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Canvas of Our Souls: Ink & Intimacy, #1
Canvas of Our Souls: Ink & Intimacy, #1
Canvas of Our Souls: Ink & Intimacy, #1
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Canvas of Our Souls: Ink & Intimacy, #1

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Leilani
One fateful night, I stumbled into his tattoo parlor, my heart shattered by betrayal.
Kade Alvarez, the brooding artist with ink-covered skin and haunted eyes.
He's dangerous, a bad boy with a reputation that should send me running.
But I'm drawn to his darkness, to the pain that mirrors my own.
He sees through my facades, awakening desires I've never dared to explore.
I know I should resist him, guard what's left of my broken heart.
But with every touch, every searing kiss, I'm falling deeper under his spell.
Loving Kade could be my salvation or my ultimate destruction.

Kade
She walked into my shop like a lost angel, all wide-eyed innocence and hidden scars.
I should send her away, protect her from the beast that lurks beneath my ink.
But I crave her light, her goodness, even as I long to taint it.
I want to mark her skin, claim her body and soul.
I've never let a woman get close, never believed in the lie of love.
Yet with Leilani, I find myself yearning for more than just fleeting pleasure.
She's my sweet addiction, tempting me to crash against the rocks of my own damnation.
I know I'll ruin her, but I can't stay away, even if it destroys us both in the end.

In the steamy streets of Miami, two damaged hearts collide, igniting a firestorm of passion and pain. Can Kade and Leilani heal each other's wounds, or will their pasts tear them apart forever?

 

A Note to Readers: While 'Canvas of Our Souls' tackles heavy subjects and intense emotions, it is not a traditional dark romance. This book is about the light that can be found in even the darkest of places, and the transformative power of love and healing. If you're looking for a gritty, explicit read, this may not be the book for you.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 22, 2024
ISBN9798224204885
Canvas of Our Souls: Ink & Intimacy, #1

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    Book preview

    Canvas of Our Souls - Fortuna Lux

    Canvas of Our Souls

    Fortuna Lux

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    Fortuna Lux LLC

    Copyright © 2024 by Fortuna Lux

    All rights reserved.

    No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

    Contents

    Acknowledgements

    Dedication

    Content Warning

    1.Kade

    2.Leilani

    3.Kade

    4.Leilani

    5.Kade

    6.Leilani

    7.Kade

    8.Leilani

    9.Kade

    10.Leilani

    11.Kade

    12.Leilani

    13.Kade

    14.Leilani

    15.Kade

    16.Leilani

    17.Kade

    18.Leilani

    19.Kade

    20.Leilani

    21.Kade

    22.Leilani

    23.Kade

    24.Leilani

    25.Kade

    26.Leilani

    27.Kade

    28.Leilani

    29.Kade

    Epilogue

    Leilani

    About the Author

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    My journey to this moment has been nothing short of an adventure, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns. It would not have been possible without a group of incredible individuals who believed in the story I wanted to tell and in me, even when I struggled to believe in myself.

    To my dedicated Alpha readers—Michelle, Alicia—your insights, feedback, and encouragement were the guiding stars that helped navigate this ship to its destination. Each of you brought a unique perspective that enriched this narrative, making it what it is today. I am endlessly grateful for your time, your patience, and your unwavering support.

    Emma, where do I even begin? You stepped into a whirlwind of ideas and drafts and helped me find clarity and direction. Your skill in untangling my mess and your ability to see the heart of my story when it was hidden even from me were nothing short of miraculous. This book is better because of you.

    And Becca, my rock—how you manage to keep my chaos completely organized will forever be a mystery to me. Your spirit, your humor, and your let's tackle it attitude have been my anchor through this entire process. What would I do without you? I hope I never have to find out.

    To everyone who has ever believed in me, who has offered a word of encouragement, who has shared in my dreams—you are the reason I had the courage to embark on this journey. Your faith in me has been a source of strength and motivation.

    And to you, the reader, for taking a chance on my debut novel, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This story now belongs to you as much as it does to me. I hope it finds a place in your heart and stays with you long after you turn the final page.

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    To those who crave the intoxication of a midnight kiss, even when dawn promises nothing but whispers of what could have been.

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    Canvas of Our Souls delves into deep and often traumatic territories of the human experience. This story is a journey through the highs and lows of life, exploring themes of love, redemption, and the resilience of the human spirit. However, it also touches on sensitive subjects that may be triggering for some readers.

    Please be advised that this book contains the following:

    Domestic Violence and Abuse: Descriptions of physical and emotional abuse.

    Substance Abuse and Addiction: Portrayals of alcohol and drug use, as well as the challenges of addiction and recovery.

    Strong Language: The narrative includes explicit language that some may find offensive.

    Sexual Content: Scenes depicting sexual encounters and discussions of sexual relationships.

    Mental Health Issues: Exploration of characters' struggles with mental health, including depression and trauma.

    Physical Violence: Instances of physical altercations and descriptions of violence.

    Emotional Trauma: Characters experience significant emotional distress and trauma.

    Your well-being is paramount to us. While we believe in the power of storytelling to heal and inspire, we also recognize that some narratives may stir deep emotions or unearth past traumas. If you find yourself feeling distressed or triggered by any of these topics, we encourage you to prioritize your mental health, seek support, and consider whether continuing to read is the best choice for you at this moment.

    Canvas of Our Souls is crafted with love, care, and a deep respect for the stories of survival and healing. We invite you to join us in this journey only if you feel comfortable and safe doing so. Remember, putting your mental health first is not only important—it's essential.

    For those who choose to proceed, we hope this story offers you moments of understanding, connection, and hope.

    Chapter 1

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    July 10th - (3 years ago)

    Ghosts stalk these familiar streets, ambushing me with every heavy footfall against the cracked pavement. Ten years away and still their phantoms find me, dragging me back into memories I've killed myself escaping.

    Each corner is a snapshot of a troubled past - the ravine where Kyle wrecked yet another car, the park where I hid out when home got too heavy. 

    But it's the one-way street up ahead that makes each step leaden. The phantom echoes intensify, screams reverberating inside my skull. Chloe's terrified face flashes before me, sea-green eyes wide in those final moments. 

    I push the image back before it can fully assault me. Her blood may not be fresh on my hands anymore, but it'll never be completely gone. 

    Mami's little white house comes into view between the gnarled oaks. So deceptively tidy - you'd never guess at the chaos it contains. Like my little brother. 

    Knowing my luck, Kyle will already be here with some flashy car and smug sneer, relishing the chance to watch me squirm under the weight of our fucked up history.

    Need a little pre-game before the main event? Nic croons, waving a glassine baggie in my peripheral vision. White powder winks at me from inside, a temptress promising sweet oblivion.

    I exhale slowly through my nose, itching for a fix. Better not. At least not 'til after we get this over with.

    Nothing would take the edge off faster than stepping into the emotional shit storm waiting inside. But I need to keep my wits sharp if I'm going to navigate the minefield of my family.

    Nicole shifts restlessly beside me, skimpy sundress riding up her crossed legs. She insisted on accompanying me for moral support, although I know the real reason…she just wants to be anywhere but trapped in her own head. 

    I get it - that's what drew me to her. We’re alike, Nic and I…two lost souls using each other to outrun our demons.

    You sure you're ready for this? Nic pouts but stashes the baggie without protest. We've been chasing thrills together for a few weeks now, but there's no real bite to her disappointment.

    My gaze snags on her endless legs and plunging neckline showcased by the barely-there sundress. A potent distraction from the ghosts and dread churning my gut.

    No. But Mami needs this. Needs to see with her own eyes that I didn't wreck myself like she always feared.

    The door creaks open and there stands my mother. 

    Deep laugh lines frame her onyx eyes, weariness bruising the delicate skin beneath. But her face transforms, radiance breaking through at the sight of me darkening her doorway once more.

    Kadencio, mi amor! She breathes my name like a prayer and an apology entwined. Her thin arms tremble as she reaches for me, paper-soft hands cupping my face reverently.

    I allow myself three seconds to drink in her achingly familiar scent - crisp linen and the faint tainted tinge of her pain meds. Three blissful seconds to bask in her frail absolution before my walls slam back up. I pull away, angling my body out of her desperate clutch.

    Hurt clouds Mami's eyes but she recovers quickly, her smile not quite reaching her gaze this time. She glances at Nic, questions and quiet judgment for my choice in company evident. 

    I scrape together a terse introduction before ushering Nic inside the cramped foyer ahead of me.

    The mingling smells of Fabuloso, old cigarettes, and the ghosts of happier times sucker-punch me. No amount of bleach can scour the sense of memories from these cracked walls. Steeling myself, I step into the adjoining kitchen.

    And there, lounging against the faded yellow counters like no time has passed at all, is my little brother. 

    Kyle. A sweating beer bottle dangles from one hand, the other drumming an agitated beat against his denim-clad thigh. A familiar mocking smirk already twists his mouth.

    Well, well. The prodigal son returns, Kyle drawls, dark eyes glinting. He tilts his chin toward Nicole, brazenly eyeing her up and down. And you brought a little distraction with you. Cute.

    My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache but I won't give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait. Kyle, I say flatly. A statement, not a greeting.

    What, no hug? He splays his arms wide in mock invitation. Don't be rude, Kade. Bring it in!

    The urge to plant my fist in his sneering face pulses molten. But Mami is watching us, her smile fraying at the edges, so I force my feet to carry me robotically to my brother.

    Our embrace is perfunctory, a brief, hard clash of limbs. This close, I catch the whiskey sour on his breath. Starting early today.

    Why don't we all sit, and eat before everything gets cold? Mami flutters between us, forcing brightness. 

    She ushers us to the worn kitchen table set with a dizzying spread of Cuban comfort foods. It's an absurd amount for four people. Guess she's still trying to fill the yawning void Dad left with his favorite dishes.

    I mechanically shovel Mami's ropa vieja into my mouth, letting the conversation eddy around me. 

    Kyle keeps up a steady stream of needling jabs and not-so-subtle digs - about my ink, my girl, my choices. I let them pelt me, features schooled into careful blankness.

    But halfway through the meal, Mami mentions a name that makes me see white. Chloe would have loved to be here, que Dios la tenga en su gloria...

    It takes every ounce of hard-won control not to flinch. Beside me, I feel more than see Kyle's vicious smirk. The bastard knows that's the kill shot, the ghost that will never not make me bleed.

    In a blink, I'm back in that twisted hunk of metal. Chloe's hair matted with blood, her hand going slack in mine, the light leaving wide eyes frozen in accusation -

    Nic's foot finds mine under the table, anchoring me back in the present. I exhale harshly through my nose, flexing my hands under the table. 

    Lock it down. 

    Graft an easy smile that feels more like a rictus. Yeah, Mami. She would have.

    Kyle's gaze glitters with malice, enjoying watching me spar with phantoms he conjured. I stare blankly ahead for the rest of the meal, like a marionette going through the motions.

    After dinner finishes in tense silence, Mami tries to draw me into a shaky hug on the porch. It's awkward and too tight, the angle is all wrong. 

    I'm just so happy to see you, mijo, she whispers, voice cracking. Do you have to leave so soon?

    I carefully extract myself, ignoring the loaded question and Kyle's knowing look as he skulks in the background. This was good, Mami. Thanks.

    Nic appears at my elbow, uncharacteristically subdued. She slips her hand in mine, the small connection bracing.

    We make it a block from the house before Nic breaks the charged silence. That was...intense. You okay?

    A bitter laugh punches out of me. Understatement of the century. I scrub my free hand over my face, suddenly feeling a hundred years old. Now you get why I stayed away so long.

    Nic stops walking, tugging me around to face her. Cocks her head, considering me. You don't have to explain anything to me, Kade. God knows I'm an expert at avoiding my damage.

    Funny how this party girl I've always kept in the shallow end, can see right to the heart of me. I pull her into my arms. She smells like jasmine and just a hint of weed..almost too familiar, and I almost have to remind myself not to get too close.

    Let's not talk about it, Nic squeezes before pulling away, a glint in her eyes. Now, what do you say we go find some real fun? I think we both could use a hard reset after that little reunion.

    The corner of my mouth kicks up. She gets it, I need to lose myself for a while in a haze of pulsing lights, pounding bass, and skin on skin. Lead the way.

    Maybe I can't outrun the demons forever. But as I let Nic tug me toward the distant thrum of Miami's glittering nightlife, the chokehold they have on me loosens infinitesimally.

    In the electric lure of the club, I can pretend I'm not the prodigal son nursing a decade of festering wounds. I'm just a man, untethered from everything but the driving beat and the promise of oblivion, however fleeting.

    The reprieve is the headiest drug I know. And for tonight at least, I plan to chase the high for all it's worth.

    Chapter 2

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    October 7th - (2 years ago)

    The sketchpad digs into my lap as I add the finishing touches to my latest design, graphite smudging the side of my hand. Bold prints and sleek silhouettes flow from my pencil onto the thick paper, the beginnings of the collection I pray will be my big break. 

    I can practically feel the whisper of silk chiffon against my fingertips, and hear the appreciative murmurs as my daring cocktail dress slinks down the runway at Fashion Week.

    But the hopeful vision blurs at the edges, my focus not fully committed. I shift on the hard park bench, massaging the ache in my lower back. The lingering heat of Indian summer clings to my skin despite the meager shade from the rustling oak overhead.

    I tug my phone from my bag to check the time again, lips compressing. Kyle is nearly half an hour late meeting me for lunch, a too-frequent occurrence lately. My earlier texts sit there, delivered but unread. Typical.

    With a sigh, I turn back to my sketch, trying to lose myself in the flow of creation. 

    But I can't quite shake the nagging worry churning in my stomach like sour milk. Kyle's been acting distant for weeks now - breaking dates last minute, only half-listening when we are together, his eyes constantly glued to his phone...

    Stop it, I admonish myself harshly. 

    I'm borrowing trouble, seeing problems where there are none. 

    Every couple goes through rough patches, especially driven young professionals like us. I refuse to be some insecure shrew who can't handle her boyfriend having a demanding career.

    Still, a persistent whisper niggles the back of my brain that Kyle's distraction lately runs deeper than work stress. That Noelle's name pops up far too often, that spicy-sweet perfume clinging to his shirts isn't one I recognize...

    I scrub my free hand over my face. Get a grip, Leilani. Kyle would never betray me like that. We're solid, unshakeable. This is a temporary blip, nothing more.

    My phone trills suddenly with Kyle's ringtone, the opening chords of Our Song incongruously cheerful. I snatch it up to read his text that he'll be here in five, just had to slip away from a meeting.

    Giddy excitement flutters through my chest and I quickly gather my supplies. 

    A few stolen moments are better than nothing after barely seeing each other all week. I mentally start rehearsing how I'll tell him my good news about the collection as I hurry down the crowded sidewalk.

    I spot Kyle exiting the building and despite myself, my heart stutters. He cuts such a striking figure in his tailored charcoal suit and crimson tie, all masculine angles and effortless charisma. 

    Even after two years together, I'm not immune.

    I lift a hand to wave eagerly but he's got his phone pressed to his ear, mouth moving rapidly. As he draws closer, I catch snatches of his agitated tone.

    Warren wouldn't shut the hell up about billables in there. And I've got a massive presentation I'm not nearly prepped for. This damn merger... He reaches me and swoops in to peck my cheek. 

    Kyle’s expensive cologne is nearly eclipsed by the coffee and stress rolling off him. Hi honey, sorry I'm late. It's a zoo at the agency today.

    Hi yourself, I say brightly, determined to shake off my earlier melancholy. I link my arm through his as we set off down the block. I'm just happy to see you.

    But Kyle is only half-listening, as usual–his gaze still locked on his phone as his thumbs fly over the screen. 

    No doubt firing off more work emails. I chatter gamely about my day, filling him in on the hints Camille dropped about putting me up for Fashion Week, but it's clearly falling on distracted ears.

    After a few more minutes of being summarily ignored for his electronic leash, I can't bite my tongue anymore. Gently but firmly, I tug the sleek device from his hand mid-email.

    Hey, I need that! Kyle yells, making a grab for it. 

    I hold the phone away, staring at him until he meets my gaze with a huff.

    Babe, c'mon. You know how slammed I am with the Barlow House acquisition! His voice grows louder with each word.

    I do know that, I say evenly. Which is why I'm asking for just twenty minutes of your undivided attention. I feel like I've barely seen you lately and now I can't even get a little eye contact.

    My light tone belies the accusation, but hurt prickles insistently in my chest. 

    When did I start ranking below an iPhone? 

    Kyle sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Collecting himself. When he looks at me again, those forest-green eyes have cleared. He takes my hand and squeezes it.

    You're right. I'm sorry, Lei. I know I've been preoccupied. Kyle’s mouth kicks up ruefully. Forgive me? I'm an ass.

    Despite myself, I soften. This is the charming, present Kyle I adore, the one I fell for years ago. I muster a smile and press a kiss on his cheek.

    You're forgiven. For now. I tap his nose playfully. Just don't make a habit of choosing your phone over this fab face.

    Kyle chuckles and drapes an arm around me, tucking me into his side. I inhale the familiar scent of him and feel something unclench inside. Maybe I was overreacting earlier, projecting my insecurities onto him.

    I open my mouth, ready to gush about my collection when Kyle suddenly snaps his fingers like he's just remembered something.

    Oh hey, before I forget - we're set for Noelle's birthday thing on Friday, right? Echoes at 9?

    My stomach drops, and my mood evaporates like mist. Of course, he wants to discuss Noelle. 

    The agency's wunderkind and my mentor have been commanding more and more of his time lately, leaving me feeling like an outsider in both relationships.

    I've tried to ignore the hot stab of something uglier than envy when I see them together, heads bent conspiratorially over a project or trading quips only they understand. 

    Noelle is undeniably stunning with her razor-sharp mind and bold style. And next to Kyle's classic masculine looks, they make quite the power couple...

    I shove the bitter musing away. I'm being ridiculous. Kyle is devoted to me, not some vapid flirtation with a colleague. I trust him completely.

    Unable to entirely squash the tendrils of unease that creep through me like a chill whenever her name leaves Kyle's lips or her texts make his phone vibrate constantly. I swallow thickly and fix a bright smile.

    Yep, all set. Can't wait to party with the agency's finest. I force a lightness into my voice, even as my heart feels like lead.

    I'm opening my mouth to mention my collection again, but Kyle is already disentangling himself from me, expression harried.

    Shit, that's my 1:30 client. I gotta jet, babe. He swoops in to smack a quick, distracted kiss on my forehead. Talk more later though, yeah? Maybe we can sneak in dinner this week.

    Sure. Dinner, I echo weakly. But he's already striding back toward the office building, phone pressed to his ear and all traces of the last five minutes forgotten.

    I stand frozen on the sidewalk, staring after my boyfriend's retreating back. 

    He didn't even ask about the news I was bursting to share. I feel foolish now for thinking a few minutes together could magically bridge this growing distance between us.

    Robotically, I turn back the way I came, high heels clicking hollowly on the pavement. 

    All the earlier excitement over my designs has leached out of me, leaving a spreading numbness. I feel like the lunch hour crowds buffeting past, just another anonymous body trudging along.

    Somehow, I make it back to my desk, slouching before the vivid swatches and sketches, but now their cheerful colors mock me. Listlessly, I pick up my pencil and try to add to the dress design. The lines waver and blur under my shaking hand.

    Stop being pathetic, I order myself sternly. 

    Kyle isn't pulling away, he's just swamped. Our relationship isn't suddenly in jeopardy because of a few canceled dates or forgotten details. 

    I'm not the kind of woman who needs coddling or constant attention to feel secure. I just need to put on my game face and tough it out a little longer until the worst of his workload passes. 

    In the meantime, I'll focus on knocking the partner's socks off with my collection. I square my shoulders and attack the cocktail dress

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