Unscramble Devour Novels & Stories

“What are you doing Adria?” I almost felt as if I was going to jump right out of my skin as I turn around to see Levi watching me. “I’m sorry but I didn’t sleep well last night that I decide to just get up to see what was in the fridge to find that there was a lot more food in it than I thought there will be.” “Yeah, Legion likes to cook to sometimes impress the girls that he will bring back here. So, what are you making?” “I’m making strawberry with cream crepes and some maple bacon. There is also some vanilla honey yogurt and granola. I hope you like it.”

“Room service, Jace speaking. Good evening, how may I help?” “Same order,” the client said coldly, a hint of boredom in his deep voice. “Send it up hot.” The line clicked dead after that, and despite serving more than once now, the coldness still felt unfamiliar to him. He wasn’t even polite enough to give a “thank you” or “please”. Jace sighed and pulled the latest ticket from the printer. A rare steak, sautéed mushrooms, and a bottle of 2018 Cabernet. The order was complicated, of course—except the man who ordered it.

Against my will, I scuttled forward . And dread realization hit me, dawning into a numb, cold horror. Scuttled. Not shuffle-step-limp. Scuttled. Quickly, smoothly, like I was gliding along the ground rhythmically, my many feet and joints carrying me with strength and fluid purpose . . . Many feet and joints. Many. A kind of sick revulsion . . . and yes, dark anticipation filled me as I looked down past my waist to see what had replaced my thin, twisted, handicapped legs . . .

No women. “A devil with no weakness,” she murmured, the words barely louder than the crunch of the apple. Then a memory surfaced: the way he had devoured her the entire night, slow and relentless, as if her body were the only sin worth savoring. Her fingers tightened subconsciously around the book on devils she had just finished reading. Its pages had spoken of their insatiable hunger for untouched souls, pure, unchanging, untouchable. The moment a soul was altered in any way, it slipped forever from their grasp.

He took a step back, his factory-reset face finally showing a flicker of something real. Fear. I opened my mouth, and the sound that came out wasn't a scream. It was a roar that shook the obsidian walls. The Devourer had awakened. And she was starving.

Devouring. "What are you doing?" I gasped. "Why—why now? Why—" "Because I'm bored of slow consumption," the entity said. "Because I want to be free. Because I've fed enough to risk it. I'm going to devour you. All of you. Right now. Completely. Then I'll be strong enough to shatter what's left of this prison. Strong enough to escape. Strong enough to—" She pulled again. Harder. More pieces torn away. More of us consumed. Dissolved. Destroyed.

A shard of me . Something growls in the dark. Not Alpha—Alpha’s gone, consumed in the blast. This is deeper. Hungrier. Older. The Devourer. It’s not whole. Just a fragment, a tendril that survived the explosion, but even a finger’s width of that infinite hunger is enough to unravel me. It slithers through the ruins, tasting the air, tasting me . I freeze. A hand closes around my wrist. I spin—or the thought of spinning happens—and come face-to-face with him .

the Devourer was no longer waiting. It had begun to move.

The Devourer recalculates again—because this wasn’t submission. It was departure.