Living With The Devil Novels & Stories

she said and cursed herself that she was blushing yet again. “What things have you read, angel?” he asked, looking very amused. “I know there are people that enjoy treating their sexual partner like a pet. Leashes, collars, cages, pet bowls,” she told him, trying to be brave enough to meet his eyes, but failing and instead looking down. “I’m not interested in you being my literal pet, angel. I just want you at my beck and call. You need to respect me. My word is the law. Surrender your body to me and give up all other things in your life for three years.”

A living scripture written in fire and bone. He had been forged in this work: in the breaking of souls and the shaping of terror. The title “Devil” was less a name and more a job description. So why did it all feel so… thin? Why did the silence between screams weigh heavier than the screams themselves? He finally turned his head.

If anything, the Devils being a clear and universal threat helps ground it, rather than fat, rich old men, trying to find the best ways to advance themselves and spread misery. I can learn, remember, accept that breaths are seconds, blinks are minutes, arcs are hours, and every other comparison to body parts. Finger breadth as an inch or a pace as an inch or a mile as a league. I’ll even admit that their views on religion are so much healthier, and don’t account for more death than every plague or natural disaster combined. I just won’t be this! I will not lay down and accept that I’m nothing more than a breathing pocket pussy or cum dumpster because I was born with one extra hole than seven

“I’m going to bury myself inside of you until you collapse from exhaustion!” Inner Devil: ‘Ahhh! I want! I want!’ Inner Devil 2: ‘What? I guess it’s time to schedule my funeral. I’m dying a happy woman! Someone tell my parents, I lived a fruitful life!’

"Is that what you think about when you're with me? Have you been blaming me for what they did this entire time?" Adom sent him a withering look. "If I did, you'd have been dead long ago." Win reared back, shoving the Devil away. "You . . . how are you like this?" he asked, voice catching in disappointed sadness. The Devil crossed his arms over his chest. "Centuries of living in hell will do that to a person, Win. I didn't grow up in your sheltered Heaven or even on this plane of existence. Hell is where I was reared."

The teacher replied that this was a class about the country's history, not about Catholicism and such. "But, sir, fallen angels exist, right?" he asked. I raised my gaze since that question, for some reason, caught my interest. "Obviously, Mark, they are demons now," the somewhat exasperated teacher replied. "But are they on Earth in human form or are they spirits?" "Spirits." "How can you be so sure?" the boy insisted. "It's in the Bible, Mark, I recommend you read it; you'll find many of your questions there." "I've always thought fallen angels are like you and me, the fallen ones, of course, because the angels of light, I believe, are spirits. If the fallen ones are on Earth, why wouldn't

She ran away and left her alone in the hands of this demon. She looked at Eric who had a devilish smile on his face, then stared down at her stomach. ‘Maybe you were meant to be a mafia after all.’

Grayson Voss I was supposed to be in a meeting with a cartel rat who thought he could play both sides. Instead, I ended up in a club that reeked of sweat, desperation, and lies. Club Delirium. Ironically named, considering it mostly caters to men trying to forget reality with vodka and silicone. I wasn’t there for pleasure. I was there because the club owner was late on his payments. And late payments in my world meant broken bones or buried bodies.

I half expected no one to show up to dad's funeral. But to my annoyance and surprise, a dozen people sat scattered around the little church auditorium with unmasked boredom while the preacher hummed a sermon meant to make us cry a river and think of where we'd end up after we die. I knew where Dad would end up. In hell. We all did. He'd be best buddies with the devil! They'd have hot choco and gossip like little bitches. He'd saved himself a seat there when he'd started getting drunk and hitting my mom and I.

“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.