Alexander had always been able to get whatever he wanted. Being the future alpha meant that not only was he powerful, but he was also treated like a king.
This is why Andrea's rejection came as a shock, but little did he know that she was trying...
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:)
The sky was bright and blue. The heat that only summer can bring pressed against Andrea's skin making her want to take a cold shower, and even though her long hair was twisted around and piled on top of her head with two pencils, she could still feel a few rebellious strands escaping and clinging to her neck.
Despite all that, Andrea was hell bent on finishing the painting in front of her. The past two months had gone by faster than she could comprehend, mostly because she rarely took breaks from painting.
And every time she stopped, she remembered Alexander with his soft words and pleading eyes, asking her to stay, to not give up on them.
Andrea's brush strokes became harsher.
If only she could talk to him for a minute, or catch even a glimpse of him, that would be enough. There were too many words on the tip of her tongue, words that were there to reassure and soothe, but there was no one to say them to.
"Careful there, you look like you want to poke a hole in that canvas." An unfamiliar voice behind her said.
Andrea let out a loud scream and jerked from her place, which caused the brush to fly out of her hand and slam against the canvas, creating a black line across the painting and ruining it.
A boy who couldn't have been older than her was standing across the room. With the glint in his eyes and the ease in his posture, he looked like he wasn't barging into someone's house.
With complete fear in her eyes, Andrea stepped back.
"Who are you?"
His smile was all mirth and fangs. "A new friend, hopefully."
"Get out," Andrea grabbed a brush a held it in her hand like a knife.
To her horror, he merely rolled his eyes and stepped closer. There was nothing threatening in his gait, but he exuded so much power that she was sure he could kill her with a snap of his fingers.
"This is lovely," He said, his eyes on the painting now and his hands clasped behind his back like a critic. "But looking at your paintings collectively is exhausting. So much...despair,"
Andrea narrowed her eyes. "Get. Out. Of. My. House."
"Let's not be dramatic, sweetheart," He sat down on the stool, stretching his long legs in front of himself like a cat.
"Who are you?"
He looked at her for a moment then grinned in a way that made Andrea want to take another step back. But she stood her ground and glared at him. She wasn't going to be intimidated by a random stranger who thought that it was a good day to break into somebody's house and criticize their art.
"You're rather persistent. For now, let's stick with the name Theo,"
