The Immortal Prince ✔️

22

Word Count: 1318

~Vaela

The sweeping motions of his brush against the rock are hypnotic, colours muddying together to create the base of a painting I know is going to be otherworldly.

Just for me to sit out in this part of the cave with Hale, I'm bundled in three thick jackets, with multiple blankets layered over me. Still, I'm cold, but Hale's skills are distracting enough.

He pauses suddenly, tugging his brush from the flat slab of rock.

"I wouldn't kill you during sex, by the way." He doesn't turn, leaving me to gape at the back of his head.

"What?"

He starts painting again, this smile evident in his voice. "Your conversation with Eyla."

I'm stunned.

I'm tempted to stand, strip off all my jackets and send myself spiralling down the mountain. Hale's shoulders shake ever-so-slightly from a faint laugh.

"Seriously? You have super hearing or something?" I snap, wilting against the rock, wondering if it would be a swift ending to just throw my head back against it forcefully.

He gives a half shrug. "Better than most, I suppose."

"Consider me mortally embarrassed. Mind the pun." Eyla probably knew Hale could likely hear, which is exactly why she isn't going to know Hale brought it up.

He glances over his shoulder at me. "Sure, I haven't fucked a mortal before, so I'm not sure I would even know my own strength-"

"If I hear another word from your mouth, Hale, I'm going to toss that green paint all over your art," I growl, motioning to paints in front of him. After I toss it onto his painting, some may find it's way onto him too.

He focuses back on his work, tilting his head back and forth. "I'm just saying, I would try my best not to kill you, or even to hurt you during-"

"We are not having sex, got it?" I snap.

Burying my head in my hands, I conceal my flushed cheeks. I'm mortified because he sounds so willing and ready to participate were I to approach him for it.

I don't think I'm going to get that out of my head.

"Loud and clear." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"And I could do without you calling me weak and vulnerable for one second," I mutter. I'm painfully aware of my mortality at every waking moment.

Just this morning I trimmed my nail too short to the point it bled, and it's bothered me for the rest of the day.

Hale half shrugs. "Understandable."

He stoops down, grabbing a bottle of green paint, carrying it over to me.

I stare blankly at it as he holds it out to me. "What?"

"You said if you heard another word from my mouth you would toss green paint over my work." He shakes the tin a little more, tempting me.

"I was just joking." I'm more interested in dumping it in his head, watching the green dribble down the perfect structure of his face. Maybe then I wouldn't have the sordid thoughts about him that I do.

I doubt it though. Those seem to be a permanent fixture in my mind at this point.

"Go ahead. I deserve it." His smile is faint, as he nods his head back toward the painting.

Huffing out a breath, I grab the paint from him, and approach the art on the wall. It truly is beautiful, in a style I haven't seen before. But this is too tempting of an opportunity to give up, and he did annoy me...