Devil Night Clothes Novels & Stories

-Katherine- “I hate this,” I mutter as I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror. “I fucking hate this.” I’m used to black jeans, a t-shirt, and combat boots with my hair in a ponytail, but now Xenia has me dressed up in a tight-fitting black dress, mile-high heels, and red lipstick. This isn’t me at all, but it’s the me I need to be to lure Priest out. “I know, but you’ve gotta suck it up, babe; this is the type of meat Devil’s Void vamps love. Gotta put it out there to get their attention,” she says while doing my hair.

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.

The grandeur of the room enveloped us, the soft glow of crystal chandeliers casting an ethereal light on the scene. But just as I approached the entrance, a formidable figure materialized before me, blocking my path. The vampire, with an air of seething anger, emanated a chilling presence that sent a shiver down my spine. Lenora, her name whispered in hushed tones throughout the supernatural community, stood before me in a mesmerizing black dress that clung to her every curve. The fabric, as dark as the night sky, shimmered with a hint of mystery and allure. It seemed to have been spun from moonlight itself, tracing intricate patterns across her body, leaving little to the imagination. The d

Romeo's deep voice pulls at my attention, and I don't restrain my eyes from searching for him. The way my heart stirs excitedly as I behold his gorgeous face can't even be overemphasized, and soon enough, the boredom is long forgotten for another while. He is spotting dark blue pants paired with a white dress shirt. Two or three of his upper buttons are subtly popped open to give a little peek of the dragon tattoo that crawls up his chest and disappears behind his neck. His onyx hair is polished and styled into a perfect tousle, jaws in a sharp line, while his full lips shimmer under the gentle ray of the blue light from his iMac. It takes everything not to slither over the long table right

"Youth of this generation... Rags on their skin, all in the name of costumes." Vivian whispered, "We better get out of here. These people have a point." She gestured to their tattered clothes. "You're dressed in rags with no underwear, and there are holes exposing your skin. I'm wearing a dead man's clothes, and it's got holes and bloodstains on it. Then Leo is cosplaying the devil's brother." Leo poked his finger at his chest. "This is an honorable outfit in the underworld." Alice rolled her eyes. "Then we'll go shoplifting. Unless either of you have better ideas."

Maybe the clothes from last night were still there. The girl's eyes could finally see the clothes that were not hers. But no problem, Regi knew that it belonged to a madman who had taken her virginity. No problem, Regi must wear clothes no matter what. Because the clothes last night didn't know where they were. Maybe Gerand had thrown the dress away or something. The trash basket, Regi found his dress already in the place. Its form was still intact but Regi could not possibly wear the clothes anymore. Because yes, it was in a place it shouldn't be.

I glance down at myself. The short skirt, socks, the tiny hoodie. “I look nice,” I argue, twirling around playfully. “I’m just hungry.” Jude laughs, his hoodie bobbing with every step. “You clean down nice, too. You spent five thousand dollars on those clothes. I doubt the market value’s even a hundred.” I continue. “I spent five grand on a silent night with you, Marion,” Jude interrupts, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me toward him. I move without resistance.

Damien’s P.O.V. The night was finally here, October 30, Devil’s night. It was also Synestra’s 18th birthday. I desperately wanted to spend the day with her, but it had become somewhat of a tradition for the band to host a concert and party in Detroit on this night. Detroit was the city that made the day what it had become, and fans travelled from all over the world to be there for this one night. It was a night of wickedness and perversion, mischief, and mayhem. It was the night I was born for the night I waited all year for. We called it the Hallowicked Masquerade, everyone came in costumes and masks. We found humans feel much more comfortable engaging in evil doings when others could not s

I spent the night pacing the guest room (I couldn't bring myself to sleep in Julian's bed after the revelation), rehearsing my role. Smile. Dance. Look vulnerable. When the stylist arrived the next afternoon, she brought a rack of gowns, but Julian had already made the choice. It hung on the door of the wardrobe like a second skin. It was a crimson silk gown, backless, with a neckline that plunged dangerously low. It was the kind of dress that started wars. I put it on. I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back wasn't Vivian the librarian. She was Vivian Thorne, the wife of the Devil. The diamond choker glittered at her throat, a leash and a shield all in one.

But, his ghost continued to haunt me. Viktor was like a demon, a devil, a monster. He was pure evil. And how he had survived that was beyond me I got out of the shower, and started getting ready. I dressed in a black dress, and a black jacket. I put on a black hat, and black sun glasses.