Checkmate Painting Novels & Stories

The groom mounting the bride on a throne of corpses. My hand moved faster than my mind. I dipped the brush deeper, harder, tearing at the canvas like I was cutting flesh. I mixed the reds and blacks until they bled together, thick and viscous. The eyes I painted stared back, wide and lifeless. The flowers were rotting. The sky dripped gore. A massacre. And I smiled. They wanted a masterpiece? I’d give them one they’d never forget.

The winding crimson of shame, the chilling green of violation, the murky depth of that intimate humiliation, the blue tear. “The work is raw,” he pronounced. “Powerful, but vulnerable. The colors can smudge. The memory can fade.” He stopped in front of her, holding up the bottle. “This is damar varnish. It protects. It seals. It gives the painting its final, luminous finish. A hard finish. Impervious. And obscenely glossy.”

Najmah questioned, snubbing her. "It's uhm...dark," Arzu replied, assessing the painting."And intense?" Najmah had painted a crimson red rose in the middle of a dark forest, surrounded by a thick blanket of dried leaves and thorns. The thorns had sharp spiky edges, casting an ominous hue over the forest. At the side of the forest was a silhouette of a man trying to break through the thorns surrounding the rose. "Is that so?" Najmah threw her head back, gazing at the painting with a frown."I guess you're right," she shrugged, looking down at her paint covered clothes. "I gotta change, I hope you don't mind."

Bert asked, standing next to the painting he’d been working on. Rain stepped around where she could see. It was her. Though he’d used non-traditional colors for most everything except her hair, which still looked different since it was painted in an array of oranges and reds, it was still obvious the figure, painted in yellows, greens, and blues, was her--looking up at the Gate, which was located in the background, painted in a deep blue with a twinkle of sunlight glinting off of it. “Wow!” Rain’s hands went to cover her mouth. She was at a loss for words. “That’s… incredible!”

Blood on her lip. And beneath the photo, a single word written in red: “Checkmate.”

I couldn’t help but take a deep breath, feeling my heart race and butterflies in my stomach. I saw him sitting on the Alpha’s chair like a true king. His scent kept pulling me toward him. It smelled like sandalwood and leather, mixed with something sweet—maybe vanilla. Each breath made me want to get closer, even though I tried to resist. Even after being rejected, the mate bond was still strong. I tried not to look directly at his face. I could see the Alpha and Luna sitting nearby, along with his Beta. His friend Raymond was standing near the king too.

Knight’s lips twitched, as if forming a smile, but it was quickly retracted. "That one," he said, nodding toward a small painting on the wall, about the size of an A4 paper. It depicted underwater coral, with clean brushstrokes and vibrant colors. It was indeed beautiful. But Annabelle didn’t want to accept it. Suddenly being gifted a painting made her feel uncomfortable, especially considering the earlier incident with him secretly watching her behind the curtain. Before she could think of a way to decline, Damien had already taken the painting and handed it to her.

especially when something is a once chance in a lifetime. "I'll wait for my mate. I have something important to do." That man leaves the room thinking he has to leave Colorado before Boyd hears he's back. "That boy doesn't know what's good for him. Damn it, mating with Wisdom would give him wealth and power." Kent yells Lloyd looked out the window at Arturo driving away thinking "That went as I thought it would." ****

I ate them quietly in the kitchen, letting the sound of Marek’s laugh fill the quiet. Once I finished, I took a peak at the security cameras. It looked like they were either taking down the first bench or coming up with the second couch. The one that was there though looked fantastic. I loved it against the grey floor and the color of the wall. It wouldn’t really be complete until the other paintings went back up and I finished up painting the giant plant vases.

Turn a straight man gay kinda hot. Dark hair almost black in-fact and piercing ice blue eyes stare out from the portrait. A perfectly sculpted face and body. I look down at the plaque which reads “Alpha Matt Ortega Of The Moon Lake Pack” I hiss out a breath. “Well fuck” I mumble stepping back. But I’m blocked from moving any further. I turn around to work out what’s blocking my path when my nose meets the surface of a rock hard chest. I glance up to see the portrait is looking right down at me looking annoyed. Only it’s not the portrait it’s the real deal.