Devil's Tea Table Novels & Stories

"The Alpha Prime is waiting." I pulled my shoulders back, steeling myself before walking into the room. The door closed behind me and right there, standing at the very end of the long dinner table with an arm resting on the back of the chair, was the devil himself. "Adelaide Silverstone in the flesh..."

“But she… she is something else entirely. You’ve sharpened her into steel. And now she shines brighter than you.” Dante bristled, but Amara placed a hand lightly on his arm, steadying him. “What do you want?” she asked. Il Diavolo tilted his head. “A bargain.” --- The Devil’s Terms They sat in the hollowed chapel, the stained glass shattered, moonlight spilling across the cracked altar. Around them, masked guests laughed and drank, oblivious—or perhaps delighting in—the tension at the heart of the room. Il Diavolo leaned forward, folding his hands.

he whispered, voice low, dark, teasing. Her fingers slid over his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle as she closed the last inch between them, lips brushing his. “If I can’t kill the devil…” she murmured, voice trembling with fire, “then when I take my revenge… you’ll wish for anything but death.” Her eyes locked on his in a promise. “I will make you taste tears of blood, dear devil.”

His voice drops into a dark, lethal tone that carries to every single corner of the silent chapel. "You know what they say, Pierre… the devil always comes to collect..."

As we continue to walk, my eyes roam around to see if there had been phones recording us or taking pictures of us. Thankfully, everybody is busy dancing and getting drunk. But as I continue to look around, my smile instantly fades because the expected appearance of the devil finally happens. He's occupying a table just near ours, and he's surrounded by ladies that are trying to hard to take his attention. But the heavens and I know that he's only looking at me. Eyes locked and fixed on every movement I make.

He seemed completely unbothered by the fact that his imposing presence had caused the table to fall into an unusually quiet hush. "Another round?" Bienley chimed in enthusiastically, his eyes bright with excitement. He reached out, his hand hovering over another bottle of beer, ready to continue the night's merriment. "Enough." Devon's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, stern and unyielding. The single word was enough to make everyone at the table freeze, their eyes darting between the two men. Bienley turned to face Devon, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was a spark of defiance in his gaze, as if he was ready to challenge Devon's authority.

The slightest breeze provided Aphrodite with a teasing glance at his sculpted torso. Devon carried two glasses and the chilled bottle of champagne back to the table while Aphrodite followed with the pitcher of orange juice. He held a chair out for her and began opening the bottle while she poured orange juice into each glass. Aphrodite added the champagne while Devon got settled in the chair across from her. Raising her mimosa, she toasted, "To progress." Tapping his glass against hers, Devon said, "To that point, I want to tell you something."

one of them said, voice shaky. Vito didn’t acknowledge them. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the dim, dusty space. Matteo was sitting at a folding table in the middle of the open floor, surrounded by five of his guys playing cards and drinking. The second Vito appeared without anyone behind him, Matteo’s face split into a wide, mocking grin. “Ho-ly shit,” Matteo laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Look who decided to show up. Fucking Vito himself, walking in here with no guards? You really got balls the size of watermelons, man. Or are you just that suicidal?”

How dare they let their voice reach outside the room? “You both have guts to talk sh*t behind my back, hm?” he coldly said, ignoring the shock as if a dirt in their faces. He smiled, not reaching his eyes, a warning to their inappropriate display in a sacred golden room, “You're ignorance to even secured the place for damn talk-shit is what's make you both a powerless. Bare in mind, you're not the devil here, it's me!” He looked at the young man, a very man of Denever who immediately recover from shock.

A long wooden table carved from a single trunk runs through the center of the chamber, torches mounted along the curved walls casting flickering gold light across familiar faces. Elders and warriors seated across from us. Devon also settles midway down the table. He perks up when we enter, bowing his head respectfully to Rhett before glancing at me with a smile creasing on his face. “Luna.” “Beta,” I reply, offering a polite nod. And then we take our seats at the head of the table as Rhett signals for the meal to begin. “To Devon,” Williams declares, lifting his cup. “Our Beta finally returned.”