Free Cursed by Nicole Camden

but—”
    Mary stopped painting and looked at her. “I was worried about you. I came here and saw you lying in the sun with Max, surrounded by colorful ties and his even more colorful tattoos. I had to paint it. So lie still and enjoy the sunshine.”
    Lille hadn’t fully comprehended how much this place had changed her friend until this moment. The old Mary wouldn’t have dreamed of invading someone’s bedroom to paint them, no matter how badly she may have wanted to. But now she was so bold, confident—secure in herself and what she did.
    Flummoxed and more than a little uncertain in light of her friend’s transformation, Lille lay back down, wrapping her arms around Max, her heart racing, as was his.
    â€œThis is crazy,” she whispered to him, and he chuckled.
    â€œMary is crazy—or didn’t you know that?”
    No, Lille hadn’t known, but it pleased her, enough that she stayed still and enjoyed the feel of Max’s body beneath her. It was strange to be so close to him and not have sex. His hair was a mess, stuck up in all directions on his head. He had a mole on one shoulder, hidden in one of the fins of his mermaid. He was looking at her, too, staring at her as if he was willing her to say something in particular. Lille dropped her eyes, uncomfortable. She wasn’t wearing makeup, she realized, and her face was probably swollen. Her mouth still tasted vaguely like copper from the cut on the inside of her cheek. She glanced up at him through her lashes, and he stroked some hair away from her face.
    She’d never felt so conflicted, so torn between what she wanted and who she knew she was.
    Mary knew Lille was ready to flee. It was her pattern: too much intimacy, and Lille found a way to untangle herself. Mary had seen it a dozen times, though Lille seemed more comfortable with Max than with her other lovers—Mary had never seen her let her guard down like this before.
    She hadn’t understood why Lille was so flighty until she’d learned about her father, about a childhood that was likely infinitely more difficult than Lille had made it out to be. Someone as beautiful as Lille always attracted attention, perhaps unwanted attention, perhaps more than once. She’d compensated by making a persona for herself, a mask to hide behind, but if someone started to see behind it, Lille grew uncomfortable and tried to get away.
    Mary felt her lips tighten in frustration, but her hand remained steady on the canvas, tracing the lines and curves of two of the most beautiful people she knew, letting the color and light float over her as she considered angles, textures, and the delicacy of the shadows that shifted and changed with each second.
    In her mind’s eye, she saw two lovers who were meant to be together, whose bodies fit together almost as well as their spirits, but they held themselves apart, too afraid to trust, either one of them, though Max seemed as if he was willing to try. The fact that they had good reason didn’t make it less sad, or less of a shame. She painted for over an hour, until she knew they could stay still no longer.
    â€œOkay, you two, breakfast is on me,” Mary declared, and began packing up her painting supplies.
    Lille sat up, feeling her body protest. “Are you sure, darling?” Lille muttered sarcastically, rotating her shoulder, which was stiff from holding her position as Mary painted, not to mention the position Max had placed her in last night.
    He sat up behind her and rubbed out some of the stiffness in her shoulders briskly, before kissing her cheek and stroking one hand down her arm.
    â€œYou have quite a collection of my naked arse, Mary.”
    â€œIndeed I do,” Mary agreed. “It’s a lovely naked arse.”
    â€œThanks, lass.” He kissed Mary’s temple and headed naked into the bathroom, singing an Irish drinking song at the top of his lungs.
    Mary looked shrewdly at