Hornblower: The Duchess And The Devil Novels & Stories

The old man said while begging to Callum. I bit my lower lip and looked at Callum with emotionless eyes as he looked at the old man. He then, smirked evilly. “I hope you thought about that before you fucking did that to me, Mr. Domingo. You do know how evil I am when it comes to this kind of betrayal. I hope you remember.” I looked at the old man again. He fell to his knees weakly on the floor. He’s now crying while kneeling in front of Callum. But the latter looks ruthless and heartless while looking down at him.

My eyes darted to her tablet, it was a grainy, long-lens photo of a man emerging from a black car. Even in pixels, he commanded the space around him. He was tall,broad-shouldered, black hair and grey eyes. Lucien Alexander. The tabloids called him “The devil.” I looked back at Lina, and shrugged. “So?” I said, a teasing lilt in my voice. “You want to date him?” I gave an eyebrow waggle, knowing full well how ridiculous it was. Dating Lucien Alexander? Impossible. The rumors didn’t just say he was difficult, they said he was the devil’s own son. “Obviously,” I finished, the humor fading into simple fact. “That man is a no-go zone.”

Bernard spun around, his gun coming up– But before he could see anything clearly, a hand shot out from behind him and grabbed his neck. Hard. Bernard reacted on instinct. He flung himself backward, slamming the person into the wall with enough force to knock the air out of them. He spun around, his gun pointed directly at their head. Just then he felt the cold steel against his throat. A knife. His eyes adjusted, and he saw her face. Gianna. Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Good to know you're not slacking," she said, her voice smooth and amused. Bernard growled, keeping his gun trained on her even as the knife pressed against his skin. "Jesus, Gianna."

Lucien slowly raised his cane. Pointing… Not at Daniel. Not at Elena. Not at Noah. Not at Grace. Not at Lily. He pointed directly at Damien. The world stopped. “No…” Damien said quietly. Lucien smiled. “Oh yes.” “You were never just the Devil…” “You were Sophia’s greatest secret.”

And this time, I wasn't going to play games. We sat together in the study room, now filled with shattered glass and traces of war. I cleaned my weapons with mechanical but focused movements. Isabella sat beside me, carefully tending to the wound on my arm. "How are we going to fight them, Alex?" she asked quietly. "They know everything about us. They know this house, they know your every move." I smirked, a dangerous, crooked smile forming on my lips. "They think they know everything, but they are wrong. They don't know that the Alexander Volkov they knew died today. What exists now is just a Devil who has lost everything and is ready to destroy anyone in his path."

“And what happened after? He protected her. Stood over her like she was worth more than the blood you bled. Tell me—did any of you feel protected tonight?” A few heads shook, shoulders stiff with resentment. “Exactly.” Luca leaned forward, his voice low but carrying. “Dante was blinded. And blindness kills quicker than bullets. While he bleeds for her, you bleed for him. And she? She doesn’t even have to lift a knife.” The whispers thickened, heavier now. “She’s cursed.” “A witch.” “Since she came, death follows.” Luca’s smirk deepened. “You want to know what she really is?” He set his glass down with a sharp clink. “She is the Devil’s Bride. And brides… they destroy their grooms.”

A chain of silk, no less binding for its elegance. That evening, he summoned a small gathering, select nobles, guards’ captains, men, and women who still feared uncertainty more than tyranny. I attended, silent, listening. He spoke of rebuilding order, of laws strengthened, of serpents hunted from their holes. But every word was woven with mine, my name tethered to his vision. “The duchess brings fire,” he declared, his voice ringing. “But fire needs stone to contain it, lest it burn the realm to ash. I am that stone. She, that flame. Together, unshakable.”

"There has been some mistake. This man was trying to secure me to rebel against you, but I would never…" The dirty man pulled out a pristine handkerchief and began wiping the smut off his face and teeth. He pulled off his long matted wig to reveal a close cropped haircut underneath. "What do you say, General Nurlan? Were you inciting this woman to rebel?" Zan asked. Nurlan furrowed his brow. "All I did was ask her intentions. The Duchess did all the rebelling herself." Ravenna was dumbstruck. She had been careful. Yet the man before her was a general, not a pirate, and the Empress herself had witnessed the duchess's treachery. The question escaped her lips, "How?"

“and I would win it.” And as the Duchess stares into Lord Brandon’s face, she discovers, that there is something frightening like no other nightmare in the world could replicate, in a devotion like this. An ardent, zealous, terrifying brand of devotion, one that is more befitting of a creature they call the Shadowed Beast than a man. For better, or for worse. The man - the monster - to whom she had bartered off her own daughter, with thoughts of a hundred and thirty thousand lives, and hundreds of thousands more.

"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.