42. Mithridatism

[MAGNUS]

“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes.

All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice.

She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands.

The corners of my vision blur a little more.

“Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away