The Devil And The Huntsman Novels & Stories

I whisper in fear. Tsking, and biting his lip, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Don’t think of it like that,” he says sweetly, his nefarious smile shifting to sweet and beautiful. “I’m just a fragment of dust of what you may term as the devil. So small and useless until I’m given instructions by my boss. In this case, Mr. Memphis, otherwise known as Devlin, and the water of power he pours to me in form of instructions, stirs my little particles into a pile of mud and I get my power from him. But for now, I’m nothing more than a human just like you and everyone else in your little world.”

He tried to run away from the feelings he has for her and yet here he is still smitten, still head over heels in love with a dead girl. Devon has just sold his soul to the devil.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

I quickly threw a robe over Isabella and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Belle! We have to move! Now!" "They found us..." Isabella whispered, terrified. I looked at her, my face set in stone. "They made a mistake coming here today. Because today... they will meet the real Devil." (To be continued...)

He just leaned forward, elbows to knees, and waited. That’s the thing about him. He never asks more than he should. He understands this bloodstained game we play, he respects the rules. He knows when to keep his damn mouth shut. I finally sat down across from him and took a sip. The burn slid down my throat, but it didn’t do shit to the cold chewing at my gut. “We set the trap,” I said. “Fake location. Arms deal. Low security. It spread through that rat we planted — just enough to sound real. Casey’s dogs came sniffing like I knew they would.”

I asked, shocked to my bones Dylan shrugged. "I don't know, maybe because he is a sly piece of shit and not the hero we all painted him to be." He resumed. "Later on, he tried to persuade Anna to go back with him but instead she tricked him and gave him a drink poisoned with Devil's Vine and with the help of the old nurse, who gave him a potion which separated his body from his wolf, Anthony Hunter is nothing but a normal man, banished from all supernatural beings and living amongst humans."

“How soft your hands are. Come. Sit right next to me.” I obliged, and allowed him to bring me to the couch he had just risen from. We sat next to each other and I brought my gaze back to the devil. “Would you like some wine? It is the best I have had in a long time. This man right here, he does everything!” Lev heaped praises on the devil. “Everything indeed.” I nodded. “Here, have some. Tell me what you think.” He gave me his glass. I accepted and took a sip from it.

A strange gleam flickered in the Sheikh's eyes as he spoke, his deep voice breaking the silence: Shams al-Duhur: In a small town, there once lived a sect of corrupt humans who gathered the innocent and slaughtered them as sacrifices to demons. But the demons betrayed them, killing each one and leaving no bodies behind. Their blood filled a vast pit beneath this very town—a pit dug by the devil himself, which became a lake of human blood, fed daily by the endless violence of wars and accidents. From this curse, Malik was born. The devil claimed to be a soldier on Earth and sent him to fill that lake with blood without end. No human being can stop him or uncover his true nature.

And then an unfamiliar house swims to the forefront, a large, boxy building sagging toward the mire on the same foundation as the one I had built. These thoughts belong to Amos, I realize. But the demon’s walked this swamp for the last time. The portal hungrily devours Amos’s soul. I don’t know if it’s dead, or if it’s just been sent back to hell. Honestly, I’d prefer that I never find out. I don’t fight as the spectral opening beckons me deeper. I’d made a deal with the devil. My soul has been forfeited since the very moment I first allowed Amos in.

Her countenance, typically an array of animated expressions, had transformed into a tranquil tableau of serenity. A soft, barely discernible smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed her. Even the devil himself, in all his cunning and might, would find himself disarmed before such a woman. She bore no regal lineage, possessed no grand narrative of her life. Her beauty was not the kind to inspire poets or artists, and her dubious occupation had seemingly secured her a spot in the inferno. Yet, there was an aura about Reina, a quality that was singular and extraordinary. She held the uncanny ability to perceive devils—two of them, to be exact. To the untrained eye, they were indis