by Bella, Sarah
"So, at what point is it okay for me to tell you that I know exactly what you are?"
Drake's fingers, which had been drumming on his thigh, stilled. "What exactly do you mean by that?"His fingers made air quotes around the word exactly.
"I'm a painter, Drake. I finished three paintings after I dropped you off. I haven't slept yet. I feel like an addict– I needed another hit."She slowed almost to a stop and swung a right into an enclosed parking garage, but not before Drake caught a glimpse of the building in front of them.
A looming tower of silver panels, hulking in both size and architecture; Drake couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. They parked on the first level and Penny led Drake out of the garage, to the front of the building. "You have to see the whole exterior to really appreciate it. I never go in through the garage entrance."
Drake paused, staring at the building before him. "This place – it looks like a recycling center. It's unreal."
Penny laughed. "I can see that. Ready?"She pointed toward the door. "After you."
He started up the steps and pulled open the heavy wooden door. Penny walked through with a curtsey. "So gentlemanly."
"Show me your favorite exhibit."
Instead of replying, Penny laced her fingers through his and dragged him to the stairs. "Up here."
His head swiveled back and forth, trying to take in all the exhibits as they walked passed. Huge sculptures, vivid paintings. The space itself was a masterpiece with marble floors and looming gothic archways separating the rooms. The silence deepened as they left the majority of the crowds behind, eeking down a seemingly forgotten hallway.
"Here." Penny tugged his hand until he stood beside her. "This is it – my favorite place in the museum."
Drake craned his neck to read the American Modernism sign hanging from the ceiling above his head.
"I love the feel of it all, the scope of the work. You know, this period in art developed during the Suffrage movement. I see a lot of that in the works. Georgia O'Keefe and Henrietta Shore were key in ushering the style in to the New York School."
"And what kind of painting do you do?Like this?"He heard her heatbeat speed up as she thought about her craft.
A quick headshake. "No, mixed medium abstract. In addition, I like huge canvasses, the bigger the better. I hate having constraints on my creativity."Her eyes flashed as she talked about her art, arms gestured wildly.
"What kind of medium do you mix with your paint?Anything specific?"They wandered to a metal bench facing a wooden totem in the center of the room.
"Whatever catches my eye?I pick up random things I find. I do like to use natural items – feathers, beehives, bark. However, I tuck a page from a book into each piece I make. It's my signature. Rather than sign my name, I make a paper flower from a book page."The cold metal bench only highlighted the inches separating them, echoing the empty ache in his stomach.
"And you finished three paintings last night."Drake cocked an eyebrow. Need lingered in her, radiated out from her soul. Three paintings was a feat, but not enough to satiate her.
"Three smaller pieces, but yeah, I finished three paintings last night. It was crazy. How many people know what you are?"
He paused. "You."The gravity of her question weighed on him and he wondered exactly how much she knew.
"Only me?"
"Only you. People don't believe in anything anymore. The paranormal is something they read in books. They would rather think their success lies on their shoulders alone."He shrugged, tipping his head to the side.
"But you're leaving Iron Vengeance?"
"I think Iron Vengeance is leaving me. Let's just say Minneapolis has a certain appeal for me."Drake found himself leaning in as he spoke, completely invading Penny's personal space. "There's something I think we've forgotten."
"Yeah?"Her words fluttered against his lips. He breathed her in and closed the gap, sealing her lips with his own. The effect was immediate. His dick went rock hard and his brain short-circuited. His only thought of how he had to have her right that minute, cold metal bench be damned.
His hands threaded into her hair, like silk through his fingers. He clutched her to him, soaking up everything that was uniquely her. His hips rocked against her, a strangled moan escaped his lips. One hand trailed down her back, gripped her hip and crushed her against him.
Penny gasped into his mouth, tongue sliding against his. Her fingers scrabbled at his shoulders, pulling him closer and pushing him away all at once.
"Oh my God," she panted, tearing her mouth away. "That was– we can't ever do that again in public."She rested her forehead against his, eyes closed, chest heaving. "I lied. Kiss me again." She pulled him by the collar of his shirt, clutching him to her.
He cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face to meet his. Where the first kiss had been fire, this one was soft and gentle, an exploration. Their tongues tangled, caressing one another.
A throat cleared in their vicinity and Drake pulled away sheepishly. Penny buried her face in his shoulder.
"Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away."
A boorish looking man in a rumpled brown suit and a bad mustache turned on his heel when Drake spoke. Penny shook and pushed further into him.
He stroked her hair. "You don't have to cry about it; it wasn't that bad."
"Not crying," she said tremulously. "Laughing."She pulled away, gripping her sides. "Oh God. That's why I said never do that again. Oh!"Her laughter carried across the cavernous space, drawing more attention to her embarrassment.
"All right, I think it's time to get out of here."Drake lifted Penny to her feet and guided her back toward the entrance, out the front door.
She sat on the cold stone steps, still shaking with laughter. "I can safely say that has never happened to me before."She wiped her damp eyes.
"Never been kissed, eh?" Drake smiled lasciviously.
"Never made out in an art museum before. But I have never been kissed quite like that."Her eyes met his. "I think I'm done. Ready?"
"I don't know. Is it safe for us to be in a confined space?Just the two of us, locked in your car?"He offered his hand.
She took it and pulled herself up.
"Yeah. Let's get out of here. It's early for lunch. Wanna see the sculpture garden at the Walker?"
"I think it's a bit cold out for a garden of any kind."
"Bull. It's almost 45 degrees. This is balmy. The sun is shining. Where the heck did you grow up?"
"Middle Earth."
"Funny. Get in the car."
Penny pulled the lock on Drake's door and pushed it open. He slid into the seat and buckled while she started the car. "Faery."
"What?"
"That's where I was raised. And it doesn't get cold there. The Summer court has been in power for millennia. Cold is – for now, at least, unique to this realm."He rubbed his hands together briskly. "I'm not a fan of cold."
"I love winter. The snow, skating, sledding – have you even been tubing?But summer is my favorite. Beaches, swimming, sun."She pulled into traffic and back onto Washington Ave. She cut through the U of M campus and over to 94. "We'll do the sculpture garden and then lunch, deal?"
He nodded. "Deal. So where did you grow up?"
"Here. On the East side of St. Paul. In a not nice neighborhood." Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel when they stopped at a red light at the top of the ramp.
"But you don't live there now?" He watched her face as she watched the road. The light turned green and Penny got on the freeway, mouth set in the half-smirk she always wore behind the wheel.
"No. Now I live in a loft above my studio in the warehouse district. It may or may not be legal. S'all I'm saying."She winked and Drake laughed. "So this sculpture garden – can it be viewed from the car?"
"Absolutely not. You have to get out, walk through the paths. It's a requirement. I won't take you for lunch otherwise."
Drake snorted. "Oh no, don't starve me. I can't just walk to lunch."
"You'd freeze first, you baby."
"First she threatens me, now she's calling names."Drake huffed and turned in his seat, staring at the traffic whizzing by outside his window. "I'm hurt."
"You are not."
"You're right, I'm not. But I could be."He waggled his eyebrows.
"I'm not sure you have feelings."Penny pulled into a frozen parking lot, nearly empty of cars. Drake hopped out before the car was off and rushed around to open Penny's door.
"Milady," he bowed deeply.
Penny grinned and swatted at his shoulder. "Get up, people are staring. Besides, you can't see the garden when you're bent over like that."
"But I like what I can see."He ogled her legs and their thin gray leggings. Her coat cut off his ogling. "This should come off."He tugged at the hem of the wool. "Maybe if I just untie it."His fingers crept higher, pulling on the tie of her coat. "We should skip the park, skip lunch."He grinned.
Penny shook her head, unable to hide her smile, and pulled him to his feet. "This way."They walked through the abandoned sculpture garden, passed Nautilus. Penny stopped to spin in a circle, arms spread wide, beneath the mesh canopy of Prophecy of the Ancients. "We're close now. Everyone who visits Minneapolis needs to see this. It's iconic."
They rounded a corner and Drake stopped short. "A giant spoon with a cherry on it?"
"Spoonbridge and Cherry."
"Well, now I've seen it."He shrugged, unimpressed. "The view outside the car was infinitely better."
"You're unhelpable. I can do nothing to improve your taste in art." She tugged his hand again.
"Where to?"
"My place. I'm making lunch."
"In your possibly illegal loft above your studio?"
"Exactly."Penny cut into an alley behind a three-story brick building. "I share the studio space with four other artists, but the loft is all mine."
She pulled a key ring from her pocket and shoved a key into the brass lock. The heavy door eased open when she pulled up on the lever. Bright daylight lit up the space. A glance upward confirmed his questions – the entire ceiling was glass. The walls were bare brick and an industrial staircase led to a catwalk with a single door.
"Let's go straight up and I'll start lunch. You can see my studio after we've eaten.
Drake followed Penny up the staircase, peering over the railing of the catwalk to the ground below.
"Haven't had a jumper yet."The smirk on Penny's face made Drake smile in return. She pulled her key ring out yet again and slid another key into the lock on her door. It twisted easily and she turned the knob, pushing the door open. "Welcome to Penny's."Drake walked in ahead of her for once and turned to survey the room.
The living room was sparse, but clean. Art deco style, with white upholstered chairs and dark espresso wood.
"This is nice. It fits you."
"Thanks. My only complaint is the kitchen – which really isn't a kitchen at all, because I'm not really supposed to live here."She rounded the corner.
Drake found a twoburner camp stove, a mini fridge and a sink.
"And you're going to make lunch here?"
"I am. You'd be shocked at what I can do on a camp stove."She set to work, pulling out bread, meat cheese and butter. She ducked beneath the counter and a frying pan appeared in her hand. "The city has no reason to come here, but if they did, I can rationalize that this is our break space. That's why I don't have a full kitchen – it would be too obvious."
Drake nodded, watching with interest as she buttered bread and sliced cheese. She set the first piece of bread butter-side down and layered it thick with meat and cheese, pressing the second slice of bread on top. The pan sizzled and popped as the butter melted and browned the bread.
Penny deftly flipped the sandwich and readied the second one. "Will you grab two plates out of the cabinet?" She pointed above Drake's head.
He reached up and found a stack of colorful, ceramic plates.
"One of the girls is a potter. She threw an entire set of dishes for me, minus drinking glasses. I love them."
He pulled down two of the heavy plates and set them on the tiny counter, next to Penny's elbow. She transferred the first sandwich to a plate and Drake set it on the small island while she worked on the second sandwich.
"Do you want a drink?I've got stuff in the fridge."
He rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the first two cans he saw. "I've got one for you too."
"Perfect."She turned away from the stove, plate in hand, and joined him on the island.
He handed her the second can of pop, already cracked open. "Cheers."He took a swig and tackled his sandwich, biting in. Cheese strings dangled between his mouth and sandwich; he swiped a finger through them, piling the extra cheese on top of his sandwich.
"Dis is so good."Food garbled his words.
Penny shook her head. "Chew and swallow."
"This is so good."He bit in again, eagerly awaiting the next flavor explosion.
"The secret is the cheese. Never waste a grilled cheese on American."She wrinkled her nose. "Gouda and Muenster. It's the only way to go."
"Totally worth it."He cleaned his plate and looked mournfully at hers.
"Quit with the puppy dog eyes, you're not getting my sandwich."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "But I'm still hungry."
"There are chips in the cupboard and salsa in the fridge."She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth. "But I'm ready to go downstairs."She set her plate in the sink and her can in the recycling. Drake jumped to his feet and followed her lead, catching her in the doorway.
She backtracked down the stairs, footsteps clanging on the metal and echoing around the empty space. He stopped at the bottom and surveyed the space before him. Canvasses on stands took up a full two-thirds of the open space. The rest was filled with a kiln and several pottery wheels. Counters and cabinets lined the walls that weren't occupied by windows.
"Let me guess which space is yours."Drake took a few steps forward.
"Shouldn't be hard since I told you I like huge canvasses."
"Come on," Drake gave her an 'aw shucks' look. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember. I was going to impress you with my mental prowess – how well I already know you."
"You fail."Penny laughed. "This is my section. The covered ones are what I finished last night."
"Can I?" Drake reached for a paintsplattered drop cloth. Penny nodded and he lifted his arm, baring the canvas. The surface was red, deep, blood red, and layered thickly with her scavenger hunt finds. Feathers and leaves layered with other things Drake couldn't readily identify. Her paper flower was the only space not covered in paint.
"This is intense."His eyes followed the brush strokes, the shades and depth of the reds.
He pulled off the two other drop cloths and stepped back silently. The three works were part of a whole. Three panels, three separate colors – red, gold and blue – but a continuous theme throughout. The same elements, layers of color and scavenger hunt finds.
"They move," he said, finally. "The pieces move."
Penny nodded. "They do. You like them?"
"Very much."He closed the distance between them. "And since we're not in public anymore, I think it's okay for me to do this."He cupped her face and pulled her close, claiming her lips with his own.
Penny wrapped an arm around his neck, clinging to him. She moaned, low in her throat and Drake deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers. Penny's leg hitched around his waist, lining them up from hip to shoulder.
"More," she moaned into his mouth. "More."
Drake pulled her shirt over her head, tugging her arms upward. He pushed her backward until they met the wall, pressing her against it. She lifted her left leg, linking her ankle with the first and grinding herself against him.
"I have to paint."She dropped her legs to the floor and pushed at his chest. "Now. I have to paint."
"I know," Drake smiled against her neck. "I can feel it.
"His Awen swelled until he could no longer contain it, unleashing it on her. Her need to create responded, exploding out of her, flooding the warehouse with Leanan magick.
He released her and turned, so his back was against the wall, watching her pull an easel and fresh canvas from her stack against the wall.
She twisted open half a dozen jars of paint and stood before the canvas, shirtless, chest heaving. She took the paintbrush from between her teeth and dipped it in the nearest can of paint.
Aqua swirled across the canvas; abstract lines flowed over the surface. A second paintbrush dipped into the yellow and followed the aqua, mixing to bleed into green. Drake walked halfway around the room to face Penny. Only the top of her head was visible over the canvas, hiding her from Drake's sight. He shifted again, to the side, until he could see her face.
The energy she emitted was enough to satiate him for weeks, months. Drake pushed outward, filling the room with his Awen.
Penny dipped her fingers in the paint, scooping up a handful and smearing it over the canvas. Concentration colored her face, lost in the world of her painting, in her vision.
Lost to her muse.
To his Awen.
She whirled suddenly, eyes scanning, and bolted across the room to a smallish wicker basket. She snatched it up and returned to her canvas, upending the basket on the floor. Odds and ends, trinkets and trash scattered, skittering away. Penny dipped a leaf in a paint can and pushed it against the canvas.
Her eyes lit up and she repeated the motion, over and over again, layer after layer of treasures from the floor. The paint dripped down the canvas and onto the floor, pooling in puddles and then rivulets, seeping across the concrete.
She paused, paintbrush in her teeth, and panted, the only sound in the room. Paint dripped from the brush onto her collarbone, over her breast and the ridge of her bra, sinking into the fabric and disappearing.
She sagged back and slowly dropped to the floor. "It's done. And I need a nap."Drake waited a beat before walking around to admire the painting. The colors exploded off the page, vivid and tactile. Drake had to remind himself not to touch.
