Noche Del Demonio Novels & Stories

"I thought that if I could summon a Greater Demon and kill it with evidence to present to the Caucus, they'd let me be a part of their world and finally accept that I also had something special in me. I admit my plan was way over the top. I was a desperate, stupid eighteen-year old. "Perhaps a Raum or Dragonid demon I might have had luck killing, but summoning a Greater Demon, a demon that had existed before the birth of Hunters, infact a child of Lilith and Lucifer, was unthinkable among Hunters, but I was so desperate to prove a point to the Caucus, my mom, and Hunters at large, that one faithful night when my mother was out, I stole a couple of her spellbooks, a box of chalk and a Celesti

I didn't know what it all meant, and part of me started to think that maybe I was crazy. The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache, the lingering effects of the alcohol, and I had to move cautiously to avoid dizziness. Stumbling around my room, I started unpacking my college bag and throwing books on my desk. As I did so, one of the books fell and hit the floor, revealing the page I had marked. As I bent down to pick it up, my eyes fell on the image of a demon - its large, dark wings, sharp claws, and terrifying face. That's what I saw last night. It had to be a demon. But Cole fought it immediately without thinking.

Ignoring it, I quickly checked my bag to see if the money was there, but it wasn't at all. My heart raced in fear. ‘No, it can't be,’ I shook my head profusely. ‘Tobias!!!’ I screamed in rage. I was madly angry at the moment, the urge to grab a knife from the kitchen was all over me. Seeing the demon coming down from the stairs, I hurriedly jumped from my seat, going to pounce on him.

Wallowing in guilt and shame will only set me back, but the reason the demon got out of hell was because another, more powerful demon was on a death mission. Stop it, I tell myself. This is exactly the type of negativity a demon would want me to fall into. I take a breath and look into the demon’s eyes. “Auferte malum elementa invocabo. Dimittie eam mitte erranti est ultra modum.” Evander’s head flops back and he lets out a yell. Yanking against the restraints, he jerks his head forward and back over and over, until Tabatha drops the bowl.

She was probably still angry with him but he was sure that she's all better now. That night he couldn't control his demons and ended up making his way to her chamber but on getting to her it was locked from inside which made his demons furious, taking her little action as rejection unable to accept rejection from their mate he forced himself in only to see her lying peacefully with most of her curves exposed. Just seeing those smooth skin got him heated and he ended up having his way after putting her in deep slumber, even though he fucked her to his satisfaction that night he was still displeased because something very important was missing. Those soft cries from her parted little lips.

As much as he was against it, he had no other choice. He had managed to cleanse all memories concerning the tale of the Scottish damsel…or he convinced himself he had. But now, as his valet helped him get dressed, he had not even the slightest idea she was going to return info the story. *** The dome shaped church was gleefully full, with occupants separated into the left and right portions of it. The long aisle that stretched through the center, coming from the double doors and ending upon the altar, guided Elizabeth Aflong with her mini entourage.

"You gave her that money willingly. Last I checked, you were practically celebrating. So happy about this." "Things changed." She changed them. "She's in my territory now, Dmitri. That's all that matters." A beat of silence. Then — "The devil is coming down to hell, gentlemen." His voice dropped away from the phone as he announced it to the room. "Brace yourselves." I ended the call. Good mood. Excellent, in fact. Time to let the beast out.

I kept crying and crying until I eventually passed out. The sound of the door creaking open jolted me awake. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I was able to see the time on the clock mounted to the wall. It said 2 a.m. I quickly flicked my gaze to the door to see who had come to my room this late, only for my heart to start pounding really hard against my chest when I saw him. Lazzaro. Finally. He was holding his sides, pain evident on his face. I dropped my gaze to where he was holding, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach when I saw the blood seeping through his white shirt.

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

Lucian’s note had come with a final line: “The devil doesn’t wear horns. He wears charm. Find his weakness.” Ayla exhaled slowly. She was no longer Ayla Monroe. Not here. Tonight, she was a ghost. Inside, the gala pulsed with orchestrated elegance. Women in gowns worth more than Ayla’s rent glided past men with blood-stained hands wrapped in Armani. Waiters floated by with champagne. It would’ve been beautiful if she didn’t know who half these people were — or what they’d done to get here. Lucian’s voice echoed in her mind: “Serrano traffics secrets. You’ll be one of them by midnight if you fail.”