Incarnate Devotion Novels & Stories

Riven said lowly, “if you say ‘we don’t know’—” “We know some,” Saint interrupted. “The bond adapts to its host. With Luca, it’s not feeding on guilt.” “Then what?” Luca asked. Saint looked at him carefully. “Devotion.” The word landed heavily. Riven’s hand stilled. Luca frowned. “Devotion to what?” Saint’s gaze flicked—just once—to Riven. The room went quiet. Wolf straightened slowly. “You’re saying the thing inside him is tethering itself to—”

Something about how difficult it must be to "start over with a child." Lucas turned toward her. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't insult her. He simply spoke, his tone even and controlled. "Teresa has built a career, raised a child, and survived a marriage that most people in this room know almost nothing about." The room became quiet. Lucas continued, his words measured. "Being divorced doesn't make her less accomplished. Being a mother doesn't make her less of a woman. Surviving something doesn't give anyone the right to reduce her to what happened to her."

"Yes, Father. Thank you, Father." "But... what we're here to talk about..." he looked embarrassed, "is the angel that you say you have seen." He stood up and leaned his back against the mantelpiece before he went on, looking straight into the young girl's face. His demeanor took on the aspect of one about to preach a sermon. "Immaculata," he said thoughtfully, "all of us, when our spiritual life is just beginning, tend to focus on the more dramatic, external aspects of the holy Church. Statues, buildings, angels, signs and miracles... things that are really only symbols of something much deeper. Take this Sacred Heart painting, for instance," he turned around and motioned towards the shrine

The pain caused by the device also helped counteract the desire of the flesh. Although Amorth already had worn his cilice today longer than the requisite two hours, he knew today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle, he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly, he savored the cleaning ritual of his pain. Pain is good, Amorth whispered, repeating the sacred mantra of Father Josemaría Escrivá - the Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escrivá was late, his wisdom lived on, his words still whispered by thousands of faithful servants around the globe as they knelt on the floor and performed the sacred practice known as "corporal mortification

I don't understand what he was thinking, was he going to kill me? "It's not enough for me to kill you," said Edim, somewhat at peace in his soul, but in a wrathful voice. Darkness permeated every word that came out of his mouth. "Who are you?" I asked. It was someone, but who, someone who wanted to destroy me. Edim's lip curled, "You want to know who I am?" she asked. "I am the devil incarnate. And you are beautiful, you are the one who will do whatever I want."

My tycoon husband was a charmer. But I never worried about it. Not when I still remembered throwing myself in front of a car to save him, losing both my legs in the process. Sebastian Walker had promised he would love me for the rest of his life, even if I could never give him a child of my own. When I was rushed into the hospital after the accident, the doctor said my spine couldn't handle the weight of a pregnancy. If I ever got pregnant, my back would break. So Sebastian made the call himself. He cut back on how often we were intimate, and he even set aside his pride as a man to get a vasectomy. Everyone said I was the one thing that mattered most in Sebastian's life. I believed it t

His eyes glued to her gown, he just wanted to rip it off her right this instant. He's been avoiding her since that night they had sex because he felt he won't be able to control himself from craving for her. Everything about this woman just keeps drawing his attention to her. He's never been this attracted to a woman aside Gemila and he was started to think Gemila had incarnated herself into this woman even though that sounded crazy. Gemila died two years ago and if shes to incarnate, she would be a baby of two years old by now. Incarnation simply means being reborn.

But next to his reflection, he saw the shadow of Angeline. She was the "weakness" he hadn't seen coming. She was the "motivation" that was already starting to rewrite his priorities. He realized then that the "Sinful Virtues" weren't just the rules they lived by. They were the traits that would either bind them together or destroy both their empires. Angeline wasn't just his wife; she was a mirror held up to his own soul. And for the first time, Roman Moretti didn't like what he saw.

"I do not need purpose. I simply am. Like gravity, like entropy, like the eventual heat death of all universes." "But you are here specifically," Prince Rhett observed, his analytical mind already working. "Which suggests intention, not inevitability." "Clever boy. Yes, I am here specifically. Because she needs to understand what she has taken on." Despair's form solidified into something almost humanoid, revealing a face that was beautiful and broken in equal measure. "Tell me, Love Incarnate, do you know what happens to every being who has tried to spread love across dimensions?" "Enlighten me."

Just quietly supporting her from a distance, expecting nothing in return. Three months of silence. He was hurt, that's all. Enough time's passed. Of course he still cares. Of course he still loves me. The more she turned it over, the more convinced she became. A self-satisfied smirk crept across her face, something close to contempt flickering underneath it. You act like you hate me, Grant. And here you are, still circling back to me like you always do. Twenty years of devotion doesn't just disappear because of one bad night.