Bloody Painter Novels & Stories

Ada Wood worked really hard. The painting's last corner was unfinished. She wished to complete the picture. Jump out of the arms of and then pick up the cans on the ground, facing his arm, hard to row down. He stretched out to grab the scarlet blood that was flowing from his arm. Then walk to the last corner, pick up the brush on the ground, stained with the blood of millions of cool cities, and continue to paint on it. Ada Wood's paintings in the last corner are vivid red, not roses. It's a lovely flower. It can only exist on the road of the yellow spring, no matter how lovely it is. stands peacefully alongside Ada Wood, allowing her to use his blood as paint.

I entered the dark house being greeted by the smell of dried blood, I walked down the hall towards the bedrooms, past the larger suite towards the bedroom, our bedroom, opening the door to find dust and mold covering the bed, floor, and turning the immense painting towards the wall, his present, our present. In the huge picture, the river of blood running through the fissure in the earth, the tiny bodies numbered five, the small feet with names chosen by her. I made her choose while begging her to stop while crying on her knees looking at the painting. The sentence painted by her shining in letters distorted by white paint. ' The heart only serves to beat It was after that after her gaze pen

She wondered in the hallway, there was no trace of Vlad. She stopped by huge painting, she couldn't understand what is it. For her it's just colors. "It's a blood!" She flinched, getting caught off-guard By Ivan, Vladimir's Brother. "What?" She frowned. She can't even imagine that a painting which is coloured with blood is hanging openly in this mansion. What kind of sadist people stays here. He chuckled mischievously. "Just kidding... It's painted by my father, he is such an artist... The only thing he is an expert in, except having affairs with multiple women at the same time."

( I inquired In a scared tone and met nothing but silence) My hands were pinned to the wall and I could feel the eyes of a stranger staring at me. "Can you please speak up?" I copied back my words. The stranger tugged my hair behind my ears and left still not being able to alter a single word. "Weird" I felt and left In a hurry only to fall my eyes to a bloodstain message on the wall, which reads, "life is full of ups and downs and at the end, we all have to pay for the crimes we committed, I am coming for you brother, get ready".

To the new leader of the blood-born, Malakai was the ultimate prize—a never-ending, self-replenishing blood bag of pure sustenance. The entity pulled back, its jagged jaw smeared with Malakai's bright, vibrant crimson blood. The monster let out a low, vibrating hum of sheer satisfaction. With a casual, effortless tug, it hauled Malakai's limp, paralyzed body out of the mud by his ruined silk collar, dragging him backward toward the edge of the cliff like a piece of slaughtered meat.

"If this artist makes your heart sing, then fly with him. I'll always be here, your safe harbour if the skies get rough." She squeezed my hand, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. "You're the best brother a girl could ask for, Alex. Always pushing me to chase my dreams, even when you're scared to chase your own." My own throat tightened. The shadows in my life, the web of violence I was entangled in – they were shackles I couldn't break, not while she was in my orbit. "Maybe you're right," I admitted, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Maybe it's time I painted my own masterpiece. Not on canvas, but in life."

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

I watched him as he walked out of my penthouse with determination and urgency in his steps and knew that he was going to make everything go smoothly as he usually does. I rest back against the couch I was seated on, closed my eyes, and smiled. If she thinks that she could just escape my clutches like that, then she’s got to think twice about that. But then the next minute, a frown replaced the smile on my face, as my thought drifted to the dangers that she was about to face soon. From past histories, the previous Blue Bloods weren’t able to overcome all the challenges they faced from the moment they were discovered before they were eventually killed.

“Why would you pose naked for a painter? Does Ser Phill know about this? Why would you do this, Caty? He’d be devastated if he found out—” “Calm down!” She laughed, cutting her off. She could clearly see Nelly’s shock and concern, and she appreciated it. It only proved how loyal Nelly was to Phillian. “I didn’t strip in front of just any painter, so chill.” “Then who—?” “Your boss painted it. I posed for him, silly.” Nelly’s eyes widened even more, her face baffled. “Oh, of course, you didn’t know.” She gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Everleigh!” Everleigh’s movements were a blur of crimson and shadow. I had never seen her fight before, and I never thought I would see the day. Her teeth sharpened into lethal points, glinted in the dim light. Arturo, with a feral grin, met her onslaught with equal ferocity. Their bodies became a whirlwind of motion, punctuated by the sharp cracks of flesh meeting flesh. Dominic, observing the chaos with cold calculation, waited for an opening. His eyes, devoid of emotion, fixed on me. I gulped. “Dominic…”