I paused when I was safely out of the way of traffic and tried to return to the moment before I'd seen the skirt. I needed groceries. The cupboards were empty and my boxes still packed. I was only halfway done gathering everything on my list. Sunny not being here with me didn't change anything.

If she were here, she could push the cart and I could reach the high shelves.

I sighed, stood straight, and rolled my shoulders.

Less than two weeks, I promised myself. Better not starve in the meantime.

CHAPTER 20

Sunny

The upshot of miserably missing Khell'ar for three weeks was that my intense need for distraction had created an incredible uptick in productivity.

Missing the taste of orc cum as you drink your morning coffee? Better rearrange the counters and pantry.

Bent over unrolling a new carpet in the living room and start daydreaming about getting railed from behind? Switch gears and finish putting up those succulent shelves in the bathroom!

Wake up in the dead of night from a wet dream of being pinned down by massive green muscles and a fat cock, only to realize you are, in fact, alone and starting to cry? Go up to the attic to paint.

I rolled my neck on my shoulders, listening to the satisfying crack, snap, crick. My eyes ached after too many nights of interrupted sleep, and I was fairly sure I was working on this latest piece with my vision offline, but it was nearly done now and I...

I stepped back, reaching up with the hand still holding the brush to rub a hair away from my face. A cold smear crossed my cheek, and I sighed. Paint. Great.

The light in the attic was changing, and I winced, realizing that I'd been up here so long morning had arrived. The attic of my little coach house was actually a finished room, with a lovely beamed dome ceiling. It'd had a pull-down ladder when I'd first arrived, and I'd managed to install a set of spiral, faux-iron stairs instead. There were only three windows and the light wasn't particularly good, but it was my favorite room in the house. The beams and curved ceiling gave the space a sacred quality that made me feel safe in my work.

I blinked at the easel in front of me. I'd started something of a collection, and it wasn't hard to guess why. A dark, enchanted woods, shadows and strange greenery, imaginary creatures watching from the corners, seductive blooms that glowed with poisonous luminescence. A heroine caught in its trap, feminine figures in diaphanous dresses, branches of willows twisting around their wrists, skirts caught in the mouths of little beasts. I wanted to be the girl running through the woods again, giddy and waiting to be caught.