Devil Realist Novels & Stories

But my expression shifted instantly into a cold, dangerous glare. “I am still the daughter of Vladimir Devali — and who are you?” I asked, stepping closer. “Just another elite guard, nothing more.” Before she could answer, I kicked her square in the jaw. She stumbled backward and fell onto the sofa, clutching her now‑crooked nose. “Speak to me with disrespect one more time, and I will feed you to the sharks.” I pulled a dagger from behind my back and drove it hard into the cushion right beside her thigh. She screamed as the blade sank deep into the fabric. None of the other guards dared move — they were clearly terrified.

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.

MIA The devil cosplayer left me screaming like a crazy person which I absolutely looked like, but that wasn’t the point. I began to pace as I struggled to find the silver lining. It felt like it wasn’t forthcoming, until I caught a hint of my reflection on the large mirror in the room. Stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes widened as my brain, which was always in survival mode, registered what the devil cosplayer had said. He wanted to sell me to men. That was horrible. The worst thing that could happen to me. Yet I had to pretend it was fine because the first rule of survival was never to reveal one's fear. And my biggest fear was–

The devil hadn't just bargained for my eye; he had bargained for my humanity, forcing me to choose between a life of misery with sight, or a life of wealth in absolute darkness. I reached for the knife, my hand shaking violently. I wasn't reaching for the money anymore. I was reaching for the end of the game. I looked at him, and for the first time, I realized that the devil doesn't want your soul; he wants your despair. He wants you to realize that no matter which choice you make, you have already lost.

Or that he is agreeing to my terms. I cannot forget who this man is—even if he’s playing the role of sane and reasonable. It feels like I am in an alternate universe or maybe I am high and not really here. Maybe I died on my apartment floor and this is the first stages of hell when they lure you into a false future before ripping the floor away and letting you drop into the fiery pit below. Alexi would definitely be a part of this— seeing as he is the devil incarnate.

Even after he plopped onto the bed and sat upright with his back getting support from the low headboard. “Are you going to be this way, Mr. Valanate? Are you going to be the devil that you are in front of me?” Like a jack in a box would, his head which was tilted down suddenly snapped in my direction and the dead look in his eyes reminded me of the version of Alessandro I was starting to wish I didn’t find out about. “Of course…” The back of his head kissed the wall and from that angle, he watched me without fail. His Adam’s apple came into focus and added to the sexiness of his pose. “I am a devil.”

He chuckles grimly, his lips stretching diabolically to release a dark grin as he leers in, “You? Do you dare dream of getting rid of me after the vow that binds us? I flush with embarrassment and he rescinds to relish in my pensive state. Shoving his elbow into the top of Mortiz’s seat and fisting his hand against his jaw, he assumes a tilt of his head and cunningly smiles at me. It’s not particularly a beautiful expression a Vampire should make. But…I gulp with turmoil. It’s a whole world different when it’s an undisputed beauty like this doing the staring. It should make anyone wring with dread as those fiery eyes are predatory and nightmarish. Devon’s eyes are very beautifully brimmed wi

Schnell before. “But,” he continued, “zince the zychic creations of the Dirt are very real, efen if objective morality ist not, our S.H.A.D.E team vill no doubt haf its hands full handling the Dirt’s judgments on their own life choices. Mine should be particularly dishturbing with the things I have done, ja?” Here, he paused to laugh an actual Hollywood villain laugh that gave me goosebumps and would have put Vincent Price to shame.

The thick iron muzzle aggressively clanked violently against the highly polished marble floor. The twelve highly powerful executives violently gasped in pure, absolute horror. They actively stared completely at the violently shivering, half-naked, entirely mangled biological shell aggressively kneeling in the freezing dirt. The legendary Devil of Dalal Street was completely unrecognizable. His beautiful, incredibly arrogant face was a terrifying, actively bleeding mask of raw, violently shredded flesh entirely caged behind heavy, rusted iron.