Devil Female Novels & Stories

“Tell me, Sorah. Was it the red-haired I told you about? Where did you see them?” I zone out for a moment, numbly staring at the scowl on Devon’s face. For sure I can see his stench disdain towards Vampires in general, and towards Andreas in particular. It’s a passion, an obsessive hatred he harbors towards that lone Vampire that sets his orbs alight with black fire. “R-red long hair…crimson glowing eyes…” The words air out my stiff lips and Devon’s eyes go wide with shock before he switches into a cold chuckle. He leaves my shoulders and shares a knowing smirk with Yasha before quickly speaking to someone behind him I didn’t notice until now.

Before she could react, Devica lunged, paws colliding with the imposter's chest, knocking her to the ground. A fierce battle ensued, claws slashing through the night air, fangs clashing in a deadly dance. Devica fought with the strength and determination of a true leader, her movements fluid and precise. The imposter, desperate to maintain her charade, fought back with equal ferocity, her eyes gleaming with malice.

Angelina had never seen anything that scary in her life. "I had previously thought that you were the devil's incarnate. Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong. You're worse than the devil himself, Devilina. Because you're a bitch. A filthy, disgusting, cheap bitch. A bitch eager to sink her clawing fangs into any willing magnate. A bitch who's constantly in heat twenty four hours a day for seven days, as long as there are dicks with deep, loaded pockets around."

Containing, but not limited to: “Gag on my cock . . . Deep-throat me, kotyonok . . . Tap my thigh when you need to breathe.” The moonlight cast a halo over every inch of her body. It looked like an angel was sucking my dick—D’yavol’s dick. I knew the real devil would never let her go. He’d cut off her wings and lock her away. The idea would have some merit if Alexei wasn’t such a massive bitch and if karma wasn’t fucking everything up with feelings, reminding me Mila wouldn’t like that idea very much. As much as I appreciated the tears she shed for me, my skin also chafed at the idea of causing more.

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."

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.”

“Where would I g‌o if I wal‍ke‍d away?‌ This is my fami‌ly, Ele⁠na. I was their daughter too, and I c‌ouldn’t leav⁠e the famil‌y I built.” She took a few steps‍ cl‌os‌er. ⁠“They aren't you‍r family, you don't‍ belong here,‌ yo‍u were j⁠ust a str‌anger that st‍ole my life and home.”⁠ She stopped a few i⁠nches from me. I could smell her⁠ perfume‌, it was the same scent I wore everyday⁠. “You are a loser, Yulia.” Her hands h⁠it my shoulder, and I⁠ fell b⁠ackwards‍, the room echoed in sharp sound, slowly‍ I hi‍t the floor.

"Baby, this club has a man downstairs right now getting whipped by a woman dressed like a nun..." I nearly choke on air. "A WHAT?!" "Exactly..." She leans closer. "Which is why this?" She gestures vaguely at me entirely. "...this whole little virgin adventure you’re planning? Is a terrible idea." I stiffen instantly and her teasing tone softens slightly. "Listen sweetheart, these men are beasts..." she says bluntly. "Every single one of them is looking for the next easy fuck." Her gaze flickers over me carefully. "And you..." She sighs. "You seem to me like the type to want sweet cuddles and mushy shit like rainbows and butterflies... You won't get that here."

It is the word that keeps it going. It is sure it had seen someone for a few seconds. A boy perhaps. It keeps its eyes on the window but no one comes to sight anymore. It walks past a house with its light slightly contributing to that of the moon, a brighter image of the figure is visible. It is human. A girl. Definitely in her late teens. Her eyes are red as flames. Amber. Her gaze is faint and fuzzy like she can only see what is exactly in front of her. Her dress is white, assuming the dirt and unknown substances are cleaned off it. ***