Arranged To The Beast Alpha
Art

LEAH

"Where are we going?" I asked, my eyes glued to the bustling road ahead. The sidewalks were packed with people laughing, shouting, rushing-all of it a blur of noise and motion.

"Sit still, Leah," Damian muttered, his voice low and sharp, the kind of tone that made my skin prickle. "And stop talking so much."

I huffed quietly, shifting in my seat as I stared out the window. "It was a simple question," I mumbled under my breath, though I made sure it was just low enough that he couldn't hear or at least pretend not to. My tongue was itching to fire off something snarkier, but I bit down on it. Picking a fight with Damian wasn't exactly high on my to-do list; this egoistic ruler had a lot of personalities, and I would rather not mess with any in the slightest.

He didn't even glance at me, his profile as stoic as ever. The hard line of his jaw, the furrowed brows-it was like he had made a career out of ignoring me.

So, I sighed loudly and crossed my arms. The ride was dragging on forever, each turn of the car making my patience wear thinner. And the stops. Oh my god, the stops. Every twenty minutes, Damian would pull into a parking lot, disappear into some random building, and leave me sitting there like an idiot. No explanations. No hints. Just silence and that damn brooding look of his.

The worst part? I still had no idea where we were going. None. Nada2.

We rolled to a stop again. This time, it was in front of a building with no sign, no nothing. Just a dull, gray structure that looked about as inviting as a dentist's office. Damian got out without a word-classic-and disappeared inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

I slumped in my seat, tapping my finger against the door handle. Bored. Hungry. Irritated. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, but instead, I sat there, staring out the window like a dog waiting for its owner to come back.

I shifted again, groaning softly. My butt was officially numb from all the sitting, and the ache in my back wasn't far behind.

The area outside wasn't much better. It was quiet-too quiet. No bustling crowds, no bright lights or noise, just a few scattered cars and a couple of people who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.

I squinted at the building. Maybe just maybe it was a restaurant. I mean, that would explain all the stops, right? Like, maybe he was grabbing food or something. My stomach growled at the thought, a sharp reminder that I hadn't eaten in hours.

"It wouldn't hurt to look around," I muttered to myself. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? Damian was inside, probably doing...whatever it was he did during these random pit stops. He wouldn't even notice I was gone. "I'll be in and out before he gets back," I told myself, already reaching for the door handle.

The moment my feet hit the pavement, I felt the tension ease from my body. Stretching out, I glanced around, taking in the dull scenery.

The place was subtle, with a desk by the front and two corridors ahead. There was no one around. Well, I guess that's good for me, but how do I replace the food place?

I halted in between the passage that had two corridors. Which would lead me to the right part? I had no idea, I could only follow my instincts at this point.

I went right; there were so many doors and a stairway leading up. What path could I take? The stairs felt right, they went with my instincts.

So I went upstairs, and there was a parlor there, but it was empty, just a sign board saying keep out.

Keep out meant I had no business here and I should probably leave. However my instincts required something different, so I moved. My legs led me to the keep-out door. I slowly pulled the handle and walked in. My breath hitched with the sight that befell me; ART!

Everything about the room screamed art, and it wasn't empty; there were people there, all focused on the paintings before them. Was this some kind of class? It looked like one, the onesmother taught when I was young and barely knew the troubles she was going through.

"Gladys?" 

My head cocked to the side, my gaze meeting that of a tall slim lady with really short but bouncy-looking dark hair. Her green eyes sparkled but had a questioning gaze attached to them. "Huh?"

"Are you Gladys?" She asked again, her tone urgent, you couldn't miss it.

"I....urm..."

"Girl! I have been expecting you all morning, seriously it's 3 pm, cone one, you have to fix Fern's painting. God, you almost gave me a heart attack." The lady pulled me by my hand; I stared around, trying to replace an escape route, something that would get me out of there without her pointing me as the intruder.

We walked into another room, and it was the epitome of art: a well-lit studio with large windows, letting in plenty of natural light, different kinds of artwork placed on the wall, some unfinished paintings, and open paint.

Paintbrushes of various sizes, Paint roller and extension pole, Paint tray, Paint can, Drop cloth, Ladder, Paint scraper, Sandpaper, Masking tape Painter's palette...it looked rough, but the kind of rough you would say 'Wow' to.

"I really hope you can fix the painting, Gladys. Your Facebook profile said you graduated with a master's in art. I am placing my hope on that."

This lady kept talking, she went by the end of the room and brought back with her an Easel with a cloth over whatever was on it. She carefully removed the cloth and the canvas came into view.

She pulled a table close with paintbrushes and color palettes. "Come on, get it fixed." She said,

I gulped, my hands began to tremble. Oh Goddess, what if I have an attack before I can fix the painting?

Fuck!

The thought made me cringe, but right now, I so wished I had listened to Damien.