Making my way into my workshop’s outer area, I locked the door so Abel couldn’t pay another surprise visit tonight. I wouldn’t put it past him to try again. He was annoyingly persistent like that. Opening the heavy metal door to where I was keeping Sunshine, I expected to see her sitting on the mat, but instead, I found her naked in the bathroom with the shower running.

My eyes raked over her body, and I had the urge to paint her all over again. I wanted artwork all over the walls of my Sunshine in different poses, just like the ancient Grecian statues. She still hadn’t seen me and bent over to undo the Velcro and step out of the orchid and pink pajamas I found with little paintbrushes all over them.

The bindings around her wrists and ankles were the only thing that interrupted the view as she stood up straight and stretched, which pushed her breasts into the air. I was speechless for the first time since my first kill, and my mind was quiet. The noise that normally plagued me was gone.

As I took a step forward, the light clicked on, and Sunshine jumped, grabbing the top she’d just taken off and holding it to her chest like a flimsy shield. It did no good, though. The image of her perfect skin, as smooth and creamy looking as porcelain, was engrained in my brain.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be longer doing whatever it is you do to them,” she said. My mouth curved up as jealousy dripped like sweet honey off her every word.

Stepping inside the bathroom, I loved how she stood a little straighter. I knew fear lay beneath the surface of her bravado, but it was time to twist the fear into something else. Holding my hand out, she looked at it and chewed her bottom lip. The wheels were turning in her mind as she stared at my outstretched palm. She would never make a good poker player. With a sigh, Sunshine gave in and held the fuzzy shirt out for me to take, and I tossed it in the small hamper to be cleaned.

“Why do you do that,” I asked as I grabbed her wrists and moved them away from covering herself.

“Do what?”

“Cover yourself.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to being naked with a killer,” she said, but the sharp edge she used to have on her every word was now like a dull plastic knife.

“Clothes or no clothes, I’ve already memorized every curve of your body and could paint you with my eyes closed. Clothes don’t keep you safe. That’s simply your mind’s fabrication, so does it really matter?”

Those amazing amethyst-like gems flared with a challenge, and I stepped in close to her, crowding her personal space. “Get in the shower.”