Black Devils Cigarettes Novels & Stories

she whispered under her breath. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pressed the play button on the pre-recorded news clip. "The Young Billionaire of Asia, Mr. Ethan DelValle, is currently in New York City and was spotted having dinner with America's runway model Sylvia Smith, Mr. DelValle's rumored girlfriend... ...Neither party has confirmed nor denied the speculation, leading many to believe they are keeping their relationship private, as many high-profile couples do... ...An insider close to the billionaire's camp has revealed that Mr. DelValle does indeed have someone special in his life. Could that special someone be Miss Sylvia Smith...?

His voice drops into a dark, lethal tone that carries to every single corner of the silent chapel. "You know what they say, Pierre… the devil always comes to collect..."

The Devil Himself The double doors opened and the air in the office seemed to thicken. Alessandro Rossi stepped inside like he owned the oxygen itself. He was taller than she expected. Easily over six feet with broad shoulders that filled out his perfectly tailored black suit. The fabric looked soft but expensive, the kind that cost more than a year of her rent. His hair was dark, neatly styled but with a slight wave that suggested it would curl if he ever let it. His face was all sharp angles: high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a mouth that looked like it had never smiled gently in its life.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

Serious power. "Impressive, isn't it?" Damien’s voice came from behind me, close enough that I felt his breath on my neck. "It's beautiful," I managed, my mouth suddenly dry. "Make yourself comfortable." He moved to a bar area, pulling out two crystal glasses. "Vodka? Wine? Whiskey?" "Wine is fine," I said, perching on the edge of a leather sofa that probably cost more than a car. This guy is rich—wealthy. Fucking wealthy.

It had been a while since he’d let himself crave one, but tonight… his hands itched for the comfort of something familiar. He stood outside the mansion, the night pressing in, the faint drizzle dampening his hair. The flame from his lighter flickered once before the wind stole it. Then his phone buzzed. One glance at the screen and the muscle in his jaw tightened. Without a second thought, he flicked the unlit cigarette away and strode toward his car, the air thick with unspoken fury. Moments later, the roar of the engine split through the silence as he sped off into the night.

a deep voice commands. I turn. He walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders under a tailored black suit, dark eyes that slice through the chaos. His presence is heavier than the gunfire. Dante Morreti. I know that name. Whispers. Mafia. Blood. Power. The devil of New York. His gaze pins me in place. My chest tightens, breath shallow. “She’s the bride?” he asks, almost amused. “Yes, Boss,” one of his men answers. “Pretty little thing,” Dante murmurs, eyes raking me head to toe. “Shame she belongs to a coward.”

Getting to know each other better and making small talk, they called on the bartender to get them the most expensive wine they have. As they waited for their drinks, one of the guys brought out bags of purple kush, lighters, papers, blunts, and a hookah. He passed everyone a bag of kush and their own choice of items to smoke out of. Some were preparing to smoke, while others already have begun getting high. The arena is now filled up with the pungent smell of weed. The guys and the ladies in their eyes now seemed to be in a magical place. They were seeing nothing but flashing lights, smoke, money, and beautiful people.

I said. “Good” “Are you a new student?” He asked. I shook my head and “Come back” I answered. “How about you?” I asked “Last year” He answered and he threw his cigarette on the ground and he stepped on it and then he picked a piece of rolled paper like a cigarette inside his pocket and lit it again and smoked it. It smells like a dried, burning leaf or grass I cannot distinguish. “What is your name?” I asked “Devon… Devon David” He answered and coughed hard and his eyes turned red.

~✴~ The DEVIL'S Heart ``````````````````` PERORATION : I love you and it is the only thing I believe in - The Devil ` ` `