The Devil In Dreams Novels & Stories

His face didn’t hold any emotion like sadness or whatnot, but from his eyes, I could read it all. My lips parted at the realization. Was he really apologizing to me? Alejandro? The man whose authority could move mountains at will? The man they call IL DIAVOLO? ~The devil Was I dreaming? Yeah, maybe. That definitely had to be it. Never in a million years would Alejandro ever admit that he was wrong. No. I moved back a little to be sure I heard him correctly. “What?” I asked, and as if that snapped him back to reality, he frowned.

The feelings that the dreams brought with them were starting to weigh on me. “Tell me,” he asked, turning my face to look at him. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I say, my eyes begging him to let it go. I should have known better. Devin has this theory that if I don’t talk about it, then it will only stay bottled up inside and eat me alive. He says that I need to “exorcise the dreams,” letting them out into the open so that they stop consuming my mind. Hasn’t really worked yet.

“I’m not interested in you being my literal pet, angel. I just want you at my beck and call. You need to respect me. My word is the law. Surrender your body to me and give up all other things in your life for three years.” You will be by my side when I need you. You will be in meetings if I wish so, you will see some shit and I expect you not to go crazy or freak the fuck out. There will be an NDA that you will sign saying that you will never speak of the things you see, hear, read or otherwise learn.” I don’t do rats, not even if they are angels. Is that clear?” he asked, and the steel was back in his voice. “Yes,” she nodded.

I heard the shower running and made my way there. “Can you believe that bastard?!” I almost shouted. Cara let out a scream as I barged in. I ignored her and sat on the toilet lid. “Could you at least knock?! What if I was shaving?” “Sorry. Back to my problem.” I said dismissively, and she poked her head out of the shower to look at me. “I talked to the Devil.” “What Devil?” “That Devil, Damiano.” “Ah. Why? Miss him?” She winked, but I only scowled.

“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.

“If I knew, I would fix it. I can’t stop getting enough blood. I feel like a bus ran over me. Literally, I feel like I was hit by a bus. Those dreams were so real, so powerful, and I can’t shake them, Alex. I never, ever, have had anything feel like this before. I woke up a pool of sweat and took a shower once already. I feel like a wreck, and all I can do is think about Amber.” “Wow, Dom, that is crazy. I didn’t realize that. I don’t think I have ever heard you say anything about dreaming before.” “No, I hadn’t. I had this vision, which sucked a lot of energy from me. I then fell asleep, which just became a trap. I was stuck in a wonderfully, erotic, real, intense, and I don’t have the word

I saw one fifty two minutes ago. I don't know what to think. My step-father has committed a lot of atrocities, but none, have haunted me quite like him shamelessly revealing the evidence of his arousal to me. I don't want to think too much about it, but my mind doesn't want to stop manufacturing questions I know I do not want to hear the answers to. If only he'd said a word. Just one word. It is said that the Devil is the master of deceit, that he is most adroit at weaving up illusions of false pleasure and decadence that conceal utter apparition. That is how he traps many souls without them even knowing it.

It's true that it's ugly for us to sleep with each other and with others at the same time, I like the idea of us being exclusive. Oh, the devil is a damn bastard because as soon as I have one man, he makes another one appear like magic, he can't leave me alone, he can't let me be with just one, I can't play with two because then I'll be left smelling my finger, it's certain that both will leave. +

“Lucian, open the door.” No answer. Inside, he was unraveling. The visions came like knives—sudden, sharp, cutting into his mind. Blurred images, smears of crimson across tiled walls, faceless bodies collapsing in silence. Blood slick on his hands, dripping between his fingers. His own reflection staring back at him in fractured glass, unrecognizable, eyes burning with something monstrous. The voices came next. Not one, not two, but a chorus—shouts of command, ragged screams, whispered instructions that slithered through his skull like poison. Obey. Kill. Bury it. Forget.

I said, then I heard the door open it was the devil, I don't need to look up to know cause his presence is already giving me the chill, then I felt the bed deepened, he is on the bed, he rarely does that. "When everything seems right when your dream seems near that you just have to stretch your hand and grab it when you have forgotten all about me when your world is yours to spin" he placed his hands on my feet and I jerked it off, he disgusts me "then I will be back to change everything" he said then left. I didn't understand what he's saying but I know its bad, that something worse is coming, I cried myself to sleep. Instead of dreaming of Oliver am dreaming of the devil.