Dance Till I Die (gxg) ✓

"Fairytale Bullshit"

MAVIS

      Mavis knew she would always remember those seven days in the damn fairytale cottage as heaven.

      And, even though she would never tell Ace aloud, she considered it as their honeymoon.

      Looking at Ace now . . . 

      Her blonde hair glowed golden in the fading afternoon sunlight. Her blue eyes were as bright as the summer-kissed sea, as though painting pottery was her favourite thing in the whole world. And her concentration . . . it was so attractive that Mavis wanted to shove all the ceramic mugs off the stupid table and ride Ace until she was screaming her name.

      Mavis coughed a little when she realized Isla was squinting suspiciously at her.

      "Mama, you're supposed to be painting."

      "Of course, baby," Mavis said, feeling her cheeks redden. "I am. I'm almost done with this little whale on the handle."

      "Mama, no offense, but that's a pitiful attempt at a whale . . ." Isla tilted her head as if trying to see it from a different angle. "It looks more like a Smurf humping itself."

      "Baby!"

      "Have you seen Ace's?"

       For the first time, Mavis actually paid attention to what Ace was painting. It was an effort to look away from her glinting blue eyes, the sharp curve of her mouth―pure sin, that mouth―but Mavis somehow managed.

       And her jaw fell.

      Mavis jumped to her feet. "La hostia,"  she swore. "Aren't you supposed to be some brutal, merciless hitman? Since when did you become an artist?"

      Ace only smirked in answer.

      The plates laid out in front of her had all been finished, but now she was working on a sculpture. In one hand, she had a knife. 

     It was . . . really, really attractive to know Ace could use that knife to murder a man just as easily as she could carve a little masterpiece.

     But as for the plates . . .

     Ace's were all of landscapes. Twisting, bright-coloured architecture. Planes of snow, a brilliant blue sky. White-capped mountains and flowers that bloomed like a storm of little violet flecks.

     "Damn it," Mavis said. "I can't believe I got outdone."

     "Mama, I could outdo your humping Smurf."

      "Isla, just because you said no offense, it doesn't mean anything that comes after won't be offensive."

      Isla pouted. 

      Ever since they had arrived at the cottage, Isla had complained about how boring the plates and cups were. A simple white, really, but when Isla had found paints in the closet, she had announced that they would now be decorating the entirety of the crockery.

       Mavis had agreed with reluctance, only after Isla had jumped up and down, pleading to even do the dishes for a week in exchange for the painting.

      Ace, of course, had readily said yes to painting all of the plates and mugs in the cottage.

      Isla could probably ask Ace for a French castle at this point, and Ace would happily move the country of France itself to wherever Isla wanted it, and kill whoever she needed to kill to get that castle.