Medusa Painting

Merida was a certified black sheep of the family. She loves to hear her grandmother's story about fairies, dragons, pirates and princesses and her favorite was the tale about the legendary pirate named Escarial, and a Princess called Athalia. Listening to her grandma’s folktales was her routine all throughout her eighteen years of existence. That’s why when her grandmother died without having at least a last talk with her, she turned badly depressed. She didn’t go to school at all, and just stayed in her grandmother’s room to lock herself away from the rest of the world. Three days after her grandmother’s funeral, strange things happened in her room. The painting her old woman often gazed on suddenly moved and glowed. She succumbed to it, helpless, and had nothing to do to save herself because of the force that was beyond overwhelming. The next thing she knew, she was in North Sonnenfield. What’s more shocking to her was the name she’s called as by her servants; Princess Athalia—the heir of the throne, and the only daughter of King Eldar of North Sonnenfield. She was in awe, because she remembered that King Eldar was the character in the story. The palace where she found herself lost was the same place where the brave princess who ventured the dangerous sea had lived. She loves being in a Sonnenfield. However, she knew to herself that the day will come when she would wake up from a dream. But life always has a twist because Captain Escarial came to the scene. She expects that he will be gentleman just like pirate captain in the book. But to her horror, this Captain Escarial is snobbish, rude and proud. Oh, how she hates him!

He was told to protect me and yet I want him to ruin me. “Zyran?” He didn’t turn. “What is it, Myra?” I took a shaky breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Our arrangement. I want to understand my part in it.” Finally he turned. His pale eyes gleamed in the dim light, his gaze fixed on me so intently, it felt like a predator tracking its prey. “Your part is to be my wife and mine to give you protection.” “But you are the only one giving. I want to give you something too.” “I’m tired of being just a painting on the wall,” I whispered, stepping closer to him, the air crackling with so much tension, I may have forgotten how to breathe. “You're my husband. In every way, so I want you to teach me.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes darkening with every word I said. “Teach you what?” “Pleasure.” I said, biting down on my lip out of sheer nervousness “Your kind of pleasure. Show me what you like. Let me learn how to touch you. Let me make you feel something…” I agreed to marry Zyran Theon because he was my brother’s best friend and by far the safest option. A year of cold indifference seemed better than a lifetime of horror. However I never expected to find a man shattered by his own psyche and a constant repression of his urges to claim me and even worse I never expected to want him too.

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.

"How can I marry a man I do not know?" "Your father is the one who decides what can happen." "Why do I have to marry him?" "Your father wants to do business with him, and it is so much that it would take us from top twenty to top ten." Nirelle’s fate is sealed. After a life of endless scrubbing, suffering, and silence, her father decides her worth lies in securing a business deal. A deal so massive, it promises to thrust their family into elite status—at the cost of her freedom. Married off to a man cloaked in more secrets than the night sky, Nirelle wants to run. But there's nowhere to go. With every ounce of strength she has left, she chooses to shift prisons—from her father’s oppressive home to her new husband’s mansion. Lucien Vexley is nothing like she expected. The name alone strikes fear on the streets, the rumours painting him as a shadowy, ruthless enigma. Yet the man sitting across from her at the dining table, caring for her in ways she’s never known, is nothing like the beast they described. Lucien is a mystery she can’t seem to solve, and worse, he is her father's enemy. "You are handsome?" "It seems you were expecting me to be a beast?" "Well, according to the rumours," "Am I not here as a scapegoat for something?" Nirelle doesn’t understand the warmth beginning to stir in her chest, the way her stomach flutters when he's near. But something is changing. Something deep. Something dangerous. And she can't help it when she wants to join hands with him to take her father down. Sold to My Father's Enemy is a revenge tale that would keep you at the edge of your seats.

The night before the wedding, I'm about to share the news of my pregnancy with Chester Miller when I see Giselle Thorne sitting in his lap intimately. I'm about to storm in and confront them when I notice a man standing beside them. That man looks exactly like Chester, my boyfriend. I freeze, holding my breath as their voices carry clearly through the room. "Chester, this is ruthless. You actually proposed to her. From what I know, Miranda poured so much effort into this wedding," Giselle says. Chester snorts. "Giselle, she ruins your work and costs you the chance to win. I can't wait to see her, all dressed in her wedding gown and beaming with joy, only to watch me walk down the aisle holding your hand. Just thinking about it gives me a thrill." My eyes widen. It's clearly Giselle who has threatened me to hand over my work, and when she fails, she tears up her own painting in fear of losing the competition. Before I can react, the man who looks like Chester suddenly speaks. "Chester, who's walking down the aisle with her—you or me?" Chester chuckles. "Of course I am. Felix, have you forgotten? Miranda belongs to you only at night." In that instant, I finally understand why Chester Miller is cold by day and passionate by night. It turns out they aren't the same person at all. He and Felix are twin brothers. I clutch the pregnancy report tightly, pressing it against the doorframe as I glare at the three of them through the crack. "I won't let any of you get what you want," I vow silently.