Angel Dust Cute Art Novels & Stories

Because she was in the painting. It was impossible to put into words how gorgeous Alex's painting of Eva was—she was a gorgeous angel with a gorgeous moon behind her in a fantasy world. Eva could hardly believe her eyes as she stared at her own image, captured so beautifully on canvas. The attention to detail in the painting was astounding; from the way her hair cascaded down her back to the delicate lace of her dress. It was as if Alex had somehow managed to capture her essence, her very soul, in the strokes of his brush. She could feel the emotion and passion that he had poured into his work, and it moved her in a way she had never experienced before. As she gazed at the painting, she felt

The look in his eyes was focused and reverent, as though he was restoring a priceless work of art. "Madie, this pigment contains herbs from my research team to help your skin heal. Well? Do you like it?" Across my back, a phoenix traced in shimmering gold pigment spread its wings, looking utterly alive and magnificent. I silently admired that piece of art. Unlike the designs across my skin meant for the anthropodermic fan, this was something I'd chosen on my own. Elliott gently clasped a necklace around my neck. It was made of the finest pink diamonds.

“Vampires and Dragonkin don’t usually mingle, but yes I have some in stock.” “We’re special like that.” Milo grinned and chose a seat near the bed where I’d sat down. “What kind of art do you want?” He didn’t make any introductions so I didn’t feel the need to introduce us either. I pulled a sheet from my jacket pocket and handed it to him. I’d already designed it myself but if he was as good as I thought he was then he’d redraw it. “It’s in cuneiform, two names and a black baccara rose with thorns on the stem.”

’ It’s beautiful, and still takes my breath away whenever I look at it. Alice looks at me. “Is this Lesley?” That makes me laugh out loud. “No. It’s the Greek goddess Astraea. She’s the virgin goddess of justice, innocence, and purity.” “Figures,” Alice says, throwing me a wry look before turning her gaze back to it. “Who’s the artist?” I smile. “Damon.” She looks back at me, her mouth an O. “Seriously?” “Yeah. He says it’s just a hobby. Cocky bastard.”

**Story 6: Cursed Ink** **Chapter 3** Aria stood in front of the full-length mirror, naked, breathing hard. Her body was now a masterpiece of living, hungry art. The phoenix burned across her lower back, the black roses claimed her left breast, the serpent coiled around her right thigh with its head teasing her clit, angel wings spread across her shoulders, and the thorn chain wrapped around her waist like a possessive belt. She looked beautiful. She looked ruined.

Azriel commanded in an utterly casual tone of voice, as if he were only showing a drawing of a natural landscape. Isolde, with trembling fingers, turned the paper to the second page. There, the strokes of the drawing were far more bold and wild. There appeared a sketch of Isolde sitting leaning back with her pair of plump legs forced wide apart. Azriel's head was depicted as buried between the mounds of Isolde's large breasts, as if nursing greedily there. Not stopping there, one of Azriel's hands in the drawing appeared to grope downward, with detailed fingers depicted as penetrating Isolde's sensitive vagina area.

I asked with deception. He smirked and slowly getting near my face. I just stared at him blankly like I'm being hypnotized. 'Damn it don't make this man ruin the man out of you Harris!' My thoughts keeps repeating however I won't budge. Suddenly, The door opened and Cyrvian barged in carrying a silver tray looking shocked that he even dropped the loaf of bread hanging from his mouth. "I forgot to say It's three of us here in this cabin" I said sheepishly at him.

" I paint vigorously as the song plays. I'm desperately trying to get the image out of my mind onto the canvas. My brush travels across his chiseled jawline. My colors hold his textured blonde color in a lock of hair that hung in his face while the rest was pulled back. My shadows play with the rippled muscles under his shirt. I let the music inspire me as I paint the pale blue eyes staring at me. His tanned skin looks almost like I could reach in and feel it. The image in my mind comes alive in the painting. My painting. "Bastian." I whisper as I add tiny dances of light to his face. "Oh, that's lovely." I whip around and my mom is standing. I huff out a breath. "You scared me." She giggles

"Yes, yes!" Angel screamed, her fingernails elongating into claws as she dragged her fingers over the rug, leaving deep gouges in the expensive material. Still Layon continued until he heard her panting as though she couldn't take much more. He'd lost count of how many times she'd cliJasoned and the lazy-eyed, sated expression upon her face told him he'd done his job well. With one more thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his essence into her, hoping that one day it might take root and they might produce the next alpha of the Silverdale pack.

Aurora shyly met them and then the small Angela who met them excitedly. They all settled down in the lounge as they talked. Angela, who was sitting on the floor and was busy drawing, saw a large boot near her. Her head snapped up to see Luca, he crouched down and gazed at her paper. "What are you drawing?" He asked while observing her drawing. "Angel." She mumbled with a wide smile. Luca chuckled at her attempt. The drawing was looking anything but an angel. He recalled how Rasmus had called his drawing of Angel a mosquito once.