THE ART OF SEDUCTION
Blood Brothers, 2
Annie Harland Creek
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Meaghan stared at the blank page on her sketch book and tried to concentrate on the task at hand rather than the erratic beating of her heart. A bead of sweat trickled from her brow, followed the contour of her cheek down her neck, and finally came to rest in her cleavage making her even more self-conscious. Over the course of her twenty-five years, she had learned to hide her insecurities but today she struggled with emotions she had never before experienced and she had no idea how to deal with them. Her training at the academy didn’t cover this type of scenario. Why would they? Focus on the task at hand. You can do this. Another look towards the center of the room and she came undone. A tremor shook her body and the charcoal pencil in her hand dropped to the vinyl floor with a clunk.
She stooped to the floor to retrieve the pencil, ignoring both the glances from fellow students and the compulsion to take another peek at the dais. The overhead fans—switched to high speed—offered little respite as her body temperature soared. Perspiration soaked through her clothes. She turned to the young woman sketching beside her and asked, “Hey, Lilith, is it hot in here or is it just me?”
Lilith answered without making eye contact. Her focus on the platform in the center of the art room. “Oh it’s hot in here all right. Smoking hot.”
“Shhh. He’ll hear you.”
“I don’t care if he does. The way he’s been staring in our direction for the last twenty minutes, he’s interested in one of us and I call first dibs.”
Meaghan had noticed. It was his attention causing her the anxiety. Since the moment he positioned himself on the platform, the model’s gaze had been focused on her, and to her horror, she realized that she couldn’t take her eyes off him either. The most perfect specimen of a man she had ever seen, reclining on pillows—naked except for the replica Spartan helmet covering his manhood—and he stared at her as if he could see through her cotton dress. She shook her head. “He’s just facing this way … he isn’t allowed to move until the teacher directs him.”
Lilith rolled her eyes and sighed. “I think I’ve drawn enough naked men to understand how it works. This dude is definitely watching us.” She took another long look at the model and whispered, “Pretty big helmet, do you think his actual equipment is big?”
Heat rushed to Meaghan’s cheeks. She stared down at her feet. It was hard enough concentrating on drawing the parts that she could see, without imagining the parts that were covered. She took a deep breath, and raised her eyes. Oh God, he’s smiling.
****
David Corel struggled to stop his lips from curling into a grin. Despite their whispers, he had heard the two women discussing him and found the reactions of the blonde amusing. She was a delicate little thing, he guessed around five feet five inches tall, and compared to his six feet two she seemed tiny. He tried not to laugh as he watched her sneak looks at him from around the oversized sketch pad on her easel. Other than noting that she had long blonde braids and dark rimmed glasses, her face and figure were relatively obscured by the easel. He deduced that she was reasonably athletic. Her calves were toned and her ankles trim. Pink toenails poked from the white sandals. He found the little daisies on the shoes cute.
For the last ten minutes he had remained perfectly still, waiting for the teacher to instruct him to change positions. Watching with amusement as the blonde stole quick looks at him from behind her drawing pad, without ever appearing to draw. But there was something more. He felt compelled to see her face. Perhaps she was the unsub? The murderer he had been assigned to destroy. There was a definite pull in her direction, something drawing … no, demanding his attention. Something connected to the case. He could feel it in his very core. So he watched and waited, knowing that by the end of the class, he would make a point of introducing himself and find out all he could about the little blonde.
****
“Time.”
The art director’s announcement shocked Meaghan back to attention. In the last few minutes she had been feverishly drawing in an attempt to have at least something on her page before the model left. She had been given a wonderful opportunity. A chance to do something she loved while getting paid to work undercover. Finally, her big break. A chance to show Terry that she had what it took to make a great detective. Don’t blow it over one naked man.
None of the previous life drawing classes had been a problem for her as the models were normally average looking, leaning towards the plump side. Handsome males tended to be self-conscious and less inclined to volunteer but not this man. This man looked as though he spent half his life in the nude and—Meaghan guessed—probably not alone. She examined her work, cringing with disappointment. The sketch looked rushed and rough, lacking in detail. A complete waste of a perfectly formed male specimen. You can do this, Meaghan. Concentrate on the drawing, not the model. She firmly decided that the next sketch would be better, especially because this time he would be facing away and she would not be bothered with the distraction of his eyes or his smile. Oh, but what eyes … she knew there was no color in her inexpensive box of paints intense enough to do them justice. Bluer than the deepest oceans, brighter than sapphires and clearer than glass. Oh to swim in those liquid pools. And his smile … Meaghan shook her head and flipped to a new page on the drawing pad, ready to begin, but the moment she looked back at the model, she was lost.
****
The pain hit David the minute he changed his position on the dais. Not so much a physical pain, more like a spiritual feeling of loss. He felt a tugging at his soul and wanted … no, needed to turn back so he could watch the blonde. But he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of indulging his own desires. He was there—at the University—on a mission and as co-leader of his coven, he was obliged to put the needs of the others first. There to observe and only to interact with the humans in order to gather information that would help the case. Although he couldn’t rule out a vampire attack, strangulation seemed more like human behavior. Despite only grabbing quick glimpses at the little blonde, she hardly looked strong enough to choke life out of a chicken, let alone another student.
Still, there was a pull in her direction. A gut feeling he couldn’t explain. Perhaps she would prove pertinent to the case but he would need to bide his time. He held his pose and concentrated on remaining still for the last forty-five minutes of the class.
****
A rush of adrenaline hit her, soon followed by blind panic. It didn’t make sense. The model had turned his back to her, now reclining on one elbow, his hand supporting the weight of his head and his other hand resting on his bent knee. His supporting leg was slightly bent under him revealing a hint of red fabric from the Spartan cape that had replaced the helmet. His broad shoulders looked even larger from behind and tapered down to his waist forming a vee shape that seemed to point to his tight buttocks. Meaghan tried to concentrate on drawing but she could barely breathe. Her hands itching to trace the contours of his body and the thought of touching him sent another wave of heat through her body. When the sudden and completely foreign impulse to squeeze his butt cheeks hit her, she knew it was time to leave. Hastily, she gathered her art supplies, tucked her oversized sketchpad under her arm, and dashed from the room without offering the teacher an apology or daring to looking back.
****
David watched the blonde rush past him and it took all his will power not to call out for her to stop. She held the sketchpad under her arm, angled high enough to cover her face from view as she left the room, leaving him with his plans foiled and an emptiness that he could not comprehend. Somehow, she had taken a part of him with her, leaving him confused, agitated, and somewhat frustrated. He had been conscious of her eyes on him, aware of her arousal and although he had—on more than one occasion—sensed the desire of young artists, he had never physically reacted to their attraction. This little blonde affected him physically, viscerally. He imagined her delicate hands tracing the contours of his body and his body reacted as though she were physically stroking him. Thankfully, the red cloth of the Spartan cape hid his erection.
How was she doing that? His gut twisted in protest to her departure, and the blood in his veins boiled, begging for her to return. Holding his position on the dais became painfully difficult. Nevertheless, he was obliged to both the class and his coven to see the lesson through to the end so he remained still, disappointed in the knowledge that by the time he dressed and left the room, the mysterious blonde would be long gone.