Romans & histoires Name Of The Son Of The Devil

And it's ironic because that day was the first day he ever truly called my name with compassion. Blinking away the memory, I bend over the sink and splash water on my face, a devilish grin on. Maybe Papa was right when he said I was from the devil. Else, which child would tie her father to his favorite wooden chair and set him on fire? I felt nothing that day, even though I had a beating heart. I didn't pity him, even though I had a soul that was meant to be kind. Then again, maybe I was once an angel, a mockingbird killed by the wickedness of the ones I loved the most. Maybe it was Papa that turned me into the devil I became today.

He dropped the bottle then took a sip of his whiskey. "Father has sent for you" A deep masculine voice echoed in the room. "It must be urgent if he sent you to call me" Luciel finally turned around and moved towards his brother slowly. Luciel has 5 brothers and a sister, he is the second son of Lucifer. He has lived almost 500 years and has served his Father all those years in the underworld. He is known to be the only son who took the facial looks of the devil. Lucifer was so stunned when Luciel grew up to look so much like him, this made his refer to his as his favorite son. Luciel's older brother Lucas, has lived about 800 years and is the only son who has one of the 7 kingdoms of the dev

“You look like you’re waiting for me to grow horns and drag you to hell.” I lifted my chin, even though my knees wanted to buckle. “They call you the Devil’s son. What else should I expect?” A faint sound escaped him, almost like the start of a laugh but colder. He took one step closer, then another, until the space between us felt too small. “And what do they say about me exactly? That I drink blood? That I killed my own mother with a curse?” I backed up until my legs hit the edge of the massive bed. “They say misfortune follows you. That anyone close to you ends up broken or dead.”

“I think they were afraid of me, Father… but they also obeyed me. They said I was one of them — only stronger. Bigger. Their leader.” Zerach’s heart stopped for a beat. He had read of such beings — not from mortal history, but from the forbidden scriptures hidden deep beneath the royal crypt. The beings of flame and darkness — the Dravari, an ancient race of shadow-born demons who once tried to consume the Beast Kingdom. They had been defeated centuries ago — or so it was said. But their spirit never truly died. And now his son… had seen them. “Then I saw her,” Lucien said suddenly.

“She’s a D’Amato. Her father is one of our oldest partners. That union locks down the Eastern corridor. Cuts off the bratva’s leverage. Reignites the Atlantic run. It makes sense.” “It makes you comfortable.” “And it makes you safe. Or did you think this whole legacy you stand to inherit came gift-wrapped with no expectations?” I didn’t respond. Because we both knew the truth: I’d never been given choices. Only chains dressed like suits. “You’re good at what you do,” he said after a beat. “You’re better than your father ever was. But your softness will be your downfall.” My hands curled into fists. “What softness?” He leaned forward, voice dropping like a blade. “Whatever it is that’s cloudi

Eric took slow walks around her, thinking of the necessary part to start from. He stopped walking and squatted in her front, he wanted her to see his face while he explained the whole thing to her. “I am the son of Evans Draco, the fourth most dangerous man in the mafia world.” He stated with pride and he could see the shock on Rebecca’s face when he said that. “Wanna know who the first is?” He asked, but he didn’t get a reply. Rebecca’s curious gaze was already a reply for him, so he continued. “Your father, Michael Lucas.”

“So you came to me.” “Yes.” “And why would I help you?” “Because everyone says there’s only one man my father has never been able to control.” She held his gaze. “They call him the Devil.” The faintest smile appeared on Damien’s face. “I’ve never liked that nickname.” “But you never denied it.” “No.” He stood and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rain-soaked estate. His hands rested casually in his pockets. “You know what people also say about me?” “They say you never lose.”

I had always wished that she met her own devil, that she gets the things she had done to me back in folds, and the goddess answered me by getting her mated to the Alpha king—a man whose reputation for cruelty was the only thing more legendary than the ancient werewolf and vampire war. Alpha Azrael Fairwyn, popularly called the Devil’s son, the Casanova Alpha without a Luna but with long list of concubines or bed-warmers as the park called them. Rumor had it that he’d traded his soul and emotions for power and strength, they said if you were unfortunate enough to look into his eyes, you’d be dead before the next moon cycle, your heart simply giving up from the terror of being seen by him.