Devil's Dance Floor Novels & Stories

Lila's pov “This is Caleb A.K.A black vortex” Damon said, nodding toward the figure in the corner. “He works with me as my side kick” Immediately, I heard the name "Black Vortex," and my breath hitched.The name wasn’t just familiar; it was infamous. Black Vortex was a shadow in the underground world, a digital phantom who could infiltrate the most secure systems without leaving a trace. He also had the ability to manipulate shadows, bending them to his will, creating illusions that could disorient or terrify his enemies. This power made him a master of stealth, able to move unseen and strike from the darkness.

When we got to the club, my excitement had gotten to it’s highest heights and the exhilarating chills running down my back was something I’d missed greatly. Aside from the number of scents overwhelming me and the fact that my ears are a little sensitive, this is awesome! Everything is awesome! We hit the dance floor as soon as we landed, but me and Lucas were the only lone wolves who had no partners. Plus, the twins and Ash decided not to tag along in the end, so barely any close companion either. Still, it was fun nonetheless.

LAZZARO That girl. The way she stitched me, the way she looked at me while at it was fucking sexy. I had almost lost control, and it took everything within me to hold back. I never force my way with women. I might be a devil, but I wasn’t that monstrous.

But beneath her dress, her thigh holster pressed tightly against her skin, and the stiletto in her corset was a familiar weight—one she found oddly comforting. “Do you remember how to waltz?” Lucian whispered, guiding her onto the polished marble floor. “I remember how to kill in heels,” she said sweetly, letting him pull her into his arms. They danced as the orchestra rose behind them, strings and brass building a sound both romantic and foreboding. As they turned, Lucian’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. “In ten minutes, I’ll need to disappear. Keep the attention on you.” Her hand tightened slightly around his. “Don't die.”

He gives me that sharp little nod—the one that says, We’ll talk later. The floor is alive with excess. Strobe lights glint off polished skin. A girl with gold chains around her nipples straddles a hedge fund bastard twice her age. Another crawls past on all fours with a leash around her neck, her master sipping bourbon and ignoring her completely.​ A couple fuck against the glass wall overlooking the dance floor. People watch. Some cheer. No one pretends to be shocked.​ This is Vortex—my altar of indulgence.​ My kingdom of rot.​

Still craving a man who's shown me I'm nothing but a piece of ass to him. So I lift my glass, drain what's left, and paste the smirk back on my face like armor. "C'mon, cuz. Let's dance. I don't wanna talk about men problems tonight." Daisha grins. "Now that's the energy I'm lookin' for." She grabs my hand, dragging me straight into the crush of bodies. The dancefloor moves like one giant wave under the flashing lights, shoulder to shoulder, heat and sweat rolling through the air thick enough to taste. Daisha's already in her element—dropping low, throwing her ass back like she's auditioning for Beyoncé's next tour.

I get it now. "Hey, handsome. You want to dance?" "What's your name?" "Ocean, and yours?" My blood boils at the fact my mark is a girl as I toss my drink back and slam it down on the bar top. "Call me Devil." Everything happens so fucking fast, or it's just all a blur because I'm trying to block it the fuck out, but the next thing I know, I'm sitting on a bright red fucking couch, in a private room, alone with Ocean. She starts to slowly dance as she walks toward me, keeping those blue eyes on mine, and making my fucking heart race frantically; and not in a good way, either. She's sexy as fuck, but I can't get Myla off of my mind, even as the girl straddles my lap and grinds slowly against m

This job was important to me and I knew I wouldn’t find a club quickly that would give me good treatment like here. It was like a deal with the devil, and I loathed the idea of selling my soul, even though I would only be dancing for him for a few minutes tops. The devil in question - Antonio the mafia boss - was seated, his coat laying on another side of the couch. His eyes felt like hot iron was seared into my skin. The music was playing, creating the perfect sensual atmosphere. And though my heart wasn’t in it, I silently cat walked over to the pole right in front of him and began my performance, movements I knew by heart.

But really, what reason did I have to say no? So, forcing the last remnants of doubt away, I mustered a grin. “Alright," I said, my voice lighter than it had been in a long time. "Let’s go party.” *** MARK Dancing Devil. A club reserved for the elites. A place where the rich indulged in their vices, drowning themselves in alcohol and luxury. It was the last place I wanted to be tonight, but here I was, sitting in the VIP section with a glass of amber liquor in my hand, staring at my phone like it held the answers to all my problems.

He’d approach Eriwan right now. However, it was such an unfortunate moment for him again that there were so many people dancing and shaking their bodies on the dance floor. They were occasionally licking, squashing and squeezing each other’s bodies. They were seen having forgotten all their problems during the daytime. They were seen trying to absorb every drop of enjoyment vibration and pleasure sensation which carried on attacking their thirsty souls and hungry minds. Delwyn Anderson lost his target again for quite a couple of minutes. He began to mumble again underneath the quagmire of his thought and consideration.