God Devil Novels & Stories

With him being a DEVIL? . . . TBC

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.

Before reaching near god they needed to showed up in different counters for correcting varieties of formalities. Other than them, there presented a beautiful angel who also dressed in white like others was there by walking to and froth with a golden book in her hand. She was very busy with her work. She was the personal assistant (PA) of divine source. She came near a tired soul and said with a smile by looking into the golden book in her hand, "Congratulations! You've won our lottery." The soul just crooned, "Huh! Huh!." "You are the sinful dead soul of one who made a terrible error", said the PA again by looking into the book.

That black hair… dripping red with the blood of his parents. Why? He knew it couldn’t have been real. Monsters didn’t exist. "How cute … I’ll spare you." A coy smile, before cherry blossom eyes rimmed with sadistic pleasure lowered, "You, who shall become the embodiment of sin." Why are you doing this? Shaking the memory from his head, throbbing and still sore from the blows yesterday, Damon struggled with all he had. His elbow jutted to the side, limbs swinging in every direction as the grips on him grew tighter. "Get off me! Stop bullying me!!!"

he smirked. “No,” I turned towards him, “I want to know… who are you, Tom?” He laughed coldly and glared at me. I flinched but clenched my teeth to help myself pretending to stay unaffected. “Be careful what you wish for,” he gazed deep into my eyes. I had just challenged the devil…

"Stay out of my way Santiago. I don't need you playing hero. I'm no damsel in distress. I'm going to take you, the black smoke syndicate and the entire group of criminals and thugs that keep the underworld of this city fat and happy. I'm not going to stop until I get rid of every single one of your vermin." "Why?" Her eyebrows drew together and I saw the confusion on her face. "Why what?" I stepped closer, enjoying the way she sucked in a breath. I knew that somewhere in that head, she was convincing herself that her reaction to me was nothing, a fluke, but I wasn't as deluded as her. A thought suddenly began to work itself into my mind as I stared at her pillowy lips and the tiny birthmark

Are they some kind of a big ass organization, where bastards like Cole gather? When I turned to look at the devil, my confusion grew. He was just staring at the in front silently, like he was afraid he’d lost his sight out of him. I wanted to ask him questions, but he looks like he’s going to implode at one touch. He’s standing completely still, while his eyes are fixed on the old man with an intensity I’ve never seen before. The casual, smirking Cole I know is gone. He’s looking deadly. The politician—or whatever he is—wraps up his speech with a practiced smile. “Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.” He stepped down, and the room erupted into polite applause.

The man was a Fallen Devil! A Fallen Devil was a Cultivator who had been infected by Devil Qi, or had strayed into the Devil's Practice for some reason. He would possess the strengths of both an Immortal and a Devil.

“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.

Gideon, Peter’s granddad suspected. “Everyone may fear you. But not I. I’m a level 7 devil – while you're just a demon. You have to do as I say, sir. I know what you do with your son’s wife. The lonely nights spent at Eden club since your wife passed away whom you married to inherit her wealth. You were nothing until your wife married you. And who knows if she ever died a natural death. What do you think?” “You devil!” Gideon hit his walking stick with such force that it looked like it was going to shatter.