Dante From Devil May Cry Anime Novels & Stories

“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.

Arnav wanted his doll safe, it can only happen when shivay come into his sense, coz this shivay was broken, he should make get back the devil in order to save both himself and his Doll A-“Shivay, come to your sense, Anika needs you, come on you need to be stronger, didn’t you look at her eyes which was screaming to save her, how can you lose yourself shivay, gare up, you need to save her, your love your Angel, you can’t act like insane, get up, save her, we’ll find her Shivay, don’t you want to punish those who toucher your love, don’t you want to punish him for laying his hand on her” Shivay stood up with rage, hearing Arnav words, he was right he can’t lose like this, it was his Angle and

They chanted, laughed, their voices raw and wild. At the center, a circle drawn in white chalk stated tonight’s killing floor. Dante walked in first, a predator in black leather. His shirt was open halfway, chest sculpted like marble, tattoos slashing across his ribs. A long blade glinted in his hand, an heirloom sword with a silver wolf crest engraved on the hilt. He looked like sin carved into flesh. "Don’t chant too much," Dante’s voice boomed. "I’m just here to play, not fight."

He walked towards me, and strangely stretched his hands out to me. "It's finally good to meet you, the only girl who softened my demon brother, the powerful Adrian and made him weak. I'm Dante Moretti." I struggled to my feet to meet him, but my legs gave out and I fell. The wound in my abdomen tore open. Warm blood soaked through the bandages. I pressed my hand to it, but I couldn't stop the pain.

she rasped, her head lolling. In the neon haze, Dante shifted. The wolf faded, replaced by a towering shadow with eyes like burning coals. A demon. He looked like the monster she’d imagined when she first heard his name. But then the smoke cleared, and for a heartbeat, he was just a boy. A boy with a pen in his hand, crying as he signed a death warrant to save a woman in a glass box. "I'm the guy trying to keep you from flatlining," Dante growled. He scooped her up, his weight a crushing, 3D reality as he slammed her onto the bed in the corner. "Keep breathing. Just fucking breathe."

Then, the driver’s side door groaned open. Dante stepped out into the rain. His tactical jacket was torn at the shoulder, his face was covered in dark soot and dried blood, and his golden eyes looked completely exhausted, buried under heavy, dark circles. He didn't look like an Alpha heir returning from a victory. He looked like a man who had just dragged himself out of hell. He didn't say a word to his father. He didn't even look at the army of warriors standing guard. Dante turned back to the vehicle, reaching into the passenger seat with a gentle, desperate care that I had never seen from him before. When he pulled back, he was carrying Kira in his arms.

I move toward the door to open it, but Dario stops me. “Please, he isn’t really like this. Let’s go back.” He says, trying to defend whatever Dante was doing on the other side of the door, but all I do is push his hand aside and open the door. I wish I had listened to Dario and turned back. Then I wouldn’t feel as broken-hearted as I did when my eyes settled on them in the room together. Dante had Carmella on her knees, and he had rolled up her hair around his fist as he fucked her from behind. Her eyes were closed as she moaned out in ecstasy. So was Dante’s as he thrusts into her hard.

My mind swirled with countless questions. “Are you saying Dante mistreats women?” The question tumbled from my lips, eyes glinting with a mix of fear and curiosity, fixed on Pietro like the bright stars above. Pietro regarded me with pity before humming thoughtfully. Taking a step closer, he closed the gap between us. “I’m not sure how to explain this,” Pietro began, capturing my undivided attention. “Dante is a formidable warrior, a businessman, a Viking, a Viking mafia. But there’s one thing he isn’t,” he paused, meeting my inquisitive gaze. “He isn’t affectionate, especially towards women. He sees women as mere objects for men’s pleasure or as toys for their satisfaction, nothing beyond t

A ghost. Amara tapped her nails against the stem of her glass, her mind racing. “Dante,” she whispered to the darkness, though he wasn’t in the room. “Who is it this time?” --- A Crack in the Empire Dante returned late that evening, the sharp scent of gunpowder still clinging to him. His shirt was torn at the sleeve, a graze of blood visible near his shoulder. But his eyes—the sharp storm-gray eyes Amara loved and feared in equal measure—burned hotter than the Mediterranean sun.

Alessandro’s pov: “Okay,” I mutter, “Who’s the other person?” I question with a relaxed expression. “Okay?” Harlow snarls. “Yes, okay,” I repeat. Dante points to the other guard holding the chit. He hands it to Harlow. “Dante. Dante Jovie,” Harlow hisses. Dante’s torn lips and broken teeth smile at me. I don’t waste a single second shoving the gun down Dante’s throat before pulling the trigger. As the blood pours out, I feel anger gushing through my veins.