Dante Devil May Cry Fanart Novels & Stories

I straightened his coat, my eyes glinting with a menacing gleam as I approached the truck. "It seems our enemies have forgotten who they're dealing with," I hissed, my voice filled with a chilling confidence. "They dare to steal from the Devil himself." A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating my face as I looked at the stolen shipment with predatory satisfaction. Raindrops rolled down my cheeks, mingling with my wicked smile. "Now, my men," I declared, my voice cutting through the storm. "Let's see who has the audacity to challenge the Devil. The real show is about to begin."

As for what else I'm certain of; it's going to be a teen romance. I'm working on it, and have drafted up a short blurb already. Enjoy. Blurb: 'There was a popular, preconceived notion about the devil's appearance. Some thought he had molten red scales and giant black horns. I thought he had pale white hair and arctic blue eyes. I thought the devil was Dane Foster.' _ To get more updates on it and my other books, do follow me on my socials.♥ See you in the next book!

Dante charged forward, closing the distance between him and Paulo in threatening strides, his fists clenched tightly, veins taut with the promise of violence. Paulo gazed up at him in terror as Dante seized his collar and roughly hauled him to his feet. The tycoon's eyes were blazing with unrestrained fury, his face twisted into a feral snarl. Maya remained rooted to her spot. She had never seen Dante this enraged. He reeked of bloodlust- aura so intense and vicious that it made her stomach twist. He was entirely a different man.

But as Emilia shifts again, I catch a glimpse of the man between her thighs and suddenly my world goes cold. It's not Luca's fingers digging into her waist. Not Luca's hips rising to meet her. Not Luca's golden-blond hair beneath her hands, not his lips hungrily devouring hers. This isn't her fiancé. But it's not some random guy either. It's Luca's brother, the last man on earth I want to see. Dante Fontaine, the Devil Himself.

To the whiskey stains camouflaging my real tantrum. He thinks he’s playing me. But this mess? This chaos? It’s my masterpiece. And Richard Dalton is in my web now.

“You know I could make all this go away. I can make the charges disappear, but I’m going to need something from you first.” I knew what it was before he even said it. “Sign the papers,” he leaned down to tuck a strand of hair from my face while maintaining eye contact with me. “And then disappear from my life, forever.” He said it with so much certainty that I felt like he had driven a stake clean through my heart, impaling me with his words. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all before it finally settled in my head. Curtis Blackwood was the fucking devil.

“You’re walking straight into a warzone.” Dante opened the car door. “Good. That’s where I belong.” Before climbing in, he looked once more at the bridge. The two bodies swayed gently in the wind, blood still dripping into the black water below. He whispered, almost to himself, “You wanted the Devil.” Then he got into the car. “Now you’ll have him.” The convoy roared back to life, speeding away from the bridge. Behind them, the note fluttered in the wind, the blood on it still fresh.

I knew the Tiger Fang gang was known for having tiger tattoos somewhere on their bodies, but this…it was his whole back and it looked so damn good. He glanced back at me, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You coming in, or are you just going to stand there and gawk?" I stumbled in, closing the door behind me. Dante turned, and I was greeted with a view of his sculpted chest and toned abs. My mind screamed at me to stop staring like an idiot but why the hell was everything about him so…perfect. The devil was supposed to be ugly with horns, but this devil was fucking beautiful. I swallowed hard as my body felt a strange, and felt heat rise up my cheeks.