Devil Female Novels & Stories

"Keep reading, you'll understand more when your done" So I did. I memorised every face, every name, everything. Until it came to the last of the seven originals. It was a female, the only one. APHRODISIA SPECIES - DEMON / VAMPIRE / HUMAN / HUNTRESS AGE - UNKNOWN BATTLES FOUGHT - UNKNOWN. BATTLES WON - UNKNOWN. BATTLES LOST - UNKNOWN. CURRENT LOCATION - UNKNOWN. MADE TO LEAD. HEART OF STONE. AVOID AT ALL COSTS IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. RUN.

“Zephyr Darkken! What is wrong with you? It was difficult to understand you in your previous life and as the days pass, it’s becoming impossible. Does that not bother you at all?” “What do you want me to do about it? Kill Devon? Chop him up, claw out his guts and hang his head from Diana’s favourite tree? Come on, Jan. Grow up. She is free to choose who she wants and who she doesn’t. Both of us know whom she is going to choose. Of course, it’s Devon…” “But he is not good for her. When a demonic werewolf mates with their fated werewolf, instead of growing strong, they turn weaker, submissive, and…”

I looked up to see a woman staring down at me. Her long black hair over her shoulders. Her lips in a flat smile as she moved her shade and glared at me. I lifted my brows, trying to read what was happening. "Hi bitch, I am Valentina Cortez" she said. I sat back. She moved closer, stooped as she wanted me to hear and see her clearly and smirk. "I meant to say 'YOU FVCKING CHEAP SLUTTY, HOME WREAKING, LAPDOG CHEAP BITCH!" She yelled.

She could not stop thinking about the fact that she found herself as an omega in another pack. Not just any pack but the devils pack, how was she going to survive being here? Everyone she has met here looks scary and most of them have scars like they have been to many battles and came out victorious. But kept the scars as a reminder. She wanted to be a warrior, she loved taking care of her pack and she was the best.

Girls were expected to marry warriors, bear heirs, and stay out of battle. That was the law. That was tradition. That was the curse. But Devika didn’t care about laws. She didn’t want a mate. She didn’t dream of love or dresses or soft futures. She dreamed of war. Of standing at the head of the Nightvale pack. Of seeing Alpha Jaxson fall to his knees and beg for mercy. So she cut her hair, changed her name to Devan, and wrapped her chest in thick cloth every night until it ached.

"Especially family members." "I could forcefully enter and you won't be able to stop me, you know that right?" I got up instantly, needing to see who it was at the door. I pushed open it, coming face to face with her. She doesn't need an introduction. Camila De Luca, a.k.a Belladonna. The De Luca's only daughter and a certified psychopath at heart. In our world, she was not to be trifled with. In other words, she was worse than even me, the devil's spawn.

If it weren't for that cup of water, I might never have realized she used occult means. The first time I heard the voice, I'd drunk the water she handed me. I'd hired a master to probe what was wrong, and only then learned my unborn baby carried an extra soul. It was the missing piece belonging to Ashley. The fragment could not harm us physically, but it could conjure voices that ruined lives. When I saw the shock on his face, I seized Ashley's arm and bared the scarred skin on her forearm. "This burn? She'd it had reconstructed by a doctor to impersonate me—an artificial mark to make herself look like the rescuer. Any hospital check would show it was recent."

Frowning at something on her screen. That's when I see it. The real expression. Not the bored mask. Actual emotion. I start shooting. "What are you looking at?" I ask. "Nothing." "Doesn't look like nothing." "My ex posted something. It's stupid." "What did he post?" "Him with his new girlfriend. They look happy." She scrolls more. "She's prettier than me." I keep shooting. Her face is changing. Sad. Angry. Vulnerable. This is it.

Dante's POV The slap still lingers on my cheek. Not the pain because she doesn't have the strength to hurt me. It's the audacity that stuck, the fire in her eyes when she swung at me. She doesn't understand. That fire is exactly why I won't let her go. I've broken dozens of women before. Bent them, molded them, until all that was left was obedience. They cried, they begged, they submitted. Easy. Predictable. But Liliana? She hits me, spits at me, swears she'll cut my throat. She shakes with fear and still lifts her chin like a fucking queen.

HAUTEA'S POV She was twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven, with the specific look of someone who had dressed carefully to appear as though they hadn’t. She was standing at the building entrance at eight fifteen AM when I came back from my morning run, still warm and loose-limbed, earbuds dangling around my neck. A woman stepped forward. “Are you Hautea Sinclair?” “Sinclair-Javier,” I said, keeping my breathing even. “Yes.” “My name is Jess Calder.” She said it with the steadiness of someone who had practiced the words. “I need to talk to you about Drake.”