by Bea Paige
Contents
Bea Paige’s Books:
Grey
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Amber
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
White
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Red
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Cerulean Blue
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Black
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Rose
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Authors Note
Strokes
Finding Their Muse – book two
Copyright ©: Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige
First Published: 6th February 2019
Publisher: Kelly Stock
Cover by: Peryton Covers
Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Bea Paige’s Books:
The Sisters of Hex series (paranormal romance / reverse harem)
Prequel to The Sisters of Hex series:
Five Gold Rings: https://books2read.com/FiveGoldRings
Sisters of Hex: Accacia
Out Now:
#1 Accacia’s Curse https://books2read.com/AccaciasCurse
#2 Accacia’s Blood https://books2read.com/AccaciasBlood
#3 Accacia’s Bite https://books2read.com/AccaciasBite
Sisters of Hex: Fern
Out Now:
#1 Fern’s Decision https://books2read.com/FernsDecision
#2 Fern’s Wings https://books2read.com/FernsWings
#3 Fern’s Flight https://books2read.com/FernsFlight
Finding Their Muse (dark contemporary romance / reverse harem)
#1 Steps https://books2read.com/Steps
#2 Strokes https://books2read.com/Strokes
#3 Strings Coming Soon
#4 Symphony Coming Soon
The Brothers Freed Series (contemporary romance / reverse harem)
#1 Avalanche of Desire https://books2read.com/AvalancheOfDesire
#2 Storm of Seduction https://books2read.com/StormSeduction
#3 Dawn of Love https://books2read.com/DawnOfLove
Links to Bea Paige’s social media:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/BeaPaige/
Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/beapaigeauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeaPaigeAuthor
Pinterest:https://www.pinterest.co.uk/beapaigeauthor
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/bea-paige
Web:https://www.beapaige.co.uk
To all my readers;
“Darkness may hide the trees and the flowers from the eyes, but it cannot hide love from the soul.” - Rumi
Prologue
Anton
If I told you that I’ve never seen the bright golds and yellows of a sunrise, the dusky pink blossom of a cherry tree, the stark red of blood blooming from a wound, what would you think?
Like most people, you’d believe I was blind. That I see nothing.
The thing is, I see everything.
But I don’t see colour.
You could tell me how the ocean off the coast of Land’s End is a deep midnight blue, how green the meadows that surround the manor look on a bright spring day. You could even tell me that my eyes are a rich chocolate brown with flecks of gold.
But I won’t understand what that means.
I never will.
During the day, my life is lived in shades of grey. The light might break up the darkness so that I can distinguish one object from another, but at night I live in a black void, a pit so deep, so dark, that no light can penetrate it.
If in the daytime I’m barely alive, then at night I’m a fucking ghost.
I’m a ghost who walks amongst the living.
Every night, whilst the world sleeps, dreams filled with kaleidoscopic colour, I wade through the inky darkness trying to find a way back to the living.
Tonight, it’s no different.
Along the silent hallways of Browlace Manor, I roam. I’m an apparition, as pale and as colourless as the world around me.
But I’m not the only ghost that treads the wooden boards beneath my bare feet.
This home is filled with them.
Mine, Ivan’s, Erik’s.
Each of us have demons that taunt us, memories that haunt us daily. Our hearts may beat, we may breathe the dust-filled air of this old, creaking house, but none of us really live.
We hide behind locked doors. Closed off from one another, trapped in our own versions of hell.
Ivan bleeds for the woman he destroyed, fucking women in the studio where his wife slit her wrists. He craves that one moment of blissful release because it’s the only way he can find peace from the guilt he’ll never be able to outrun.
Erik is a prisoner to his own memories, the west wing of the manor his personal jail. It wouldn’t matter if Ms Hadley left the doors unlocked because he’s never been able to escape the nightmares of his past. There’s no freedom in being free, not for him.
And me? I crave the impossible. I search for something I’ll never be able to have. I search for colour, any shade other than the faded monochrome that surrounds me. I use drugs, willing to chase the dragon just for a glimpse of its fiery breath, and as a result insomnia plagues me. Not that it matters, there is no comfort in the arms of sleep, only more torture, more anguish, more pain, more fucking grey.
It's a thankless colour. A colour that’s bland, dull, lifeless, drab. It’s the colour of nothingness, of the space between day and night, light and dark. It’s the colour of punishment, of a father’s disappointment. It’s the brittle cold mist that hangs over Browlace Manor in the middle of winter. It’s the colour of aging, of paper thin flesh over brittle bones, of ash and dust, of smoke. Of everything that happens after life. It’s Svetlana’s gravestone that sits nestled amongst the wood she once loved to roam in.
Grey is the remains of dreams, of whispers painted along the edge of sanity.
And the one thing, the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind entirely are my pencils, paintbrushes and the possibilities of an empty canvas. The small shard of hope, that one day I might finally be able to breath colour into my life through art.
Pushing open the door to my studio I turn on the light switch, objects take shape, forming slowly as my
eyes adjust to the sudden change. This room is my sanctuary. It’s the only place where I feel a little less ghostlike and a little more alive.
In the far corner of the room a large canvas leans against the wall, a painting of the woman I’ve been trying to recreate for the past two years. Even from where I stand, I know it hasn’t captured her. It pales into insignificance.
How can I capture someone so pure, so free, so innocent, so full of colour, life?
For months, following my arrival at Browlace Manor, she’d been my muse. She’d posed for me in my studio here.
She’d come willingly at first.
She’d laid bare so that I could draw every contour of her body; the sharp point of her jaw, the curve of her breasts and hips, the thatch of hair between her legs, the dip of her waist under a ribcage that expanded with anticipation and exhaled with desire. She was young, only twenty-two and had the soft plumpness that comes with being so youthful.
She’d been in love with me.
I knew that, and I used it to my advantage with the sole purpose to get what I wanted.
Her name was Amber. A name that taunted me with another colour that I’ve never been able to see. She’d told me once that her hair was the same colour as her name, it was why her parents chose it for her. She’d even told me that if she stood in the sunlight just right, that her hair would become a halo about her head, conjuring images of angels and magical creatures that I had no right to capture on canvas, let alone anywhere else.
Unknowingly, she taunted me with her words and it sent my obsession to seek her colours into the realms of insanity.
Mine, hers.
Neither of us got out without irrevocable damage.
By the time I’d finished with her, she’d lost the innocence she’d started with, her passion for life dwindled to the point of non-existence and I’d lost another piece of my soul.
I’m responsible for her slow spiral into madness and though she lives still, it’s not a life I wish on anyone.
I ruined her.
I took and took and took until all her colour bled onto the floor of my studio and seeped into the cracks between the wooden boards never to be seen again, not one ounce of it captured on the canvas that still lies unfinished to this day.
She’s as grey as me now. A ghost just like I am.
I’m a monster.
I seek the impossible and I will do whatever it takes to get it…
I destroy people, and I’m about to do the same thing again.
Chapter One
Rose
Above me grey clouds billow with the threat of rain as I make my way up the drive towards Browlace Manor. Ivan’s insistence on sending a car to pick me up every morning for work is a kind one, but on this bitterly cold Friday morning I turned the offer of a lift down, sending Patrick, the head gardener slash impromptu chauffeur, away.
Despite the aches I will suffer later, I need the fresh air and time to think.
Tomorrow evening, Ivan leaves for Moscow for a couple of weeks to meet with a potential new client. He’s looking into opening a new hotel in the centre of the city and he’s asked me to go with him as his personal assistant… as his Domina.
And even though the thought of being away with Ivan thrills me, I have a reason to stay.
Two actually.
Anton and Erik.
Sighing, I tuck my mitten-covered hands deep into the pockets of my wool coat. It’s been almost two weeks since I became Ivan’s Domina. Every day has been filled with a new found happiness as Ivan and I work besides one another. Every night filled with mind-blowing sex.
Ivan has submitted to me entirely, giving me his body and handing over his control willingly and though a huge part of me wants to go with him to Moscow, another part wants to stay, wants to explore the newly forming friendships with Anton and Erik. But more than that, I want to understand the dangerous attraction bubbling between us. Dangerous because unlike Ivan, their demons are still untamed.
Erik is volatile, the threat of physical harm in his presence a very real one.
Anton is a mystery, someone I’ve not really been able to work out. He’s layered, much more so than Ivan, and probably Erik too.
Though Ivan still has days when he struggles with his past, he is secure in the knowledge that I am his Domina, that with me he can submit and let go of all the pain of his past, all of the guilt, the control.
I believe he’s healing a little day by day, and to know I’ve somehow had a hand in that makes me feel a little better about myself. It eases some of the hurt of my own past, and the memories of a man who broke my heart when I was just a child.
Erik’s demons lie in his past too, but in a very different way. His anger and violence are wrapped up in the memories of the torture he was subjected to. I don’t know all the details, but in the brief moments when I’ve been around him it’s clear to see that out of the three men his demon is the closest to the surface.
But at least with Erik I can see exactly what I’m dealing with.
It’s like standing in front of a lion in a circus. It might be tamed to a certain extent by rules and training, but it still has the ability to gut you with one well-placed claw. It’s still a wild animal beneath all the conditioning.
With Anton, his demons are buried so deep, hidden so well, that I suspect he’ll be the hardest to uncover. Just like his paintings he’s layered, each colour painted over the other, hiding the first sketch, the heart of who he is.
Something about the way Anton’s been acting over the last week or so has me concerned for him. That’s another reason why I can’t go with Ivan.
I’ve always been attracted to broken men, and Anton is more broken than most.
Stopping at the top of the driveway I look at the looming sight of Browlace Manor. It’s a beautiful home, built entirely with Cornish stone. Ivy trails up the left side growing over the windows of the west wing of the manor and crawling across the grey slate roof. The gravel drive has a central grass island, and in the middle sits a cherry blossom tree which is nothing more than barren twigs given it’s practically winter, or at least it feels like it on this freezing October day.
Beyond the thick stone and inside the manor there are still areas that are off limits to me, Erik’s wing being one of them. I haven’t had a chance to spend time with him since Ivan and I fought for dominance that night in Svetlana’s dance studio. He’s kept his distance whilst recovering from his stab wound. His mother, Ms Hadley, is taking ‘care’ of him.
I laugh out loud at that, white plumes of breath leaving my mouth. My demon coming alive from the inside out.
That woman makes my skin crawl. Since the night I warned her not to fuck with me, she’s stayed away. But that doesn’t mean to say her threat to ruin me has lessened any. She’s biding her time.
I know that, because so am I.
I will get to the bottom of her role in their lives. It’s more than mother, housekeeper, ex-nanny. Much, much more.
If anyone holds secrets, it’s her.
And I intend to find out what they are.
Entering our office, I find Ivan sitting at his desk drinking a cup of coffee. He looks up when I enter, a smile lighting his blue-grey eyes even if the rest of his face remains impassive. It’s as though he still can’t quite give in to the happiness he feels. Even though his guilt has lessened, and his demon vanquished, he still can’t allow himself that gift.
Perhaps one day that will change. We just need to take it one step at a time.
“Morning, Rose. Did you clear the cobwebs?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
I close the door, hanging my coat on the hook, before settling behind my desk. He watches me thoughtfully. I know what he’s itching to ask, but I’m not ready to tell him just yet.
Ivan waits for me to log onto the computer before broaching the subject without asking me outright what I’ve decided. Gone are the days where he would demand an answer, trying to bully me into r
esponding. That man who needed to control, to rule, he’s no longer here.
“I’ve just been going over the itinerary. It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks,” he says.
Opening up the file on the computer that holds the details of his trip, I glance over the information. “Is there anything left I need to do? Would you like me to call the hotel and check everything is in order?”
“There’s no need. You put this itinerary together, Rose. It’s foolproof. You’re very good at your job. I’m a lucky man.”
I raise my eyebrow at that.
“I mean it.”
Ivan stands, his movements far more graceful than they were the first time we laid eyes on each other in this office. Whilst each day he becomes a little less stiff, I fight to remain subtle. My medical condition worsening with every passing day, despite my efforts to stop it from ruling me. I’m well aware of the swelling surrounding more of my finger joints. They’re ugly. I feel ashamed of them.