Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3) (5 page)

It was true that he didn’t
want them there. He had grown to not care for people and to hate
intrusion. He felt as if they were invading his privacy, his way of
life. However, as much as he hated to admit it, she’d had a point.
He
had
been the
one to accept the position. It was his own fault they were there.
She was not the one to blame. She was a stranger. She didn’t know
him at all. She had not expected any of this.

He shoved a hand through his hair in
agitation. Had he really lost all traces of humanity? What was he
turning into? The troll on the bridge? Was he going to start eating
goats soon? He sighed again and turned to go back inside. Well, if
nothing else, he would get dinner out of the whole deal. That was
the only advantage as far as he could see.

Chapter Four

Evie’s stomach rumbled at the smell of her
own supper. She hadn’t had much to work with, but she had found
enough ingredients to make spaghetti. It wasn’t gourmet cuisine by
any standards, but it was better than pizza and cream cakes.

Seth wandered into the kitchen and grinned
at his sister. “It smells so good in here.” He groaned. “It’s
killing me.”

She smiled in return and began to set the
table. “It’s a miracle I was able to make anything at all. I’m
thinking this guy must eat bugs and rats or something because this
kitchen is barren. The Sahara Desert has more food than this man
does.” She set the spaghetti noodles, sauce, and garlic bread in
the middle of the table and brushed off her hands.

It was a beautiful kitchen, now that she’d
had time to actually look at it. It was large with plenty of
counter space and an island for added room. All of the counter tops
were black marble and the dining room was off to the left in front
of a large window draped in heavy, burgundy curtains. Evie imagined
she probably could have put at least three fourths of her apartment
in the kitchen alone.

“Seth, go find him,” she commanded.

Seth’s eyebrows shot up in the air. “Are you
completely out of your mind?”

She shook her head. “No, we have to let him
know dinner’s ready somehow.”

He snorted and sat back in
his chair. “
You
go find him. There is no way I’m wandering around this freaky
house trying to find that freaky guy. It’s just not
happening.”

Evie heaved a sigh and put her hands on her
hips. “Seth—”

“No way!” he cried.
“It’s
not
happening! There’s a Chinese gong in the corner of the living
room. Why don’t you use that?”

She frowned, then a slow smile spread across
her lips. She felt a devilish glint come to light in her eyes.
“While I think having a Chinese gong hanging out in your living
room is rather strange, it could be used to our advantage.” She
strode with purpose toward the living room.

Seth almost fell out of his
chair trying to jump up and run after her. “Evie!” he exclaimed.
“You’re not serious! Are you
trying
to piss this guy off?”

Evie located the gong. She picked up the
mallet and flashed Seth an evil grin.

“Holy crap,” he pleaded, looking genuinely
pained. “Seriously, don’t.”

She pulled her arm back, then let it fly.
Seth clapped his hands over his ears as the sound reverberated
through the silent house so loud that the walls seemed to
shake.

“Dinner’s ready!” Evie shouted at the top of
her lungs.

Seth winced. “You’re going to get us
killed,” he grumbled.

She snorted. “Whatever. If that windbag
thinks I’m going to make this easy on him, he’s got another thing
coming.” She turned and headed back into the kitchen where she sat
down and started dishing up her own plate.

Within seconds, Traevyn strode into the
kitchen, a black scowl darkening his handsome face. He opened his
mouth to speak, but Evie stood and shoved a plate in his hands. “I
need you to give me money to go grocery shopping tomorrow unless
you plan on me making something out of the moldy cheese. I will
also need access to a computer so I can find out where the nearest
grocery store is. I’m sure there’s one in Monterey, but I’m not
sure where as Seth and I have only ever seen the pizza parlor.
Whether you wish to eat at the table with Seth and me is completely
up to you, but we will not dine in the basement like common
servants, if that was your idea. You can choose our company or not.
It really doesn’t matter to me.”

He stared at her for a moment, saying
nothing.

“Dinner will be served at seven o’clock every
night. If you’re not here, I will continue to use the gong method.
If the gong method irritates you, I would suggest being here on
time.” She sat down and continued to eat without pause, as if she
was a teacher instructing her hundredth student.

He stared at her for a moment longer, his
scowl even blacker than before. After a few moments of her being
almost positive that he was going to slay her with his eyes alone,
he disappeared into the living room briefly, reappeared, threw two
one hundred dollar bills on the table, loaded up his plate, and
left.

Evie frowned as he walked away. “Well you’re
welcome!” she shouted after him. She took the money and shoved it
in her pocket. “Jerk.”

Seth started to chuckle and Evie couldn’t
help but grin. She had pulled that off better than she ever would
have given herself credit for.

“You’ve got more balls than any guy I’ve ever
met,” Seth said.

She laughed and ate the rest of her meal in
silence, thinking about and dreading how she had to take her
portfolio to Traevyn later for his inspection. He was so rude. He
would probably laugh at her and tell her she sucked. It was
nerve-wracking just to think about.

Seth helped Evie clean up after dinner,
which greatly surprised her. She and her brother had always had a
pretty typical sister/brother relationship. They didn’t really have
much in common. Seth liked video games and heavy metal music. He
was your average rebellious, mouthy, lazy, seventeen-year-old boy.
Evie was an artist. She loved anything beautiful. She was
fascinated by color and shape. She also loved poetry and theatre.
Those things were lost on Seth.

For their entire childhood Seth had always
found a way to weasel out of chores and stick Evie with them. The
fact that he had helped her clean up instead of rushing back to the
game console he had brought along made her wonder if he was feeling
all right.

After the kitchen had been picked up, Evie
returned to her room, a cold lump of dread quickly forming in her
stomach. She took her portfolio, which she had arranged three
times, and clutched it in her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and
tried to will her courage to come back. Sure, she was brave beating
a gong and demanding money, but showing her life to the Lord of the
Dark Tower was a completely different story. She was vulnerable
when it came to her work and, whether he was heinous or not, he was
still the greatest artist of all time. She knew he could slay her
with one unkind word and that thought terrified her.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to
start down the hall. She would get nowhere standing in her room.
Once she reached his hallway, she stopped, trying to steel herself
again. She didn’t even know where he was. She hated that she had to
go looking for him. It was annoying. If he wanted to see her
portfolio, why couldn’t he come and find her?

She headed down the hall and stopped at his
office again. The door was half open and an amber glow was coming
from the room, casting a misshapen shadow on the floor of the hall.
She frowned and peered in a little. She blinked in surprise and
couldn’t help but stare. Traevyn was sitting in a brown leather
chair reading a thick book by candle light. His ebony hair fell all
around him like a blanket, and the light cast intriguing shadows
across his face. It highlighted the dramatic lines and shaded the
hollows, making him look even more menacing and, yet, very sensual
somehow. He reminded her of a medieval knight sitting in his
castle. She swallowed and suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
He was magnificent…

She shook her head and forced air into her
lungs. What in the heck was she doing? Had she lost it? She raised
her hand to the door and knocked lightly.

“Yes?” his erotic voice called.

Evie shivered, then frowned. Good lord, what
was wrong with her? She surely hadn’t thought his voice was erotic
earlier when he had been snarling at her. The man was a nightmare.
Why was she marveling at his beauty and shivering at the sound of
his voice? She opened the door with caution and stepped in,
clinging to her portfolio like a lifeline. “I’m sorry if I’m
intruding,” she murmured.

He glanced up at her and arched an eyebrow.
“A little late for courtesy don’t you think, gong mistress?”

She cracked a smile and thought she might
have seen the slightest twinge around his lips as well. “Why are
you reading in the dark?” she queried.

“I prefer candle light to electric. Electric
is harsh and false. It hurts my eyes at times.”

She blinked. “Can you go out in daylight? I
mean, you don’t, like, turn to dust or anything?”

He heaved a sigh and closed his book, meeting
her eyes. “Do you have a purpose in being here, Miss Austin?”

She smiled in amusement. She couldn’t help
it. She nodded. “You told me to bring you my portfolio.”

He nodded. “Let’s go into my studio.” He
stood and started toward her. “Also, you may use the computer in
this room for whatever you need.” He brushed past her and continued
down the hall.

Evie followed. Her hands shook and she hated
herself for it. Traevyn led her into the room across the hall. He
turned the light on to reveal a room choc full of canvas, paints of
all sorts, and any art supply anyone would ever need. It was a
disaster, chaotic and disorganized. It made Evie smile. It looked
just like her art room.

Traevyn hastily pushed aside the random
papers, paints and charcoal pencils on his desk to clear a spot. He
held his hand out to Evie. “Let me see it,” he demanded.

She hesitated a moment, then held it out to
him gingerly. He took it and opened it, beginning to study the
first piece. Evie couldn’t watch. She turned and began to look
around at the paintings in the room. Many were in various stages of
being finished. She marveled over his use of color and how his
paintings were so vivid. Even the dark ones seemed to resonate with
life, like he had managed to capture his very soul and the canvas
was actually living and breathing. She made a slow circle around
the room, losing all concept of time. She wished she could just
walk into one of his paintings and never come out. Each one looked
like a doorway to a fantastic and magical world.

At the far end of the room was the painting
that hung in the SOU foyer. She stopped in front of it and sighed.
“I love this painting.”

She saw him glance over at her out of the
corner of her eye. “The chaotic cauldron of my creative drive?” he
said, his voice flat.

She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I never
saw that. No matter what my teachers tried to tell me. I mean, art
is supposed to be open to interpretation, right? I always saw
something different.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what
did you see?”

She ignored the fact that he sounded highly
skeptical and almost sarcastic. She shrugged. “I don’t know. To me,
it always looked like a man screaming.”

His head jerked up and he stared at her.

“Everyone’s always said it’s a reflection of
passion, but it never looked like passion to me. Why would you
choose such dark shades to portray passion?”

He made a slow turn in his chair and placed
his hand over his chest, as if his heart was beating strangely.
“What do you think it represents then?” he asked, his voice
hushed.

“Torture, torment, the worst kind of pain
and sorrow. I mean, the way the black shades swirl together here,
they form a distinct shape. I don’t understand why no one can see
that.” She shrugged and looked down, suddenly realizing what she
was saying and feeling stupid. He probably thought she sounded like
an idiot. Here she was, a junior art student, contradicting what
people who were much more proficient than her claimed. She turned
back around and was surprised to see him staring at her with an
intensity she found more than unnerving. She averted her eyes and
stuffed her hands in her pockets, rounding her shoulders in the way
a shy little kid on the playground did. “What?”

He dropped his gaze back to her drawing, and
clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times. He cleared his
throat. “Nothing,” he rasped. He shook his head. “There is no
denying that you are very skilled. You have a unique style that
should make your work stand out. I do notice that you have more
pencil sketches than anything else. Why is that?”

She looked away. “Painting intimidates me,”
she murmured.

He frowned. “Why? The paintings you have in
here are quite good. Who are your influences?”

She gave a meager smile. “You, mainly.”

He cast her a brief glance, but said
nothing. “We will have to work on this strange fear you have of
canvas and paint. Leave this here. As you will be working in here,
it would be ridiculous for you to have to keep toting it back and
forth.” He stood. “I cannot give you a set time as to when we will
work. I work when inspiration comes and no sooner. However, when
you wish to work, you do not have to ask my permission. Come in
here whenever you like, but leave your projects so I can see them
in their various stages. I will do the same for you.”

She nodded and followed him back out into the
hall.