The Artist
Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jamison-

“You pride yourself on being very clever, don’t you, Henley?” I asked her, wishing I could bottle that scathing look she had given me more than once. I could have won every battle I had ever been in, without spilling a single drop of blood.

“If I were clever, I would not be here.” She replied I noted the bitterness. I shook my head. She had no idea how incredible she was. I would love to tell her the truth, but why give the little rebel more ammunition. Instead, I settled myself down in an old wooden chair. One that was not comfortable, but what Henley preferred. The Omega was fond of the old farmhouse decor. The polar opposite of Cass, and his high maintenance exes. That alone was entertaining to me.

“Cass did not install any surveillance in the studio, I did.” Henley bristled instantly.

“Are you that bored?”

I laughed at the clueless Omega. “No, Henley, I am not bored. Protecting Cass is my job.” I said, watching her fiery expression glow in her eyes.

“Protect the devil, are you serious?”

“Even the devil has enemies Henley, and not just you.” She truly didn’t know that Cass was as hated as he was liked. That was a fact that put a target on his head.

“I am not his enemy. I am his fucking slave.” She was not even listening to me, let alone herself. Cass was her mate, good or bad. They were connected. If he suffered, so did she. Unfortunately, that, like Cass, did not matter to her.

“You are so much more than a slave; you’re just ungrateful.” I was far too fed up with her bullshit to be accommodating anymore. The look of disbelief and rage that shook her little body was apocalyptic. I am sure I just earned another curse from her.

“You’re the most stupid Alpha on this planet. I see why he keeps you under his boot.” She could barely contain the anger that dripped like acid from her lips. “Stockholm Syndrome apparently has you by the balls,” Henley said. “Are you jealous that he is using my body instead of yours?” She was taking no prisoners today. Usually, I was smart enough to keep my head. But Henley was an opponent who played with her emotions. That proved to be an interesting fight, all on its own.

“No, Henley, I am not.” Her eyes called me a liar. That’s not what pissed me off. It was the fact that she found me weak. Weak enough to be submissive. There were few ways to dispel her slander properly; none were options for me. She was a claimed Omega. I felt the instinct to dominate her kick me hard. She dared the dangerous animal that I was to remind her of her place.

“I see why Cass using a firm hand with you Omega. You are disrespectful.”

“If I were someone you loved, would I still be wrong?” Henley’s question hurt for the wrong reason. I cared about her, and while the emotion was not love, it was affection. Wrong and very dangerous.

“You are claimed, by an Alpha of worth. A mate that can give you everything you could ever want.” I was deflecting; we both knew it.

“I had everything I could ever want, by my hands alone, traitor. I did not need an Alpha to be happy.”

“What about Kita? You didn’t have him.”

“Are you sure about that?” She challenged me, purposely turning her neck to show me his mark on her neck. I clenched my jaw as I swallowed the anger Henley had caused in me. Fighting her was exhausting, mentally, and emotionally. She was far better at this type of war than I was. I retreated again. Her eyes sparkled with her victory, wordlessly gloating at my surrender and my ire.

I was done clashing swords with Henley. Knowing I needed to leave before I lost my temper with her. I pushed off the chair, heading for the first of the cameras I had placed in here. She watched me boring through my skin with her heavy stare. I continued through the room, removing my high-tech surveillance.

“Three cameras? Do you have any idea how boring it is to watch an artist work?” Henley asked. She did not realize that her rebellion is what had prompted me to spy on her. She refused to accept the bond. I would set up as much tech as it took to replace out everything, I needed to make her complacent. She could publicly defy Cass, but privately she was helpless. Left alone, or with Monica, Henley would reveal her true self. I would use anything I could to end her war. With my tech gathered, I turned to Henley. “That is all of it. There is nothing in here that should not be.” I told her truthfully. “You will return to work.” It wasn’t a question. This was an order. Henley was usually an easy read. Today found me wondering.

“I need to make a call,” Henley said as she reached out for my phone. I hesitated for a second, curious, and guarded. She was a worrisome foe; one I had underestimated repeatedly. Seconds past as I wondered how many ways this could blow up in my face. It wouldn’t be the first time, which was the reason for my uncertainty. The longer I waited, the further an arrangement slipped away. I handed her my phone.

Henley’s small hand touched mine as she took it. Delicate fingers dialed in a number, I waited.

“Mo, It’s just me. I need you to do something for me.” Henley held my attention, I watched, wary as ever. “I want you to bring me my sketch pads, all of them.” I heard the stunned silence from the other end of the phone. Was Monica as shocked as I was? Undoubtedly. Henley was close enough that I could hear Monica.

“You’re really going to do it?” Monica asked. Henley watched me, her blue eyes holding mine.

“I am Mo,” she replied.

Our impromptu trip to the country had been bullshit. Time the devil had used to let Momo change “my studio.” Mo knew me well. She’d spent a ton of his money-making this space more to my liking. Still, I had not touched shit.

I spent three days hating every person on this planet, namely myself. The fact that Alexander continually reminded me that I was nothing by an Omega, angered me the most. Every fucking time he called to her; she’d respond. Hungry and lustfully, she’d take the pleasure that the assertive male gave her. Instinct would take over my entire being, and I would allow it — hours of mindless mating, where I lost focus, where I lost Kita. When the high left me, the quilt would hit me hard. I had made the only choice I could, forced to give myself to the devil to keep him safe. That was no excuse to take pleasure from the Alpha, who was not my heart. After years of love and protection, I’d failed him.

I was not happy by any measure of the word. However, I was solid with my decision. Mo was right. I owed her the truth. What she did with it would be her choice. I could feel new energy growing inside of me. So alive with ideas, I was unable to sleep. It did not matter that Alexander had taken me twice. It did not matter that he purred, and tended to my Omega. I was too gone. I would have the tragic ending that accompanied the tortured artist I was. Alexander and I had set rules regarding my return to work. I had no intention of giving him a reason to invade my space. But I would take every advantage to start my final exhibit. I left the sleeping devil in his bed, heading into the studio before the sun was up. Somedays drawing was a challenge. Inspiration was lost, making my dream job feel like a chore. Today was not that day. I never cataloged my personal story. Not to anyone, other than Kita, and never with my art.

An early childhood memory came to life with an artist’s vision. Shocking me with how powerfully it moved me. I sat back to take in the finished view. I noted the immediate physical response, the chilling explosion of goosebumps that shivered me. The fear that had found me that day, ten years ago, felt the same. I was afraid of the man, the one the state had placed me with. He was a large man, with cold black eyes and terrible weathered skin. He ran a foster home with his sister. She was just as frightening as he was. I remember so clearly the sick dread that I felt. I remember how my body had shaken at the sight and sound of the other kids being abused. I remember how he had stood over me, touching himself as he panted. Asking his sister again why he couldn’t have me.

“She’s being watched.” She told him again. “The doctors are watching her.” This was the first time my history had saved me. I spent a year in that hell, twelve months I waited to be raped. When help finally arrived, it was too late for some. Chloe, that was her name. The beautiful blonde-haired girl who was only a few years older than me. She’d gotten away, escaping our hell long enough to get help. I’d been so happy. I had believed we’d make it. But I was a child. I did not understand the depth of her wounds. At first, I had been mad at her for killing herself. She had been so brave and strong, more so than the rest of us. It wasn’t until I was older that I revisited her life. When I learned the extent of her torture, I was heartbroken. Chloe had set herself free the only way she thought she could.

I had not lived her pain, not the way she had. My life had been troubled at times. But I had found love in Kita. He’d been my safe harbor. I could not compare my pain to hers, not even. Yet, I understood the loss of control. I understood her motivation, her reasoning. She was a victim because she was a female, smaller, and weaker than the rest. Chloe had been forced by someone bigger, powerful, and stronger than her. That was why she’d been a target. She’d taken back her control, the only way she felt she could.

I rode the new wave of energy for a solid two days. By the early morning of day three, I found my rhythm. Mo arrived with my sketch pads and liquid sanity.

“Mo, I know you did not drive all the way here with these,” I commented, nodding at my favorite drink. Her laugh was refreshing.

“I didn’t have to. There is a coffee shop a few blocks from here. They called and got the recipe from Beverly.” Mo’s smile was a little smug. “They even ordered the same matcha tea.”

“Really?”

“All I had to do was mention Mr. Castillo’s name. The snotty barista lost all her attitude instantly” Mo found that funny. I still was resentful towards Alexander. I did not see that changing anytime soon. I ignored the comment like I ignored anything that was Alexander related. From his existence to his touch. He could, and did overpower my Omega. But away from his physical being, he lost his hold on me — my silent brooding wrinkled Mo’s brow. I nodded my response, taking a drink as I turned away.

“Thanks for bringing all this up,” I said, taking quick stock of my sketch pads, and the small crate of canvas pictures. There were four pads. It felt like a lifetime since I had seen these. I typically didn’t work in them anymore. I’d spent more time working on a larger scale. I flipped through the top pad, noting some personal themes among them. My farewell tour might go a little faster than I had planned. A tiny flare of bittersweet emotion erupted in my chest, one step closer to freedom, and Kita. It was Mo’s silence this time that caught my attention. The pained look of worry and sadness on her face was tough to look at.

“Are you sure about this, Henley?” My best friend asked me. It was not hard to see she wanted to talk about this, that she was desperately hoping for a different response. But I was too raw from the loss of my love, and life, to try and make her understand.

“Sure, and unwavering, Mo.” I had to look away. My feelings were far more consuming than hers. I had limited energy and time. I’d already given myself a schedule. I would not stray from it.

The room turned cold and strained. Mo’s sadness was heavy. I could only hope that in time, she would forgive me. If I left her with the truth, she could replace the closure she would need to move forward. As my best friend, I would do everything in my power to do that.

“Mo, you have don’t have to stay here.” She needed to know she was free. This was my choice, solely. Mo was an expressive woman. She’d not honed the mask of secrecy.

“I asked you for this Henley, I will be here, for you.” Mo didn’t want this, not even a little bit. She just could not reason with my indifference to life. Not when she didn’t know the whole story.

“I have missed you wonder woman,” I smiled at her. She didn’t know how much. That was something I could fix, pulling her into my arms.

“Music?” I asked, noting that neither one of us wanted to let go.

“As long as it is heavy and loud.” I laughed through the pain that was breaking my heart.

“I can do that.” Music blasting, we unpacked some of my larger pieces. I loved the feel of canvas, running my hand across the rough texture was comforting. All of this was a decoy. Just enough effort to keep the devil and the traitor off my true purpose. Mo and I spent the next few hours working together. Even though this was not my studio, Mo had tried very hard to make it homier. She knew me well, taking care to buy furnishings that were more my style. It was 3:00 before I knew it.

“Mo, I don’t want to worry about you driving home too late,” I told her, she didn’t drive as fast as I did, thankfully. It would take her two hours to get back home.

Cass left me alone while I was in the studio. Some days Mo would be here with me. Time, she made feel as it had been before Alexander. She would be her amazing self, and I would draw and think of Kita. I missed him badly, my safe harbor, and love. I missed him so much that I never asked Mo about him. The raw ache he fed me through the bond was all the proof I needed. He was suffering with me. Mo’s verbal account would only make it worse. I took the little energy I had left, devoting it to illustrating the story I had to tell. I always felt fine in the morning. Waking up in Alexander’s bed, I’d be resentful. Angry that he wasn’t Kita, bitter that I’d let him physically satisfy my lustful Omega. The urge to use my heated emotions to create was easy. I could effortlessly draw one, maybe two “chapters.” Each of these chapters was a character-forming moment in my life. These were not large drawings, but they didn’t need to be. I gave them all the meaning they needed. Once I was happy with it, I would write a brief story for it. By the time I would cycle through my emotions, I was tired. That’s when I would half-ass draw a decoy sketch. Not my best work, by any means. Just something that would keep Jamison from digging too deep. I’d watched him remove his spy-tech from the studio, but I wasn’t that trusting. Noting the growl in my stomach, I gauged it was close to noon. I usually skipped breakfast, which was starting to show. I’d been steadily losing weight. I was catching hell from Alexander and Jamison. When the knock came, I was not surprised.

“Yeah,” I called out as I finished what I was drawing. Jamison walked in, setting a tray of food down on a small farmhouse table that was covered in my supplies.

“Lunchtime,” Jamie said, Looking down at the picture of a wolf. I knew that he was going to stand there until I sat down and ate. I refined the drawing for a few minutes, content that I could stop for a while. I stood up, stretching out my back with a groan.

“How long have you been sitting there like that?” The traitor actually sounded concerned.

“Not sure, I tell time by songs,” I said, walking towards the table.

“Songs, how many have played?”

"Hell, if I know.” I shrugged, looking down at the tray of food. Today was a chicken salad with fresh fruit. It looked amazing, so I tore into it. With me sitting and eating, I assumed he would leave. When he didn’t, I looked up.

“You look rough, Henley,” Jamison said, the concern was unwanted.

I ignored him, focusing my attention on eating. Thankfully he took the hint, leaving me here with my thoughts. I had drawn two more chapters today. Pictures that had taken a lot of energy, exposing feelings that I struggled with. Living with a secret was exhausting. I had never really noticed until I no longer had to hide. Now I had let the walls around my heart crumble, giving the entire world a startling view into my personal life.