Devils Son Name Novels & Stories

Luci, I think all this that has been happening to me is all because of the devil. " There is only one reason why the Devil will be after you. Did you make a deal with him, or did your parents did?" Sonia nodded her head. " My forefather, Richeal Sotomayor, he met the devil and together, they made a deal among themselves. He promised that his descendants will serve Lucifer as their Master and it keeps passing on in our blood." " Then what does he want from you?" He asked. " I don't know why he won't let me be. Our family started deviating from this rule, I personally started backsliding so I won't blame him for choosing me as his deal. "

My father took my mother for the operation, but unfortunately, she didn't make it, leaving him with a debt to pay despite the unsuccessful outcome. Two weeks passed, and my father was unable to pay the money. He pleaded with Levi for more time, who offered two options: either my father would indulge in human trafficking or marry me off to him. My father rejected both offers, saying he would pay the debt. However, after struggling to gather the money, he eventually accepted Levi's demand to marry me off. But I refused and ran away from my birth pack, unwilling to live with someone as heartless as Levi, known as "The Son of the Devil."

I just picked up random women to f*ck , not giving them a second glance afterward. No wonder the name of Dark Devil, stuck with me since my university days. Well, the Devil was definitely my cousin, Lucien Sylvester, grandson of Benson Sylvester and the owner of this cruise line. However, my cousins, Dominic and Damien, kept up the family name, too, and together we were The Heartless Devils. Of course, there were ample reasons behind the names. While Lucien and Dominic went through similar shit in life, Damien and I shared similar experiences in the matters of the heart.

Her voice was down but cold "But why mum??? He's my uncle and I like him. He always play with me and he makes me happy." He said sadly bending his head. " Stay away from him. Remember he isn't human like you. He's the devil's son, he's biological son. So don't mess with him, else he will drag you to hell with him. Is that what you want ???" He's mother asked cozily " But how is he the devil's son. Remember the devil is a spirit and we can't see him. How then are we seeing Lucian." The little boy was growing interest. I boiled in fury. How can a mother say this to his son

I ask, feeling bad for the woman who is blinded by love. Bethany began to answer in a bitter tone. “I truly don’t know what she sees in that man. Yes, he’s handsome but his character is truly quite ugly. He’s more of a hit it and quit it type of man. He’s been known to be the Devils’ son.” Bethany made a sound of disgust. “Devils’ son?” I spoke out loud. Dread slowly began to fill me. Like the horror of an avalanche coming a person’s way.

I hold him gently as Sera places him in my hands and I cradle him gently in my large arms. “He’s so tiny,” I muttered. Sera laughed. “That’s how it is.” She stared softly at us. “What should we name him?” I took my gaze off my son and stared at Seraphim for a while before taking them back to him. “Devon.” She calls out the name with a smile. My son stirred when she called him that. That’s it then. Devon, it is. Devon Marsha. I stayed with them for a while and watched them both sleep, I admire Sera today for her strength, knowing it wasn’t at all easy for her.

She staggered on her words, her body shuddering tremendously. This man terrifies her, a lot. His uncanny sensation frightens and scares the people around him. He's known for his aloofness, unemotional, ruthlessness, and savagery. He's a man who doesn't care about anyone likewise a soul not to mess with. He's extremely cold, he's brutal and dangerous. Many see him as a non-human even the distinct souls around England acknowledge him as... The devil’s son. "I think he's still drunk, thank goddess!" Madam Madison inwardly muttered, clenching her chest in a little relief as she gazed at the gelid king.

And it's ironic because that day was the first day he ever truly called my name with compassion. Blinking away the memory, I bend over the sink and splash water on my face, a devilish grin on. Maybe Papa was right when he said I was from the devil. Else, which child would tie her father to his favorite wooden chair and set him on fire? I felt nothing that day, even though I had a beating heart. I didn't pity him, even though I had a soul that was meant to be kind. Then again, maybe I was once an angel, a mockingbird killed by the wickedness of the ones I loved the most. Maybe it was Papa that turned me into the devil I became today.