Novelas y relatos de Painters Of The Night

He slipped behind me on the lounger and pulled me to his chest. I stared over at luis and wondered how I was going to get this all out without Drake freaking out. Glancing over my shoulder, Drake had his head rested against the lounger with his eyes closed. "You two must have had loads of fun last night," I teased. Drake groaned. "Yeah, Lane never fails in that department." I furrowed my brows. "Lane? Who's Lane?" "Lane Parker," luis answered. "He's a huge pornstar from the Western region. He's decided to join ranks with Drake. He took us out to celebrate last night."

This room was filled with the most beautiful variety of plants and ancient trees. Quickly we rushed into another hallway. This time it was different, there were only four guards in this long hallway that was filled with the most lavish paintings and artwork that I’ve ever seen. Out of everything that Niklaus had shown me so far this hall was my favorite…even though this hallway didn’t make any sense as to why it was called a hall when it was the length of about two football fields and was filled with artwork of people I just now come to recognize as gods and goddesses.

Chorus: Collectors glide, their wallets gleam, Chasing strokes of every dream. Food exquisite, voices blend, A night of paint that never ends. Verse 2: Oh, the colors flare, the night’s alive, Rich and famous in their hive. Mingling soft with glass and cheer, Art’s the pulse we all revere. Standing tall, we’re lost in awe, Canvas whispers tales so raw. Verse 3: Spectators rise, their claps resound, Awe wraps tight, no silence found. Beauty spills from brush to frame,

’ Ethan tossed his keys onto a marble console and headed in the direction of what I presumed was the kitchen. “Want an espresso?”he shouted over. “Sure,”I responded. In the absence of Ethan, I decided to do some exploring of his abode. The first thing that came to mind was that this place could comfortably fit my apartment three times over. It had a wonderful view overlooking Central Park through the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the entire room, ‘This place would be gorgeous at night.’ I thought to myself. There was a singular magnificent painting on the wall of water poured over burning flames, that I could only imagine the cost of. The floors were polished white marbles, that I

The room quieted. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight." Her voice carried. Professional. Warm. "We're honored to present the centerpiece of this collection. A deeply personal work by Miss Sienna Blake. She's titled it 'That Night.'" The assistant pulled away a black cloth. The painting emerged. Gasps. Whispers. Camera flashes. It was large. Overwhelming. Intimate. Two bodies tangled in shadows. Moonlight spilling across bare skin. Sheets twisted. A hand resting on a chest. A window half-open showing city lights beyond.

And she was stunned. Each piece was breathtaking. One of the paintings was the one he had painted in the dark the other night, and now she saw how beautiful it looked under proper lighting. It captured the dusk view from the veranda with remarkable detail. Her eyes moved to the second painting. It looked like the universe itself—filled with stars, and she noticed that twelve constellations were delicately painted, along with the moon and Earth. She recognized some of the zodiac signs.

The breath-taking model of a deluxe masterpiece of car, painted in Belladonna Purple, reflecting every ray of light hitting its immaculate surface, creating natural sparkles, with one command of its driver, parked itself in front of the building. The force of so-called guards, looking more like bodybuilders, covered in black suits and loaded with hearing amplifiers and best fighting skills, shielding the entry, within point seconds drifted from the state of attention to the state of alert. One of those all-in-black dressed massive figures held the back door of that car, for a very obvious reason of opening it.

The origins of most of these paintings could be tracked easily. There was "Cottage of the West", painted by Daryn Talbott, one of the four greatest artists of the Monclair era. Then, there were Zenith Howard's creations, including "The Ten Bamboos", "Great Compendium of Life", and "Scroll of Injustice".

Guests had no right to damage their products. The men gave me everything, while the friends gave life to each other, crying out and letting themselves go, in such a way that they sent all their inhibitions to the drain and said dirty words that, instead of igniting anyone, lowered the irrepressible desire to continue or continue the work. The boys had the decency to end up outside, and then they got dressed, gave me sweet kisses on the head, and left.

Decade vampires are bound by contract, live in hiding, and are mostly slaves, pets, or playthings that are turned by their owner against their will. The lowest among vampires. Their hands hold an intricate mark of a hexagon with chains in and out of the pattern and a fallen petal in the middle, symbolizing their identity or, more like, a leash. They spend their immortality connected to their master's will. Every full moon they need to drink the blood of their creator to ease the pain of hell clinging to their flesh like teeth gnawing them to their next death's door, unopened. Sometimes they have to suffer alone and bear the pain without their owners' blood. This ends up making them deaf, inc