Devon From Turning Red Novels & Stories

The residential training folder was open across Romy’s knees when Devon entered the bedroom. She had read the Monday schedule twice without retaining the order of the afternoon sessions. The memory of his mouth kept returning, only to be replaced by the pale image on his phone. Devon stopped beside the bed with a glass of warm milk in one hand. He had washed the flour from his skin, but his sleeves remained rolled to his forearms, a domestic detail strangely at odds with the gravity of his expression.

Even the devil had a level of fear for the goddess, so there was no way he could've been the perpetrator. It was in this moment that Lucas began to regret all the decisions he had made so far. If he hadn't been weak from all the energy he had used up while the flame was eating him alive, he could've easily tapped into her memory, and retrieved the information he needed. But now he couldn't do any of that, because tapping into his power would mean awakening the flame. After hours of pondering, Lucas decided to confront the devil. "If anyone would know, it would be him." With that thought in mind, he wore a red cloak, and left.

JACKSON. I watched the last few seconds of Devon's video at least ten more times, but I already knew I wouldn't find a different ending. Every replay stopped at the exact same moment. Devon opened his mouth to say the name, the picture froze, and the screen turned black. It wasn't just frustrating. It felt personal, as if someone had reached through time and stolen the one answer we needed most. The more I watched it, the more convinced I became that this wasn't an accident.

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..."

I didn't knock but entered directly, shutting the door behind me. Devon was standing in the middle of the room, it looked like his study. A bottle filled with some amber coloured liquid was clutched in his right hand, which I noticed was bleeding. His hair was messy and his fine clothes disheveled. There were broken pieces of glass on the carpet and I knew what the crashing sound from before was. "Devon?" I whispered his name and started to walk towards him but stopped when he looked at me. His eyes were blazing. Silver fire burning his irises. "Sweet luna.." I whispered in horror.

Devon; Hi brownie! Raven; umm hi. I was wondering if you'd like to taste my cake. I don't normally do... He cuts her short Devon; say less! Send me your address. Raven sends her address and meets up with Devon later that night and saw something really interesting Raven; how'd you get that scar on your hand? Devon; I'd tell you but you wouldn't believe . Raven ; don't underestimate me . Devon talks about how he used to work at this farm with his grandpa and how he would cut himself in the same place Everytime his grandparents don't give him his favourite snacks .

Who knows what would transpire if the devil had to come back in here. I went to the small bathroom, filled with limescale and rust. Grandma tried everything to get them out, but she said that the bathroom needed remodelling. I quickly cleaned my teeth and styled my thick curls in a bun. I noticed tiny black and blue bruises under my chin and neck, so I opened the cabinet and took out the tube of makeup that Bianca got me, particularly for this; to cover up the marks of the devil. Tears spilt from my eyes as I conceal my abuse.

And froze. Devon stood hunched over the sink, white-knuckled grip bracing the marble counter like it was the only thing anchoring him. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. His eyes— They weren’t the usual stormy brown. They were golden. Faintly glowing. Like embers in the dark. I didn’t mean to gasp. But I did. And when he heard it, his head snapped toward me, eyes still lit like fire. My heart stopped.

“Tell me, Sorah. Was it the red-haired I told you about? Where did you see them?” I zone out for a moment, numbly staring at the scowl on Devon’s face. For sure I can see his stench disdain towards Vampires in general, and towards Andreas in particular. It’s a passion, an obsessive hatred he harbors towards that lone Vampire that sets his orbs alight with black fire. “R-red long hair…crimson glowing eyes…” The words air out my stiff lips and Devon’s eyes go wide with shock before he switches into a cold chuckle. He leaves my shoulders and shares a knowing smirk with Yasha before quickly speaking to someone behind him I didn’t notice until now.

Devon disrupted my thoughts. "It's not about you! I just missed my husband all of a sudden." I replied trying to hide my blushing face. "You look prettier with a blushing face. How did you do that? Vampires don't blush!" Devon asks and hides his wings to sit beside me. He was able to do his magic again and he's already wearing a white shirt. Just like I suggested to him. But even with his shirt on and wings off, I can still feel the sexual tension between us. Is it me or him?