Title: Colors
Series: The Dragon Knights #2
Author: Gabbie S. Duran
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Published: March 21, 2016
Series: The Dragon Knights #2
Author: Gabbie S. Duran
Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance
Published: March 21, 2016
 | Alyssa lives her days hiding from the nightmares of her childhood, fearful of only one thing: being found. She no longer feels pain, for her soul has been numbed by the cruelties she endured. Chris is empty on the inside, even though he portrays a facade of happiness to the outside world. He attempts to fill the void with women, sex, and music. In his lonely existence, nothing really matters . . . until he meets Alyssa. When two dark souls collide, can the colors repair their broken souls, or will they surrender to the darkness of their broken pasts? |
Copyright © 2016 Gabbie S. Duran
Chris
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her, I grab the first brush with paint my hands can get a hold of. As if predicting what I had intended to do, she reaches for it, yanking it from my hand. Annoyance fills me when she ruins my plan, so my mind is just as suddenly making a rash decision. Lifting a tube up ready to aim, she just as suddenly retreats, threatening, “Don’t you dare,” as she holds her arms out in an attempt to protect her.
It does nothing to deter my plans of retaliation. I swiftly flick the tube in her direction and squeeze at the same time. The content lands on her chest, earning an echoing gasp as it makes contact.
“There, now we’re even,” I say, slamming the tube back down on the table then begin my steps to retreat from the room. I’ve barely taken two steps when the feel of a wet substance runs down my back.
Whirling to face her, she gloats with an arched brow, holding a can.
“Now you have an array of colors to take with you,” she smirks.
“What the hell did you pour on me?”
“Dirty water,” she proclaims before spinning to place the can on the table then tries to march past me. She believes she’s won. However I’m notorious for not allowing myself to be defeated. My arm wraps around her waist and lifts her off the ground, making her yelp in surprise.
“Oh no you don’t,” I tell her, stomping my way over to where the table of paints are at while she protests with shouts to put her down. She’s furious while I’m wickedly laughing at her reaction.
“What color would look good on you?” I ask, gently placing her on the floor to grab two brushes with paint. Lifting one hand, she side steps away as she exclaims,
“Don’t you dare, Chris!” She steps right in to the other already aimed at her face.
Her stupefied reaction makes me laugh, giving her the perfect opportunity to yank one of the brushes from my hand to mimic my earlier motion, smearing paint across my cheek.
“Purple is not your color.” Lowering the brush to dip it into a dab of green paint, I’m already following her movement to dip my own brush back into the red and we both hastily return to poking at each other with the brushes.
Our laughter booms in the room as we chase one another with our brushes. My resentment of how this all started has completely evaporated and is now replaced with cheerful competition as I try to cover Alyssa with as much paint as possible. Unfortunately for her, it’s much more difficult since she has been protectively guarding her paints.
In one swift move, I reach in and manage to grab a tube off the table then open it, ready to squirt it at her. Alyssa holds her hands up in surrender as she declares, “Please, don’t. That tube is a very rare color and hard to find.”
Snorting at what I believe is a ploy, I say, “I’m not buying that shit. You’ll probably use it on me.”
“I swear, I won’t,” she pleads, holding her hands out for me to surrender it.
First to catch my eyes is how labored her breathing has become as she cautiously closes the distance between us and gently takes the tube from my hands, all while explaining, “It’s called glaucous and this particular tube must have been expensive. That’s why I haven’t opened it.”
She walks back to the table, placing it against the far end of the wall. She takes another tube and returns, holding it out for me to take. “You could use this one if you’d like. I don’t care about that color at all and rarely ever use it.”
Taking in the tube she’s given me, it’s the color black.
Gazing down her entire body, she is covered in an array of colors. To add black would be to dim the beauty shining from her.
Shaking my head, I tell her, “You look too pretty to be covered in black.” Her cheeks are completely covered in paint, but there is no denying they are blazing crimson underneath the color.
Feeling as if I’ve exposed enough of myself to her today, I swiftly change the subject. “Please tell me this stuff will come off in the shower,” I say, staring down at the colors already caking on my skin.
She giggles, using her fingers to wipe paint away from my face. “Most of it should, but even if it doesn’t, you needed a little color in your life, remember?”
“That’s what I have you for,” I tell her, completely at a loss as to how rapidly those words came out. Nonetheless, they hold nothing but truth behind them.
She shocks me when she leans forward, kissing me on my lips with the same bashful smile still on her features. I can no longer hold back the restraint I have held with her . . . My heart and mind are screaming in unison not to anymore, and since it’s the first time they’ve ever agreed when it came to a girl . . . this time, I’m going to listen.
Chris
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her, I grab the first brush with paint my hands can get a hold of. As if predicting what I had intended to do, she reaches for it, yanking it from my hand. Annoyance fills me when she ruins my plan, so my mind is just as suddenly making a rash decision. Lifting a tube up ready to aim, she just as suddenly retreats, threatening, “Don’t you dare,” as she holds her arms out in an attempt to protect her.
It does nothing to deter my plans of retaliation. I swiftly flick the tube in her direction and squeeze at the same time. The content lands on her chest, earning an echoing gasp as it makes contact.
“There, now we’re even,” I say, slamming the tube back down on the table then begin my steps to retreat from the room. I’ve barely taken two steps when the feel of a wet substance runs down my back.
Whirling to face her, she gloats with an arched brow, holding a can.
“Now you have an array of colors to take with you,” she smirks.
“What the hell did you pour on me?”
“Dirty water,” she proclaims before spinning to place the can on the table then tries to march past me. She believes she’s won. However I’m notorious for not allowing myself to be defeated. My arm wraps around her waist and lifts her off the ground, making her yelp in surprise.
“Oh no you don’t,” I tell her, stomping my way over to where the table of paints are at while she protests with shouts to put her down. She’s furious while I’m wickedly laughing at her reaction.
“What color would look good on you?” I ask, gently placing her on the floor to grab two brushes with paint. Lifting one hand, she side steps away as she exclaims,
“Don’t you dare, Chris!” She steps right in to the other already aimed at her face.
Her stupefied reaction makes me laugh, giving her the perfect opportunity to yank one of the brushes from my hand to mimic my earlier motion, smearing paint across my cheek.
“Purple is not your color.” Lowering the brush to dip it into a dab of green paint, I’m already following her movement to dip my own brush back into the red and we both hastily return to poking at each other with the brushes.
Our laughter booms in the room as we chase one another with our brushes. My resentment of how this all started has completely evaporated and is now replaced with cheerful competition as I try to cover Alyssa with as much paint as possible. Unfortunately for her, it’s much more difficult since she has been protectively guarding her paints.
In one swift move, I reach in and manage to grab a tube off the table then open it, ready to squirt it at her. Alyssa holds her hands up in surrender as she declares, “Please, don’t. That tube is a very rare color and hard to find.”
Snorting at what I believe is a ploy, I say, “I’m not buying that shit. You’ll probably use it on me.”
“I swear, I won’t,” she pleads, holding her hands out for me to surrender it.
First to catch my eyes is how labored her breathing has become as she cautiously closes the distance between us and gently takes the tube from my hands, all while explaining, “It’s called glaucous and this particular tube must have been expensive. That’s why I haven’t opened it.”
She walks back to the table, placing it against the far end of the wall. She takes another tube and returns, holding it out for me to take. “You could use this one if you’d like. I don’t care about that color at all and rarely ever use it.”
Taking in the tube she’s given me, it’s the color black.
Gazing down her entire body, she is covered in an array of colors. To add black would be to dim the beauty shining from her.
Shaking my head, I tell her, “You look too pretty to be covered in black.” Her cheeks are completely covered in paint, but there is no denying they are blazing crimson underneath the color.
Feeling as if I’ve exposed enough of myself to her today, I swiftly change the subject. “Please tell me this stuff will come off in the shower,” I say, staring down at the colors already caking on my skin.
She giggles, using her fingers to wipe paint away from my face. “Most of it should, but even if it doesn’t, you needed a little color in your life, remember?”
“That’s what I have you for,” I tell her, completely at a loss as to how rapidly those words came out. Nonetheless, they hold nothing but truth behind them.
She shocks me when she leans forward, kissing me on my lips with the same bashful smile still on her features. I can no longer hold back the restraint I have held with her . . . My heart and mind are screaming in unison not to anymore, and since it’s the first time they’ve ever agreed when it came to a girl . . . this time, I’m going to listen.
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