The Devil On Campus Novels & Stories

Lucian’s note had come with a final line: “The devil doesn’t wear horns. He wears charm. Find his weakness.” Ayla exhaled slowly. She was no longer Ayla Monroe. Not here. Tonight, she was a ghost. Inside, the gala pulsed with orchestrated elegance. Women in gowns worth more than Ayla’s rent glided past men with blood-stained hands wrapped in Armani. Waiters floated by with champagne. It would’ve been beautiful if she didn’t know who half these people were — or what they’d done to get here. Lucian’s voice echoed in her mind: “Serrano traffics secrets. You’ll be one of them by midnight if you fail.”

He looked at the young man, a very man of Denever who immediately recover from shock. “So the devil-” he gritted his teeth when he realize the glare coming from the woman who lecture him earlier. He laughed like a madman and stood highly, forgetting the reason of why he even here this moment. “Spotlight never failed to be reliable as ever,” he said, narrating a damn thing. “You, for sure has decide to show that despicable horns of yours, Coplete.”

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

He stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, shirt open at the collar. He looked infuriatingly calm. Ronan Blackwood I've been too shocked to recognise him last night but now - fuck! Ronan Blackwood the rumoured devil. I had no idea if I should scream or just laugh because how the hell did I end up with the devil himself? “You had no right,” I said, my voice low, hard. “I saved your life.” he responded calmly. “You took it.” I marched toward him, heat burning through my chest. “You didn’t ask. You didn’t give me a choice. You just—scooped me up like I was some damsel who needed a knight.”

I’d seen enough death for my mind to fill in the blanks. “We know it was The Devil, because of the name on the list?” I ask, shifting in my seat. Chels hums. And then she shoves something under my nose, a photo of something. I pluck it and bring it close to my face to be able to make out the blackened caricature of the devil. Two horns on a round face, a fork for tail. A shivered gasp leaves me. “The Devil’s calling card.” She nods. Only very proud killers stake their claims so proudly. All these while, The Devil hadn’t staked a claim to any of his kills. Not one.

They were all those things until I saw their other side. It was never my intention to cross paths with the devil. I was only a naïve nineteen year old, living a life that circulated around fame and money. Then, out of the blue, the devil came for me, or should I call him The King— which is a name he prefers to be addressed as. He showed up on a calm evening, and turned my entire life upside down; he turned it into a disaster. He put me under his spell, making me fall deeper and deeper into his sinful charm. Then at the end, when he had gotten all that he needed from me, he devoured.

A really long, really fucked up nightmare that he'd wake up from any minute. But it wasn't. This was real. All of it. He moved closer to the basin, turning on the tap and cupping water in his hands. He splashed it on his face, trying to wash away the feeling of Vito's hands on him, Vito's mouth on him, Vito's– He caught sight of the hickey again and groaned. "This is going to take a while," he muttered. He washed himself as best he could with the sink, cleaning off the mess, trying to make himself presentable again.

Shadows dragged back to his skin, forced into submission. Apollo stopped inches away. The Devil’s presence swamped him—heat, smoke, and memory. Every breath tasted of Adelaide, of sin, of defeat. He could taste what they had done, burned into every breath. It felt like breathing sacrilege. Caelum’s chest tightened with humiliation and longing. The Devil crouched.

His hands moved across my body caressing my breasts, waist, and thighs… There was something terrifying in his gaze, he looked like a devil who was trying to devour me. He acted feverishly, without any gentleness, but I shamelessly submitted to whatever he wanted to do with me giving back his caressing and kisses. He forcefully torn the top of my dress along the neckline revealing my naked chest and began fondling and squeezing my breasts. Then he slid lower and started playing around my chest with his tongue, and gently biting my nipples. At the same time his hands went down my thighs ripping off my underwear. Then he started to stroke my inner thighs reaching deep inside me with his fingers

She felt Olivia before she heard her. Olivia made her way downstairs. She'd heard the car drive up over an hour ago and wondered what kept Cassandra away. Then she'd thought about it, and she'd known. Olivia's judgment. Olivia's sense of right and wrong. Olivia's naive thinking was that the world was simply black or white. She couldn't change the fact that she hated what Cassandra did, or what she stood for. And she couldn't start thinking that even though everyone around her thought they were the good guys, they weren't. But she could offer Cassandra the comfort of a friend. She'd grown up in this world, she'd seen the worst kind of people in it. Emma, Vance, Pedro, and Cassandra weren't li