Devil of Dublin

by B.B. Easton

“Ya know what they say about the Devil. Once upon a time, he was God’s most beautiful angel.”

Devoted wife, beloved mother, terrible cook.

“Is fíor bhur ngrá,” it purred. “Tugaim mobheannacht daoibh.”

Devoted husband, beloved father, terrible braggart.

May those who love us, love us, And those who don’t love us, may God turn their hearts, And if he doesn’t turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles, so we’ll know them by their limping.

care. I wasn’t letting anything take her from me again. Not even God himself.

May you be in heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you’re dead.

If the Devil wanted to drag me back to hell now, he was going to need a fucking body bag.

I had the skills necessary to take a life with my bare hands or from thirty meters away, but nothing had ever made me feel more powerful than discovering that I had the ability to make Darby Collins make that fucking sound.

I was no longer human or demon or even fucking breathing. I was simply hers—mind, body, and cursed black soul.

“Not all touches hurt.”

Darby deserved a hero, and I’d be goddamned if I was going to let it be anyone else.

wanted to give her everything I had. My fucking life. My splintered heart. My hateful, hell bound soul. She could do with it what she pleased. I didn’t care. None of it belonged to me anymore, and it hadn’t since I was ten years old.

“I’m in love with you, Darby,” I said, pressing my lips to her shoulder. “Always have been. And if I had a fucking birth certificate, I’d ask you to marry me right now.”

“Yer love is true. You have my blessing.”

“I’m in love with you too, Kellen Donovan,” she whispered, rolling her hips as I swelled inside of her. “Always will be.”

“All I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is for you to look at me the way you’re lookin’ at me now.”

“Because if we stay here another second, I’m gonna fuck you in an airport loading dock.”