Dante From The Devil May Cry Series Novels & Stories

she spat, even as her nipples hardened against the thin fabric of her dress. That was the final straw. Dante ripped the straps of her dress down in one violent motion, exposing her breasts. Before she could protest, he bent down and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make her cry out. His hand shoved between her thighs, fingers pushing her soaked panties aside and plunging two thick digits deep into her tight heat. “Still so fucking wet,” he snarled, pumping his fingers roughly. “Trapped with the Devil’s Son for one day and your virgin pussy is already weeping for me.”

Dante was standing and waiting for her, when she arrived after such a long time, he pointed at the couch. “Sit there." Grace turned at that time to look at him and that was when she saw it… A gasp left her lips on realizing who he was and whom she had just followed home. Wasn't that Dante? Dante De Luca? The cousin to the famous Marco De Luca? The owner of Devil's Den? It was him indeed. She hadn't gotten a good view of his face back outside since she was so focused on trying to get herself out of jail, even when the police hadn't even come for her yet.

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.

After a few seconds of eye-to-eye battle, he still maintained his silence, leaving Don Basco with no choice but to break the deafening silence between them. “Am I right? What do you think? (Am I, right? What do you think?)” Don Basco questioned; his lips painted with the image of the devil's grin. Without Don Basco's knowledge, the real devil was the young man in front of him—a devil who is hiding in human flesh with an innocent face, waiting for the right moment to attack his enemy and make them feel what hell is like.

Dante wanted to believe her, but he chose not to – this way he would be able to get over her death quicker. “Don’t you remember what they did you our parents?” Dante spoke as he stood in the middle of his room. His one eye covers with a patch, while a deep scar runs from his right cheek to the corner of his lips. Another deep scar ran at the side of his head. He is wearing a plain white button-up shirt and black pants. His hair is gelled back neatly. Dante and Mateo share the same eye color – they got it from their mother. They both are tall, but Mateo is slightly taller than his elder brother.

Dante was standing in the doorway with surprised amber eyes. Dante was actually a handsome guy with his strawberry blonde hair. It was short but long enough to cover his ears a little. The lines of his face from jaw to chin were slightly feminine, but you could never mistake him for anything but male. As he stood before us in only his boxers, every swell of muscle in his limbs and torso was well defined and tight. “Welcome home, Vasilios…” Dante said before stepping aside and letting us get by. He knelt beside us as we came in until Lio touched his shoulder, allowing him to rise again. Baltasar knelt as well and Lio did the same with him.

in Ivy’s chest flared with such intensity it felt like a physical strike. The door hissed open. Dante stood there. He looked like he had crawled out of hell. His face was gaunt, his obsidian eyes sunken and burning with a dark, terrifying light. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, a permanent reminder of the Nadir’s collapse. He didn't speak. He didn't embrace her. He stepped into the room and grabbed her by the jaw, his fingers bruising her skin, forcing her to look up at him.

I made it to the front steps before I heard… “Hold it right there.” If Antarctica had a voice, this was it. I turned slightly, and met the sight of the devil himself glowering at me. Dante had stepped out of the car, looking like a character out of a freaking fantasy novel. His top was undone by half and he had his sleeves rolled up. This guy was sin itself. He tried taking a step towards me and stumbled slightly. Dominic was by his side in an instant, reaching out. “Watch out—”

“I know you’re saying this out of impulse. You don’t have to be scared. Dante is a dangerous man—even if you don’t like our alpha, you can’t go with this man. He’s a criminal with serious cases of molestation and preying on young, unmarried girls. Think carefully before going with him.” Dante—that’s what they kept calling him—still had his hand pressed against my neck, firm but not quite crushing yet. I shifted slightly, just enough to steal a peek at him without making it obvious. He was handsome in a rugged, dangerous way, the kind that might turn heads and drop jaws among women who didn’t know better. Sharp jawline shadowed with stubble, dark eyes glinting with predatory amusement. Might

No humanity, just hunger. “You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.” He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.” Her heart pounded. Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.