Strokes: A Dark Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance (Finding Their Muse Book 2) Read online

  As Ivan approaches, I hide my hands beneath the table. I don’t want him to see them. Which is entirely crazy given he’s sucked every single one of my fingers and never complained.

  “You don’t believe I’m lucky?” he asks, approaching me.

  I shrug, not willing to answer that question.

  “Rose, I know I’m not the type of man to express how he feels with words…”

  “Unless he’s in a rage,” I mutter, with a half-smile.

  “I’m not particularly articulate then either,” he responds with a rueful laugh as he perches on the corner of my desk “The point is I feel lucky. I’m grateful for you, Rose. You’ve changed everything.”

  Although I can tell he wants to, Ivan doesn’t try to touch me. In this room we work. It must be that way otherwise we’d never get anything done. In this room it’s just Rose and Ivan, not dominant and submissive. We can be free to talk, behave naturally, but there is absolutely no sex. None.

  Being intimate now happens in the privacy of Ivan’s bedroom. We haven’t entered the dance studio together since that night he submitted to me. I won’t dominate him in the same room his wife committed suicide. He doesn’t need a reminder of that kind of guilt and frankly neither do I.

  After what happened that night, I took the decision out of his hands and made sure that whenever we come together it would be anywhere other than Svetlana’s studio. Besides, there’s something about that space. The handful of times I’ve gone there, I feel as though I’m being watched. That I’m not alone somehow.

  Svetlana’s ghost lingers in that room, just as much as the stain of her blood. That room belongs to her, to Ivan’s past. Not his future.

  “Rose, are you listening? You’ve changed everything.”

  “Not everything,” I reply before I’m able to stop myself.

  I haven’t changed Anton, Erik. I haven’t set them free, and something deep within me really wants to do that. My need to save them is becoming an obsession of my own. Perhaps it was because I couldn’t save Roman, perhaps it’s just because broken men are the ones I’m most drawn to. Either way, it’s becoming a very real need in me.

  “Rose…” he starts, a frown pulling his dark eyebrows together.

  But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when the door to the office slams open and Ms Hadley comes rushing in.

  Both Ivan and I stand abruptly. Ms Hadley wouldn’t be here unless it’s an emergency. Ivan made it quite clear that’s the only reason she could ever come to our office uninvited. The fact she’s still allowed to be in the building makes me uncomfortable, but currently I have no reason to persuade Ivan to change that… yet.

  “What is it, Ms Hadley?” Ivan asks.

  Her face is pale, her mouth pinched. She glances between us both.

  “Is it Erik?” Ivan bites out, his muscles tensing under his white shirt.

  Ms Hadley’s gaze flicks to mine, and for the briefest of moments I swear I can see triumph in them before it disappears and is replaced with fear.

  “No, not Erik. It’s Anton. I can’t wake him.”

  Chapter Two

  Anton

  Darkness looms, the black gulf of its gaping maw ready to devour me.

  I don’t fall into the darkness peacefully.

  I fight. My arms flail, my legs kicking as I fall…

  Then nothing.

  No sound. No images. No light.

  No. Fucking. Colour.

  I can drink myself into a stupor. I can smoke weed in the hope that, somehow, it’ll allow me to see.

  And yet I’m left with…

  Nothing.

  I’m floating in a void of nothingness.

  And even though I can no longer feel my body, it isn’t a peaceful weightlessness.

  It isn’t anything.

  There’s no pain, no happiness. No relief.

  I lift my head trying to see a shape, anything that I can grab hold of, something to anchor me. Something to keep me from floating away into space, from dispersing into the air.

  But I realise there’s no anchoring a soul that can’t find peace in its own body. How can you anchor something that has no substance?

  You can’t.

  There’s no helping me.

  No matter how much I want to fill the pain that lives inside. No matter how much I crave colour to make me whole, it’s useless.

  It’s fucking useless.

  My mind wanders to the girl I ruined.

  She lives half a life because of what I did to her, because of the way I used her for my own gain. I’m not proud of myself, I hate that I hurt her.

  But I’ll do it again if I have too.

  Because without colour, I’m nothing.

  Without colour I’m a swathe of smoke; weightless and insubstantial.

  Dangerous.

  I’m a secret assassin. I creep into the cracks of people’s hearts, seep into their lungs and steal their breath, consuming them slowly over time. I suffocate and destroy.

  But the thing is, whilst I destroy others, I destroy myself too. I’ve been doing it for a very long time…

  Time.

  It ticks away endlessly as I float in the darkness.

  Darkness that consumes me, that threatens to break up the molecules that barely bind me together. One strong wind and I will disperse, with no strength to remain whole.

  Then slowly… grey filters into the black, absorbing it so that it isn’t so bottomless.

  The void fills with smoke, it billows around me.

  It is me.

  I take form, the tendrils of my soul feathering outwards.

  The colour grey might be who I am, it might allow me to see.

  But it reminds me of everything I’m not.

  It reminds me of what I desire.

  Colour.

  My muse.

  Rose.

  Chapter Three

  Rose

  We all rush from the room, following Ms Hadley to Anton’s studio. As soon as we enter, I can smell the stale stench of weed, alcohol and vomit. In the corner of the room by his easel, is Anton. He’s lying naked on his side in a pile of his own sick.

  “Fuck’s sake, Anton,” Ivan growls, leaning over him, checking for a pulse. “How long has he been like this?”

  “I don’t know, I just came to bring him some breakfast,” Ms Hadley says, pointing to a tray on his art table. “And this is how I found him.”

  Her voice cracks as her hand flies to cover her mouth, and a small part of me wonders whether I’ve got her wrong. Right now, she seems genuinely concerned.

  “He’s breathing, Ms Hadley. Anton’s just passed out. Luckily for him, he’s puked up the contents of his stomach. Hopefully, whatever shit he’s taken will be out of his system now and he can sleep it off.”

  “Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital? Get him checked over just in case?” I ask, dropping besides Ivan.

  I run my fingertips over the cool skin of Anton’s thigh, unable to stop myself from touching him. It’s then that I notice the tiny red pinpricks peppering the crook of his arm. They aren’t fresh marks, definitely more than a couple of weeks old, but they’re concerning enough.

  “Ivan…?” I murmur, catching his eye.

  “No! No hospital. We’ve done this before. He’ll sleep for the day, then wake up with a fucking hangover from hell. I’ll speak to him then, but for now we need to get him to his room,” Ivan says, before turning his attention to Ms Hadley. “I’m going to need Erik’s help, go get him.”

  “But what about…” she says, flicking her eyes to me.

  “I can’t lift him on my own. Get Erik!” Ivan snaps.

  Ms Hadley nods sharply and rushes from the room, but not before giving me a wicked look. Frankly, I couldn’t care less what she thinks of me. I’m glad she’s been sent away, even if it is only for a moment.

  “Ivan, the marks on Anton’s arm. Is that what I think it is?”

  Ivan sighs. “I thought he’d got it under cont
rol. He did have it under control. He’s been clean for months. FUCK! How could I miss this?”

  “Hey, don’t do that. No guilt,” I command, lowering my voice to the familiar tenor that is Domina. Ivan nods, his guilt leaving him in one long breath. I envy him that, because inside I feel guilt constricting my own lungs.

  “Does this happen often?” I ask.

  “Often enough for me to worry about the stupid bastard.” Ivan confesses.

  “Talk to me, Ivan. Don’t carry this burden alone. What’s going on here?”

  Ivan considers me a moment, conflicted.

  “Ivan,” I prompt him.

  “Over the years Anton falls into bouts of…” He swallows hard, unable to continue.

  “Depression?” I ask gently.

  He flicks his gaze to me, scraping a hand through his dark hair. “Yes, partly that, but mostly psychosis. Ant loses himself for a time. He takes drugs, which makes it worse. He doesn’t sleep, barely eats. Anton locks himself in this room, he withdraws from everyone except the one person he shouldn’t be around because of how obsessive he becomes.”

  “What do you mean, the one person he shouldn’t be around?”

  “His muse, Rose. You. He chose you. I should’ve warned you, I should’ve seen this coming. This is just the start. He can’t control his obsession. When he said you’re the one, I thought he meant something different. But it’s happening again.”

  “The one?”

  Ivan gives me a pained look, one that tells me he’s holding back from telling me the whole truth. Everything about this moment is worrying. Anton’s drug abuse, the threat of his obsession that has been brought up by both Ivan and Anton on more than one occasion, and lastly the truth being held back from me.

  “I thought he meant you’d be the one to help him get over his need to see colour. I thought he meant you’d be enough. Now I know I’m mistaken and that puts you in danger, Rose.”

  “Why?”

  “When he’s like this, he’s dangerous.”

  “How so?” I look from Ivan to Anton. To me, he just looks vulnerable.

  “Because he’s capable of anything. He will hurt you.”

  “Not in this state he won’t. He’s comatose,” I retort.

  “I don’t mean physically, Rose…”

  “No one has the capability to hurt me that way anymore, Ivan. It’s impossible.”

  Ivan looks at me with troubled eyes. “He’ll find a way. Don’t underestimate him, Rose.”

  He falls silent, unspoken words hanging in the air between us.

  “Will you ever tell me about your past, Rose?” he finally asks me.

  The vulnerability he shows me in that one question almost floors me. For a man who until recently kept everyone at arm’s length, it’s a show of emotion that’s perfect in its nakedness.

  “I don’t know,” I respond honestly.

  Ivan gives me a lingering look, then nods his head turning his attention back to Anton.

  “I should’ve kept a closer eye on him.”

  “Stop that now. He’s a grown man, Ivan. The decisions he makes are his alone. You didn’t roll those joints,” I say, pointing to the overflowing ashtray. “You didn’t pour that bottle of whiskey down his throat either, and you certainly didn’t inject heroin into his arm. You aren’t responsible, and you can’t prevent this kind of self-destruction. Believe me, I know that better than anyone.”

  Memories of Roman pull at the corner of my consciousness, but I push them away, slamming the door on them. I won’t be reminded of that time. Not now. Not when I feel so afraid, because despite my words of comfort for Ivan, inside I feel my guts churn at the thought Anton is suffering like this and that I might be responsible.

  “You don’t get it… There’s more to being his muse than you think, Rose.”

  “Let’s try and sit him up so that it’s easier for you and Erik to lift him,” I say, trying to be practical and, more importantly, avoiding the conversation for now.

  Ivan sighs, but doesn’t push further. Between us we manage to get Anton into a seated position. His head rolls forward, the long strands of his hair falling over his face.

  “This is the last fucking time I do this,” Ivan snarls as he hauls Anton against his chest, guilt replaced with anger now.

  Anger is still Ivan’s go-to emotion when he can’t handle an emotional situation such as this. I get that. I understand him, because beneath the anger is concern, fear, love.

  I see it now in the gentle way he holds Anton despite the anger making his jaw tight.

  “You and I both know that isn’t true, Ivan,” I say softly.

  Ivan frowns, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

  Reaching over I cup Anton’s face, pushing his head gently back against Ivan’s shoulder. His eyelids flicker open, a stream of nonsense falling from his lips as beads of sweat pearl on his forehead.

  “Shh, Anton. It’s okay,” I say, swiping the long tendrils of hair off his face. He looks at me blankly, his dark eyes black. The pupils are so large they practically encompass the whole of his irises, the whites bloodshot. He looks like shit. He looks broken.

  He looks ashen, grey.

  And I already know that I won’t be able to leave his side until I fix him or ruin myself trying.

  “We’ll get through this, okay?” I say softly to Anton. Ivan is staring at me with a look that makes my throat constrict.

  It’s a promise I know I have no place making. I made a similar promise to Roman and that didn’t end well.

  “I’ll have to cancel my trip,” Ivan says, abruptly.

  He adjusts Anton in his arms. Anton groans, his head falling forward the moment I let it go.

  “No, don’t do that…” I say, propping Anton’s head back once more.

  “I can’t leave him in this state.”

  “Ivan, you must go, you’ve been working so hard. There might not be another opportunity like this.”

  I don’t get to argue my point further because Ms Hadley returns with Erik.

  Erik.

  The atmosphere changes the moment he steps into the room. Instantly, I feel the prickles of danger and the spark of attraction erupt over my skin.

  “Erik,” I murmur, unable to help myself.

  I don’t raise my gaze, automatically reacting submissively. Around him, I find it difficult to behave any other way. I know Ivan is acutely aware of the change in me too. I hear him draw in a harsh breath at my instantaneous response to Erik.

  “Rose, you should step aside,” Erik says, his smooth voice edged with sharpness.

  I respond immediately, getting up and backing away enough so that Erik feels comfortable to move from behind Ms Hadley. Something about him using her as a shield grates more than I’d care to admit.

  I watch from beneath lowered lashes as he strides over to Ivan and Anton. He's wearing workout gear, his muscular legs encased in running shorts. I allow myself to raise my gaze a little higher just enough to see that he’s also wearing a muscle top. He has thick arms, and large hands. Everything about him screams strength and power.

  “Stay over there,” Erik says, addressing me, and my gaze snaps to the floor once more.

  “Of course,” I whisper, backing up against the wall on the other side of the room, putting as much space between Erik and me as I physically can.

  Despite his outward appearance, and the control he seems to have currently, I know it can change in an instant. One false move from me and this whole situation could spiral quickly.

  I hear Ms Hadley draw in a sharp breath, unable to hide her surprise at Erik’s ability to be in the same room as me. The violence in Erik is still barely contained, I can see how close he is to losing control in the tenseness of his stance, but he hasn’t tried to kill me, yet.

  Not able to help myself, I glance at Ms Hadley. The look she gives me is murderous, but then again what did I expect?

  “What was it this time, Ivan?” Erik asks, crouching down beside them both. His
hand rests on Anton’s leg, squeezing gently.

  “Just weed and whiskey,” Ivan responds.

  “Maybe today, but he’s been using recently,” Erik says, pointing to the needle marks on his arm.

  “I know.” Ivan sighs heavily, and my shattered heart aches for them all.

  “I haven’t seen him like this since…” Erik starts, then his shoulders bunch tightly as he remembers I’m still in the room.

  Since what? Svetlana’s death? A relationship gone sour? More secrets swirl about us, thickening the air further. Choking me.

  “Since what?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  Both men clam up, using the excuse of lifting Anton off the floor as a reason not to answer.

  Anton groans as Ivan adjusts his grip. “Let’s get Anton to bed,” Ivan says, looking at me grimly. “Then maybe we can talk.”

  Chapter Four

  I follow a safe distance behind Ivan and Erik as they carry Anton to his bedroom. Ms Hadley walks beside me not uttering a word, but I can feel her malice towards me as though it’s a sentient being.

  “He’ll need cleaning up. Bring me some warm water, washcloths and towels,” Ms Hadley orders the moment Ivan and Erik have placed him on his bed.

  My skin instantly prickles. He doesn’t need cleaning up, he needs sleep. He’s a grown fucking man, he can shower when he wakes.

  “No way!” I respond instantly. She’s not touching him.

  Ms Hadley snaps around to face me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Erik tense. His fingers curling into his palms as he senses the hate between us.

  “He’s covered in sick, he needs cleaning.”

  “He’s not your charge anymore. Anton can wash himself when he wakes up.”

  Ms Hadley narrows her eyes at me, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating with that look, young lady, but I’ve taken care of this boy since he was a baby, and I will continue to do so until he tells me otherwise, so if you don’t mind…” she retorts, turning her back to me and heading over to Anton’s side.

  “Actually, I do mind. Very much, in fact. Ms Hadley, you aren’t washing Anton whilst he’s passed out. When he wakes up, he can tell you if he ever needs that kind of looking after, but until that point you need to back off. And, for the record, he most definitely is not a boy!”