Relish: A Vicious Feast Book 2 (6 page)

“The Master sends his regards,” he said.

I didn’t appreciate the shiver that ran down my spine at the mention of
him
. “Where is he?” Was that hope I heard in my question?

A corner of Eli’s lips pulled up as if he’d heard it too. “He’s on tour. Right now, Australia.”

Of course. “Not to sound ungrateful, but why are you here?”

He hiked his thumb at the wall full of Vicious pictures. “Been sent to keep these safe. They look good, by the way.”

Before I could react to his compliment, I spotted the dean of photography in his tweed jacket and jeans. His bushy mustache looked particularly disgruntled this morning. Who could blame him? Not even I imagined the pandemonium my pictures caused. He curled two fingers at me in summons.

“Eli,” I grabbed the big guy’s sleeve, “I think I need your help to get through this crowd. The dean’s calling for me.”

“Someone’s in trouble,” Silvia teased, having returned to my side.

I scowled at her. “Will you stay here and not antagonize the throng further? I still want to get out of this madness alive.”

“I don’t think they know you’re the artist.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?”

From the way she winked at me, I didn’t think she paid any attention to the meaning of my words. Eli didn’t give me time to rebut. In a practiced move, he used the bulk of his body to get me through the screaming men and women. I grabbed on to the back of his suit jacket to keep from being sucked into the crowd.

“You’re way too good at your job,” I said to him when we reached the dean at the back exit.

“Ms. Collins, this way please.” The dean harrumphed before opening the door.

I looked up at Eli. “Keep the pictures and Silvia safe?”

He nodded once then nudged me through the exit. The dean quickly followed, the door shutting behind us. The sudden muffling of the excitement only amplified the silence outside.

“Dean Patterson, I didn’t think the pictures would cause this much—”

He raised his hand to cut off the rest of my apology. “The police have already been informed.”

Like it had been timed to his words, sirens cried out in the distance.

“Crowd control will be performed and only Wexler students will be allowed into the exhibition throughout the week. Those who cannot show ID will be escorted out. Now, if you please…” He ushered me toward the Arts building, which was just a couple of steps away from where the Spring Showcase was being held.

“Where are we going?” I asked when we entered the building.

“My office.”

Dread pelted me like a hailstorm. Going to his office could only mean one thing. Were they expelling me because of my project? This close to graduation? Fuck. This day couldn’t get any worse. The dean opened the door, and I stepped inside the wide expanse of his office worried out of my mind. All the air exploded out of my lungs when my gaze travelled across the room.

“Hi,” said the Gothic Lolita sitting by the fireplace. 

C
HAPTER
S
IX
P
ROPOSITION

It took me a full minute to take in Yana’s ensemble. Black on black on black. The dress, the corset over it, the lace and ribbons—
everything
…black. Even her makeup. Her blue eyes and pale skin stood out completely. And like the rest of Vicious, I missed her something fierce. Seeing her sent shivers all up my spine.

“Even your hair is black,” I blurted out, unconsciously reaching for my camera inside my bag. My fingers shook from the anticipation of memorializing Yana this way. Somber yet ethereal. A dark elf or fairy seated on a high-backed chair that practically consumed her petite form. I hadn’t felt compelled to take a picture this badly since I’d left Lunar Manor. I lifted the camera to my face, took a deep breath, and released the shutter. The soft click reverberated within me so strongly, I might as well have climaxed right then. It felt so right. My whole body relaxed, left in wanton yearning for something I hadn’t done in so long.

Only when I lowered the camera did Yana raise her eyebrows, also dyed black. Calixta, the band’s makeup artist and stylist, must have had a field day with her. “What did you expect? I’ve been in mourning since you left. How dare you not find me to say goodbye?”

Guilt and amusement warred for a place in my chest. Every time I breathed in, giddiness entered me, and when I exhaled, sadness remained. I had to remind myself of the illusion. The world of Vicious was seductive, addictive, and all kinds of dangerous for the human condition. I couldn’t get sucked in again. “What are you doing here, Yana?”

She shifted her gaze toward Dean Patterson. “Thank you for bringing her over. If you will excuse us.”

“I’ll go check on the exhibition,” he stammered like a guy decades younger and unsure of himself. He backed out of his office, mumbling about facilitating the crowd control then shut the door.

I hadn’t moved from where I stood. “Way to clear a room, Yana.”

She rubbed circles on her temple with a fingertip. “I’m seriously jetlagged and his Old Spice smell is annoying. I’d thank you not to try my patience.”

Unaffected by her warning, I said, “I heard the band is in Australia. Did you fly all this way just to see the pictures?” I sighed and scratched the back of my head. “Thanks, by the way, for the bodyguard detail. I didn’t expect my project would attract that much attention.”

Yana dropped her hand and eyed me. “I think you’re forgetting just how popular Vicious is. Of course pictures of them would insight a riot.”

I shrugged. Of course I knew just how popular the band was. Knowing their every move became a guilty pleasure of mine. I had them on Google Alert…no matter how pathetic it made me feel. Every time a notification pinged on my laptop or my phone, I stopped everything to check what it was about. I was an addict hiding a dirty little secret. 

“Anyway,” she waved like she swatted at something, “the security detail wasn’t my idea.”

When I first heard from Eli that Luka had been the one to send him and his posse over to protect my pictures, deep down I didn’t believe him. Luka couldn’t be bothered to care about anyone but himself…and Phoenix. But hearing it confirmed by Yana flipped my heart over. As much as I didn’t appreciate the invasion of happiness, I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. Luka sent Eli to keep the pictures safe. 

“So, why are you here?” I asked. “Eli, I get. But you?”

She smiled those black lips. “I got a private viewing this morning before the doors to the exhibition opened. You did a brilliant job. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

“Thank you?” Her compliments flew over my head. I couldn’t be sure if Yana was being sincere or if I’d gotten so used to her presence in my life that any praise might just be because she knew me.

“I’m serious,” she said as if reading my thoughts. My poker face must have slipped without me knowing. “I give credit where credit is due. The pictures you gave us as gifts for Christmas were stunning, but the ones you put together for the Showcase are absolutely spectacular.” She raised her hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to respond. “In fact, I want to buy each print for a hundred thousand dollars.”

My head just about exploded when it did the math for all ten prints. My first show—amateur at that—and I already had a buyer for all ten photos. “Yana that’s generous of you—”

“But?”

I dropped my gaze and thought about it. Did I really want to sell the photos? What would it matter if I did sell them? I still had the master copy so it wouldn’t be like losing them forever. But, still, the idea didn’t sit well with me for some reason. Especially the tenth photo in the set. I couldn’t see myself parting with it.

“You’ve contributed to pop culture with those photos.” Yana spoke over my mulling. “With the trajectory of the band’s success, those shots will be worth so much more.”

“It’s not about the money.” I met her gaze. “It’s never been about the money. Sure, I want to make a living out of taking pictures. But it was more about making a name for myself by showcasing my art.”

“I never thought of you as the sentimental type,” she challenged.

Was I? Every photographer at some point should part with her work. That was the making money part of the job. If I took emotions out of it, what really stopped me from selling the shots to Yana?

“If you want them you can have them. They are of the band. You shouldn’t pay for them.” Yes, at the end of the day, Yana shouldn’t have to pay for what were essentially pictures of her family.

Her darkly-lined eyes widened. “You’d give them to me for free?”

I shrugged again. “Why not?”

Before I could blink, Yana pushed off the chair and crossed the room with determined steps. The thick carpet muffled her approach. I backed away a step reflexively, unsure what she wanted to do to me. At the final yard, Yana paused then leapt at me. I barely had a second to brace myself for the impact of a flying Gothic Lolita. She landed in my arms and buried her face in my chest.

“Why did you leave?” she sobbed. Those waterfall tears I’d witnessed once before when Luka refused to grant an interview happened again. I couldn’t tell how she did it, but Yana pulled off an anime character’s antics flawlessly.

I pulled her tighter against me and smoothed the back of her head with my hand. “Didn’t Luka tell you?”

She shook her head against my sweater, most likely smearing her makeup.

I chuckled, pushing away the pain the memory dredged up. “I know about Phoenix.”

Yana pushed away just enough to look up at my face. Even in heels, the top of her head barely crested my shoulders. Her watery blue eyes stood out even more. Gotta hand it to Calixta. Her makeup skills were uncanny. Not even a mascara run.

“He told you?”

I nodded once. “The humongous tattoo on his back isn’t exactly a subtle declaration either.”

“That idiot!”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

“How could he when he checked into—” She covered her mouth to keep from saying anything more.

“What, Yana?” I urged, looking into her eyes. “Finish what you were about to say.”

“Come.” She grabbed a hold of my hands and pulled me toward the fireplace. She pointed at the chair opposite the one she arranged herself on. “Sit.”

I bit back the “I am not a dog” comment begging to be said. I refused to be distracted from our current topic. What did she mean by “checked into?”

“Checked into what?”

Yana pulled at the ruffles of her dress and huffed. “After you left, Luka checked himself into a facility for a couple of weeks. He refused to talk to anyone. But when he returned, he seemed like a new man.”

“New how?”

“Just little things. He’s less controlling and he actually insisted on bringing a shrink on tour with us. Samrah is doing wonders.”

“What?” Okay, I knew I sounded like an idiot, but the question had to be asked if only for my benefit. I pushed down the jealousy that came with hearing the distinctly female name. Crazy. For all I knew, Samrah could be old and wrinkled. The grandmother type. I held on to this image.

“Yeah, it’s really weird. You have to actually see it to believe it. Sometimes, when I look at him, I catch glimpses of his old self.” Yana leaned into her chair. “I honestly think he misses you.”

I chalked up the thrill tingles rushing through me to the fact that Luka sought help; that he was getting his act together. It totally had nothing to do with me, no matter how much a part of me wanted to think that way. I slumped back.

“That’s good,” I said despite my throat closing. “I’m happy that he’s getting help.”

“But that’s not why I’m really here.” Yana put her game face back on. I eyed her, waiting. She didn’t take long. “The band is putting together a book.”

“What does a book have to do with me?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “It’s going to showcase the world tour. It will be filled with behind-the-scenes stuff including pictures.”

“Ah.” My eyebrows went up. “And I suppose you want me to take these so-called behind-the-scenes pictures.”

“Trust me. I wouldn’t be coming to you if I wasn’t desperate.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She exhaled slowly. “Look, we’ve gone through several photographers already. None of them gelled with the band. One wanted to do this whole Art Deco theme. Another wanted to dress them all up as the Beatles.”

I threw my head back and laughed. Luka wouldn’t have stood for any of those concepts, no matter how open he was to trying new things. What asshole would dare to compare Vicious to the Beatles visually? Their aesthetics were completely different. The fact that Vicious produced their own stuff independent of a label already put them in a class of their own. It did help that they had money backing them, but even without that, Luka’s talent alone would have propelled the band to superstardom. If anything, I would have seen them as mavericks. Royal mavericks in their chosen field.

“You see, you’re the only one that truly gets the band.” Yana’s tone straddled the line between exasperation and desperation. Despite the changes she’d been telling me about Luka, it seemed he still had a knack for making her life miserable. “The pictures at the Showcase prove I’m right. I honestly can’t blame you for leaving the last time around. Now that I know the cause, I don’t want to force you into anything.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “I would completely understand if you’d want nothing to do with the band, but I’m in a real bind here. I don’t know anyone else who’ll fit the bill. You already spent a month with Vicious and remained sane…well, pretty sane, considering what Luka put you through.”

I pulled my hand out of Yana’s hold and rubbed my lips, staring into the fire. The red and orange flames danced merrily over the logs. Did I really want to throw myself back into the fray? A part of me screamed a resounding yes. But another part of me, the one suffering from post-Vicious traumatic disorder, wondered if I could keep myself together. Forget what having a book with my pictures in it would mean for my career. The second I associated myself with Vicious I could pretty much walk into any magazine I wanted and show them my portfolio. The reaction of the fans in the exhibition hall inflated my ego more than I cared to admit. Then there was my upcoming defense at the end of the week and my trip after graduation to consider.