White She Devil Novels & Stories

He came like a storm and shook her spirt to its core. Victor Amuso, a man with a heart of rock, a living devil with a face of angel, he is an evil in the clothes of God. He has no morals and the only thing that matters for him is success and vengeance. She knows dealing with him can be signing off herself to her death but she was ready to put everything on stake.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

She must be several inches taller than me, seeing as her heels weren’t higher than mine and she only had to stretch a bit to drop a kiss to his jaw. Then she turned around and sauntered ahead of the two black cars waiting at the foot of the stairs. And, just like that, she was gone. The devil went towards the car at the back as Galileo instructed one of the three men, “Luiz, you’re riding with us. She’ll replace you.” “No, I won’t let my commodity out of my sight,” the devil stated, turning partially to face Galileo. “Boss, you know you can trust…” scar-face started before the devil cut him short.

And it's ironic because that day was the first day he ever truly called my name with compassion. Blinking away the memory, I bend over the sink and splash water on my face, a devilish grin on. Maybe Papa was right when he said I was from the devil. Else, which child would tie her father to his favorite wooden chair and set him on fire? I felt nothing that day, even though I had a beating heart. I didn't pity him, even though I had a soul that was meant to be kind. Then again, maybe I was once an angel, a mockingbird killed by the wickedness of the ones I loved the most. Maybe it was Papa that turned me into the devil I became today.

She was ready to destroy the devil, now she had realized her true identity, and she was not going to allow the devil kill her nor her loved ones, "What do you mean prepare" Verona said, not having a clue of what she meant, "Makeficient Is back, with his teams of allies, and me being the only white witch, I will have to be prepared" She said, her voice sending determined to destroy those devils,

“Well, aren’t you an underwhelming creature? I expected more from the one who will be complicit in bringing an end to hell.” Snapping my head up, I look in the darkest eyes that I’ve ever seen. There’s not even a hint of an iris, and her hair is as dark as her eyes. Her skin, however, is as white as snow and her lips are the color of blood. If she represented a sweet disposition, I’d say she was Snow White. But based on her cold expression, I’d say she’s more like the wicked witch. No, she looks more like Morticia Adams, in her tight, black mermaid gown with its wide sleeves. Rising carefully, I see demons standing nearby and that Fallon is nowhere in sight.

Because it just dawned on me that this is not my innocent Catalina. Maybe at one point, she was the woman I'd imagined her to be but not anymore. For someone to be so at ease with a dead body beneath them means this isn't their first, second, or even third time to kill. She's done it before. A part of her even enjoys doing it. This is who she is. She's the she-devil.

she whispered, her breath cold against my skin, “you belong to him.” A shiver crawled down my spine. She didn’t let me pull away. “The Devil is one of a kind,” she whispered. “Do you understand what that means?” I shook my head once. Barely. She pressed a kiss to my cheek, soft and dry. “It means remember yourself,” she said, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes again. “So you don’t drown in him.” The words hit like a prophecy.

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

Grabbing a hold of another weapon, Pedro walked back to his wife, holding out the chainsaw in his hand, a deficiency smirk tugging at one side of his lips. " Please... please...let me...go..." She coughed out, the bitter content of blood immediately gathering inside her mouth which she bitterly swallowed. " As much as I want you dead, I'd enjoy it if your daughter is the one doing this shit instead of me... perhaps you both could meet in hell after I'm done slicing each of your throats...oh! And do not forget to send my regards to the devil in hell, tell me that his master sent his greetings," The woman vigorously shook her head, tears painfully streaming out of her half closed eyes. Pedro l