The Devils Wife Novels & Stories

The vampire was looking at the devil as if to a psychopath " well let's see how much more cuter my dear daughter can get" says the devil and got his wings out and started flying toward Celea

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and headed to the address Alexa had given him. It didn’t take long for Devan to arrive at the nightclub. He went straight to the private room Alexa had booked. As soon as he stepped inside, his gaze landed on Alexa, who was sitting with her head resting against the sofa. Valeria was beside her. Devan walked over and stood next to his wife, who was nearly unconscious. “Alexa, let’s go home.” His tone was still flat. Alexa only mumbled, her eyes barely open. “Hey, who are you?” Valeria stood up, narrowing her eyes at Devan. “Don’t take my friend. If you’re planning something perverted with her, I won’t let you!” She pointed at him.

EMBER’S POV And the horrible part, the part that shuts my mouth entirely, is that it isn’t mad. Line it up the exact way she saw it, and I would have locked me up too. A strange new woman comes into the family house, showing signs and doing things that were not only horrific, but perfectly in tune with the only other devil she knows. So of course Marjorie, in all her wise years and stellar intuition, made us both out to be partners in the exact same crime.

He was staring out at the room with a perfectly composed expression, every inch the man comfortable at his wife’s side. But his hand was warm, steady, and deliberate against me. I faced forward again and let myself feel it—just for this moment. That was the problem with emotional fine print. Once you started reading it, you couldn’t stop. My phone buzzed. I glanced down. Unknown number. Hautea Javier — we should talk about your husband. What you don’t know could cost you more than the marriage. — A friend. I read it twice. My hands stayed steady. I slipped the phone back into my clutch.

I slipped in with sweaty palms and face,I gasped in shock when I saw the monster seated beside me, glancing through the tinted window. “From now onwards, you're my wife and mate. You're smart enough not to tell your loved ones…they're safe. You can call me the DEVIL!!”. The DEVIL…..and that was how I was married to the devil without my consent.

I yelled, trying to grab it back, but Nicholas’ hand landed on my shoulder. “Chill,” he said softly, pretending to be calm, but I knew better. He was scared. Not of the truth, but of the woman staring down at me. Caroline Deluch. The French fashion titan. A woman with a trillion-dollar empire, a living legend. I admired her, but right now, all I felt was disgust. The jacket was shaken violently and something fell. A diamond necklace hit the floor, glittering under the lights. My lips froze mid-breath.

Alex didn’t move. “We have somewhere to be.” “I said let go.” A beat. Then Alex looked at him lazily. “Correction,” he said. “She’s not yours to hold onto.” Devon’s expression darkened instantly. “Don’t touch my wife.” That word landed heavily. But Alex didn’t flinch. “Wrong,” he said calmly. A pause. Then— “She’s my wife now.” ***** “What do you think you’re doing?” Devon’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

“This is your fate.” She snaps at me as she bursts into tears, “You are the one that tempted me. You are the reason that I am here.” “My love, it took another side to commit the act, and you were willing.” “But,” she stops and hesitate for a brief moment, “But you murdered my husband.” “Oh, my love,” I only but chuckle at her. “I am the Devil; I am already doomed.” Then very confidently, I await, “So my dear? Do you want to play? At least this time, you shall awake, and I will be by your side.”

I whisper to the mirror as if he is standing behind me, "If you are a real man like I thought you were, you will stop pestering my dream and confront me in real life. Come directly to me, let me prove to you what kind of devil you gave birth to." The image of him wailing and thrashing in the seat I tied him to as I emptied a gallon of gasoline over his head, comes to dance in the mirror of my thoughts. And sinisterly enough, I laugh darkly, wishing it can be made into a movie that I can watch when I'm bored. "Please, Mara," I remember him calling my name as I slowly played with the flame of the lighter, "Don't set Papa on fire." And it's ironic because that day was the first day he ever trul