The Picture Of Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

I looked at it and smiled when I saw his picture. "He's very handsome. A few strands of his blonde hair fell on his face. He has captivating light brown eyes, and his skin is so flawless that you can't see any purse. His lips are thin and pink, so soft just by looking at them, and he has a piercing on his ears, two on the right and one on the left. He has a very charismatic feature and is very appealing. Sighed, I hope he won't kill me if ever we cross paths again.

It was just too amazing. But…where could Damon be? I haven’t seen one like him. And no one has made mention of him as well. I was about to walk away when I saw something that gripped my attention. I saw a beautiful painting by Damon! Hah! I ran towards it to have a proper look. It was in a frame and was pinned to the wall. It was so natural- painted in black and white- and he looked extremely charming. I smiled and touched it. How can someone be this cute? I wish I could take it along with me.

I then took out my phone. "Can I take your picture?" I asked again, realizing that I actually didn't have a single picture of Gray on my phone. "Go ahead, do whatever you want," he replied, making me finally start taking pictures from every angle that looked good, especially avoiding any angle that would make Gray look even slightly unattractive. His face was already perfect, and I couldn't even blink my eyes as I kept staring at him.

… Many years later, Lucas walked into Dorian's quarters, yet the latter was nowhere to be found. By chance, he noticed a photograph resting on the desk. It was a picture of a gorgeous young girl with large, luminous eyes. Anyone who had ever laid eyes on me would be able to tell at a single glance that she was my daughter. Lucas hurriedly put the photo away. Just then, Dorian returned. Lucas couldn't help but ask softly, "Alpha Dorian, we all understood your inability to move on when Ms. Lovel got married back then. But now that her pup is all grown up, have you still not moved on?"

But I didn’t remember anyone taking my picture. The edges of the photo were worn, like someone had handled it too many times. My fingers tightened on the frame. Why would he have this? “You shouldn’t be in here.” I froze. Dorian was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, watching me with that unreadable expression. I held up the photo. “When was this taken?” He stepped into the room, slowly, like a predator giving prey time to realize it’s cornered. “Years ago.” “Why?”

"Do you know –" "Do you want to die today?" Cahir cut him off, his tone low, quiet, warm even, but it sent a shiver racing down my spine. "You have a funny way of asking for death." "You may be a mad Alpha but I am Dorian Greyson." The man seemed to be swelling to twice his size. "I will neither bow nor bend over in the face of tyranny. Do your worst." With that he swerved away, almost hitting me a second time. I jumped away right as he went past me but he didn't go far.

I raised my head that had somehow found its way to the floor and soon locked eyes with Dorian on the stage, smiling brightly. He looked so handsome and dangerously tempting in all the right ways wearing a dark grey ceremonial suit with black and red accents. A few achievement medals glinted off his chest when he breathed and his long deep black hair was slicked back perfectly, with a few small rebellious locks falling forward on his forehead. The sight of him was all I needed to push away all the panic and fear that had sprouted in me. And if it weren’t for my brother holding my arm, I would’ve rushed across the room and up the steps to Dorian without a care in the world.

We were so close I could smell his blood, and I yearned to taste, suck, and drink him in. "So have yours," he whispered, touching my cheek. "What? No way. What color?" I asked, surprised. "They're black and flecked - " He pulled me closer, so we were nose to nose. "Gold, green, red, vio - " A shriek interrupted him. I stood and stuck out my hand for Dorian to take. He did, bouncing onto his feet like a new man. And he was in some ways. "What's wrong with that guy?" One of the girls cried.

The study was exactly what Selene expected: dark wood, bookshelves, a massive desk covered in papers and maps, and an overall aesthetic of “brooding male who makes questionable life choices.” Dorian stood by the window, his back to her, hands clasped behind him. He’d clearly showered and changed his hair was still damp, and he wore a simple black shirt and pants that somehow looked both casual and stupidly expensive. “You wanted to see me,” Selene said, refusing to be intimidated by the whole dark and mysterious routine. “Close the door.”