Na Kyum Painter Of The Night Novels & Stories

Its walls were adorned with paintings of various sizes, depicting ancient battles, portraits, moon rituals, abstract beauty, natural scenery and mysterious forest landscapes. At the centre of the room stood a large, recently installed canvas. It became Lennon’s focus the moment he entered. He stepped forward and approached the painting. He stopped directly in front of it and studied it slowly and intensely. The painting depicted a pack of wolves in half-shadowed forms standing beneath a dense night sky. Only a faint light was visible, slipping through the clouds, revealing eyes that glowed calmly yet alertly. Lennon raised one hand as if to touch the painting, but stopped a centimetre from t

Laughter caught my attention and drew me to the backyard, where I found Kierra and the kids painting on canvases. “Oh, wow, Daisy. That’s so pretty,” Kierra praised. The painting consisted of globs and streaks of different paint colors that eventually produced an undesirable shade of brown. She was no Picasso, and it wouldn’t sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I was sure the painting would find a home on a wall. Maybe the laundry room. “Kiyah, tell me what kind of car you’re painting,” Kierra urged. “It’s a yellow Camaro like Bumblebee.”

said a man whose name is Nathan. Gavin and Zera looked at each other again at what they heard. "You mean you saw that Sera was taken?" She asked. They nodded their heads. "That's how we tried to help but we can't do anything, sorry", they said. Zera was holding his heart, and Xanti was staring intently at him. "Zera, I went back to your house and I saw what was painted on the wall is it true that they got your brother?" Xanti's colleagues were stunned, even Josh who had been silent before looked at him.

That Night Copyright © K.I. Lynn This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.

The busy lights of the cityscapes or the scenes of the city screams the word ‘home’ in my perspective. “This is my first time in this type of exhibits.” Kyler confessed on my side in a low voice. He was looking at the same painting that caught my eye. A busy street with lights, old buildings and people swamped on the street with different vehicles. The moon shined so surreal at the top of it. It looked too real to look at. “Oh, yeah? Mr. Billionaire was so used at famous galleries, huh?” I grinned, not looking at him even when he snapped his head to me.

His fingers traced lazy patterns over Liam’s skin, occasionally dipping down to push leaking cum back inside his sensitive hole. "The collection isn’t finished," Nick whispered against his ear, voice dark with promise. "I’m commissioning a lifetime of portraits. Starting tomorrow. Naked in every room, while I fuck you senseless." Liam laughed softly, exhausted but content, pressing closer to the man who had changed everything with one stolen kiss and one wrong address. "I’ll paint you," he murmured. "Every inch, every night." As dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the penthouse in soft gold, two bodies remained tangled, painted, claimed, and utterly surrendered to the m

The point was… The street artist known as Black Crimson seemed to speak straight to my soul with every showpiece he delivered. He only worked in the spray paint medium and kept it strictly to three colors: black, white, and red. The image-half of his two-part murals always showcased some modern-day fairy-tale retelling, and the text-half had a famous quote that was somehow tied into the picture. The quotes he chose could be silly or deep, but they were always meaningful and enlightening, and I somehow felt as if he’d written them directly for me. Every time.