Novel & Cerita His Muse

Then, as if my reflection was another person, I frowned at myself and muttered, “You idiot.” Flashbacks of last night ran through my head. I could vividly remember how Calum Reed’s body looked—unexpectedly muscular—and how his moans sounded. My skin tingled as if it had a life of its own and was reminding me how good his touch felt. The memory sent a shiver down my spine.

“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.

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.

he admitted, earning my utmost respect. "Really?" My voice lifted a few octaves, showing how impressed I was. "I love Muse. We should go see them together." "Definitely," he agreed, eyeing me like a hungry lion who is getting ready to devour his supper. Heat spread across my cheeks as his downward gaze penetrated through my eyes as if he was able to see straight into my soul, reading all of my inappropriate thoughts. And boy, did I have a catalog of those saved in my memory bank. A spark of intrigue flickered across his handsome features and a boyish smirk danced across his lips.

he interrupted, his voice a low, rough growl. I just stared at him, my mind going completely blank. “W-what?” His green eyes were blazing, his grip on my hand tightening just a fraction. “You need a muse. Why not me?”

An idea pops into my head as I step into the room, and I know this is cheeky, but before I can think twice or get a moment to change my mind, I say, “Alessandro?” “Hmm?” “I want you to paint me,” I say, turning to face him mischievously. “Darling, believe me, you’re the muse of almost all my paintings,” he says, and my heart warms. The fact that he would admit I am the inspiration for his artwork makes me feel some kind of way inside. “No, I mean like you should paint me live.” “Wait, right now?” I nod. “Mmh,” I take a few steps back into the room. “Naked,” I add.

"They’re through the wards, Kaelor. The song is breaking." A scream ripped through the air—a high, melodic note that ended in a wet gurgle. Across the plaza, a Muse fell. Her white robes soaked up the red from the floor like a sponge. "There!" Lucian’s voice echoed off the quartz spires. "The traitor and his pet!" Kaelor’s jaw unhinged. A sickening pop. His spine arched, his tunic shredding as gray fur exploded from his pores. He wasn't a man anymore. He was a hunk of silver-threaded muscle and hunger.

"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? "

He asked in his hoarse, breathlessly dark voice. “You… ah!” I gasped, tensing my brows as I writhed beneath him. “Damn it, Zeph! How could you… be so good at hunting? This is crazy…” “A hunter needs to have…” he groaned, slowing down and pushing himself deeper inside me. “... a muse worth hunting. And you, my muse, are already a priceless treasure that I own. You are mine and mine alone. In all fucking lives, I swear.” The flood of coruscating pleasure was only turning me into a greater disaster as it seeped into every crack of my soul and I really wished he’d come inside me.

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.