Speak Of The Devil Novel Spoiler Novels & Stories

he murmured against her lips, his fingers brushing the slick evidence of her arousal. Tessa’s cheeks burned, shame and desire battling within her. What was wrong with her? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted him—wanted him to ruin her, to make her forget every ounce of control she thought she had. Her plan was simple—seduce the devil. But as his lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, a dark realization crept in. The devil was already in control. As his lips moved against hers, his hand slid lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs. A single tap against her clit sent a violent shudder through her, her breath hitching as a j

“Too late. You already tried your luck with me.” I looked into his eyes—desperation, fear, and something pitifully like regret swimming beneath the surface. “You wanted to know why they call me the Mafia Devil,” I said, voice dr,opping to a whisper thick with menace. His nod was frantic. I smiled—a slow, cruel curve. “Do you get it now?” His eyes widened just before the cold barrel of my gun pressed against his temple. “I don’t do mercy,” I muttered. The shot echoed, final and unforgiving.

Just as I walked past Lazzaro, he leapt to his feet and grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “I am not running away!” I gritted. “Let me...” My words were cut short by the sound of a gunshot and a loud scream. My eyes widened in horror when I saw Stanley lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Then I lifted my eyes to see men in black storming into the church with rifles. “Are we late for the funeral?” one of them grinned. What the actual fuck!

But as their drinks arrived—coffee for him, a cinnamon chai for her—the air shifted. At the table beside them, two women leaned close over their phones, whispering with wide eyes. “…they say it was intentional. A full explosion. No survivors—at least not officially.” “They’re saying it was the Director of the Consortium himself, and his wife. You remember that scandal? The woman with the dress at the balcony seeing off her lover or something?” Ayra stiffened. Her fingers paused on the lip of her cup. Lucian reached over and covered her hand, his touch steady and grounding.

"I fucking hate you" He didn't even seem fazed by my little outburst. Just stared at me like I was boring. "I haven't even started Matilda, you can't break already, that would be fucking boring" I was starting to realize why they called him the devil. His eyes spoke of torture and for the first time, I was truly scared of what he might do to me. A notification cut through the silence. His phone. He glanced at it once. Then his expression shifted slightly. Not emotionally, Just focused now.

The timer on the screen read: 23:47. Claire’s muffled scream echoed through the speakers as the blade pressed closer, drawing a thin line of blood. Elena’s world narrowed to that single image. The man who had just killed for her, who had confessed his year-long obsession, now stood at her side as the real cost of their twisted union stared back at them in high definition. The devil’s contract had just claimed its first true casualty, and the night was far from over.

“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.

** **Sloane answer your phone** **I'm starting to worry** I call her. "Finally! Where have you been? I've been calling for hours." "I was in the mountains. No signal." "By yourself?" I pause too long. "Sloane. What did you do?" "I slept with him." Silence. Then: "You slept with who?" "Lennon. I slept with Lennon." "WHAT?" "I know. I know it was stupid. I know I'm an idiot." "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

“I’m doing this because if I don’t, we both die. And trust me—my death would be the least of this world’s problems.” She stared at the throne. At the burning seal behind it. And her reflection in the polished floor—no longer fully human. Something inside her shifted again. A memory, maybe. Or a piece of her soul waking up after a long, long sleep. “You lied to me,” she said quietly. “But so did everyone else. So maybe... you’re just the first devil who had the guts to tell me the truth.” Dante smiled, not with victory, but with respect. “Good girl.”

Devil looks furious, but there’s pride and admiration in his eyes too. “Just a question, big bro,” I say. “Do you always let bitches speak for you, or were they lying about you not wanting me here? I’m guessing the latter, but hey, you never know.” I wipe the blood off my knuckles with my jeans and wait for his answer. “Bitches were lying. I never even talk to them. I just fuck ’em,” Devil says. He’s not looking at me, though... he’s eyeing the unconscious women on the floor.