The Prelude (A Musical Interlude Novel) - By Kasonndra Leigh Page 0,44
of crimson colored fog around its body. I place my hands on the picture, caressing his arm.
“Alek, this is stunning,” I don’t tell him how long I’ve waited to see his ink. The tattoo artist put a great amount of emphasis on creating a realistic set of flames. The art pulls me in, and I can’t stop massaging it. Alek’s body stiffens a bit.
“Keep touching me like that, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens,” he says as he glances deep in my eyes. I swallow through a golf ball sized lump in my throat. I fully believe he means every word he just said.
“What’s your story? I mean…”
He gives me a tiny smile. “This is an emblem from a gang I used to be in a long time ago. Each one of us was assigned a color to go along with our phoenix. Mine was red.”
“A gang?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Erin,” he says. In Russia, we form gangs for completely different reasons than some of our neighbors do in other countries. I’ll tell you all about it someday.”
I’m totally hooked. The more I get to know him, the more he intrigues me with his mysterious past. What is it about this man who can bring the world to its feet with a song that drives me wild? “What about Nikolai? What’s his color?” I ask, recalling the time when I first met his friend. I saw the ink partially hidden by his shirt sleeve too.
“My my aren’t we the observant one?” he teases. “He was given royal blue flames.” His expression saddens. I want to know why. “Enough chit chat. We need to prepare your masterpiece for his debut this weekend.”
He breaks our gaze, eases his arm out of my grip, and moves around behind me, pulling me up against him the way we did at his mother’s house last week. I'm now sitting between his legs. It’s a pretty bold move on his part, but I’ve kinda gotten used to him taking charge this way now. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Your butterfly is going to get a set of smoldering flames like mine. We’re going to bring a touch of excitement into his life.” He reaches around my body and opens the bottles of paint I bought and never used as he says this.
“I hate to disappoint you but it’s a she,” I correct.
“What’s that?” he asks in a seductively low voice, and that accent that makes me forget all reason. I’m beyond lost in this moment. My pulse races, and I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be than sitting on a balcony with the Maestro.
“My butterfly is a girl.”
“I do apologize. Does she have a name?”
“Yes,” I answer, watching him prepare the paints even with me sitting between his legs.
“And what would you like me to call her?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret,” I whisper, thinking of the day Jada named the butterflies we adopted. Hers was blue like the sky and mine was black like a crow’s wings. I combined the two colors to come up with my label’s logo.
“Alright then, we’ll call her Mystical for now,” Alek says and offers me the brush.
Covering my hand with his, he eases the paintbrush we now hold together onto the canvas and begin stroking inside the areas around the butterfly. The scent of Alek’s cologne mixes with the paint. I’m suddenly very aware of the way we’re sitting with his body wrapped around mine. The Enigma song playing in the background sets every nerve cell in my body on fire.
He’s very good with his hands. “Do you see how this works, Jaybird? The paint requires a smooth touch. Be gentle. Stroke the canvas lightly, then sit back and enjoy the way you’re rewarded by the results,” he explains as he creates a fiery combination of orange, dark blue, and crimson flames around my logo, bringing the design to scorching life.
Holy moly! Every single word he just said fires through my body. I turn my head toward his lips. Dangerous move, I know. He’s still the boss, Erin.
Oh shut the hell up.
I wonder if the butterfly in my picture is as horny as I am right now. He moves his head toward my lips. No kissing, Erin. But that isn’t what he’s trying to do. The paintbrush needs more paint, and he’s dipping it one more time. “The picture is breathtaking,” I say without turning my head. “Should I take charge