Devotion And Desire Novels & Stories

The other things. I know that love is not the adjusting. Not the small accommodations. Not making yourself easy to be around so the person you love will stay. I spent two years calling that devotion. It was not devotion. It was disappearing. And I was very good at disappearing and had mistaken it for loyalty for longer than I want to count.

“Love and lust are two different things. Duty and devotion are different, too.” “How do you differentiate? How do you know where your heart inclines the most? Is there a parameter to measure love and devotion, and is there a device to detect lust and duty? These are things one feels and no matter what language, these emotions cannot be expressed in words. That’s why they are emotions, because they demand to be felt and I feel them as strongly as my hatred for you.” “When you hate me, then why do you want me? For revenge?” “I don’t know why. All I know is — claiming you feel right.”

Devoted. And in that moment, I knew it wasn’t just possession anymore. It was something deeper, something that scared the hell out of me but felt impossibly right. This was devotion. And God help me—I’d burn the world to keep her mine.

He forced her to look directly into his dark, earnest gaze—a gaze filled with absolute, unyielding devotion. "I know I disappointed you," Axel murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with profound vulnerability. "I know how much that case means to your pride as a litigator. But that was just a job. A cold, heartless job. Out here, right now, I don't need Clara the relentless lawyer who stood across from me in court yesterday. Do you understand me?" Clara’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she searched his eyes.

His son had to be harder, sharper, better than everyone else in the compound, or the shame would land on Dave's doorstep and that was something Dave never forgave. So I worked instead. Prayed harder. It took more pain than the others without making a sound, because that was what being worthy looked like. It had never once been enough. I traced my finger along the line I'd drawn the curve of Tim's back, the slope of it caught mid-turn, mid-breath. My finger moved over paper the way it wanted to move over skin. The wanting never quieted. It lived somewhere low and constant in my chest, the kind of need Dave would have recognized as dangerous and punished accordingly. Desire for anything outsi

I repeat the words like a mantra, a lie I need to believe to get through this. But even as I lie to myself, a traitorous part of me wants to find him again. My body, which was so willingly obedient to his touch, burns with a desire I've never known. It's an addiction, a craving for the look in his blue eyes, the possessive strength of his hands, the feel of his body against mine. I try to shake the feeling, to scrub away the memory, but it's everywhere. The taste of him on my tongue, the pressure on my skin. I wonder how I can fill this void he left behind, a sudden emptiness I never knew I had.

Damon was sitting next to me, his hands tending to the bruises that were starting to grow down my arms while I sat inches away from him. Every touch was a message of something I couldn't yet play out from my legs to my brain and back through my spine. A scent. An aroma. An awakening of something spoke of the past. He acknowledged, "Evans, they're beginning to respect you." "But respect isn’t enough." I gave him a quick look. "Then what is enough?" He stared at me, his face unreadable. "Devotion. Furthermore, you cannot demand that. It must be earned by you.”

I have," both Hector and I said simultaneously. The priest nodded and continued. "Very well, let us remember marriage symbolizes love and devotion between two people. We remember that love is patient, kind, doesn't envy, doesn't boast, isn't proud. It is not rude; it isn't self-seeking, keeps no record of wrongs, and is not easily angry. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices. A spirit always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres. It is my understanding that Luna and Alpha have written their vows. "Alpha Hector, if you will," The priest paused and handed the microphone to him.

John sits at the edge of the bed, looking out the window. Demon lies beside him, not touching, but close. I hug myself, still naked, as if trying to contain what can’t be explained. I watch them from inside myself, and I don’t know if I want to cry or applaud. We’re not guilty. We’re just hopelessly addicted to the only thing we have left in a world that condemns us: Desire.

“Because once you’ve burned this deeply… nothing else matters. Only us. Only fire. Only obsession. Twisted… beautiful… ours.” And in the fog, on the edge of danger and desire, we stood together, lost completely, consumed fully, and perfectly—twisted devotion blazing between us, unstoppable, eternal, and darkly, beautifully ours.