As she regarded the painting she had captured again for the third time without ever meeting this God of a man, Jas stood transfixed. Every time she looked at it her heart beat faster and she wondered not for the first time if he was real or a figment of her imagination. Why did she always paint his eyes this amethyst colour? It couldn’t be right. He looked so determined and virile.
She had created this painting again in a trance, it happened sometimes where she lost conscience partially and started to paint, but usually it was horrific scenes that always came to pass. Jas had tried to stop them but she had never managed to change what she had painted. But these paintings of ‘her man’ - that’s what she secretly called him - had never come to pass. Again, she thought that maybe they were just fantasies of what she craved to have. Jasmine never could hold onto a relationship with anyone; as soon as a man starts to get too close, she would repulse them. Maybe her painting was just her wishing to have someone.
As far back as she could remember she had wished for a family; for someone to love her, but her affliction, her curse made everyone treat her as a leper. It did not work trying to hide it, if someone got close to her, sooner or later they would notice that there was something different about her.
For four years she had been on the run, since the night that Fred had tried to beat her into something that she could never be. That night she had run and never looked back. She knew he was still looking for her; not that he had any right to have her in his life. He was just supposed to take care of her until her eighteenth birthday as her foster parent; but the money that he thought he could carry on making with her, was enough reason to keep him on the search for her.
A year ago, he had nearly caught her, but she had managed to dodge him again. She wondered for the hundredth time how long she could hide until he eventually caught up to her. She had to find a solution, she had to find a way out. Why did she have to be born with this curse? Why was she different?
She remembered the first time she went into a trance at Fred’s house, at the beginning he thought it funny until he realised that the painting that she had painted had materialised a few days later. Once that had happened twice more, the beatings started. Then the greed, he would bring people in, telling them that she would paint their future and then beat her when she wasn’t able to paint anything. He did not want to believe that she wasn’t in control of what she painted.
Then there were the visits to the clinic, the prodding, and the injections. He wanted more control of her curse and he nearly destroyed her. If she hadn’t run away she was sure she would have been dead by now.
She had been at the art studio for nine months now. It was the best opportunity she had had since running away. She hadn’t painted in a trance until tonight; for the last year. The last two paintings that she painted were of her man. This was not the first time that she had wondered if she would ever meet him. There had to be a reason why she was painting this man. What could it be? She knows better than to think: ‘whatever has to happen will happen’. She had never been able to change anything about her paintings in the past, or their outcome. All she could do now was to wait and wonder.
Standing there in the art studio transfixed on her latest artwork she didn’t see the man standing outside her window staring at the painting.
Ceric couldn’t believe his eyes. He was riding past and happened to glance into an art studio. There in full view stood a painting of one of his brothers. His brothers and he were the Elementals MC a group of deadly bikers that were more than human. Their species lived to protect humans. The humans just knew them as bikers and didn’t know about their ongoing battle with the Keres MC. Ceric wondered when the artist had seen Wulf?
Usually only the brothers and the Jezebels were around the compound. Ceric couldn’t wait to bring Wulf here to see his reaction when he saw the painting. Wulf was one of the toughest brothers in the group. Ceric couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Wulf smile or even crack a joke. Wulf had a short temper, and when that happened everyone just kept out of the way. He lived up to his name and was a force to be reckoned with, he was ferocious. Ceric was sure there was more to this painting. He would have to bring Wulf here. He was excited to see his reaction; this was turning out to be quite an interesting evening. Taking a glance around him he pulled away, heading back to the compound.
Jas felt a prickling at her neck turning she looked around but found nothing that could have given her that feeling of being watched. It was late, close to midnight but when she started painting time would pass her by. There was hardly anyone walking around outside when she looked out the window of the studio. She felt so strange this evening as if she was waiting for something. Again, her eyes travelled to the artwork as she sighed. Walking back to the painting she started to pack away her paints and brushes. She would hang this one next to the other two she had upstairs in her little apartment, where no one else could look at him except for her.
She still had to prepare everything for the art students tomorrow. She was thankful for her little space upstairs; it wasn’t much but it was home to her. She had lived on the streets for a while and anything was better than never knowing where your next meal would come from or whether you still have a roof over your head. She had been lucky the day Julie had found her. She had been sitting at the park drawing on the back of a poster that she had picked up. Julie had been so impressed with the quality of her drawing that she took her back to the art studio. Once she saw her paint she had offered her a job. Looking around she realised she had to hurry and clean everything so there were no traces of her painting tomorrow for anyone to see. She was so tired, every time she painted like that she felt drained. Afterwards, all she wanted to do was head to bed and sleep until morning.
Packing all the brushes and paints away she moved to the little bathroom downstairs to wash her hands. Looking up at the mirror as she stood before the sink she stared at her image. She had bunched her long curly hair at the top of her head earlier in the evening but strands had escaped and were framing her face. She looked tired, with dark circles under her big brown eyes. Shaking her head, she leaned down and splashed water on her face, trying to keep awake just a little longer to finish up, before she could go upstairs and sleep.
Hearing her stomach rumble she realized that once again she had forgotten to eat. The only thing she had eaten the whole day was the cereal that morning. She had to try to remember to eat frequently, as she was already thin, if she wasn’t careful she would only have bones. Julie always teased her that a strong wind would blow her away. She had been born with a petite stature, which only made her look thinner.
Looking down at her faded jeans she noticed more paint splashes on them and on her shirt. Nearly all her clothes had paint on them; maybe next month she would buy herself a new pair of Jeans and a couple of tops. When she run away she had only packed three pairs of Jeans and a couple of tops and underwear. She was in desperate need of new clothes but she didn’t get paid much at the art studio, as Julie had added the accommodation to her package, therefore the salary basically only paid for food.
Yawning, she turned, readying herself to go and switch off all the lights, pick up her painting and make her way up to her little apartment to sleep.