Painter Of The Night S3 Novels & Stories

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.

It was him, our special night in the pool—a Night in the Water, or the Water Collection. Like my Blue Grotto, I started painting with oils, several more nudes, though these were just bodies—a woman sitting on a man’s lap with her breasts lit, her face in ecstasy. The colors were silver, grizzly, ashen whites and creams. Another was just the back of a woman with her hair up and naked shoulders. I painted all week, each one more provocative than the last. These were impressionistic, so I obscured the faces and lines. Next, I got out my black chalk and drew William from a photo I had taken of him the night we walked through the city.

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

"Like that bartender's face. He's too good-looking. Something ought to be done about him." “Shut up, I never drool.” I slurped my diet coke on the rocks. “Anyway, he probably thinks I’m some weird psycho bitch now. And, man, you’re the one who’s drooling at the bartender." “Can’t I just appreciate art?” She was always witty with her responses. “I’m just appreciating the god-perfected beauty. He’s not even a part of this conversation.” Carrie winked at me. “But I still feel like showing up on the bar stool and baring my soul to him.”

The painter was smiling broadly himself now, a huge watermelon grin stretching across his face as he promised her that he would have the paint mixed and delivered to her ready for the decorators to start work in the morning. It was a month since the evening she had fled—not just from Arni, but more tellingly from her own response to him—to spend virtually the whole night curled up on her bed, agonizing over what she should do.

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.”

I was here to let loose with Jake for a single night and that's exactly what I planned on doing. I was pulled from my thoughts when Jake started grinding against me. His hands gripped my hips tightly and I just let my body sway to the rhythm of the music. Jake was surprisingly a good dancer and it helped to get me into it. But when I looked up, I saw Asher staring back at us and he looked perturbed as hell. A wicked grin tugged at my lips and I knew my next actions were pure evil, but he deserved it.