The Devil In Dreams Novels & Stories

“There's no information on his line of business. But you might wanna listen to this.” I press the phone closer to my ear. “What? Is he a gangster?” “Not exactly. He's known as the Devil of Deals in some really elite circles. Basically, he grants wishes in the form of deals. He's very expensive from what I was able to find. But very sought after. No one knows what he looks like, no one's ever met him before.” Devil of Deals? Come to think of it, I think I've heard something like that before. I can't place where exactly.

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.

“…just like your mother.. You are a bigger devil than she ever was.” My eyes flew open and the steering wheel vibrated beneath my hands. The engine was still running.. Sunlight had finally broken across the skyline. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as the words echoed inside my skull. You’re a monster… Just like your mother… You’re a devil..

The night that was slowly turning into a nightmare for me, my mother had said I had been talking in my sleep again last night. And Amanda was very wrong, the conversation most definitely didn't take five minutes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The first thing my eyes went to when I got to work later that afternoon was a painting that hung beside the ancient wall clock behind the counter. It was a queer painting if I had ever seen any as it, it contained a man that apparently was supposed to be the devil with his charcoal black skin, pointy, black head horns and long spiky tail. The eyes were painted a bloody shade of red that were enough to give nightmares, as if I needed more of t

She was standing on the stairs, staring straight at me with a tinge of disappointment that struck me hard. I'm the one who is supposed to be disappointed, not her. "I don't care. How else do you expect me to react when you've locked me in here like a prisoner?" At that, her anger gradually depleted into nothingness and guilt invaded her eyes in place of it. But that didn't calm me, it only aggravated me. She wasn't the only one whom I wanted to provoke to guilt. Father should feel guilty too. "We're only trying to protect yo-" "You call this protecting? That's bullshit! You both just don't want to show your sorry ass faces now that you've fallen victim to that stupid lunatic who calls himsel

It was just a way for him to have control and power over me. But I’m the one with the power here. To get my revenge, I would do anything, I would give anything, and right now, I was selling my soul to the devil. But in this story, there are two devils. One doesn’t just know it yet.

“You know I could make all this go away. I can make the charges disappear, but I’m going to need something from you first.” I knew what it was before he even said it. “Sign the papers,” he leaned down to tuck a strand of hair from my face while maintaining eye contact with me. “And then disappear from my life, forever.” He said it with so much certainty that I felt like he had driven a stake clean through my heart, impaling me with his words. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all before it finally settled in my head. Curtis Blackwood was the fucking devil.

”Nice flowers.” Wendy commended as soon as Rebecca entered the room. Rebecca on the other hand didn’t pay attention to what was said. She was lost in a world of her own thought. She didn’t see the face of the biker, but from the sound of his voice, she could tell who it was. It was a voice she would recognize anytime, any day. The voice of the devil who haunts her in her dream. A pat on the shoulder brought her back to reality. She jerked and the flower slipped from her hands, but Wendy caught it before it could fall to the floor.

That night she came to dinner wearing shorts, she looked so fucking sexy and I wanted to send every one of my men out of the dining room and fuck the shit out of her on the dining table but I quickly brushed the thought off because what the fuck. Watching her sleep so peacefully made my heart start beating differently, I didn’t even know that shit still works. In my ‘line of work’, people refer to me as The Devil and I love that nickname. My hand involuntarily reached out to tuck a strand of her hair but I stopped and got up when I heard Gio come in. Thank God he didn’t see that. “Oh, why is our princess sleeping on a couch?” Gio said “Don’t know, don’t care” I answered as I loosened my tie

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓