Primal Fear Devil Novels & Stories

LAZZARO That girl. The way she stitched me, the way she looked at me while at it was fucking sexy. I had almost lost control, and it took everything within me to hold back. I never force my way with women. I might be a devil, but I wasn’t that monstrous.

Deliberately. ‎ ‎The red light blinked once in her palm, a pulse like a living heartbeat. ‎ ‎She held it where Lucian could see it. ‎ ‎His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, infuriating in its calm. “Ah. The threat.” ‎ ‎“No,” she said, voice like broken glass. “The reminder. You don’t own inevitability, Lucian. You only own fear. And fear can burn.” ‎ ‎For the first time, something fractured behind his eyes. Not panic, not yet—but a flicker, a crack in the mask that had seemed unshakable.

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

Outside, the thunder rolled again, and for the first time, Aria realized something terrifying. The Devil wasn't heartless after all. He was just broken.

Leah Falco's POV I focus my attention on the plane window and stay rigid in my seat to avoid the urge to look at him. He hasn't told me where he's taking me and it's easy for me to admit that I have some fear mixed with anxiety. Devil is such an unpredictable man that even I, who walk through life without caring about anything, sometimes fear the direction things can take depending on the destiny he chooses for me. I am his prisoner, he is my executioner and I am forced to follow him like a fucking puppet.

"And I said-" "I'm not your friend, Sophia. I'll use you, I'll make sure there's no bone in that body that won't do as I say and when I'm done with you, you'd regret you ever met a devil like me, cause Sophia bambina... I'm a Devil you should run away from." And the stare he gave me said everything he didn't say. He was a Devil and I should run!! TBC

"Forget the nonsense Salazar or anyone else has been feeding you. You're perfect the way you are and if I hear anything about you being on a diet again or trying to lose weight, heads will roll. Do you understand?" Maldito, I'm dazzled. For a moment there, the look in his eyes turned menacing and I finally caught a glimpse of the devil he hides behind that sexy body. I can totally picture him chopping a man up with a kitchen knife while smiling. That thought has moisture pooling between my legs and I squirm, trying to get some relief. Violence turns me on. He crosses the small space between us. Judging by how he's gotten in my face, I think he's finally going to take the initiative but he on

“Let them run. Let them taste exile and hunger. Their return will not require pursuit; the world beyond Deira is not kind to traitors.” Juno tilted her head. “And here? What of those who remain? Those who might still dream of following?” Indira looked to her. “You have a thought.” “Not a thought, Majesty,” Juno replied with a delicate curtsey. “A caution. Fear is not always loud , sometimes it whispers. And sometimes, a whisper is enough to break a house.” Malcolm frowned. “Speak plainly.”

However, he was not for her and had been playing with her to get what he wanted all along. It had been awful seeing him with someone she thought was her friend. It did not startle Janice when it happened, since she knew he would eventually leave like the others. She had prepared for the day he'd say the same things others had said. Though it hurts, she was glad she didn't give herself to him. Because that would have been the worst. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes, neither would she be able to stare at her supposed friend. Yet, the person she had willingly given herself was the devil himself.

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.