Vampire Painter Novels & Stories

Pale blue walls with a slight texture welcomed the eye, pulling you into the artwork hung to bring more of the outside in. “Something you don’t know about vampires, when they are awake during the day, they can’t normally go out in the sun. So we build large houses so we can venture outside our rooms.” Dimitri followed her into the living room, where she stopped to look at one of the many landscape paintings. Dimitri loved art because it showed so many views. One of the sun shining on a flower could bring a tear to the eye. Another, like a horse in the fog, made him think of the hunt.

he said once he sobered up, "but the man had one eye and no ears!" My eyes widened as he told me the story. "He was a marvelous painter though. Back then, no one could rival his talents." "What was his name?" I asked as I inspected the painting closely and became familiar with all the curves and crevices of the paints and textures used. Sol shook his head. "We never knew. No one did. He came and went with the wind that one, never staying in one place for too long and always going by a different name." "Was he a vampire?" I asked curiously.

To be honest, Harvey feels a little sorry for those who love Lionel's drawing and painting style when this treasure of Samson's can never be displayed before their eyes. However, if they knew that the artist was a thousand-year-old vampire, surely no one would want to own or admire his masterpiece. These typical red and yellow paintings will make them think of human blood, not romantic, nostalgic autumn. - Oh, did you draw yourself and Lucasta? – Harvey stepped forward, tilting his neck to look at the painting of a couple hanging on the wall. - No, I drew her, and she drew me. There was a hint of sadness in that answer. Although it was only fleeting, Harvey still easily recognized it.

~~~ Amaya His eyes no longer had those pretty green tint in them. They were now a bright glowing red colour. His teeth now contained a pair of sharp fangs ready to bite through your skin anytime. He wasn't just my kidnapper anymore. Nor my stalker. He was now my vampire. This realization hit me like a train. My feet were glued to one place not daring to move. My breathing had stopped a while ago. The beast in front of me must've caught on to my nervousness because a small pang of hurt shot across his face but quickly vanished.

It was an expensive painting by Picasso; although its name was hard to remember, it was confirmed that I had seen it somewhere. Then my gaze fell at a man dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, his amber eyes alight with something mysterious. “You!” It took me a moment to recognize that ruffian, he was the same bloody vampire, who acted all weak and dead to attack me. Without any reservations, I gathered every speck of energy in my body and yelled hysterically. “The Vampires are used to practicing their sneaky tricks to hunt, I agree. But this all-dead act is out of my mind.

The moon was still blood red, but the forest beneath it had withered and turned into a barren wasteland. “This way,” Armageddon said, taking my hand and pulling me along. We reached the large painting and looked up at the vampires in the painting. My throat became dry as Armageddon stepped forward and spoke in a language I didn’t understand, but I felt like I should. “What…” Gilgamesh asked. “What was that?” “It’s complicated,” Armageddon said softly. The vampires turned in the painting and looked at us as the moon in the painting began to rise and turn blue. Their eyes flashed, and the painting began to slide aside.

Shier hollered and hit her with the whip one more time. “Argh—Da—” Becca flinched when another lash hit her. “The vampire potion, isn’t that what the vampire wants? That potion was created by your godmother, who was a four-hundred and eighty-year-old vampire, and she was your mother’s best friend. She injected the potion into your mother when she was pregnant with you. That woman put my wife in danger!” Shier yelled and continued hitting her, as Becca had tears leaching out of her eyes.

That painting had hung on that wall for years, and never, never, had anything like this occurred! Finally, Apollo turned to face me after a few minutes. “Sir Kael,” he began cautiously, “the painter of this work was a witch with powerful magic. From what I can sense, the artist came from the northern borders of the Blood Forged Clan.” I blinked, trying to process that. “What?” “Yes,” Apollo confirmed, his voice was low but certain. “And apparently, when this was created, the painter couldn’t fully control her magic.” He leaned closer to the canvas. His eyes were narrowing as if he could still see the brushstrokes happening at the time when this painting was being made.

"Without looking over her shoulder for once." My phone vibrated in my pocket. Tiny's name flashed on the screen. "Report," I answered quietly, moving further from the bedroom. "Everything's clear, Alpha," my Beta's deep voice rumbled. "The painter has been vetted. Former art professor, human, no connections to any packs or supernatural factions." I stiffened. "What painter?" There was a pause on the line. "The one your Luna sat for yesterday. On the south beach. I assumed you knew."

He smirked at me. “Anyway love birds, why’d you say you’re Queen to Jax’s throne if you don’t want him” Ricky just asked outright. “”You don’t mince words do you?” I threw my hands up in defeat. “Nope, now why did you, you know you're a vam-pagon right” Ricky added. “A vam-pagon?” I looked at him. “Yes a vampire/dragon born” Ricky said looking at me like I was stupid for not knwoing this.