The Picture Of Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

Dorian yelled from behind, but I didn't care to glance at him. My eyes were stuck on the picture of the lady drawn on the paper. He had held this with care and attention like it was a bar of gold. "What is that?" Dorian asked, walking closer. I turned and handed this paper to him. He took it and gave it a short glance before gasping. "What? Do you know her?" With envy, I inquired, "How could another woman get his attention to the point where he drew her on paper?" "This is Elena!" He shrieked, leaving my eyes widened as I got really struck.

I frowned, crouched, picked it up. Weighty. Back inside, I tore it open, slow at first, then rough, like my instincts already knew this wasn’t good. Inside were photographs. Not digital. Printed. Matte. High-res. Intentional. Dorian and Venus. One shot in the elevator—she was laughing, looking radiant, and he was staring at her like she hung the moon. Another: the two of them seated at a restaurant, dim lighting, her fingers on the stem of a wine glass, his elbow just barely brushing hers.

They're so many things Darian is passing through, there are reasons behind his cold heart, they are reasons behind his always calm look they are many unanswered questions going through his mind that he needs to solves but the problem now is that he doesn't want to let anyone into his life to help him he is trying to push everyone at arm length. "Here we are" Elsie said bringing me out of my thought as she face me with a smile on her face. I remain silent as I watch her she move towards the portrait which was covered with a white cloth slowly she removed the cloth covering the picture as my eyes landed on the potriat of a man with a broad shoulder a blue eyes and long hair. "Wow this is beaut

“Or maybe I just see what’s right in front of me.” “And what’s in front of you?” “You,” he said simply. I didn’t say anything to that. I just looked at him. He leaned in a little. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you’re about to kiss me.” I laughed again, loud and real. “I’m not going to kiss you, Dorian.” “I know,” he said. “But that look… It's dangerous. It's like you're undressing me with your eyes slowly, like you've seen all that's beneath my cloth, and then....”

The head of intelligence entered, trembling, and placed a stack of high-resolution photos on the desk. Gavin snatched them. The first photo: Dorian draping his coat over my shoulders. The second: us, hugging in the lavender field. The third… me, tilting my head back, giving Dorian a bright, genuine smile, free of any shadows. A smile Gavin hadn't seen in ten years. "That's mine…" Gavin's fingers dug into the edge of the photo, his knuckles white, until his nails tore through the paper, right through Dorian’s face.

He was leaning casually against the door now, a crooked grin on his face. “Does your own smell bother you?” he asked flatly. “If I were you, I wouldn’t drink anything that destroys my dignity.” “Cut the crap, Dorian.” He crossed his arms over his chest and simply stood there, calm and observant like a statue carved to perfection. His silver hair gleamed under the light, and those dark violet eyes scanned me slowly. “Well, well… looks like our ‘Golden Prince’ has finally run out of options,” Dorian murmured. His voice was smooth, but there was a faint note of victory in it. “You must be pretty desperate right now.”

She took it without hurry, sliding a finger under the flap and tearing it open with calm precision. Inside was a glossy photograph. Her eyes fell on it at once. Dorian and Selene. They stood at some gala, Selene draped in a glittering silver gown that shimmered under the lights, Dorian in a tailored suit beside her. Their hands were linked, their smiles wide, their bodies leaning in, caught as though in a moment of perfect harmony. James’s jaw tightened, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Cruel,” he muttered quietly. Leona held the photograph between her fingers, her expression unreadable. The light from the chandelier above caught the gloss, making Selene’s silver dress sparkle even more.

everything. But when I pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent wasn't lavender. It was smoke. I choked for my own breath, my heart pounding so hard. What in the world was going on? Who could have done this? Scanning around, I saw a small, blackened pile lying in the centre of the floor. My sketches, the ones I’d drawn before I met Roman, were curled into grey ash. My degree was a charred remains of parchment. And the lavender? It was scattered, crushed into the floorboards by a heavy, deliberate boot.

He moans out and hoarsely. I turn to him and I find that the shirt he has on is a grey T-shirt, which due to the less presence of light, I didn't notice the colour yesterday. His eyes are closed and his lashes are resting beautifully against his cheeks and his lips paused and he looks too good for an early morning. I want to run my fingertips over his cheeks and my hands over his broad chest hidden under his clothes, I want to kiss those plump lips, I want to run my tongue over his lower lips before sucking them. I swallow up and I tear my eyes from him, these carnal thoughts are going to cause more harm than good to me.

POV: Beatrice A worn copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray wasn’t something I ever imagined finding among Ryuu’s belongings. Yet, there it was, the creased spine and dog-eared pages betraying how many times it had been read. As I picked it up to place it among my own books, a few photographs slipped free, drifting silently to the floor like ghosts of a past I didn’t know existed. Two photos. Both folded, creased with time.