Usually I didn't venture into drawing. Painting is just more smooth; it flows more freely. But sometimes things are more striking in black and white. I'd asked Lucien for a pencil and a sketchbook the other day, and he'd looked at me strangely, but delivered.
I start to outline my sketch outside, the gorgeous flowers swaying gently in the breeze. Before long, I'm entirely consumed by my drawing. Every once in awhile, I'll erase an errant line.
I don't notice a pair of light footsteps approach me from behind. A pair of strong arms are suddenly around me and I look up into a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.
I smile. "Sneaking up on me, are we?"
Tamlin's rough laugh echoes. "To some degree. You just weren't paying attention." He abruptly looks down at what I'm drawing. "You're drawing me?"
I blush. "Trying to."
Tamlin lightly traces the lines on the sketch with his finger. I watch him with some mixture of nervousness and awe. He looks serious and thoughtful at the same time.
"Why did you decide to draw me?" Tam asks.
"I-I'm not sure. I just wanted to. And a sketch seemed right."
I'm rewarded with another smile. "Are you sure that's me, Feyre?"
I'm puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"It's magnificent."
I'm thinking 'and so are you' but I don't say anything.
Tamlin sits next to me on the golden bench and tilts my face up to his. "Feyre," he whispers gently and places his lips on mine. He's soft and slow and intoxicating and I want more. I deepen the kiss, wrapping my arms around him. I could get used to this.
Tamlin pulls back and brushes a few stray strands of hair out of my face. "I love you," he says.
I smile and don't hesitate to reply. "I love you too."