The sketch is finished. It is drawn in light lines on the gifted canvas. Vlad is behind. He still holds me with one hand. He still burns me to ashes.
— Do you see?
I want to turn around, look into his blue eyes, but he won’t let me. He slides closer, leaving no millimeter of free space between us. My breathing quickens. I can no longer immerse myself in that feeling where I created and nothing else existed. Too sharply, with every cell, every atom, I perceive the man behind me.
— What? — I ask hoarsely.
— Everything is perfect, — he replies approvingly. — Every line, curve…
Suddenly, he touches my head with his fingers, where my temples are. Where his hand was before, now it’s cold. However, heat rushes to my face. Vlad removes the hair tie and lets my hair down. He tosses the strands over one shoulder and leans towards the bare part of my neck. He doesn’t touch me, though I terribly want him to, and he says:
— You’ve added something; take a look. The petals are different, the pendant is much more beautiful than in real life. Every artist — his breath tickles my skin — notices what others do not see. He sees the depth, the very root of what he depicts. Like that time at my exhibition, — his lips barely graze my earlobe, — you peeked into the girl so deeply that you noticed what others did not — her fears. That’s why you immediately wanted to change hopelessness into faith that there is always light somewhere nearby. And that’s what makes you an artist — the vision of things that others do not notice. However, — no longer hiding his own desires, Vlad touches the patch of skin behind my ear with his lips, slowly, deliberately lightly, as if with a feather’s touch — there are things you do not see, but I read them in you.
— What? — escapes my lips hoarsely.
I can no longer hold myself together. My body instinctively leans towards Vlad. I lean against his chest and rest my head on his shoulder. He pulls me even closer, squeezing my waist with his fingers. He leaves a kiss on the nape of my neck.
— Courage and fear go hand in hand in you, Yuliana. You fear too much, which is why you look at life through closed eyes. In the hands of some, you are a thing for manipulation.
— You mean in your hands? — wild sensations race through my body, stirring the blood.
I’m turning into a volcano that can’t hold back and is about to erupt in a flow of lava. I feel myself a star, the one Saint spoke about, that will turn into a dwarf at any moment.
— Guess for yourself, — he whispers softly into my ear.
But I don’t hear the words. All I know is the rhythm of my heart, the speed of my pulse, and Vlad's scents: seductive, passionate, maddeningly delicious.
It is I who turns my face and finds his lips with mine. It is I who kisses the man, the first in my life. The roof is blown off, once and for all. He is the serpent temptress who made me taste the forbidden fruit, knowing full well that it causes addiction. However, the realization of this simple truth does not make me stop. On the contrary, I crave continuation. The very same that love is portrayed as in movies on television screens.
Vlad freezes. He pulls back. I open my eyes and drown in the dark blue sky of the Saint. So deep that I can’t tear myself away.
— Do you want to not just play the role of a bride? — he asks demandingly.
— I don’t… — I can’t find the right words.
— Don’t go to where the path is paved with feigned emotions, — he warns.
Why? He seduces first, with words and actions, and then pulls back. Why? Is it a game? Of course, it is a game. He and Timur. It’s not for nothing that they need me. But… what kind of game is it and what are its rules?
Shame — a strong emotion. It skillfully muffles the rest of what I’ve experienced and paints my cheeks red.
Vlad's gaze turns cold. The man stands up and steps back. He glances at his wristwatch. Then he lazily looks at me. I keep repeating in my mind his words about manipulation and feigned emotions. Intentionally loudly, to make the red paint disappear and for my heart to stop racing. But all of this is in vain. My lips, which have never known before this moment what a kiss is, burn. They blaze with fire and demand continuation.
— Because I’m just your thing for manipulation with my father? — I ask hoarsely.
Saint snorts. He adjusts the sleeves of his shirt and pulls out his phone from his pocket. He ignores me. Deliberately stays silent.
— If you think I care that you and Timur prepared something bad for my father, then you’re mistaken. I only care about my mom and brother. I wouldn’t have agreed to your strange games if it weren’t for them, — I say desperately.
— It’s pleasing to know you’re not a fool, — he says confidently. — It’s time for me, Yuliana.
Saint doesn’t give a hint about anything. He turns and quickly exits the studio. I jump up. Pencils and paints fall to the floor, but I don’t pay attention to it, racing after him. I catch up just as he reaches the door.
— Stop! — I exhale.
He freezes with his back to me. He doesn’t move, waiting. I stare intently at his back. My breath quickens, my pulse ringing in my temples, and… I don’t understand why I ran after him.
Vlad turns around. Hell dances in his blue eyes, full of audacity and relaxation. Danger somehow pulses in the air between us.
— I’m standing, — he says mockingly.
I can’t calm my emotions. They won’t listen. They do whatever they want, but do not submit to my control.
— So, Timur is still mixed up with you, right? — I ask.
— Was someone hiding this? — he raises an eyebrow and says calmly.
— Well… I didn’t… — I take a step back. I don’t even understand why. As if Vlad is a beast ready to pounce on me if I don’t retreat.
— Have a good evening, Yuliana.
Vlad leaves quietly, locking me in the apartment. I slowly return to his studio and look at the sketch of the pendant with a sense of resignation. I no longer want to paint, even though I know I should. But my mood isn’t the same anymore. So, I leave that room and head to the bedroom. I fall onto the bed and wrap myself in the blanket, and instantly fall asleep. Perhaps the shock after the kiss is much stronger than I thought.
I wake up late at night. The words of the Saint echo in my head, pounding like a drum. “Don’t go where the path is paved with feigned emotions”; “There are things you don’t see, but I read them in you”; “You need to express your desires clearly and firmly”… The last one compels me to open my eyes. I wake up abruptly. I feel confused and lost. Darkness surrounds everything, so even with my eyes wide open, I can’t see at least the outlines of the room. Suddenly, it thunders. I exhale in fear. A storm. Just a storm.
A bright lightning paints its own picture in the sky, but bursts into the bedroom with a brilliant flash, as if I had called it. I sit up. I twist my tousled hair into a bun, but some strands escape the hairstyle. My body trembles, and I can’t explain why. Not even to myself... A fear, some strange, unjustified fear, troubles me from within. I want to whimper and cry.
New sounds of thunder and flashes of lightning drive me from the bed. I crawl out from under the blanket and quietly step into the kitchen. The darkness of the living room frightens me, but I push the fears away. I know, I have to let them take over, and that’s it… I’ll run back and hide in a corner. Just like all those times when, as a teenager, I didn’t understand why my dad didn’t love either me or my mom. I didn’t understand what was wrong with us…
Now I know, despite all the damn habits that Wild instilled in me: obedience, total submission, acknowledgment of strength; — this person simply doesn’t love anyone. Only himself. The rest he doesn’t care about.
The kitchen greets me with complete darkness, just like the rest of the apartment. Thanks to my good memory, I find my way to the refrigerator and open the door. I stand for a few seconds in front of the bright light, listening to the storm, which seems ready to unleash its fury on the earth. My gaze runs over the bottles of juice, water, and packages of ready-made food. My stomach immediately betrays me with a grumble, asking when its owner last ate. And there’s no answer. And appetite has vanished. Completely. So, I take out a bottle of water and uncork it. A few large sips stick in my throat. The cold liquid rushes through my body too tangibly. I immediately hide it back and close the refrigerator door. I turn my back and lean against it. A new sound of thunder makes me jump in place.
— What now… — I mutter under my breath.
Lightning illuminates everything within its reach. I instantly notice a silhouette near me, practically opposite. Fear, wild and profound, grips my throat. I nearly choke and feel cold sweat bead on my skin.
I freeze and practically stop breathing. I tell myself, it’s not someone strange, as Vlad lives in this apartment, and then I remember how I left and didn’t close the door… Anyone could have come in. Made a key…
God, stop. This is already bordering on a movie. I live in reality…
I swallow loudly. In this silence, I could probably hear my heartbeat. I assure myself that it’s just my imagination. I bite my lip to keep from screaming in fear in the middle of the night and quickly escape to the living room.
Thunder, lightning, and the sound of rain blend into a single cacophony of sounds. The summer storm is already raging in full force. A silhouette rises before me, and a new flash of light illuminates everything behind it.
I can’t hold it anymore. I scream. Fearfully. To the point of choking.
Cool fingers find their way above my elbows. And then a voice:
— Stop.
I fall silent immediately. I freeze and stare into the dark face, recognizing the voice…
No. I’m lying. Not the voice. The scent. I recognize the aroma. Danger swirls in the air with a taste of moisture on my lips, darkness, and predatory beasts in the thickets. It mixes with the smell of paints and the interior of a car.
My heart beats so fast… it might leap out of my ribs. My body, realizing it’s him, instantly relaxes.
Strange, isn’t it? I should be tense when he's around. But it’s all the opposite… I trust him, even though I know I have no reason to. I’m not afraid, even though I know I’m just a figure in his game. I believe, even though I clearly answered myself that the gift of freedom is just a trap that will lead to something bad.
— It’s scary, — I whisper. Not to him. To no one at all. Just to have the words stand between us as some sort of barrier.
Now I know why I woke up. I know what troubled me, if I forget about the rest of my life and problems — his ignoring. Saint said I need to express my desires clearly and firmly. I expressed them. I kissed him. And he disappeared… Ran away? Because he doesn’t care? My God, of course, he doesn’t care.
I’m a fool.
Vlad still holds me. His long fingers grip my skin, suddenly pulling me into an embrace. Amid the sound of rain and the rumble of thunder. His hands move, one covering my head, the other gliding down my back and… soothing. Slowly, calming, giving a sense of protection.
— It’s just a storm, — he says in a steady tone, and inside me, everything turns upside down.
— I know, — I whisper hoarsely into his chest.
I can’t let myself breathe deeply; he’ll notice… So, I inhale the man’s scent in bits, even to hide it from myself.
— You’re my bride, — he states calmly, — if you’re scared — just say so.
A nervous laugh escapes my throat.
— I didn’t know you were here. You said you come rarely. You left, — I reply quickly. — I didn’t hear when you came.
— You were sleeping.
“Sleeping.” I know I was sleeping… Was he watching?
— Is this one of the privileges? — I ask wearily.
— To bear the surname “Saint”? — he immediately understands what I mean.
— Yes. But I don’t bear it.
— While you’re with me, Yuliana, no one will hurt you.
Those words soothe me. Just like his careful touches. There’s nothing dirty or lustful about them. They are more like calming a child when having a nightmare. Only this is not an answer to the question.
— Let’s go, — Saint lifts me into his arms.
I’ve never been carried in someone’s arms before. Not once in my life have male hands touched my body where Vlad touches me.
— What are you doing? — my voice trembles.
He confidently walks into the bedroom. Mine. He unlocks the door with his foot and approaches the bed.
— I’m carrying you, — he cuts off.
Outside, a few bolts of lightning flash continuously. There’s enough light to see Vlad’s dark eyes and face, on which emotions are absent. As if an artist took an eraser and wiped them away. Destroyed them. So that others wouldn’t see or understand anything.
He lays me on the soft blanket. He commands me to lie down and settles down beside me. He pulls me onto his shoulder. Hesitantly, I place my palm on his chest and feel the warmth from it. An intrusive thought appears in my head that I want to feel this warmth, which doesn’t divide into two, through the fabric of his shirt…
— Thank you, — I whisper.
I know he doesn’t care, but I do...
My eyes close by themselves. Sleep comes quickly, with the aroma of the night forest and ozone and a barely perceptible touch on my lips, the taste of which cannot be determined.