Devolution Brooks Novel Novels & Stories

I explained with excitement evident in my voice but he was the one with a confused look on his face now. "Book trope? I have no idea what you are talking about but you have to do this for a year." He breathes out as if this was a normal conversations he has on a daily basis. I shook my head, realising that this isn't some romance book trope and it was real life. There were no fairy tale endings in real life and Xavier Hudson was not a morally grey hero. He was the devil with no heart and soul. "Wait? First of all, why me? and second of all, what makes you think I will even agree to this?" I asked, folding my arms in front of my chest and I noticed his eyes checking out my boobs momentarily.

"He told her that Mr. Booker was waiting for her in their usual suite." She broke down into tears again. Apparently hearing the words aloud, even coming from her own mouth, made them more real and less deniable. Devin's mind was racing, trying to come up with plausible excuses for his brother, but he was coming up dry. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn't overly surprised to find out that Devon was cheating. What the hell was Devon thinking? Was he just destined to be a permanent player? Why couldn't he see how lucky he was and be grateful, instead of always looking for more? He's evidently more like our father than I had realized.

Devi was strained as she cried out, "No, Aryan, I'm not lying! Your father wants you to rule by his side. Please, just listen!" Aryan's grip only tightened further, his expression didn’t change. "You should've known better than to play with me, Devi." Devi's pleas grew more desperate as her form flickered. "Aryan, please, I'm begging you! Your father's waiting! And you’re hurting me!” Aryan continued to squeeze, unmoved by her cries. "You should've thought about that before you interfered." Devi's voice faded to a whisper as she struggled. "Aryan, please, just listen...return..."

People like Hamilton are jerks, and I could have handled him properly on my own. “I was wrong,” he says, placing his hands into his pocket as we wait for a taxi. “Wrong?” I ask, stunned. Devon Brookes is never wrong, what is he wrong about? “The novel we read on the plane. I argued it was illogical for the hero to always act overprotective, now I understand why.” “Why?” I swallow heavily. My heart skips a beat He takes a step closer, his hand brushing mine. His voice dips slowly, “because no one hurts my woman and gets away with it.”

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

Laera's voice came softer now, “ maybe you didn't pull the trigger, but if he's doing this for you, don't you at least deserve to know what he's doing in your name?” Eloise nodded numbly. Yes. She did. And maybe… it was time to stop pretending she hadn’t made a deal with a devil. ******* | IN A CELLAR | Heavy and shaky breath echoed through the cellar. The air was thick, humid, metallic, and suffocating. Sweat and blood trickled and splashed onto the wet floor in drops. A tiny drop splashes to the tip of a well-polished shoe. One that belongs to the man no one dares look into his eyes.

I wanted to forget everything, I wanted so much to get rid of the pain that I didn't care even If I sold my soul and body to the devil. I concentrated on my senses and felt a warm touch on my stomach, which reminded me of the devil. As I opened my eyes, I saw the devil lying next to me. Why did his touch feel so comfortable? The way he made me feel made me afraid. The sensation he gave my body. I disliked the idea of sex since I had never had the experience depicted in romance novels or films. That was a pleasure that I had never experienced.

“Return to the world of men. Forget the blood. Forget the beast.” I reached for the obsidian stone. It was burning against my skin, but I didn’t pull away. I closed my eyes and stopped fighting the images. Instead, I dove into them. I didn’t look at the cellar as a prison; I looked at it as the place where I first felt the spark of the Devil. I didn’t look at the silver as pain; I looked at it as the price I paid to save my mate. I found the memory of Girard’s touch in the study—the way his hands had claimed me, the way his soul had recognized mine before his mind even knew my name.

The cool night breeze whispered across their skin as they talked of dreams both old and new. The war was truly over. The devil had found his peace not through power, but through surrender to love. In each other’s arms, they had built a new life safe, loving, and entirely theirs. As another Sicilian night enveloped them, Luca held Adrian tighter, knowing that every horizon ahead would be faced together, bathed in the light of an eternal dawn.