Devil Pet Novels & Stories

Amelia answered Lexy. "Werewolves don't exist, though," I tried to reason with Amelia because it seemed like she really believed this. Amelia just looked at Romeo, his ear slightly twitched upwards but his eyes remained closed, "apparently the wolves are as big as cars, they're abnormally large...a whole lot like Romeo, Pandora."

My deepest secret is that she, the sexy as fuck women who will soon be my wife was mine, she was my first and only and will be until the day I take my last breath. Demitria owns me, mind, body and soul... she's the fucking devil and 'm her devoted follower. She is my Diabla.

"Oh you stupid, stupid girl" "Catalina, let's talk about this," he says stopping in front of his car. The distance between us makes me want to scream. Am I contagious now? Why can't he come close? "Are you here to defend her?" I ask "Knowing what those men were planning on doing to me?" "Stop playing the victim. I only told them to scare you off" Valentina says. I raise my hand and backhand her. "I wasn't talking to you" "This is who she is, Kahlo." She screeches holding her cheek "Don't let her fool you with her innocent act. She's a bitch and a murderer. You can't love someone like her"

An ancient breed common in Japan. The second looked more like a dog than a bat, except for the nose, hand, and legs of course. His face resembled a dog face but totally boned and cracked. His ears looked like that on an elf and the rest of his physique is similar to that of the first. Fangs, long and sharp nails, wrinkling and rotten flesh...I recognized him to be the defendant of the empire, the warrior vampire. The penanggal breed of east Asia.

Well, I'm not bragging but when it comes to good looks his shithead is nothing compared to my ass, I mean how much more if it was my face as a basis of comparison? I don't know what it is but for some reason, I felt a sense of responsibility to the poor innocent lives, so I snap my fingers and summon my hellhounds. They are my loyal pets. They have this mangled black fur, glowing red eyes, super strength and speed, and ghostly or phantom characteristics. Pretty cool isn’t it? With a simple snap of fingers and a distinct whistle, they instantly come to me and for more than a century of having them as my pet, just now I realized that they all have a foul odor, so disgusting I can't bear to get

Their tales are wagging like crazy, Reece's pup sniffing Devon's pussy hungrily. "Devon is so cute," Reece says as Devon tries to play. "Thank you, what's your pup called again? Sorry I forget," I say and he tells me his pup is called Spot. I can see why, he has dark freckles all over his pale body which are quite cute. "Daddy he keeps sniffing me," Devon says nervously as he spins in a circle to keep Spot away from his pussy. "I know pup, he can smell you going into heat. He's here to breed you," I say happily and Devon looks confused. He quickly climbs onto my lap with Spot following after his pussy and I hold my pup.

***** ~Author’s POV~ “My, my, my…” Vesper purrs, blowing an air kiss. “My Sweet Possession. I knew you’d come to me.” Lucy glares at him, hatred burning in her eyes. He looks exactly as he did in her nightmares— Towering with broad-shoulders, eyes like pits of shadow, sharp canine teeth. Long, glowing fingers twitching with dark energy, his hair black as midnight. Vesper is the embodiment of a devil’s charm. He's beautiful, deadly and soulless.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

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.

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.