Painter Of The Night S3 Novels & Stories

Elliot’s POV The painting hit me like a fucking freight train. I stood frozen in the staff lounge hallway, staring at the canvas hanging there. Scott must have painted it and hung it there to add to the art works that’ll be displayed on the exhibition. It wasn’t a normal painting and I know it. Shadows twisting into desperate bodies under city lights. The exact angle of a throat being gripped. The curve of a back arched in pleasure. It was us. Our first night.

33A NIGHT WITH MR XANDER Chapter 33: The funeral "I said look!" He yelled making her snap her eyes open. Her eyes wet with tears slowly made contact with the tombstone in front of her. Her breath cut as she let out a gasp and soon shock registered in it. There was another name instead of Josh's. XANDER could see the shock in her eyes and knowing what the look was he said. "He's not the one. He's the guy at the cartel. He touched you and so he died, I made sure of it.

Jonathan opened the message and read it. "Sir, the items made by Doctor Alex are ready." Jonathan smiled from ear to ear. "I'm sure this time we can kill the young jaguar from the Sanders family," Jonathan said with a satisfied smile. ***

According to what I had observed, she was not in the mood; however, despite the fact that he appeared to be very horny and desired her, she declined his advances. I overheard her responding to him with "no. not tonight. I am just not in the mood for this right now." He huffed in annoyance and then pulled her hand and placed it on his dick while saying, "but I want you tonight. Because I have a tour tomorrow, I would really appreciate it if you could spend the night with me." However, she did not agree and emphasized each word that came out of her mouth as she stated, "No, I said no. What kind of an idiot are you trying to be?"

Cody, the most influential figure in the city, was arrested by the police on the spot. Facing reporters, he looked into the cameras with bloodshot eyes. "Jenny, I've avenged you." There was no regret or fear of imprisonment in his eyes. There was only a sense of relief. And I, sitting in front of the screen, changed the channel. The weather forecast segment was on. The new presenter smoothly reported, "According to the latest meteorological data, our city will usher in a snowfall tomorrow, expecting…" I looked out of the window calmly.

Jessica huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, which only serves to push her breasts up. ‎Francis doesn't even look embarrassed. "Hi, I'm Francis. I’ve... I've always admired you from the window," he stammers. "I’ve spent hours imagining you naked every time you go on a run. I’m a painter, Jessica. Seriously. Do you have any idea how your curves are built? Would you... would you let me do a nude portrait? I’d pay. No face, just... the body. It’ll be a masterpiece." ‎Jessica huffs a laugh. "Does your girlfriend know you’re hitting on her arch-enemy while she’s in the shower? Or is the 'art' just an excuse for you to be a creep?”

With the blinds wide open, someone with a high-end camera might capture Matthew in his natural habitat. He paced the room, obviously lost in his own sea of thoughts. The woman was trying to introduce herself and even begged him to stop-----but he didn’t because he couldn’t. He couldn’t even recall her face, primarily because it was dark. He remembers her perfect silhouette against the soft light of the moon and her scent, lavender and berries. He was in heat and all logic and rationale was nonexistent last night. “Sir, are you alright?” “Silas, can you get me a copy of the CCTV footage from 10 to 5 AM?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Come on. Let get that up and I can go to bed.” Nodding, Keenan carefully carried the painting out and hung it up. Already the wall was looking finished. One more and I might even forget about fixing the plants. “Tomorrow I believe boss’ cleaning lady comes. Just as a heads up. I’m not sure when. I’ve always been the night shift but it’s always on a Thursday.” “Thanks for the heads up. I forgot completely. I plan on finishing the third painting tomorrow. Then chilling on Friday. Marek said he might be home early but I don’t know when.”

Her fingers moved with precision, mixing colors and preparing to seize the fleeting inspiration that had struck earlier. The night enveloped her as she resumed painting. Her brush swept across the wall with grace and determination, bringing her vision of the serene countryside to life. The dim light above cast a soft glow on her focused expression, and even the occasional fluttering moth seemed reluctant to disturb her concentration. By three in the morning, exhaustion caught up with her. She set down the brush, rubbing her tired eyes. Deciding to wash her face to refresh herself, she made her way toward the nearby washstand.

Almost immediately, something in her expression changed, as if she sensed there was still more. “But what else, Alex?” Her voice, soft yet urgent, reflected her cautious nature and her need to know everything—to understand. She couldn’t relax without the whole truth, no matter how terrifying it might be. Alex fell silent for a moment, staring at the ground as if the words were hard to say. Finally, he sighed and lifted his gaze, his seriousness making it clear that what he was about to say wasn’t something he had wanted to share. “Last night, I had an unexpected visitor,” he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on Scarlett. “Zafira. The gorgon who tried to drown you.”