Dance Devils Novels & Stories

I asked. Max shrugged. “How the hell should I know?” I was surprised by his snappy tone. Before I could throw out a smart retort, a small uproar erupted in the party crowd. Looking out, I saw the Devils entering the party. They were all wearing black, their jackets, smoking, carrying their guns. They were led by Dexter who stood at the center of it, enjoying the attention on him. “Well, well, well, isn’t this something? Chadwick, how could you throw a party and not invite your old friend!” he said, addressing Mr. Chadwick.

While Austin stood beside them along with two girls, they were probably Koreans. Her eyes only narrowed. They were having fun, obviously. What to expect from them? She was not blind to see their good looks and oozing sex appeal. But who cares? Triana chugged her martini as she continued to look at Devance, who was being guided by the women to join the fire dancers. The girls went wild and started a sexy dance with Devance. A frown was painted on Triana’s face. Devance would never take women seriously; she pitied his future wife once their one-year contract ended. He was too happy-go-lucky and unbothered with everything just because he was a son of a billionaire.

Dev raised her left eyebrow like she was saying 'I am incapable of feeling pain, remember? "Right…you don't feel pain. Well, it depends on what constitutes fun nowadays. Describe the dance to me" I asked her. Dev laughed before she spoke "imagine a secret venue, let's say a nightclub packed with single hot people looking to mingle…fun part is no old people are allowed. So, are you coming or not?" I thought about it. I mean I should probably head home and fix things with Aniston but spending time with Dev was also something I really wanted to do.

Davina's POV: The air backstage at the Devil's Club was thick with the usual chaotic blend of hairspray, perfume, and nervous energy. The other dancers, their bodies already adorned in various stages of glittering undress, moved with a practiced ease, adjusting straps and applying last-minute touches of makeup. I moved amongst them like a ghost, my new costume – a skimpy, sequined number in a garish shade of purple that was lying on a velvet stool. My reflection in the mirror was a stranger: haunted eyes, pale skin, a stark contrast to the carefully applied glamour around me.

A group had indeed approached their table during the festival. "Yes, there was a group that came up to us, but I sent them away," Bienley explained casually, his eyes locking with Devon's, still reeling from his strange behavior. "The guy stared at you the entire night," Devon began, his voice still a soft murmur. He let out a long, deep sigh before continuing. "Watching your every move as you danced so gracefully. He couldn't hide the admiration in his eyes." "I was dancing for you," Bienley snapped, glaring at Devon. He was growing increasingly exasperated by what he perceived as Devon's triviality.

She chuckled and said, "So your team had a 'DI' and a 'DO'. I bet the cheerleaders loved that." "Did they ever," Devon laughed. "He was a running back and I was the quarterback, so one or both of us was involved in almost every offensive play. The 'DI/dO' combo as we were called made a good match. We help our high school win the state championship four years in a row. Dev went on to play for Army. He was killed in Afghanistan six months after graduating from West Point."

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa

His jaw twitched slightly, but he said nothing. She tapped on her phone again, translating. “She must be dancing.” Zayden’s eyes snapped up. “Dancing?” Dhadhi nodded, sipping her tea. “Hema loves dancing, especially during Holi. If she’s not here, she must be downstairs, lost in the music.” Zayden exhaled slowly, his fingers rubbing the edge of his watch. Something new settled in his chest. A curiosity. An ache. “Why don’t you go find her?” Dhadhi suggested, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Forget the nonsense Salazar or anyone else has been feeding you. You're perfect the way you are and if I hear anything about you being on a diet again or trying to lose weight, heads will roll. Do you understand?" Maldito, I'm dazzled. For a moment there, the look in his eyes turned menacing and I finally caught a glimpse of the devil he hides behind that sexy body. I can totally picture him chopping a man up with a kitchen knife while smiling. That thought has moisture pooling between my legs and I squirm, trying to get some relief. Violence turns me on. He crosses the small space between us. Judging by how he's gotten in my face, I think he's finally going to take the initiative but he on

Strangers kissed my cheeks, their words dripping with pity disguised as admiration. “You’re brave, my dear.” “What a clever match.” “May you tame him, or survive him.” Each one was a knife in my back. By the time the waltz began, my cheeks ached from smiling. Then Richard Devlin’s voice cut through the hall again. “A dance!” he commanded, his smirk daring anyone to refuse. “Let the future Devlins take the floor.” Lucian extended his hand. I wanted to slap it away. Instead, I let him lead me.