Metal Sonic Sketch

I need your body pressed against mine. Your warmth, your smell, the taste of your , I need you.” His deep voice rang in the dark room. He pulled her closer and stated placing gentle . She was tied to bed with leg wide open. “Please do not do that.” She pleaded. “Don’t worry I will go gentle on you.” he said picking up the whip from the ground. “After all, I still have to make you mine.” He completed pinching her n****e. - Grasis was a dangerous beast. He had two hobbies: blood and . He drank men's blood and girls. His life is full of blood and pain. He had no weakness but suddenly she appeared in front of him, taking his breath, making his metal heart to beat again and filling his heart with warmth. Cruel and ruthless man starts craving only one thing in his life and that was Ayla’s body. He made her his slave. He owns and claimed her.

Prologue Nathan sat on the roof with a portrait in his hand. He has been looking at her portrait for the past hours and he is not ready to let go of it. He stared at the picture with a satisfied smile on his face. His Sadie! He just can't stop staring at her. She was really his sweet angel which portray the meaning of her name. Sadie! He hugged the portrait before dropping it. He picked up his drawing paper and pencil ready to sketch her beautiful face again. Every corner of his room has her picture, everything! And almost all his belongings too. His plates were designed with her picture, his phone pouch was her, his wrist band has her name. His private company is in her name, his box has her picture, his closet, just name it. The workers thought he's running mad, no one believed it's love except his family and of course, his personal guard. He smiled at nothing closing his eyes before starting the sketching. He's been stalking her ever since that faithful day they met , that faithful day she became his sweet angel. He knows her every moves, everything she does and how she's being treated in her own home . He turned his hand in a fist and his jaw tightened. The thougt of that does nothing but angers him. He wants to save her, he wants to take her out of that bondage but it's not yet time. She doesn't even recognize him, it will be insane to go ask her out for marriage when she doesn't know him . He's going to make them pay, watching his Sadie from a far distance seeing her in tears, seeing her lonely, seeing her sad and seeing her feeling unloved hurt his heart so much

After graduating from a socialite training course, my sister swears to marry into a wealthy family. To create encounters with Pierce Holden, the prince of the upper crust, she drives my car, wanting to tailgate him and run into his car. I slam the brakes and tell her the Holdens aren't fools. We can't afford to pay for Pierce's car, even if we were to give up everything we have. Later, Pierce throws a lavish wedding that stuns the country. My sister goes crazy with jealousy, saying that she would've been the bride if not for me stopping her back then. Out of resentment, she rams her car into me and kills me. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the front passenger seat. My sister smirks confidently, her gaze fixed on the expensive car ahead of us. "I'm sure Pierce will be enchanted by me once he sees me. I won't need to drive a dump like this once I get together with him." This time, I don't stop her. She puts the pedal to the metal, making the car crash against the sports car worth a fortune.

On the day before the marking ceremony, my Alpha mate, Zev Briarwood, is wounded in a battle and loses his memory. He forgets everything… including me. To help him restore his memories and Alpha pride, I go all out. I seek out an evil witch to trade my precious heartblood and fangs for her magic, nearly dying in the process. I sketch jewelry designs day and night, selling them just to earn money and to find every possible memory cure. When I drag my battered body to visit Zev at the clinic, I overhear him laughing with his buddies. "Your acting's next level, Zev! Kira still hasn't figured out you're faking it, and you've delayed the marking ceremony!" A buddy snickers. Zev gulps his wine and grins. "I'm definitely winning the bet that I'd sleep with 100 women at parties. Once I've had my fun, I'll go back to her for my mate duties and complete that marking ceremony."

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

"Do you know what it feels like to know that all the decisions that you've ever taken in your life are masterminded by someone?" Eleanor Welsh is an intelligent, independent girl who always wanted her life to be in her control since the tragic fatal accident that claimed her parents' lives at twelve. Being an orphan at a such tender age, her father's best friend, Antonio Welsh, took her into his custody but sold her off to a contracted marriage later on to a heartless billionaire, Ethan Grayson, in dire need to save his business from bankruptcy. What happens when the mysteries of her parent's death unfold with her protective husband backing her up? Ethan walked into the dark room unhurriedly with both hands in the pockets of his pants. He was furious, yet he had his usually calm expression. He walked to the fireplace in the room which was the only source of light in the room and pulled out a hot metal. From the way the metal glowed in a dark-red crimson color, even a fool can tell that the metal had been in the fire for hours. Walking to where a man who was chained to the wall with blood all over his body was with the metal still in his hands, Ethan stood before the man, his eyes black from the lack of light in the room. "Mr. Grayson, please..." the man pleaded in almost a whisper "I didn't know she was your wife." Before anybody in the room could blink, the hot metal was placed on the man's face. The man screamed in pain as hot tears fell from his eyes, before fainting. "Take him to his boss as my gift. Anyone that touches my property, I will burn him in hell." Max nodded.

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

“Is this true?” I asked. I can’t believe of what I have read on the posts on the social media account of the two writers that I met, Sketch and Doodle. I read again the post of Sketch. I thought of something, not because there will be no update on his story but because of his post however I can’t remember where I read it before. Then, I read what Doodle had posted. I suddenly remember my story and I read the last scene that I wrote; same words, same scenarios and same comments like how I read their posts. I doubt quite a bit but really it amazed me which I don’t know why. That is why I read some of their last few posts and it was quite surreal which leads to a coincidental from the turn of events on what their real life is and on what I wrote. I won’t pay any attention to what is going on because I know it wouldn’t happen. It seems like my suspicion is true… the things that I’m writing is coming true when there are real people that’s involved on my story however I need to investigate this. Sketch wasn’t talking while driving, I can see on Doodle eyes how amazed he is while we travel, seeing a fine nature is really amazing while I seldom talk just to point where we have to move. I noticed Sketch glanced at me. I smiled. “I’m actually kidnapping both of you and you two are willing victim.” Sketch stepped on the breaks and it made a big screech of the car. “What?!” they both asked.

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.