Romans & histoires Wafting Devotion

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

The baby stirred, a calm, steady pulse. Aunt Dee watched quietly from a distance, understanding settling into her expression. The ancestors’ voices echoed one last time through the realm: “The devil’s greatest act of defiance is not destruction— It is devotion.” Far away, the hunters drew closer. But for the first time since the prophecy began, Malik knew exactly where he stood. And he would not move.

He just stood there between my parted thighs, holding me, his arms banded around my waist with a possessive, crushing force as if he were trying to weld our bodies together. His eyes, dark and heavy with a burning intensity, searched mine, as though he was looking to see the thing I wanted him to do to my aching body. There was no anger left in his gaze, no cold Alpha facade, no powerful alpha, no strong and cruel Devil son, just an unadulterated, terrifying devotion to worship. "Azrael..." My voice trembled, the word barely a whisper against the heavy silence of his study.

"His name was Caelan. He was the first wolf to receive my blessing." The lake shimmered again. Aiden watched as Caelan and Celestia walked hand in hand beneath the great tree. "They loved each other," Aiden murmured. "They did," the Goddess smiled sadly. "They dreamed of building a world where strength existed only to protect." Suddenly, the vision darkened. The sky turned crimson, and a cold wind swept across the meadow. The Devourer appeared—not as the monstrous being it had become, but as a shadow clothed in darkness. It spoke softly, almost kindly:

always done my best for you and, even now, still am. Inadequate as you find me, this is my best,I have always done my best for you and, even now, still am. Inadequate as you find me, this is my best,With each passing day you take another step away though I asked you to show some sign of caring, affection, of love. All you bring is anger, suspicion and an averted gaze. With each passing day you take another step away though I asked you to show some sign of caring, affection, of love. All you bring is anger, suspicion and an averted gaze. With each passing day you take another step away though I asked you to show some sign of caring, affection, of love. All you bring is anger, suspicion and a

As he watched them, he appeared to be buried in contemplation, which made me wonder what he was contemplating. When I put the vodka glass on my lips, my wolf growled angrily, causing my eyes to change to a dark, crimson shape resembling a wolf. I asked indignantly, "What?" at which point the scent filled my nose. Scent of daisies that gave me same peaceful feeling during rainstorms. I knew I wasn't prepared, but I got to my feet nonetheless, followed the scent, and eventually found the woman who was surrounded by men and gazing at the phone she was holding with eyes wide with admiration.

The room felt heavier in his absence—like it too was waiting for a miracle. “Why, God?” she whispered, her fingers reaching for the silver cross at her neck. “Why are you testing this boy?” She moved closer to Amaira and gently adjusted the sheet over her, brushing a tender hand across the girl’s forehead. “He comes every day without fail,” she murmured. “Talks to you, brings your favorite flowers, your chocolates… holds your hand like it still gives you strength. That’s not love, that’s devotion. And if that’s not enough to bring someone back, then what is?”

Every mistake in one’s movement or position is right there to be seen by everyone, including yourself. The music starts again. We get through the first sequence cleanly, then the second. When we reach the lift combination in the third movement, the one that has been destroying us all week, we all hesitate before moving forward. My partner's hands find my waist, and I go up, but when I come down, my movement is slightly off-axis, and the whole formation on my side lands in the same graceless manner. Instructor Reyes raises a hand. The music stops and heavy silence follows.

The noises Ruth and Ivan made pierced my ears. I wanted to cover them so I wouldn't have to listen to them, but the noise penetrated my soul. I clamped my ears as hard as possible, but it didn't help. I couldn't escape, either. It was as if I'd been placed under a spell that bound my soul to Ruth. I couldn't get away from her. I could only watch as my fiancée, the woman I loved more than life itself, slept with my murderer. I was so disgusted that I wanted to puke.

"I must leave. The situation is...complicated. However, I will return for you. I swear. Even though his palm feels warm in mine, there is no hint that he can hear me or respond. The ache in my chest gets worse every second, and it feels like I'm speaking to a ghost. I stutter, my voice hardly audible above a whisper, "I don't want to leave you." However, I must. Stay strong, please. You must wake up for me. Papa, I need you to fight. It seems as though the words are insufficient to reach him. For what seems like hours, I sit there and hold his hand while the tears finally fall down my cheeks. I detest this farewell because it feels too definitive and burdensome. I just detest it.