His Muse Novels & Stories

“You’re not them. And that’s the problem.” I glare up at him, defiant despite the pounding of my heart, despite the heat pooling low in my stomach from his closeness. “Then what am I, huh? Some new toy? Something for your ego to conquer?” He leans in, his breath warm and sinful against my lips but not touching. “You’re my muse.” I scoff, feeling all emotions at once. His muse? What does that even mean? I was not is painting. I was not his poem. Not a tragic masterpiece he could destroy and claim it to be beautiful.

Every time I shifted position, a sharp tingling ran through my muscles. Paul hummed from time to time. A familiar, insistent melody that scraped against my nerves. I couldn’t remember where I knew it from, and maybe that made it worse. It sounded like an echo from the past that refused to fade. Then the metallic sound of a bolt shattered the monotony. The door.

“I am not asking for a lot, you know” “I want you to be my inspiration. It is not that hard. If you don’t want to be my muse, then, you can refund the school on your own” She groaned burying her face in her palm, groaning. “How can you think without acting…..Renee…..” “Okay, I will be your muse but it is just that” I smirked. “Sure, you can trust me” “How do I return the jacket to you? People are going to know that it is yours when they see it with me”

“I know that you might not understand this, but I did find it amazing to see such beauty in one person as she got ready to fight something that she didn’t know. And while I do understand that you might not be afraid of my sister or that you were willing to accept her challenge. I did find it amazing to see a certain excitement in your eyes.” “It was a reminder to me about why I fancied you in the first place.” He said, looking me in the eye. I frowned in confusion and clenching my fists, I tensed, not knowing what to say. “You don’t have to say anything about what I just told you. But I figured that you would ask about why I was your muse and I chose to give you the most accurate response th

I had to stay calm. "Listen," I tried again, gentler this time, "You really shouldn't have tracked me down like this. I can call security—" His hand darted out and gripped my wrist. "Security won't understand us. They won't get what we are. You’re my muse. You wrote those songs for me, didn’t you? About love that transcends boundaries... You were thinking of me, weren’t you, Celest?" His grip tightened. Panic flared in my chest. I yanked back instinctively.

"I'm a straightforward person, what you might call straight forward. I don't like prefaces. It's not that I've never seen a glamorous performance before, but why did I realize that my Every color of dreams is present in you. You are a walking piece of art. Will you allow me to enter your beautiful colorful world? I want to fill your world with more beautiful colors. Let me be the inspiration for your every enchanting creation from now on. Can you let me be your muse? "

Luckily, Alistar was very perceptive, and he made it a point to indulge in my true passion of the arts, while Leo made an effort with my love of dance. “Collectors dig to find the history because they care enough about what they are buying,” I said, turning my attention back to him, “Isn’t art more pleasurable when you know what inspired it? When you know what kind of struggles or pain served as the artist’s muse?” “You think pain can be a muse?” He lifted his eyebrows. “And here I thought my little mate was the rainbows-and-sunshine type.” I reached out and touched his knee, my fingertips resting lightly against the cool fabric of his suit pants. “Now that is precisely what happens when you

Being in love as an artist is so defeating, so deafening and so beautiful at the same time. My muse is in my head, in my bed, everywhere. In my clothes their scent stays and the walls of my house cave in with the echo of his voice. It's like a noose around the neck that's pulled tighter I write about him. Without even trying, everything I write is about him. Everything I imagine becomes with him, for him or he himself. He'd call me crazy if he read all of it but in my madness, only he resides. So, who really is crazy here? The one that writes or the one that makes?

I said, having Jacob in mind as I ended my reply. "Wow, so there is a muse behind the song. Do we in any way know this muse? Or is it a personal muse?. We fans are dying to know, we want to know the muse that captured your heart to give us a new drop this season," he chimed looking at the cameras as he involved the fans.

The more they say, the more often it is good and the less good it is. "Now that you know me, I promise to do my best for your beloved Rapture Hotel. I'm going to help My Master to bring this palace to the top, not only in Cordova City but also to the whole world. So I shall move on to my next schedule. We'll see you again. " I said, smiling and waving. I was about to turn my back when someone stepped on my foot. Damn! Put the heel on my foot. "Ops sorry." The other muse said as she stepped on my foot.