a blush heating my face, knowing it wasn’t the house or location that had me alight. “I’ve also met someone,” I said a bit bashfully.
“Oh, fabulous!” She tucked herself against my side and linked our arms. “Please do tell me he’s influenced your art in deliciously devious ways.”
