Page 47 of Pose for Me
My chest constricts at his soft accusation. He didn’t even stumble over calling me a serial killer, so that’s a drop in thebucket for him, it seems. What’s hurting him is not keeping my word, like Jacob said.
Even though I don’t feel it, I say, “I’m sorry, Lane. I would promise that it won’t happen again, but you won’t believe me. So I’ll just have to show you.”
Lane nods, though it’s obvious he’s skeptical. He picks up the thick chain, then looks at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re not going to let me go.”
I shake my head slowly.
He sighs but doesn’t seem upset. “I guess it’s better than dying, right?”
I shrug. I don’t care either way if I live or die. It would suck to leave my brother behind, but that’s about it. For someone like Lane, the thought of dying is frightening. What must it be like to have all those emotions?
Tears fill his eyes as he turns to the window. “It’s sunny.” He sniffles. “It’s been…weeks since I’ve seen outside.”
I jump on the opportunity to fix my mistake. “Would you like to go outside? I live on two acres, so we can walk, and no one will see you.”
I’m surprised that he smiles slightly. When I play back the words in my mind, it sounds ominous.
“Can I shower first?” Lane’s nose wrinkles. “I smell terrible. How did you sleep with this stench in the air?”
“It’s not so bad,” I lie smoothly. I stand and hold a hand out to help him up. When he’s on his feet, I tighten my grip and pull him closer. Lane’s eyes flare, then harden, and I smile at the fight still left in him. My actions and whatever he went through in his past didn’t fully break him completely.
In a low voice, I say, “I’m not ready to let you go yet, Lane.”
He nods slowly and says, “I know. I?—”
“If you try to escape,” I talk over him, making him scowl but shut his mouth, “I will kill you and everyone you love. But if you stay, if you don’t try to leave, I won’t pose anyone else.”
I give him a meaningful look, waiting for him to understand what I’m saying to him.
It takes a moment, but it finally dawns, and his mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.
Finally getting his bearings, he asks, “You won’t kill anyone?” I shake my head, maintaining eye contact so he knows I mean it. “You haven’t since I’ve been here?”
I start to tell him about the man outside the grocery store, but it’s not like I went through my ritual with that kill, so I don’t count it. “No. No one.” One little lie won’t hurt.
He lets out a long breath and raises a shaky hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “That’s…that’s good. What do I have to do? To keep you from…killing?”
“Let me draw you. Whenever I want, however I want.” I tip up his chin so he can meet my eyes. I search his, trying to figure out why I want him so badly. Why the thought of him being in my home, waiting for me to sketch him, doesn’t have me wanting to pose anyone else.
Something about Lane being my live model excites me more than any of the other bodies I’ve staged by miles. I guess what Jacob said is true: while normal people love, we become obsessed. And I am obsessed with seeing Lane laid out perfectly for me.
Naked.
Clean-shaven face.
Damp, curling hair.
Knees up and legs spread.
His perfect hole on display.
The flash of how I want to see Lane flicks behind my lids between one blink and the next. I know he wants to shower, but I need to draw him.
“Sit in front of the window,” I order. “You need some sunlight.” He glances at his chain. “It’ll reach. Go.”
He does what I say but not without an adorable scowl that I’m coming to love. Lane sits in the chair and reaches for the curtain but looks at me before he pulls it back. I nod, and he opens the curtain, wincing at the bright light. “Careful,” I chastise.
“Yes, Daddy,” he grumbles sarcastically. But even with his tone, the title reaches a part of me I didn’t know existed.
