Face Of The Devil Novels & Stories

But somehow, I always pictured a balding old man with a pot belly caused by the cheap whiskey he drowns himself in every night. But I couldn’t be more wrong. The devil isn’t horned or hideous. He’s tall, sculpted, and terrifyingly beautiful. Power clings to him like a second skin beneath the flawless cut of his suit. His face is sharp, symmetrical and too perfect to belong to someone mortal, too perfect for the blood he spills, too perfect for the cruelty he yields, and his icy blue eyes can bring even the bravest man to his knees. A cold prickling sensation erupts over my entire body like a thousand tiny needles stabbing my skin

"Hmm, yes, no matter who he is, he can't actually be a devil, right? Tanya asked back as she didn't know why Lydia was acting that way about the devil. "The devil, a man who came from the deepest part of hell, a man whose face as beautiful as that of adonis, his body cannot be more perfect, his voice as deep and enticing as an angels voice, but personality like the devil. His smile can freeze one's heart and may even cause the person to die. It is rumoured that those who had seen that sinister smile either had fallen into a tragic trauma or better still died tragically. The devil is no other than Alexander quinn.

“Yes without you.” He looked gutted. “Did you not say you would wait for me to get back before you seal the deal with that Aldridge babe.” he said. “Well about that, it is not Petra.” “Hmmm… so who is the unlucky girl bonded to you?" He asked. I stood up and walked around the desk. "Her name is Reva. She is beautiful. Tall with smooth dark skin. She has big brown eyes that look straight at you when she speaks.” “Her hair is long and she likes to wear it down. She has full lips and a body with curves that catch attention. She moves with confidence even when she should be scared."

Papa said. Ronan remained silent, a contemplative and tumultuous glint in his eyes as he watched me. “What, no gloating? Unlike you, D’yavol.” My stomach dropped, and my lips parted in awareness. Ronan chuckled at my expression. “Don’t look at me like I made it up. I prefer a woman screaming my Christian name when I’mburied deep inside her.” I was wrong. The devil didn’t have red skin and a forked tail. He reigned havoc on Moscow with a dirty mouth, an easy smile, and a snake for a heart.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

“After this, you are mine, Sweet little thing. You’ll not be able to run or escape me. Because no matter where you run to, even though I have to turn this world upside down, I will find you and bring you right back to my side because you are bound to me.” I laughed. “Trying to scare me?” He looked almost human to me at that moment. He was trying to save me from himself? I took the pen from him and signed a contract with the Devil. Grinning, I fired his words right back at him. “Sounds like foreplay,” It was surprisingly a sunny day when I later said yes to marrying Damon in sickness and in lies. He said yes too and for a moment I wondered how fitting it was that I wore the black dress. Perha

The baby stirred, a calm, steady pulse. Aunt Dee watched quietly from a distance, understanding settling into her expression. The ancestors’ voices echoed one last time through the realm: “The devil’s greatest act of defiance is not destruction— It is devotion.” Far away, the hunters drew closer. But for the first time since the prophecy began, Malik knew exactly where he stood. And he would not move.

he whispers nudging my forehead Sleep with me twenty thousand times and your debt is gone My eyes widened in horror, "Mr Voss, I don’t think I can last long for twenty thousand nights" my voice hoarse He smirked, Then, seven times per day Two thousand-eight hundred days You can last that long right? Seven times a day???! Even whores don't go that extra His face contorted, what did you say? He questioned. His face darkened, he pressed a knee between my thighs.

Although his methods were more logical than his brother's. Wait. This isn't about Alex. “ It's fine.” I sighed and a small smile made its way to his lips. I couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked, which sort of made me wonder how he could be a part of the mafia. He looked so…so, innocent and pure. But I knew he wasn't, he probably had as much blood in his hands as did Alex except, he had the face of an angel…whilst Alex was the devil himself.

“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.