Painter Of The Night S3 Novels & Stories

She was standing in the doorway. "She's me." "What changed?" "I stopped being afraid of forever." Rivera nodded. "Good. Keep going." Cole came to the studio on the third night. The painting was finished. Leaning against the wall. "Can I see it?" he asked. "Yes." He walked to the painting. Stood in front of it for a long time. "It's different," he said. "Different how?" "Brighter. Like you're not afraid anymore." "I'm not." "Good."

“Sophia had the same curse.” ✘ ✘ ✘ Night had erased the last light from the sky by the time Suede slipped out through the back gate of the Salvatore mansion. The building she walked toward had no sign, no visible number. Places like that didn’t need markers. “I want to see Il Pittore.” The guard scanned her from shoes to collar. That alias—Il Pittore, the Painter—opened the iron bolt without a single word exchanged.

The female silhouette was straddled over the man’s lap. He examined it on the large easel. “This is very erotic,” he commented. “I like how you used the light and shadows of the background.” “Thank you. It’s one painting of a three-piece collection. I’m going to call it Shades of Love.” “Oh,” he said with intrigue. “The other two are over there,” she said as she pointed to the far end of the room.

"Without looking over her shoulder for once." My phone vibrated in my pocket. Tiny's name flashed on the screen. "Report," I answered quietly, moving further from the bedroom. "Everything's clear, Alpha," my Beta's deep voice rumbled. "The painter has been vetted. Former art professor, human, no connections to any packs or supernatural factions." I stiffened. "What painter?" There was a pause on the line. "The one your Luna sat for yesterday. On the south beach. I assumed you knew."

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.

Is it possible to ever be happy without the one person you need? “I’m Brayden, baby. The man you’ve been dreaming about your whole life. And I’m about to fucking show you why.” Part 1 of a 3 part series. Find out more here

Before them is a dreamy night view where the colorful city lights mingle with the glowing stars. Tears are overflowing in her eyes. There's no more escape. Serin is already trapped in those melancholic memories. On the right side of the hallway, four paintings are also displayed on the wall. The first one has a small park drenched in the pouring rain as the night sky is grieving in despair. In the second painting is a beautiful and vast reed field under the golden sunset. A bright fireworks display above the peaceful city lights is in the third painting. And in the fourth painting is a completely dark and empty road.

In remembrance! In remembrance! Lord Nox, the God of War, succumbed to the siege by the Ten Nations and perished in the treacherous Ocean of Death. The battleground witnessed not only the staining of azure waters but also a sea adorned with lifeless forms, as Lord Nox, with unmatched prowess, faced and conquered the formidable lions of the Ten Nations.Contrary to popular belief attributing Lord Nox's demise to the collective might of the Ten Nations, the truth unfolds that the one responsible for extinguishing his life was none other than the woman who held the deepest place in his heart.In the passage of time, Nox Greenshade stood atop the towering peaks, gazing upon the vast expanse below

Jacob pulled back, looking at the fair-skinned guard, who had his eyes closed, relishing the sensation of rough hands brushing lightly against his neck, and a thumb gently caressing his lips before their lips met again. "I can't bear to stay here any longer... We can leave tomorrow, turn in our resignation letters, and be gone. This country is no longer safe, not with those bloodsuckers roaming freely like they're one of us," the fair-skinned guard expressed. "Hmm," Jacob mumbled, leaning back in his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and sighing. "Alright, you win. We'll turn in our resignation letters tomorrow," he acquiesced, watching his partner's smile broaden.

Meanwhile, Emma socialized with a glass of wine in hand, breezing through the employees from Soul Shoes but wondering the whereabouts of her husband. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was somewhere, enclosed in 'her' arms for the night. The picture of him-barely clothed and in her arms etched within her mind. She hated that despite the lovely party thrown to encourage her, she couldn’t bring herself to be happy. There was something missing. The music went off and the lights dimmed. A blue light enveloped the room and a deep voice spoke from the end of the room; “ Good evening ladies and Gentlemen. I am Asher Braxton.”