Dante From The Devil May Cry Series Novels & Stories

He's the same height as Dante, but that's the last similarity between them. Norwood has thin blonde hair where Dante's is luxurious and dark, a paunch in his stomach where Dante is all muscle, and age where Dante is young. But it's the eyes that are the real difference between them. Dante's are dark and wild, but with a kindness and warmth that keeps them bright. John Norwood's are brown, but evil and cold. There is no warmth or charm, no redemption to the darkness residing underneath. They are flat, like a shark's.

The guy left Anika and went to his friends to finish his dare, he was gay no one knew, his friends gave him a dare to dance with any girl and kiss her, He saw her dancing, he somewhere felt she would accept, he went near her and whispered to her about the dare and he is a gay, she happily accepted to dance with him but didn’t knew he would kiss her cheek has he only mentioned about dancing Anika went to the washroom, while she heads out, she was pulled by strong pairs of hands, she knew who it was She looked up to see his face, his eyes sent shiver down her spine, his devilish smirk meant trouble, He dangerously with his deep husky voice whispered making her shiver and gulp hard “Well you ar

I reached down in an attempt to pull them off. “No, leave them.” Dante removed his pants and boxer briefs. There he was standing before me naked, looking like a Greek God. Sandy blonde hair, light brown eyes flashing gold, his Lycan close to the surface. Toned hard thighs, giving way to the most perfectly hard cock I had ever laid eyes on. I watched as he took another deep breath of my scent. His scent pushing out of him with every deep breath he took. “Cupcake, your scent is delicious. I can’t get enough of it.”

Dante was at the center of it. He moved like a storm, a gun barking in his right hand, dagger flashing in his left. A man lunged from the shadows; Dante didn’t even pause. One shot to the chest, the body collapsing at his feet. Another attacker swung wide with an iron pipe. Dante ducked low, drove his blade up into the man’s gut, and wrenched it free in a spray of crimson. Emilia pressed herself tighter against the fountain, her fingers digging into the cold stone. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much her stomach churned. This was Dante unmasked—the Devil they all whispered about. No rules. No mercy. Just death, precise and inevitable.

Geez, do I really need it? I follow behind the two and they look so familiar with each other. Dante looks like this hot italian who compliments you on everything. I hate this look on him. Or not. Damn it, I don’t know. He’s never like this. He was this brooding, sick, and sadistic man who kills anyone on his path. Chivalry was on the last of the thousands of bad things I could describe him with. “Are you coming?” Dante frowns at me and I shake my head and look up to see he’s opened Serena’s door to the passenger seat. I’m at the back, I guess.

Pain radiated down her arm, but adrenaline drowned it out. She kicked over a marble bust and made for the side exit, boots pounding through the smoke. Her vision blurred, the edges of the hallway melting in chaos. She turned a corner—and froze. Dante. Standing at the far end of the corridor. Not in a mask. Not in armor. In black. Pure, tailored wrath. His men flanked him, but his eyes — his goddamn eyes — locked on hers like a curse. “I warned you,” he said coldly. “But you still chose them over me.”

He pleaded incoherently, apologizing over and over to the cold, dead phone. In that moment, Dante Moretti snapped. He was no longer the elegant Don. He was a devil who had lost his soul, wanting nothing more than to drag the whole world down into the grave with him.

“Don’t be so sure. I doubt you went to the mat for me on this.” “Oh, but I did.” He motioned toward Catalina. “She had to pull us apart. We were wrestling in the penthouse living room. It was awful.” Catalina’s smile and the slight shake of her head told me what I already knew—Dante was full of shit. I rarely thought about the fact that he was also a stone-cold killer like Dario. Their personalities couldn’t be further from one another. “I tell you what,” I said, looking at Dante. “If you unsheathe one of the knives you’re currently wearing and take Aléjandro out, I might decide not to hate you.”

But I'd been rebuilt into something stronger, something that could kill without hesitation when my family was threatened. Another soldier tried to flank me. I spun and caught him with my claws, opening his stomach from hip to ribs. His intestines spilled out in steaming loops and he fell screaming. Ahead of me, Dante fought in his full hybrid form and it was terrifying to watch. He stood nearly eight feet tall, his body massive with corded muscle beneath fur that seemed to absorb light. His claws were longer than my fingers, dripping with blood and viscera. A terrifying force of nature that decimated anyone who stood against him.

“A little shaken, maybe, but he’ll live—probably.” “What the hell did you do?” I spun toward him, fury blazing in my chest. Dante shrugged, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “The same thing you were planning to do, just better. You can’t beat a master at his own game, cara. I made Matteo, and what does he do? Turns around, steals my woman, and tries to kill me. Ungrateful, wouldn’t you say?”