The Devil's Angel Book Novels & Stories

I really just wanted to go to bed, sleep the day away and then maybe go horse riding, dependent on how my head would feel later. You know, that was the plan until a strong grip yanked me into an alley. “Hey Angel” the devil smirked, leaning his body against mine. I pushed him away, my heart immediately doing flips. “Leave me alone” I stumbled over the words, moving back into the open street. The man was quick to follow me, walking along side of me. “So, where you going?” “I told you to leave me alone” I snapped, trying to speed up but my heels were killing me.

Now that angels were involved and had managed to get so close to her, I didn't have time to lose. Angels were another thing humans got wrong. They aren't pure and virtuous like people thought. Yes they started in heaven, but they were mostly warriors. They were brutal, murderous, warriors who care as much about other people’s lives as demons. When you get right down to it there isn't too much difference in demons and angels. Demons promise to make all your dreams come true and we do for a while, but we never lie. When we make a promise we keep it. You just have to be very clear as most people leave a lot of room for extra creativity on our part. Angels, however, they make you believe they

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.

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.

I breathed out, taking a seat beside him. “ Who would've thought that Rico could something so evil?” He remarked, his face twisted in disgust. I chuckled sadly— I was just as surprised as him, it was as though something possessed him or something because the Rico I knew was very delicate. Now I'm finding out that he worked for a cult and that he'd always wanted Alex dead. For someone who told me he loved me. It was a lot to take in. “ I guess we shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.” I replied, my memories going back to the time when Rico made my heart race, when he made emotions swirl within me but now, all I felt was rage. I hated him so much.

If the devil herself was shaken, and her minions looked like death, what the fuck was he a mere mortal going to do with the facts? Cass walked in a half hour later, showered, dressed in a pair of jeans, a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and looking way better than when she'd left him. "I'm sorry I left the way I did." "No problem, just tell me what the fuck is going on." "Pedro, do you have the names?" "Yes, the bastards went to a bar and bragged about what they did. One of ours was there and contacted me. Too easy if you tell me, I think they were told to be caught, force you into action."

good inside of her, that she's dying to be bad for once. If she wants to be fucking bad, then she can definitely be bad for me. I like a bad girl, but deep down I crave a good girl; a good girl that will let me bring out the fucking demons inside of her. We all have demons inside of us and every single person's is fucking different. I look down at my chest and run my fingers over the tattoo on my right pec, rereading the script that's permanently inked into my skin. I get another fucking feeling- a goddamn cold chill that runs through me deeply and rocks my fucking body to its core. "When an angel craves havoc, who better to give it to her than the devil himself" I am no doubt, the motherfu

Angela's heart raced,she may not know this man enough to detect what he can or can't kill but from the few things she heard about him,he is dangerous enough,so she better not risk it. Still this is unbearable,how can I continue with this…I am not yet in and all this I have seen isn't it a sign to quit now? He is a devil. How could people call this devil Angel?

She's an angel. I'm the Devil.

They were both oblivious to the pictures that were being taken of them. Lifting his head, he smiled at Taz. “I have something for you.” Angel handed him the white shirt box. He opened it and removed the cut, letting the box and tissue paper fall to the ground. The first thing that she saw was that it was not her cut, and yet it was. The center patch was newer, the devil, who now had multicolored braids, sat on the motorcycle with a halo hanging haphazardly on the left horn, giant angel wings flowed out behind him. The bottom rocker declared her to be Sinners Daughter and the top one proclaimed her as The Devil Herself.