Bloody Painter X Judge Angels Novels & Stories

Some lay quietly beneath blankets. The atmosphere was vastly different from the lively scene outside. “These are survivors of abuse,” Angelicca continued softly. “Most of them suffered severe physical and psychological trauma. Their cases are often the most difficult to treat.” Jace's expression darkened. As Jace silently observed the room, something else caught his attention. The moment Angelicca stepped inside, the atmosphere subtly changed. Patients who had appeared tired moments earlier suddenly brightened. Several smiled warmly at her. Others raised their hands in greeting despite their weakness. Some called out her name softly.

AUTHOR'S POV Xavier clenched his hands into tight fists until the knuckles turned white, his hand itching to hit something as thirsty for blood raised inside him. “Are these reports correct?” He asked through gritted teeth, his voice cold enough to freeze everything in the living room. Angelina swallowed when she heard the chill in Xavier’s voice. She couldn't believe what they had just found out. Just like Xavier, she wanted to know the truth. Angelina knows that Pamela could be cruel. However, she didn't know that she could be that cruel.

Mateo asked again more venomously. “Please, don’t do this” Xavier begged for the first time in his life, “Please, I would give you whatever you want” he said to Mateo who smirked back sadistically. “You cannot give me what I already have,” Mateo replied, his grip on Nessa’s hair tightened and Nessa cried out in pain. Xavier raised his both hands, surrendering to the Spanish Mafia, he threw his gun far from his reach as an act of surrender. “Please, kill me instead, Just let her go” he pleaded again, his once steady powerful voice was gone and his voice sounded to him like a weak teenager.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you by taking your blood, I won't say I didn't know what I was doing then but I can tell you that I didn't think much of it, k didn't even know that it would work out, fuck, if I know or rather if my family knew we would have asked the house of beauty for help a long time again, we didn't even know that the Alessandros are the house of beauty few years ago so how would I know that your blood can awaken ours back" Jamie pleaded to the angelic being in a white robe standing in front of the window of his room.

“There are plenty.” I looked at my own reflection. She was staring at me, but it wasn’t friendly. It was sharp, judgmental. “But honestly,” the makeup artist chuckled, “He doesn’t strike me as the type to be easily tempted." “Especially when he’s with someone like Lyla Emerson,” she added with a small smile. Lyla chuckled and finally turned to me. “You think so too, Angela?” I flinched slightly at the sound of my name. “He’s not the type to be easily tempted, right?” she continued, her tone casual, but her eyes locked onto mine. Sharp. Piercing.

"The payment has been authorized. You may leave." I purse my lips and stand up. "Let's go, Arlo." Raphael turns to leave. Angels operate on Order, not Charity. They have a schedule to keep, and giving a ride to two homeless isn't on it. Angels are 'Lawful Good' on paper, but in reality? They are cold, clinical sociopaths who would let you bleed out on the sidewalk if saving you violated a protocol. I see Raphael raise a hand. He looks annoyed by Fenris's continued struggling. He's about to use force.

"I was going to make you my pathetic slave for people of all kingdoms to see, but you have insulted my mercy. Now I will sow death in your blood." The dark angel raises his hand and his fingers strangely starts to lengthen. The skin of his hand turns dark and the lengthening fingers bony. I jump in front of my beautiful mate before the hand of death reaches him.

The word tore from my throat as I slid down the counter, my legs unable to hold me. I’d butcher men without remorse and paint their blood on the walls as if it was some fucking piece of art. But this...this was different. My soul laid bare, utterly consumed by rage and anguish. My men stayed with me and watched their mafia king break apart, waiting for the explosion. My wrath would awaken the demon inside me, summon hell, and unleash my demons to wreak havoc on Earth to avenge my Angel. “How did they get to her?” My voice was hoarse, the words muffled as I spoke into my hands.

“They selected four paintings this year. Yours was one of them.” Verity’s lips parted. She could not speak at first. Her eyes filled with tears before she could stop them. They slipped down her cheeks, warm and sudden. All the nights she had painted alone, all the times she felt invisible in her old life — it rushed back at her in this quiet room. Quentin turned her gently to face him. His thumb brushed her tears away with such care that more came. He wiped them slowly, his gray-blue eyes soft on hers. “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t know how you did this… but thank you. No one has ever seen me like this. Not really. Not until you.”

You declared to submit your life for me and dedicated yourself to my world. Aren’t your hands painted with blood too? Didn’t you let your dick taste pussies and ass? Didn’t you inhale the smoke of gunfire after shooting people to your heart content? Don’t you fucking show me this attitude. I gave you this life. I gave you money. I gave you all this luxury, because you wanted it. And now you dare rub it on my face????