The shadow has a form now. No longer the black mass that hovers silently over her bed, she’s managed to give it a face, arms, legs, while at the same time hiding the finer features that would make it recognizable. Even with form, he’s still not solid, more like a dream - or nightmare - come to life.
These aren’t straight shots. Adeline doesn’t think like that. She manipulates the images, combines them, processes them until you’re staring at what could be a painting from a distance, the blending done so perfectly that you would expect to feel the rough ridges of brushstrokes if you were to reach out and touch it.
My gaze slides from the shadow to the woman in front of him, to Adeline.
For all the time I watched her from a distance, I never saw her include herself in the shots. Yet there she is, climbing up the crypt where she came on my fingers.
Except she’s not simply Adeline in these shots, she’s an angel, her wings shredded and torn, blood streaking down her legs and her arms, while the shadow uses the halo that should float above her head to circle her throat and hold her in place, choking her as it rips away her innocence.
And despite the violence, there is something raw and sexual about their pose, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her ass to him, his head lowered as if whispering in her ear, and her face turned just enough that you can see her lips parted, both pain and pleasure in the expression she wears, both hatred and want.
I move to the next photo, and then the next, the same theme in all of them, a steady progression as the shadow becomes a demon, still black and barely solid, but a symbol of the evil that is tearing Adeline apart.
When I approach the photo Adeline stands near, I make a wide circle around it, around her, keeping her trained in my peripheral vision to see she makes no move to watch me, her lack of notice so complete that I understand she’s intentionally ignoring me.
A hand lands on my shoulder as I move deeper into the showroom, a sudden slap from behind that causes my hand to fist, my bicep to bunch.
“I was wondering when you’d make it. What do you think of Adeline’s work?”
I’m going to kill this son of a bitch one of these days and it’s going to be for something as simple as putting his hand where it doesn’t belong.
Rounding my shoulder so that his hand will slip away, I turn to lock eyes with Grant.
“They’re brilliant,” I answer honestly. “She has a great eye for detail.”
He smirks, glances at the photo we’re standing in front of, an image depicting Adeline hunched over from behind, large gouges in her back where wings had once existed. The shadow lingers in the backdrop, a black mass with eyes of sparkling silver.
“They’re definitely something,” he comments before his professional smile is in place. “Come with me. I’d like you to meet someone.”
This shit with Grant needs to end. I’m too close to the edge. Bare centimeters from ripping his head off and spitting down his throat. I can’t stand him, and yet I find myself forcing one foot in front of the other to follow him over to where another jackass stands, a man roughly my height, with a slimmer, yet still powerful, build.
He’s staring across the room at Adeline’s group as we approach, but his eyes slide my direction, green like Grant’s, but there’s something else I see in that stare that sets my nerves on edge.
Not fear.
Never that.
But the need to watch my back because you can’t trust a person that has the ability to size you up in five seconds flat.
The man has his arms crossed over his chest, feet set shoulder width apart, still elegant in a tailored suit that undoubtedly cost a fortune.
“Harrison, I’d like to introduce you to Rebecca’s husband, Aiden Oliver. He’s been keeping me company while the ladies enjoy themselves.”
Aiden doesn’t offer his hand in greeting, and I don’t offer mine. Instead, we stare at each other, a mutual, narrow-eyed distrust. His assessing gaze scans me from head to toe, back again, before his mouth pulls into a sly grin as he inclines his head.
My hostility toward him is immediate. There’s something off about this asshole that I recognize...only because like recognizes like.