Edward Bluemel Face Novels & Stories

He doesn’t look at all like the man I’ve been envisioning this whole time, which is probably why it’s easy for me to stand here and not faint like I initially thought I would. “Amen,” Reynold says as he opens his eyes. They’re a striking blue, like his son’s, but they’re softer. Kinder. I feel sick to my stomach. For years, I’ve imagined a mean face. But this man…this man is dying. He’s not the monster I’ve been seeing this whole time. That’s the part that gets me. I set the fruit salad down on the table and this attracts someone’s attention. Edmund’s. His expression is unreadable as I meet his gaze, right before I step back.

He winked and blew a kiss into the camera. I prayed for the ground to open and swallow me whole. Death would be better than this. He turned away from the camera, and another row of gasps floated around as a fist connected to his jaw. He fell to the floor, rolling around and clutching his face. I sat up straight, wondering if Adrian had just done that. But when the camera moved, there was a different face staring down at Julian. Tall, broad-shouldered, black hair falling slightly over his forehead and intense brown eyes that always seem to observe things happening around him. It was Ethan Blake.

A large, meaty hand reached out and grabbed the light, swiveling it so that it now shined down directly on my face and blinded me. Squinting my eyes, I tried to call out into the darkness -- but I couldn’t. There was a gag in my mouth that not only kept me from speaking in anything more than incoherent mumbles, but there was also a leather strip affixed to the front that kept my teeth from touching. The muttering around me continued. As my heart rate quickened, I could hear the sound of metal instruments being moved around on a cart beside my head. Suddenly, Edward’s face came into view. He was wearing a surgical mask, but as he stared down at me and pulled the latex gloves onto his hands wi

"Do you like it? You planned to escape by hitting one of my pack members. How dare you?" Slash... "Fifteen." Came a meek voice from Iris's mouth. Her head hung low, tears kept on rolling down her cheeks soaking her face, jaw, and upper body. Once the twenty slashes were done, nothing came out from her mouth even after Leonard's terrifying warning. She was down completely with pain. Her eyes started seeing weird things. Her blurry vision couldn't get a proper glance of the man standing in front of her. Leonard gripped her jaw to meet her eyes. But her beautiful ocean blue eyes looked more like a dead water body that had no wave of emotions. Rather her dropping figure was only supported by the

I gritted. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, love." Love. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Stop calling me that. Actually—don't—but still stop. What's happening, again? I kept my eyes narrowed at him, ignoring how fast my heart was beating. "You're evil. Cruel bastard." He laughed. "Am I? You did it first, Bloom." I rolled my eyes playfully, grabbing a napkin off the counter and wiping my now sticky and cold face.

His eyes glimmered as he looked around the vessel, perhaps attempting to memorize its design. The crowd broke into applause as a figure walked onto the stage—Mr. Beauxdera, no doubt. His appearance was unusual, even bohemian, but as he was a musician, I presumed he was in the habit of drawing attention to himself. He possessed elfin features, with high cheekbones, a pointed beard, and dark brown locks that flowed to just above his shoulders. His light green eyes looked down at us from behind perfect-circle spectacles, seeing everyone but me, it seemed. It is strange, how small one can feel just from seeing someone beautiful.

“Which is why the Geneva plan is risky. New faces. New rooms. New tests. If I fail—” “You will not fail,” I said. “Because I will be your eyes.” Eleanor returned to her canvas but she still had more to say. “There is one further thing. The face blindness is not total. There are rare moments of clarity, usually under great stress or equally great emotion. He saw your face once, Sloane. In the darkroom. Before the fall. Before Adrian. He has kept that single image the way other people keep photographs. He measures every face against it. None of them have matched.”

His voice cracked. “Shh.” I brushed my thumb beneath his eye. “You don’t have to talk yet.” But Edward shook his head. “I do. I owe you the truth.” He tried to sit up straighter against the pillows, and I helped him, careful of the fading welt along his ribs. The marks from Bibi Kamwe’s strike were healing, thanks to the energy I had fed him, but he was still fragile. His hair, white now, startlingly white and streaked with black that was growing back slowly, draped across his forehead, giving him an otherworldly softness that he didn’t seem aware of.

"My back is in pain." "There is no more space to move around. Why don't you turn around and face on this side," he suggested. Ella follows his suggestion and slowly turns around. Now she is facing him and for the first time, she was able to see his face up close. She just now realizes how perfectly symmetrical Edward's face was. He has bristly eyebrows and well-defined cheekbones. His unfathomable, golden brown eyes contrasted exceptionally with his fair complexion. He has this charisma that is very captivating that she couldn't take her eyes off him. Edward was too close to her that she could smell her fresh minty breath and his expensive perfume.

I was still in a dilemma regarding the seat arrangement, and the figure came closer. His face has a soft jaw. Unlike Blaze and Blathier who seem very manly. Andrew has the face of kpop idols who happen to have tall and muscular bodies. He walked over and carried his briefcase. The look in his eyes was fixed on me, giving me goosebumps. Is this glass of car not tinted?