Novel & Cerita Puppeteer X Bloody Painter

The more certain he felt, the more excited he became! In the end, Xavier could verify that it was definitely real. This was indeed a painting by Pablo Picasso! A highly rare work of Pablo Picasso! Xavier instantly removed his long-sighted glasses earnestly as he looked at Xyla excitedly. “How much are you going to sell it for?” he asked. “How much are you prepared to buy it for?” Xyla asked. Xavier instantly put up five of his fingers. “Five billion, deal?” Xyla shook her head…

The palette is all darks with Prussian blue, burnt umber, alizarin crimson so deep it looks like dried blood. I load the brush and attack the canvas with strokes that splatter paint across the floor, the easel, and my arms. The image that forms is violent and shapeless, a battlefield rendered in oil, and I don't care what it looks like because I'm not painting for beauty right now. I'm painting to survive what Baker just told me. My father is innocent, Ryan's parents were murdered, Tasha's father paid for the cover-up, and the boy who destroyed my life was a puppet on strings held by the same man who destroyed his.

Understanding Osmond’s shock, she explained, “Alpha asked if I would be willing to undergo the blood bond ritual and become his Luna.” 'Paige,” Osmond said, swallowing hard. His expression changed instantly. “You’re not joking, are you?” Paige laughed softly again. “Of course not, Papa,” she replied, casually crossing her legs. “It seems Alpha is finally realising that his condition is getting worse.” Her smile gradually sharpened. She became more serious. “Just imagine it: I’ve donated my blood three times in six days. Honestly, I don’t think even vampires drink that much blood.”

Liam didn't heed what Andreas said, because he had walked over to a painting and stood there for a while. "Your majesty?" Andreas asked in a low voice and raised his hand to signal for the other guards not to make a sound. "You found something?" Liam traced the edges of the painting with his fingers as he stared straight ahead. There was something bothering him about the painting, especially when Mila's scent ended there. Not only the girl's scent, but also the faint scent of two other vampires, which Liam didn't recognize. "Take this painting down," Liam ordered. He then took a few steps back to let his men do the work.

she shrugged inwardly. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before… Ugh. There goes my dirty mind again… “I haven’t seen that movie,” he said gruffly. “So I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She grinned wider. “It would be an honor if you could paint me like Jack Dawson painted Rose DeWitt Bukater. I suggest you watch the movie and let me know what you think. I’m willing to pay, whatever the price.”

Helplessly, I watched as the nail approached, piercing my skin and burrowing into the nail bed. Waves of agony crashed over me as I saw my own nails split and separate from my flesh. The nails, driven deep by relentless hammering, sank into my fingers, through to my palm. One after another, until nails protruded from the back of my hand, glistening with blood. My screams filled the hollow basement, but they were not done. They grabbed pliers, yanking at the nails still clinging to the nail beds. They did not stop until every nail was torn away, every bone in my fingers shattered...

Maybe they were alike on the inside, and he was going to spill lies and try to make Thomas Black look really…well…black. I giggled at my own thoughts, before Samuel stopped in front of a giant, dark blue canvas with the ocean in stormy weather. I was stunned at how realistic the dark clouds were; how scary and wild the heavy waves were. My fingers gently followed the path of the paintbrush, admiring the mastery.

The fruit platter slipped from Sapphire's hands, smashing onto the floor and sending shards flying in every direction. Adam sat on the ground, raising his head as tears welled up in his eyes. "Dexter, why did you push me? I thought you didn't hate me anymore. Why would you push me again?" I didn't say anything. He was faking it. I knew he was faking it. His tears were just a simulation programmed into him, and his trembling was nothing more than an algorithm running its course.

As Ace flipped through the pages, the soft crackling of the paper filled the space. Ace's fingers moved skillfully over the pages, his eyes scanning each drawing with a mix of pain and yearning. As he turned the pages, I leaned in closer, mesmerized by his talent, my gaze fixed on his strong fingers gently handling each page. Each one unveiled a new design, a new narrative. On one page, I saw a boy gazing at a river, his face reflecting deep sorrow.

All hell broke loose after that. Rain’s hands and legs shook. She hadn’t wanted to scream, she thought maybe Alexander had already given the disgusting man permission to touch her. Then she saw his look of confusion. Then Pietro put the same fingers he had used to rub her through her jeans in his mouth. While Rain fought the urge to throw up just seeing the man’s action, she heard a screech and the something wet splashed a few drops on her face. Everything happened so fast. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of a bloody knife sticking out of the back of Mr. Pietro’s palm.