Suddenly the world tilted, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I’d almost resigned myself to never seeing him again, but now that he was here, it suddenly struck me how terribly I’d missed him. And how much Ineededhim in my bed again.
“It’s you,” I said stupidly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And it’s you,” he replied, gesturing to the painting. He recognized me immediately, even without the mask. “Theo, right? Or should I call you something else now?”
I swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. This was the moment of truth. The moment when Neptune discovered that his one-night stand wasn’t some mysterious, confident stranger but boring, uptight Theodore Voss.
“Theodore,” I admitted, bracing myself for his disappointment. “My name is Theodore Voss.”
I watched his face carefully, waiting for the recognition, the inevitable letdown when he realized who I really was. But instead, his eyes widened slightly, and a slow smile spread across his face.
“Theodore Voss,” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. “The swimming champion?”
I winced. “Second place, actually. Always second.”
“Not in everything,” he said, his voice dropping lower as his eyes traveled over me in a way that made my cheeks burn. “If I recall correctly, you came first.”
I bit my lower lip, unable to help the whimper that escaped. My slacks were alreadysotight and we were in the middle of a busy gallery.
“Oh my gods,” he grinned, still staring at me. “Your face is so red right now.”
“I know,” I grumbled, turning back toward the painting so he couldn’t look at me anymore. “I can feel it.”
Neptune laughed, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“I’ll stop teasing you. For now.” He turned his attention back to the painting. “So what do you think of it? Honestly.”
I studied the artwork again, taking in the details I’d missed in my shock. The brushstrokes were confident yet delicate, creating texture in the waves that seemed almost three-dimensional. Thestorm clouds were ominous, but that ray of sunlight breaking through gave the whole piece a sense of hope I couldn’t quite explain.
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly. “I’ve never seen water painted like this before. It’s like you understand it on some fundamental level.”
“I do,” he replied simply, a hint of something deeper in his tone. “The ocean is part of me.”
I turned to face him fully. “And the figure? Is that really supposed to be me?”
His eyes met mine, steady and unashamed. “Yes. After our night together, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I needed to put you somewhere.”
“So you put me on a ship heading toward the light?” I asked, unable to keep the wonder from my voice.
“It felt right,” he shrugged. “You seemed like someone searching for something. Moving toward it despite the storm.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. How had he seen that in me during our brief encounter? How had he captured exactly how I felt, like I was fighting against overwhelming pressure, desperately seeking some kind of breakthrough? Was I that transparent?
“I never caught your real name,” I managed to say.
“Nerion,” he replied. “Nerion Thalassos.”
“Nerion,” I repeated, liking how it felt on my tongue. “It suits you better than Neptune.”
“Theodore doesn’t suit you,” he said with a small smile. “You seem more like aTeddyto me. Though I liked Theo too. He was brave.”
I swallowed hard. “He was drunk on punch.”
Nerion laughed again. “Maybe a little. But I think he was in there all along.” He gestured toward another painting, this one of a calm sea at night, moonlight creating a silvery path acrossthe water. “Would you like to see the rest? I can give you a personal tour.”
“I’d like that,” I said, my heart racing. “Very much.”
As we moved to the next painting, Nerion stood close enough that our arms occasionally brushed. Each contact sent electricity through me, reminding my body of everything we’d done together. Everything I wanted to do again, right here, on the gallery room floor.