The studio had become my sanctuary, a place where the noise in my head quieted, and my hands could speak for me.

The canvas before me was dark and chaotic. Bold strokes of crimson smeared across the black backdrop, almost like streaks of blood. I paused, stepping back for a moment, letting my eyes take in the scene before me. It was violent and harsh, yet strangely captivating. This was my mind spilled out for the world to see...

As I stared at the canvas, I realized I wasn't painting the past anymore. This was the present. It was Alaric, it was John, it was me. I saw the struggle for control, the balance between power and vulnerability, life and death. My art had shifted, from depicting trauma to owning it.

I wasn't afraid of what it showed me anymore.

"Vaela," a voice called from behind, pulling me from my thoughts. Professor Ellison stood at the doorway, her sharp gaze softened by curiosity as she stepped into the room. "May I?"

I nodded as I set down my brush. She approached the canvas, her eyes scanning every inch, taking in the madness, the intricacy. She stood silently for what felt like an eternity, but I was used to that now. She didn't need to speak to let me know what she was thinking.

This was the one, the focus of my collection.

Professor Ellison nodded. "I've invited the curator—Sarah Monroe, to come visit the studio, to see your work. I've already spoken to her about you, and she's very interested in seeing this display. I think this could be an incredible opportunity, Vaela. She's commissioning pieces for a gallery show next month."

I was happy but at the same time, my chest tightened. My art was personal—intensely so. It was the darkness I had lived through, the battles I had fought and won, the love I had found with Alaric. To share that with strangers felt vulnerable, exposing, exhilarating...

"When?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Tomorrow. She's seen the photos I sent earlier and is keen to see them in person, I want her to see these new pieces, too."

I nodded. I would no longer hide behind the shadows—I would paint them, control them, and share them with the world.

**

The next day, I found myself standing in front of Monroe, the woman was intimidating. Sharp, blunt and completely in control, she scanned my paintings with enough intensity to set them aflame.

"This," she said finally, pointing to the piece I had completed most recently—the one of the figure standing in the heart of the darkness, reclaiming her power and embracing the darkness within. "This is extraordinary."

Her eyes met mine, and that cold, clinical gaze shifted. She understood. She saw the story behind the art, the journey it reflected. "Vaela," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I want to commission this entire collection for our upcoming show at the gallery. It's exactly what I've been looking for. It's powerful, and haunting. It's... unforgettable."

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "This means more to me than you know."

Monroe smiled a warm, genuine smile that softened her sharp features. "I think this is just the beginning for you, Vaela..." The show she was referring to was opening next week, so she planned to take the pieces with her today.

Professor Ellison and I helped wrap the canvas' and we walked them out to her van, her driver helped place them in the back. "I look forward to working with you, Vaela." Monroe, shook my hand before entering the vehicle.

After she left, I stood in the studio, staring at the empty space where the painting had been.

Freedom.

Peace.

Absolution.

I cleaned my brushes and packed my supplies, the final crack in my mind fused together. Thoughts of the past flooded through me as I walked across the empty building, there was no anger or bitterness. In its place, an inexplicable sense of acceptance sat.

My mother had been a source of so much pain, so much trauma, but I wasn't that scared, broken girl anymore. I had healed, not because of her, but despite her. I welcomed the broken girl inside my mind and mended the broken parts of her. That was its own kind of power.

The pain she had inflicted on me didn't control me anymore. I had control. I had love. I had Alaric.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt ready to forgive. Not for her sake, but for mine. Forgiveness didn't mean forgetting—it meant letting go of the hold the past had on me. It meant making room for something better.

It meant making room for the future.

That night, as Alaric held me in his arms, his breath warm against my neck, I found myself thinking about the conversation we'd had about starting a family. The fear that had gripped me then didn't feel so overwhelming now.

I wasn't my mother. I never would be. And with Alaric by my side, I knew we could create something good—something beautiful.

Nothing felt more right than this. I turned in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I want a family with you," I murmured, my voice quiet in the darkness.

His hand stilled, and I felt him tense slightly. "Yeah?"

I nodded, my heart racing as I met his gaze. "I'm ready, Alaric. I want to try. For a family. For us."

Alaric's eyes darkened, his hand slipping to my waist, pulling me closer. The tension in his body melted away. His fingers traced the curve of my back, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine—a mixture of tenderness, joy and desire.

"You're sure?" he whispered, his voice rough, as though he was holding back a tidal wave of emotion.

I nodded, my breath catching as his grip tightened around me. "I've never been more sure of anything that I am this."

A slow, dark smile spread across his face as he leaned in, his lips grazing my ear. "Thank you, Vaela, fuck baby." The smile broadened and when he pulled back to look into my eyes a grin spread across his face.

Alaric moved until he was over me, his large body shielding mine, pinning me to the bed. His weight, his presence, was everything I needed. He was my gravity, the centre of my universe. "You're beautiful," I breathed out, blinking up at him, completely mesmerised by his elation.

His lips found mine, gentle, full of happiness, hope and the welcomed trepidation of our future... 

Opening Night 

Alaric's reflection loomed behind me in the mirror, his presence dominating the space even without a word. He adjusted his cufflinks, his suit's sharp edges pristine, custom-tailored to fit his frame.

Haunting eyes met mine through the mirror, an unspoken intensity flashing in them. There was something in the way his gaze roamed over me, taking in every inch of my body as I zipped up my dress. It made me feel completely powerful.

The gown was black, a deep, flowing lace that clung to my curves before cascading down my legs, elegant but with an edge that cut up one thigh. The material shimmered faintly under the dim lighting of our bedroom, catching the shadows like the paintings I had spent hours crafting at the university.

Tonight was opening night— there would be no more hiding, no more letting the shadows win. Tonight I would display them for the world, let them play with all the intricacy of the minds of those that viewed them.

Alaric's appreciation never left me and even though I was dressing, it felt like he undressed my frame with each flicker of thick lashes. Stepping closer, his hand brushed over the small of my back as he whispered, "You look dangerous, sweet girl, pure delectable sin."

His hand travelled lower, resting just above the curve of my ass. His touch was light, but the heat from it sent sparks of electricity through me. "Says you, Mr. Windsor," I reply, turning to face him, "I'm thinking, I don't want to share you with the world..."

I would be punished with the eyes of every woman gawking at the man beside me, tonight... Alaric was the type to be missed, especially not in the suit he currently wore.

This man owned any space he walked into, caressed it, dominated it.

As if sensing my thoughts, Alaric's lips curled into a smirk, "I only care about owning one thing," he murmured as his fingers traced the exposed parts of my skin. "You..." Then he pressed his lips to my shoulder, "I want to strip you of this dress and fuck you seven ways to hell, Vaela."

My body responded to his words, pulsing and leaking with need, "you're not playing fair..." I groaned, pressing my thighs together and leaning into his embrace.

Alaric pressed his hand between my legs, cupping my pussy and stroking me lightly through the material. It was maddening, no matter how many times he toyed with my body, I continued to get more and more turned on.

"Never going to play fair when it comes to you, baby, you should know this by now." My breath caught and thankfully before I fell to my knees and begged him to take me, he wrapped his arm around my waist. "But tonight is your night, and we cannot be late." He then proceeded to lead me downstairs.

A black sports car gleamed under the moonlight, it was just like its owner, predatory and dominant. The night was cool, crisp, I was surprised I didn't hear a sizzle on my skin with the level of heat radiating off me.

Alaric opened the passenger door for me, and I slid inside. The leather was cold against my skin, a welcomed reprieve, but the moment he took his place behind the wheel, the tension between us thickened. Like a cord-pulled taunt, it was ready to snap at any given moment.

The car roared to life beneath us, vibrating with power as Alaric pulled onto the dark streets. The city lights blurred as we sped through, but I could feel his gaze shifting to me, lingering, waiting because he was meticulous with just about everything now... Including my undoing.

Alaric's hand moved from the steering wheel, slipping beneath the slit of my dress, fingers grazing the bare skin of my thigh. "You're tense," he murmured, his voice low, neutral. "What's got you all worked up, sweet girl?"

I refused to give him the satisfaction so I settled with, "the show...it's making me nervous," I hummed though it came out as more of a moan. Which was hardly surprising, considering this past week I swear I'd become an animal for this man, needing him to fuck me everywhere and anywhere possible... Was it normal to be this insatiable? And it wasn't for lack of satisfaction, my pussy remained at a constant tender ache.  

His fingers trailed higher, "you're not nervous about the gallery, Vaela," his voice dripped into a smooth velvet as a light touch brushed my damn panties, "you're aching, needing me inside you to take away the desperation."

Of course, he was correct. 

Knowing this, he pressed harder against me, stroking over the damp fabric between my thighs. The car surged forward, speeding through the empty streets, but the only thing I could focus on was the slow, torturous rhythm of his fingers.

"Alaric..." I breathed, my voice trembling, my pulse racing as the sensation built, heat pooling low in my belly.

He chuckled, his thumb sliding over my clit in a slow, agonizing circle. "My sweet girl has been suffering, let's make her feel good, baby," he murmured, his eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. "Let me take away that tension."

I squirmed beneath his touch, my fingers gripping the leather seat and spreading my thighs wider as he continued his slow, unhurried, deliberate torture.

His thumb pressed harder, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of my panties now, bare skin against bare skin. My hips bucked involuntarily, my body desperate for more, and he obliged, slipping a finger inside me, and curling it just right.

My moans filled the car.

"You sound so sweet when you're needy for me, Vaela."

His words, the rush of the night, the taboo of his hand between my thighs while he was driving, fuck the danger... It was all too much. I could feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure ready to break free...

"Look at you," he purred, "so beautiful."

Higher, harder, deeper... he claimed me unforgivingly.

Then, before the final tether broke, Alaric removed his hand. An anguished cry left me.

He glanced over, his hand still resting dangerously close to the ache he'd just abandoned. The chill from the aircon hit me full force, but my body was flushed, burning from the inside out. I could barely catch my breath as I squirmed in my seat, the throbbing to cum almost unbearable.

"Please," I pleaded. Unsure of how I was going to make it through the night this wound up. 

He looked like he wanted to give in and I could see the hard tent in his slacks, "I could listen to you beg and moan until I let you come all night, my love, but we are here."

* * *

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Love you,

J.