The Lost Warrior

"A Painting Session"

"To create art means to be crazy alone forever."

~~~~~~~~~~~

GRACE'S POV

Humming to a soft melody, I choose a fan brush and add more lighter shades of green to the bushes I was painting. Waiting for it to dry before I add the highlights, my focus falls onto the main river of the painting that was situated in the middle of the forest.

Few brush strokes later and with a couple of snacks in between I finally stand back. Nearly finished but final touches would be added later. I had started painting this half-done canvas since seven in the morning.

About time I finish whipping up a brunch for myself for it was already noon. The sky was crystal clear just a moment ago but now it seemed to be hiding behind the traitorous, dark clouds; threatening a stormy weather.

I pivot towards the Island to sprinkle choc drops on my vanilla pancakes but stop mid-way once I see movement from my peripheral vision.

"Good mor- evening!" I chirp to the bare-chested beast who immediately turns his attention to my art easel in the open lounge area.

"That looks awfully familiar..."

"It's where I found you, I hope you don't mind-"

"What? A painting of me...I'd love to see-"

"Nu-uh, don't do portraits, only nature" I reply pointing to myself before he gets any more ideas in his head.

"So, I see you've prepared food for me" Scar clears his throat and slightly limps to the island and sits right where I prepared food for MYSELF.

"Painting calms me and it keeps me occupied since I rarely go out..." Subconsciously playing with my fingers I push back brown locks from my messy bun only to have them settle on the side of my face.

Moments after, my eyes collide with his dark blue ones all the while a small smirk plays on his lips. He did in fact look dangerous and as he mentioned yesterday, with the house getting overshadowed by the lack of sunlight and over casted by clouds promising heavy downpour. The shadows beneath the perfect lines of his face, he seemed to be no older than his late twenties. I bite the side of my own plump lips upon seeing the curve of his; so damn kissable.

Grabbing an oat bar I make my way to the canvas and resume painting. I wasn't feeling starved anymore. A few minutes later the clanking of dishes were heard as I stepped back to assess the painting along with adjusting my overalls' strap.

"looks better off the shoulder..." Mistakenly I look over my exposed shoulder seeing his dark eyes drinking me in.

"Looked better with a shirt..." I reply with the same sass and continue adding the final touches to my painting; a little white to show the shimmer in the river water from the bright sun.

"I'm guessing painting is all you do? All alone"

"...mhmm, ever heard of the saying,

"To create art means to be crazy alone forever.?"

"No, but I can prove otherwise" He bites back to my response.

"How so?" I challenge with a hint of curiosity hidden in my voice.

"May I?" I nod my head as he grabs two colours from my shelf consisting of all shades of paint; Cedar brown and off-white. He instructs me to carry one of the buckets as he carries the other one heading towards the guest room; his temporary room.

"This room needs a little...life, don't you think?" I agree to his spontaneous idea of painting the cylinder shaped room and while he excuses himself I begin moving the furniture towards the center of the room and tape off all edges. Finishing up on taping the light switch, Scar walks in a muscle tee exposing his muscular arms inked with black; an intricate design, a form of art himself.

I'd paint his tattoos all over again, if I could...she thought to herself.

"You can start with the brown shade on the main wall where the bed leans against while I start with the off-white for the rest of the room."

"Why-"

"You're still healing. Take it easy, Scar" I express my concern but turn playful as I fling a paint roller his way, though he catches it in one swift motion. He was too fast.

"Let's see who finishes first!" He sticks his tongue out to me as I roll my eyes and quickly run to my side, stepping on the plastic layered on the floor for protection. Painting can get real messy, real quick.

Roughly two hours in and eventually I take a break from stretching my arms of painting this enormous wall. Scar kept going at it without faltering while I dash out of the room to grab a ladder. His arms could reach miles before he'd need a ladder and besides, I wasn't planning on letting him up on a ladder any time soon. To add on to his muscular form, my 5'6 height was raisins next to his well-over 6 foot frame.

I return back with the foldable ladder under my arms and find him humming as he continued painting. I narrow my eyes at him upon noticing my roller was missing.

"Are you actually scared that I will win?" Referring to the mysterious disappearance of my paint roller.

"Nope. I'm actually nearly done, I don't know about you, Rosey" He made a 'tsk tsk' sound and that's when I placed my off-white painted hands on his wet wall, messing the beautiful brown shade into a murky one.

"You missed a spot, Mr.Giant" I huff as I rush to open my ladder and grab a big paint brush as substitute to my missing paint roller. Painting only a few strokes my brush dries out of paint and as I descend, my clumsy self decides to miss a step leading to my ultimate dismay.

A whimper leaves my lips as I embraced myself for the impact yet I didn't collide with the hard floor. Instead, I was latched onto Scar for dear life. My arms had locked around his neck and my eyes were slammed shut till he clears his throat.

I open my eyes sheepishly and attempt to keep my cheeks from heating due to the close proximity. I haven't felt another man's body on mine for as long as I can think of and Scar just being here...does all kinds of things to me.

Although I was attracted to him, I doubt he'd look a second longer my way once he sees all the women out there waiting in rows for his return; once the news of him surviving will be heard he'd be out searching for his mate. I bet right now his mate is on the look out for him.

I'm pulled from my train of thoughts once I feel his large palms tighten on my small waist, only to have him drop me down on the floor with a chuckle. I push my tongue in the inner side of my cheeks as an idea strikes me. Laughing, I run to the corner of the room as I stand guarded, watching this beast look strikingly-handsome even still with paint splashed across his muscle-tee and pants. Courtesy of my actions...

"You think painting's fun alone, huh" I gasp at his lightning speed, for now he has me smashed against my side of the painted wall with my arms trapped by one of his. My lips part as I breathe in slowly and his eyes follow my lips and down to the rise and fall of my cleavage. I had worn a Sports bra beneath my overall and with the way his eyes lock with mine, I swear the world stopped spinning for a moment and it was just us.

So much for wishful thinking as he plasters on a smirk and traces the tip of his nose down the slope of my slender neck. He places a soft kiss ever so slightly above my collar bone. Scar draws back only to have me squirming once he rubs his paint splattered hair on my chest and skips back a good distance away.

"I think that's enough painting for one day, I'll get to making dinner then." I call quits and dial it down a bit.

"Won't join me for a shower, Rosey?" I had walked passed him but now he was pushed up against my backside tempting the wild brazen within me, yet I didn't give in. But fuck was the name 'Rosey' getting to me.

"Who's Rosey? My name's Grace" With a small smile I walk out with a skip in my step, swaying my curvy hips tempting him with my bubble butt yet he didn't give in either...