Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,187

seen some amazing work. I’ve been to the Louvre, I’ve been to Rome . . . What I saw there was amazing, but it was intended for display, much of it commissioned. That doesn’t make it less remarkable, but what always interested me was the type of art created when it was simply what called to the artist. In a little, out-of-the-way church in the mountains of North Carolina, there’s a painting done by a nineteen-year-old, of Jesus laughing. When I looked at that, I thought, this is how it must be done, a direct conduit of the muse, no middleman of priest or art patron to interfere with that flow of pure energy.”

He nodded at the paintings. “As life grows short, it’s the small moments remembered, not what war was fought, or when the rocket went to the moon. It was the day you went to the beach with your mother, or a lover’s touch in a predawn light. The true history of the individual life. That’s what interests me.”

“Niall said almost the same thing.” Reading about the history you’ve lived, a lot of it is pure bollocks. Kings and politics. The things a man remembers and history forgets are home and family. That first kiss.

She straightened, still gazing at the picture. “You two are the most remarkable men I’ve ever met.”

Looking back, she found him staring at her oddly. Before she could open her mouth to apologize, he lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her palm. Her heart beat in her throat as he kept those mesmerizing eyes on her.

“I’m simply an eccentric vampire, Alanna. You are the remarkable one. Any artist would be lucky to have you as a muse.”

“You already have a muse.” Her fingers trembled under his touch. Her body had been used in every imaginable way, but whenever he did things like this, unmistakably romantic, she was as new to it as an innocent schoolgirl.

“I do?” He cocked a brow. “Is there another woman I’m overlooking?”

“Muses can be male, Master.” She paused. “His humanity, his sense of honor, his complex idea of love yet simple embrace of life . . . I see Niall in almost everything you’ve created.”

Her attention shifted to another work. It was a photograph, blown up to the size of the tree pictures, showing people standing on a busy nighttime street corner. Some smoked and talked, caught in dramatic gestures. One leaned on a lamppost next to a couple making out, wrapped up in each other. A tight knot of others focused on the light changing, all of them bathed in the city lights. Her gaze slid to the tree canvas, then back across. They weren’t identical, but the postures were so similar, it was impossible not to draw the connection.

“How did you . . . Did you pose them?”

“No. I took thousands of street corner shots for nearly a month. Niall helped me sift through all of them. Don’t get me started on his grumbling, because I had to clout him on the head to get him to shut up about it—but eventually I found one that was similar yet different enough to work.”

“I could look at your work all my life and never get tired of it,” she said honestly. Then, realizing that could be insulting, given that she didn’t have much life left, she added, “I wish I had a much longer life to do so.”

Evan knew why Niall reacted the way he did when she said things like that. Though he’d rarely responded as openly about it as Niall did, now his fingers tightened on hers, conveying his fierce reaction, his recurring wish that he had more power to change her destiny.

Shyly, showing how new it was to her to seek contact, Alanna reached up with trembling fingers, caressed his jaw. It was rare he’d felt held in place by a human’s touch, but Evan was now, moved by the deep, powerful feeling he saw in her eyes. She claimed to see something amazing and unexpected in his art. One-of-a-kind. All he had to do was look at her to see a living example of that.

He’d heard Niall’s words to her about losing his heart. At the time, he’d been glad to be elsewhere, so he had time to school his reaction to it. Yet now, when Niall’s declaration gripped his heart anew, he looked up and saw him there.

He’d been caught up in her emotions, hadn’t sensed his approach. As he met his servant’s