/0/79175/coverbig.jpg?v=d6b74432f9ffb8ba2e3ef3a778ef60f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
BLURB – The Devil's Little Bride She was offered like an animal-stripped, bathed in oils, wrapped in white, and left trembling beneath the red moon. A sacrifice. A girl traded for peace. A virgin given to the Devil. But no one told Lilith that the Devil was a man with hands made for worship and eyes that burned with something worse than fire-grief. The first time she sees him, he doesn't speak. He only watches. Watches her like she's something holy he's not allowed to touch. Like her presence hurts him. Like he's already been broken by her... long before she even arrived. She doesn't understand it at first-why a being carved from sin refuses to lay a finger on her. But Lilith is smart. And silence is its own language. She begins to notice the little things. How he paces when she sleeps. How he breathes when she cries. How his gaze lingers on her lips, always looking away when she catches him. How his monstrous court calls her "the spark that will destroy us all." She's not just his bride. She's his curse. And still, she can't stop dreaming of his touch. She thought she'd be ravaged on her wedding night. Instead, he bound her to a throne with his name etched into her soul-and then left her untouched in a room where time doesn't move, and shadows whisper secrets she shouldn't understand. The people of her kingdom had warned her: "If you speak to the Devil, he will learn your name. If you let him near, he will smell your longing. If you look him in the eyes, you'll never look away." But no one warned her about what happens when the Devil falls in love. Because it's not hearts he breaks. It's worlds. --- Lilith Solara was raised to be nothing. Daughter of a disgraced nobleman. Voiceless. Powerless. Obedient. She wasn't supposed to matter. She was supposed to die in the dark, forgotten like the rest of her cursed bloodline. Instead, she became a queen in a kingdom carved from nightmares. She wears white in a court of monsters. Sits beside a king who doesn't sleep. She walks halls lined with mirrors that bleed and hears voices that sound suspiciously like her own. Sometimes they whisper warnings. Sometimes they scream. But even in a kingdom built on ash and shadows, it's not the demons that frighten her. It's him. Azazel. The Devil King. He is brutal in silence, composed in cruelty, cold as obsidian. He is legend and horror and tragedy all in one. And yet, he never touches her. Not when she falls asleep crying on their wedding bed. Not when her hands brush against his while she serves him wine with shaking fingers. Not even when she stands naked before him and whispers, "If I'm yours, then take me." Instead, he stares at her like her skin is made of knives. And sometimes-when he forgets she's watching-like she's the only light he's ever known. --- But Lilith is not the only one with secrets. Azazel has built his entire kingdom upon silence and survival. Love, in his realm, is not just forbidden-it's lethal. The last time he allowed his heart to beat for a woman, the heavens cracked, and Hell bled. Lilith doesn't know this. Not yet. She doesn't know she's walked into a war disguised as a marriage. That her touch is prophecy. That her smile is damnation. That her name was written in Azazel's story long before she was born. And that no version of this story ends with her surviving him. Unless she changes the rules. Unless she becomes something even the Devil fears. --- What if the sacrificial bride isn't here to be saved? What if she's the fire sent to burn the Devil himself? --- "You belong to me now," he growled against her throat, not touching her but making her feel touched everywhere. "But not the way they said. Not the way they planned. You don't belong to my bed, little bride. You belong to my ruin." --- The Devil's Little Bride is a slow-burning, emotionally rich, fantasy romance that drips with dark sensuality, psychological intrigue, and haunting intimacy. Written for lovers of forbidden desire, power play, and beautifully broken characters, this is not just a story of love-it's a war between fate and feeling. If you love... Dominant yet emotionally repressed heroes who burn beneath the surface Virgin heroines who grow into power instead of shrinking from it A gothic court full of secrets, betrayal, and seductive danger Soulmate bonds with teeth A love that destroys and remakes the world Then you won't just read this story. You'll feel it. You'll live it. You'll burn with it.
Chapter 1 The Girl Marked For Fire
Chapter One: The Girl Marked for Fire
They dragged Selene from the river.
Naked. Shivering. Mud staining her thighs. Her wrists, bound in thorn-twined rope, bled from her struggling, but no one looked at her with pity. Only relief.
As if evil had finally been caught.
As if the world could breathe now that the Devil's favorite had been found.
"Witch," hissed one of the elders, spitting at her bare feet. "You bewitched the wheat. You turned the sky against us."
"I didn't-" Selene tried, but her voice cracked against the wind, raw from screaming. "I'm not-"
They silenced her with a backhand.
Blood filled her mouth. Metallic. Familiar.
Her mother's sobbing came from somewhere behind the crowd. But no one looked at her, either. Grief was dangerous when justice demanded spectacle.
Selene stared up at the men who once praised her for her healing hands, her kind words, the way she sang to the village children. Those same men now held stones.
And smiles.
How quickly love rotted into fear.
"You walked the forest alone," someone called out. "You speak to shadows. You draw symbols in the dirt when you think no one's watching."
"You don't bleed," said another.
Selene blinked through blood and tears. "I-what?"
The oldest among them stepped forward. Her hair was white and braided like rope, and her eyes were sharp enough to slice through bone.
"The Devil does not bleed," the woman said softly. "Nor do his brides."
Selene's stomach turned cold.
She bled every month. She bled when she tripped and skinned her knees. She'd bled when she cut her palm trying to peel an apple. She bled now, wrists raw, mouth split, dignity torn.
And yet, they looked at her as if her blood wasn't red enough. As if her pain wasn't human.
Because it was easier than admitting they were scared.
"Bind her for the Moon Rite," the woman said.
And just like that, Selene was no longer a girl.
She was a sacrifice.
---
They scrubbed her skin with salt until she burned.
They poured oils over her head until she stank of lavender and ash.
They dressed her in a white robe thin enough to be transparent, the fabric clinging to her skin like a ghost's final breath.
She wasn't allowed to look anyone in the eyes. Not even her own reflection.
Mirror shards had been covered.
Because the Devil could reach through glass.
That was what the priestess whispered as she braided red thread through Selene's hair. "If he sees your soul before the Rite, he'll devour it. You must go to him clean."
Clean.
Selene wanted to laugh. To scream.
There was nothing clean about this.
---
The altar stood on the cliff's edge, jagged and ancient, carved from blackstone that didn't belong to their lands. No one knew where it came from. It had always been there-older than the village, older than the mountains, older than the gods.
It pulsed when the moon rose. Not light. Not sound.
Something else.
Something that made your teeth ache and your skin feel too tight.
They tied Selene to the stone with red rope. Each knot cinched tighter than the last, not for security, but ritual. She wasn't allowed to move.
Not when the Devil came for her.
And he would come. He always came.
One bride each blood moon.
One girl to keep the fires of Hell away from their homes, their crops, their children.
Peace, in exchange for innocence.
Selene felt the moment it happened.
The air shifted-cracked around her like glass. The wind stopped. The earth held its breath.
And the world turned its face away.
---
He didn't walk from the trees.
He didn't rise from smoke.
He was simply there-where he hadn't been a breath before.
Tall. Barefoot. Dressed in a robe darker than night, open at the throat. His hair was black as oil, brushing his jaw. His skin was moon-pale, but not cold. There was heat radiating from him, invisible waves that made her lungs seize.
His eyes-Gods, his eyes-
They were wrong.
Not glowing. Not red. Just dark. Deep. Endless.
Like the moment before drowning.
Like the silence between lightning and thunder.
He didn't speak.
Didn't touch her.
Just looked at her. Long. Unblinking. As if memorizing her.
As if he'd seen her before.
As if he'd lost her before.
Selene's breath hitched. She was supposed to be afraid. To cry. To beg for mercy.
But she didn't.
She stared back.
"I'm not a witch," she whispered. Her voice was raw, but steady. "I bleed. I cry. I want to live."
He blinked slowly. Tilted his head.
The wind returned, soft at first-then hard enough to whip her hair around her face. The stone beneath her vibrated. Not with fear.
With recognition.
The Devil stepped closer.
Selene flinched-but he only raised one hand.
And with a flick of his fingers, the ropes vanished.
Just... disappeared.
She gasped. Her limbs fell slack, weightless. The marks on her skin were already fading, disappearing like smoke in sunlight.
"I didn't summon you," she said, her voice shaking now. "I didn't ask for this."
Still, he didn't speak.
He reached out slowly-like she might shatter-and brushed a single knuckle down the side of her face.
Warm. Real.
Gentle.
Not lustful. Not monstrous.
But unbearably... human.
A sound escaped his throat-low, aching, broken. Like a man seeing a grave he thought he'd buried himself in.
And then, for the first time, he spoke.
His voice was velvet and fire. Worn and deep. It clung to her ribs.
"You were not supposed to be chosen," he said. "Not this time."
Selene stared. "You know me?"
His gaze locked onto hers. Something shifted in his expression. Something raw.
"Not yet," he said. "But I will."
Then, the cliff vanished.
And so did she.
/0/79028/coverbig.jpg?v=62aaa35790c24a629d0370579e11da09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/38935/coverorgin.jpg?v=321b0cbf3369eaed409b91ac2afd204c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/63234/coverorgin.jpg?v=f3688e17ce3561a268f9a00e92c744c9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/75548/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f6c1a22b26d771f5a3a5b45c40ea6f5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/75467/coverorgin.jpg?v=e2835093054a46d30abf3a1af03e9ad0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/75796/coverorgin.jpg?v=7fa49608a32ed5c0cfde642b9545384e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/64149/coverorgin.jpg?v=611be05396bf0464762a575d48293415&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Other books by Simi2006
More