The Devil In Her Dreams Novels & Stories

“It’s just these weird dreams I’ve been having… they are messing with my head, Diana.” Devon had told me about this before. The weird pictures in his head had been keeping him awake at night. He told me it was a small little girl that kept on appearing in his dreams and was being haunted by the dark spirits that surrounded her. The little girl screamed and pleaded for help, but no one came for her. No one helped. She was forever stuck in that nightmare, always alone in a corner and covering her ears from the voices in her head.

The devil likes to appear as a dream. That could be true, but Scarlett, she actually is a dream. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to turn her into a nightmare. Even my mother.

I felt his knuckle rings glide against my torso, his hand traveling up to pin my neck to the wall again almost as if he was claiming me. A stranger claiming a random lady. How unreal. “I can be your poison. I can be the one they fear. For you.” He whispered, his lip brushing against my earlobe. "I'll give you the power you desire, and take them down for you,”. "What are you talking about?” I gagged. "I can see your heart, it craves revenge. I'll get them for you, I'll get them all, just for you. Chloe Willie. Seth Finn. Martha Wilson. All of them.”.

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

Mom asks out of partial curiosity as she sinks into the couch, her legs crossed on the island table. "She's old, full of wrinkles, and can barely lift a cup, and me?" I give a little twirl, "I am young, succulent, and beautiful. A typical Aphrodite's rebirth and might I add, a goddess in bed." I wink at the last part and she makes a gagging expression. "You need prayers, Adelina," she shakes her head, "In fact, you are a lost cause. A full session of exorcism can't even save you."

“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 words to give it justice. I am afraid to go back to sleep, and yet I want to. I want to dream about her, I want to have her in my arms, I want to be doing those things I dreamt about to her. It is absolutely maddening. I can’t function properly, and I just can’t get enough blood to drink. I haven’t dreamed since before I was changed, and even then, nothing like this. Nothing!” “Dom, you got it bad. Maybe this is a connection you two have. Maybe she is the same way?” “I thought about that too. Because in

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

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️ When the devil swore with the intention of destroying your life, she doesn’t come out wth horns. She's best to win you if she walks in wearing velvet heels, all dressed on silk, the exact one that hug your body shamelessly. This time, she's dedicated to hugging every regret you succeeded in burying and with the deadly smile: “Remember how you kissed me?” Her name?

Then, slowly— “I met a goddess,” she said. “She was… terrifying. And beautiful. And she didn’t like me.” Mark tilted his head. “And you didn’t like her either?” “Not at all. We could barely stand each other, and she's so intimidating.” Aria muttered. He chuckled. “And then?” She leaned in even closer now, her voice dropping further. “I met the devil.” That made him pause. Just for a fraction of a second. Then he smiled again.

The vision flickered; she was pulled out the window, the crumpled form of the silver Persian bleeding on the sheets. He licked her face several times. "I tried so hard," he whispered. This time the vision was his, fuzzy form suffused with amber light as his demon magic wrapped around him and lifted him from the bed, every strand of fur on end. "I know," she said. "You didn't have any time. I should have told Mom about the dreams. It was my fault." She wept again, cheeks slick with moisture. This round of blaming had to stop.