All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,160

had enough of the scenery here, may I suggest that we move on to the next room?”

“That one isn’t available.” She points to the sign: ‘Exhibit Closed For Installation,’ and the red rope blocking the entrance.

“You brave enough to break the rules?” I regard her with a little smile.

She hesitates, then nods. “Sure.” I feel like she’s saying yes to far more than trespassing.

“Sometimes that’s the best way to have fun.” My voice is soft, but she hears it and agrees—I can tell by the way her heart races faster. I smile.

I blur our bodies as we slip past the rope, setting my glass down on a table near the entrance, and in two seconds, we’re completely alone. The sounds of the busy gallery disappear, leaving us in our own world.

The room is dark, almost pitch black at first. It’s disorienting to humans, although my extra perceptive senses allow me to see the dimensions despite the illusion.

As Temi’s eyes acclimate, I know she can see that the space is filled with dangling black strands of mini lights that hang all around us from the ceiling, like vines. Every few minutes the lights shine and flash in different colors, reflecting like stars off the mirrored walls.

“We’re alone,” she says softly as the lights flicker, illuminating the place just enough to show our outlines. She’s close. I smell her faint perfume and her sweet skin, a blossom ready to burst.

“Yes.” I close the door behind me and click the lock on in. “So we are.” I lead her into the middle of the room. “What do you think?”

Her voice is quiet. “It’s like we’re out in space, and there are infinite galaxies all around us.” She points. “It goes on forever, if you just pretend it’s not mirrors and black walls. I love it.” She brushes at the strands of lights, making them sway and wave. “This is gorgeous. I mean, it’s a total knock off of Yayoi Kusama, but I still love it.”

Our voices are low but clear in the empty room. Her voice is a bell, a pure tone.

“You do know your art.” I can’t keep the admiration from my voice.

She shrugs, but I see the little pleased smile on her face. “I’m learning.” She’s understating herself. Growing her confidence, probably.

“I’m curious. Someone so talented. Why aren’t you selling your work?”

She doesn’t like this question. I feel her shrink into herself, see the frustration and irritation on her face. “Life isn’t always perfect, Pro—Locke.” She blinks. “You have to work up to these things.”

“You work a lot?” I researched her. I know about the multiple jobs, and the fact that she supports her grandma. That she never went to college.

“Not everyone had the opportunity to go to an Ivy League school like you.” She must have read my bio online. Then she relaxes the tension in her voice. “Let’s just enjoy the exhibit.”

“I’m only asking because you’re talented. I think you have potential.” It sounds like a shitty trope, the professor giving compliments to get into his student’s panties, but it’s true. The assessment and the panties, both. I imagine a slip of fabric, maybe black silk, and get hard at the image.

She’s still holding her glass of champagne.. I see her fingers tighten on it.

I squeeze her free hand again. “You’re phenomenal.”

A little shiver runs through her. “Thank you.”

“And I also think there’s something going on here, Temi. With us.” I lower my voice. “Am I right?”

She goes still. A rabbit, waiting for the fox to pounce. She knows as well as I do that students and professors shouldn’t mix. Maybe she senses something else about me, too, the darker side—and she wants to explore. Why else would she have come in here with me so willingly?

“I-I don’t know.” She’s a little breathless.

“Don’t you?” I brush my hand down her arm.

“Maybe.” She whispers it.

“Tell me, Temi.” I inject dominance into my voice. “Say it.” Oh, the commands I want to give this woman; we’ll work our way up to the good part.

“Yes.” It’s barely audible.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. What do you want?” I smile at her, even if she can’t see it. Making her say it is the perfect way to start asserting my authority. Soon enough, she’ll be obeying everything I tell her—

“Kiss me.” She mouths the words.

She lifts her head and her lovely, slim neck gleams in the light. I can practically taste her, feel my canines bursting through her perfectly taut skin, letting a few