Devil's Tea Table Novels & Stories

The devil was in the room. And his name was Cruz. The name still clung to her ribs like smoke. Cruz. It had been whispered in alleyways, hissed in corners, spat across Dante’s lips. But here — here it slid across the polished table in crystal tones, staining silk and silver alike. Valentina’s crimson smile stayed fixed, diamonds glinting at her ears. But her pulse hammered. Every laugh at the table felt sharp, every glance weighted, every sip of wine heavy with the taste of danger.

It’s the place where the torture takes place. The paddles, the electric chair and the bed of torture. A bed that was draped in the colour of blood. At the centre of the room, with his back to the door, stood the devil himself. Dressed in an almost identical suit to that of the scorpion, the devil seemed like a person who was ready for a party. But that thought will undoubtedly be thrown out of the window when the Devil’s expression becomes illuminated. The devil’s green eyes were dark in anger, and he had his hands clenched into fists.

She should be. My phone buzzes. I don't have time to look at it, my hands need to be ready to greet my foe as we stroll out of the elevator, diamonds flashing with just a hint of gun. Whatever it is can wait. "Haz!" Devil D. shouts from across the room. "Come meet my associates," he waves at the gaggle of Ms. Cherry's girls sitting half dressed at a poker table. "Let's deal you in." Nodding, I take me a seat as I turn to my group and ask Lisa to pour me a double.

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

"My sister left one in my room, and since Mom had taken away my phone, I had no choice but to entertain myself with it. I liked the story—a typical playboy, handsome, and popular guy." Karina and I exchanged a quick glance. "Wow... Alessa read a book," Karina reiterated, not believing it. I took a sip of my strawberry milkshake, smiling amusedly, while Alessa just glared at her. Several tables were occupied; high school students filled the place. The table at the back was occupied by the football team, discussing plays or girls. There were couples, groups of friends, and so on. It was a lovely place and had always been my favorite.

But rumors from dangerous men had a way of being true precisely when they were least convenient. A lighter sat forgotten on a side table nearby. I used it to touch flame to the corner of Niko's paper, cupping it low against the alcove wall where the smoke would thin before it reached anyone's notice. The cream-colored slip curled and blackened in seconds, the words gone before they could be read by anyone but me. I dropped the last burning corner into an empty champagne flute and watched it die in the dregs. Silas is not the only Veyra who killed Liora.

She turned back to her desk—and froze. In the black glass of the window next to her, her reflection was… something else. It was her, but twisted. Hollow-eyed. Skin cracked like old porcelain. A demonic grin stretching across her face, fanged and unnatural. The light above flickered violently. Her screen dimmed, then flared white. She sat back down, breath catching in her throat. On the blog page, the entry read: “Dubbed The Devil’s Mirror due to its connection to the collapse of a demon-worshipping Sumerian civilisation over three thousand years ago…”

She professionally told me and I agreed with her. "Then, how about this one?" I pointed at the picture. It was a high ceiling black and gold themed place. Round tables were organized neatly and the expensive chandeliers were hanging on the top. It was simply beautiful. "That would be perfect." Sara nodded in affirmation. "And for food and drinks, you can go with Samuel and decide on that. I am not in the mood of eating and drinking." I felt queasy even though I just imagined eating. "Okay, Miss. Logan."

I was exhausted as my heavy eyes looked at him. I gave up. I gave up everything I had in me. Drained, I didn’t have the energy to get up from that table. He just tongue fucked me, and I don’t have words to question anything. He snaked his arms under my feet and neck, pulling me close to his chest. “Why?” I whispered. “Because this is how the devil loves,”

I'm not complaining at all. Minutes of intense gyration to hip-hop later, Valeria turns to me, screaming something. I can barely understand her, but since she is pointing to the bar, I assume she's going to get more drinks. I totally approve so I nod and tell her: "Hurry!" She's only gone for a minute when across from the hall I catch sight of an all-too familiar face and a cold sweat covers me from top to bottom. I can't even move– I'm too frozen to do anything, including breathe. I only start to take some air into my system when I have successfully convinced myself that he hasn't seen me yet. His eyes are currently on one of the other men who share his table, conversing in low tones with