Painted Devils Novels & Stories

Subject line: “You Asked for the Devil” The file was massive. Raphael stood behind me, watching as I clicked open layer after layer. Lucian Damian Devlin. Born in Austria. Raised in Switzerland. Fluent in five languages. Educated in private institutions under aliases. Trained in weapons, finance, manipulation. Current occupation: CEO of Devlin Global Holdings. Unofficially: Heir and now head of the Devlin Cartel — a billion-dollar empire of drugs, trafficking, and global political influence. I scrolled, the blood draining from my face.

As if being named gave him permission to speak, the man said, “Sounds like he saw the Devils, for sure, Prez.” “No kidding.” Crusher stared at Michael again, but this time he looked thoughtful. “So you saw Dux, Drake, Viking, and Ice shoot up your sacred Garden.” “I – I guess so,” Michael said, thinking that ‘Ice’ was surely the one with the cold stare. “I mean – I’m assuming you know these boys?” “Oh, hell, yeah. We go way back with The Road Devils – or at least we did until the fucking President Wolf Connor pulled them out of the life. Took them straight.”

Delvin said. “But..” I interrupted. “But nothing, there is no room for sulking on my watch. Today is going to be perfect.” He said. “Now let’s get you our of that and in to something more presentable because no offense but I can’t be see around with…that.” He said with a scowl. I looked into the series of mirrors at the left side of the TV room, I had on my overly over sized/ not at all flattering pink hoodie which had a Pokémon drawing on it and a white short short, my hair looked a mess like it hadn’t been combed for days, I took down my braids just a few days ago so I now actually have to be an adult and actually care for my hair, that’s why I love having braids!! I don’t have to stress a

"What if the ghosts are real, though?" Alex killed the headlights by cutting the engine as soon as they entered an empty alley. Silence enveloped the narrow space between them, weighty and charged. When the picture was eventually unfolded, Emery carefully smoothed out the wrinkles. A woman standing in candlelight with a face that mirrored Emery's own was depicted in the eerie, oil-stroked painting. Her breath caught, though, at the signature at the bottom. De Valois, Aurelia. She had never heard the name before, but something about it made her shudder.

Audrey’s POV The devil was here. It was like anytime I thought of him or wanted to think of him, his face magically pops up and we’re seeing each other. His black hair was done in the same way Asher’s own was, his eyes staring straight at me as he sat down on the same seat Asher just stood up from. “Princess, if you had told me there was going to be an occasion where you'd dress up as beautiful like this, I would have gone in to…”

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa

It was breathtaking. Crimson and gold lined the walls; two sets of spiraling staircases split open the foyer like it was a dancing maiden enchanting all who entered the room. A grand painting caught his eye as it stood ominously in the center of the room, hanging proudly above it all. It was Clay, standing tall and unnervingly inhumane in his small frame. His silhouette was depicted to be in between what Damon could only assume to be his parents. But what caught him off guard the most, was the brilliant shade of red his eyes were painted. A wolf stroked elegantly beside him as his hands seemed to grip onto the beast’s mane.

Pain is a family friend to the Browns’. Their theirs had been spilled on the grounds of Bushkill more than the rain had fallen in a year. Their heart strings had adapted fairly to the constant rapid sting that always presents itself unannounced. On the coast of tragedy, they must have had their names inscribed, or at least, the whistler of woe must whistle their names more too often than not.

It was funny how they had lost hope in us and their shoulders sagged in disappointment twenty minutes before the end of the game, but ten minutes later, they were screaming their lungs out. DEVILS: 4 out of 5 goals. PHOENIX: 4 out of 5 goals. One last goal was all I needed and even if I had to sell my soul to the devil, I was ready to fucking do that, if that would earn Phoenix team the win against the team drafted by the NHL. “This last goal won’t be easy.” I told the team as we gathered around. “The Devils will tighten their hold on the puck if it gets to their hands.”

Aston’s POV I backed away slowly as I was surrounded by Devils. My heart gave a painful squeeze seeing them marking me. They seemed to come out of nowhere filling up the tavern. Some of them were heavily scarred. Their tattoos, the devil as a pied pier, was branded on different parts of their bodies. This was my first time seeing them up close, and I won’t even lie, it was terrifying. They usually just rode through town on their travels. The mayor had been real strict against them forming roots in this town but now, here they were.