14. Chapter Fourteen

Rose

My world has turned upside down since I walked into that tiny hidden room and found Rip in that bed. For one thing, I've barely slept because all I can do is think about him. For another, it seems as if everything inside me is shifting.

My desire to stay isolated from everything and everyone has changed. Not that I want to be the most social person in the world, but I don't want to stay disconnected from Rip.

For another thing, I've never really had sexual desire for anyone in the past. I can't say that now. Every time I'm in the same room with Rip—and sometimes when I'm not—all I can think about are the kisses we shared and the insistent drumbeat of desire thumping between my legs. It reminds me I'm very capable of experiencing all the evil, prohibited emotions my cult warned me about.

"Rise and shine!" he calls from the other room. "Growing up with parents who kept odd hours made me very self-sufficient. Scrambled or fried?"

"Scrambled. With cheese."

An hour later we've had scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee accompanied by Rip's admission, "Okay, maybe you're right. This isn't as good as the drinks we got from Sip and Smile. Whatever they put in their coffee yesterday was pretty damn good. I'll need to find their secret."

He looks at me nervously, as if he's checking to see if he mortally offended me with a mild curse word that's uttered on half the programs on TV.

"I don't live in a cult anymore, Rip. It's fine to be yourself in front of me. Now, as I recall, someone promised to divulge all his secrets."

While I add a smidge of strawberry jam to the crust of my toast, I say, "Tell me about your art."

He sits up straighter and thrusts his shoulders back, obviously feeling a surge of happiness and pride at my interest.

"I've been painting since I was a boy. It would have been odd if I hadn't, since not only were my parents artists, but we had a bevy of artistic people in and out of our home in Greenwich Village."

Wondering if I've heard of any of them, I can't help but interrupt. "Who?"

He shrugs. "I don't know if any of them became famous. Fanny Gold? Malcolm Richmond? Albert Bierstadt?"

"I think I've heard of Bierstadt," I hedge, itching to look them all up on Google the moment I get a chance.

"He was one of the best. A nice man, too."

"I had a knack for certain things, but it was only in the last few months before I succumbed to the lure of the amulet that I hit my stride."

He appears lost in thought as he gazes at a few of his paintings. I guess it's no surprise that the ones he's giving the most attention to are the ones I think are the most spectacular.

"It wasn't until I found this magic amulet that I began to hone my craft. It gives me the ability to see beauty in things others might not."

"I don't understand."

"It's hard to explain, but when I wear the amulet, colors are more vibrant, shapes more defined. I can see the inner beauty of things and capture it on canvas."

"That's amazing. Sometimes I've wished for magic. I can see things so vividly in my mind, but the execution can be lacking."

"From what you shared with me, your creativity has been squelched your whole life. You're only now coming into your own. Perhaps all you need is permission to put your ideas on paper, plus inspiration and some tutoring."

He flashes me a killer smile that fills me with confidence. Within minutes, we're both set up in the backyard, our paint supplies on an outdoor table next to the easel we dragged out. The sun dapples down on us on what I hope is going to be a wonderful day.

"Would you like to wear the amulet? See if it helps you see things differently?"

He hasn't taken the amulet off the leather strip around his neck since he showed it to me right after we met. As soon as I was done inspecting it, he put it back on. Rip doesn't hesitate to pull it off and offer it to me.

Instead of accepting it, I step back. "Are you certain it's not going to put me to sleep for a hundred years?"

He pauses, cocks his head as he considers it, then answers, "First of all, the whole sleep thing was a bit more complicated than touching it. There were instructions on an old piece of parchment I found hidden in an even older book on the bookcase."

He reaches to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. It's odd having anyone touch me out of the blue like this. I like it. A lot. That he feels familiar enough to do this, so naturally, fills me with warmth.

"Second, even if you did follow the arcane instructions, you wouldn't sleep a wink because you're only supposed to sleep until you find your one true love, and Rose, you've already found him."

He lances me with his heated blue gaze and nods as though he's reading my mind. I feel the slightest bit offended at his smug statement that he's my one true love until I see a smidge of vulnerability on his handsome features.

"That remains to be seen," I tease, then hesitantly hold out my hand, feeling an odd chill of anticipation course through my body.

"Go ahead." He places it in my palm. "Put it on."

I pause, looking at the neon purple swirls within its limitless depths. Heat—no, energy—emanates from it. Instead of the pulsing force staying confined to the palm of my hand, it radiates to the soles of my feet and the top of my head. There's no doubt this is a magical object.

My gaze seeks Rip's for reassurance because this feeling is so powerful it would be easy for it to overwhelm me.

"It's alarming at first, but it's gentle, right?"

Yes. Now that he's put a name to it, the energy is mild, pleasant even.

His hand is near his throat, where the amulet has rested for over a century. It's as though he misses its scant weight.

"Look around, Rose."

I tear my gaze from his and glance around my yard, which backs onto the forest. I've spent countless hours out here since I bought the place, just decompressing. Never have I seen the vivid colors, the veins in the leaves, the sheer enormity of the beauty of something I've come to find mundane.

"Amazing."

"Yes."

My hands are trembling from the overwhelming experience. I quietly talk myself through it, trying to calm my nerves.

"Despite the craziness I grew up in, I've always had a deep and abiding love for God," I whisper as though we're in the finest cathedral. "I've never felt God's presence as much as I do right this moment."

Tears are sliding down my cheeks as I close my eyes and allow this connection with the universe to roar inside me, swirling and building.

I don't know how long I stand here, communing with whatever force I'm feeling. Although I was warned about demons and devils a thousand times throughout my childhood, there is nothing evil about this experience.

"Love," I say, somehow knowing Rip will understand. "It's like I can love every molecule of the universe from the most beautiful blooms on a rose to the lowliest insect."

The swirling lessens and finally subsides. I come back to the present, my hand still clutching the magical amulet.

"Wow," I say shakily.

"Yes. It's powerful."

"That felt so wonderful I can't believe you loaned it to me, even for a moment."

The half-smile he bestows on me is different from anything we've shared until now. He doesn't need to give me grand gestures. He totally gets me—and accepts me. It's a powerful feeling.

The way I felt at one with the universe a moment ago? That's faded a bit. Except for Rip. I still feel inextricably connected to this handsome man I barely know.