Page 40 of His to Possess
I watched her eyes widen as she took in the massive paintings surrounding us. Her lips parted slightly, and I smiled at her stunned expression. It was rare to see her caught off guard like this, and I savored the moment.
"Rex," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the low murmur of the crowd. "These aren't like anything I've seen from Luka before."
I nodded, leaning in close. "That's because these aren't the paintings he sells to the public. These are his private works—the ones he only shows to a select few." The public didn't know it, but Luka had multiple layers to himself. He had built a name for himself amongst the artists with his more tame work, but in my opinion, this was where he thrived the most—with his provocative, bare, intimate art that not many were lucky to see.
Her brow furrowed as she studied a particularly provocative piece. A woman, half-hidden in shadow, her face a mix of ecstasy and fear. "They're so… intimate."
"They're his muses," I explained, guiding her towards another canvas. "The women who inspire him. Or perhaps haunt him is a better word."
Laurel turned to me, her green eyes searching my face. For once, she seemed completely in awe. "You knew about this?"
I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "Luka and I have been friends for a long time. I've seen his work evolve."
"But why keep these hidden? They're incredible."
"Are they?" I asked, genuinely curious about her opinion. "Or are they just voyeuristic fantasies?"
Laurel considered this for a moment. "Maybe both. There's a darkness here, but also a vulnerability. It's unsettling." That was precisely why Luka didn't display them. Most would be too much for the public to handle. Besides, he preferred to keep that part of his work to himself… and the selected crowd that appreciated it.
I nodded, pleased by her insight. "That's Luka. Walking the line between beauty and obsession."
"Do you think he loves them?" Laurel asked suddenly. "His muses, I mean."
The question caught me off guard. I looked at her, really looked at her, wondering what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers. "Love? I'm not sure Luka knows what that means. He's obsessed, certainly. But love? That's a different beast entirely."
Laurel held my gaze, and for a moment, I felt exposed. Like she was seeing past my carefully constructed facade. "And you? Do you know what love means?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Rex! You made it." Luka appeared, his long hair tied back, paint still smudged on his hands. He embraced me briefly beforeturning his attention to Laurel. "And you must be the famous Laurel Bowers. Rex told me so much about you."
I watched as Laurel shook Luka's hand, her professional mask slipping back into place. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Byron. Your work is breathtaking."
Luka grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Please, call me Luka. And thank you. I'm glad you appreciate it. Not everyone does, you know." Laurel stared at him for a moment too long. I could practically feel what was roaming in her head. Most people expected Luka to be a tortured artist haunted by his visions—and he was, to an extent—but for the most part, he was quite pleasant to be around. He was an open person, too, despite the facade he presented to the general public.
"I can imagine," Laurel replied, glancing back at one of the canvases. "They're quite intense."
"Life is intense," Luka said, his tone suddenly serious. "Art should be no different."
I watched as Luka's eyes lit up, his focus entirely on Laurel. It grated on me, but I kept my expression neutral.
"I didn't know you'd be here," I said, redirecting his attention back to me. "You seldom make appearances at your own shows."
Luka shrugged, but I knew him too well. There was a glint in his eye that told me there was more to his presence tonight. "I had an urge to come, somehow," he said, his gaze sliding to Laurel. "Most possibly due to the lovely Laurel. The intriguing Laurel."
Before I could respond, Luka wrapped Laurel's arm around his and led her to a nearby canvas. I followed, irritation bubbling beneath my calm exterior. Luka always had a way of pushing boundaries, but tonight, it got to me more than usual. Still, I remained silent, watching the scene unfold.
"This one," Luka said, gesturing to the work before them, "is particularly special to me."
I studied Laurel's face as she took in the image—a woman caught between ecstasy and fear, her emotions raw and exposed. It was quintessential Luka, beautiful and unsettling all at once.
"I have to ask," Laurel said, shaking her head, her eyes still on the canvas, "Why do you only show your abstract work to the world and not these more personal pieces?"
He didn't answer immediately, turning back to the art. "What do you see?" he asked instead.
I watched as Laurel considered the question, her brow furrowing slightly. When she spoke, her words took me by surprise.
"I see… a glimpse of her soul," she began, her voice soft but confident. "The woman's expression is so raw, so open. It's like she's caught between pleasure and terror, unable to decide which one to embrace. The brushstrokes are frenzied, almost violent in places, but there's a tenderness too. It's as if you're trying to capture a moment that's both beautiful and terrifying. But… I see… vulnerability." Her eyes never wandered from the piece. "But not just the subject's. Yours. It's as if you've laid bare your own fears and desires on this canvas. The woman isn't just experiencing ecstasy and terror—she's experiencing the artist's emotions. It's incredibly intimate."
