On Earth the sons of Satan create havoc, but nothing can protect them from the women who capture their hearts.
Sly Sathariel creates all sorts of havoc, though he never takes a life. His father, Satan, reserves that power, yet not even he can keep Sly from the arms of the pure and spiritual woman representing the Tree of Life. She entangles him in her roots, pulling Sly in a direction his hellacious soul dare not follow.
Slick Sathariel is Satan’s third born, the youngest triplet. He keeps the peace and makes everyone happy but himself. Not anymore. Slick can’t tell the woman he desires his family may be responsible for her lover’s disappearance, or that he’s the devil’s son. But when he sets out to capture her for himself, his family’s prying just might cause Slick to lose the one thing on Earth he truly wants.
Wicked Sathariel, the eldest son of Satan, has finally met his match, and at the oddest of times, she turns up in his head. Accustomed to having his father and siblings rummage through his mind, he can’t handle his woman seeing his hellacious thoughts. And when it becomes clear she’s heaven bound — all hell breaks loose!
Publisher’s Note: Hellacious (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Sly, Slick, and Firstborn.
Or get the eBook at Changeling Press
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Copyright ©2022 J. Hali Steele
Excerpt from Sly
Momma had a sense of humor. Said she named us after three of Daddy’s better traits — Sly, Slick, and Wicked. She called us hellacious sons-of-bitches and Sathariel was the demonic surname she tagged us with in his honor. We were the sons of Lucifer himself, and since Mother had been human, we were permitted above, as were other unimportant demons who wreaked havoc on Earth and its inhabitants. It was in our blood to take absolute advantage of every glorious moment, even though a blast furnace of heat followed us everywhere. Still, nothing rivaled the fires of Hell. And unbeknownst to humans, cold was just as bad because Hell froze over each time some asshole muttered the fateful words, “’till Hell freezes over.” Never lasted long but it would be so fucking cold a demon’s nuts could crack.
Guess God had a sense of humor too.
* * *
Raucous music blared in the club, glasses clinked and people shouted over the din. Desire railed against Sly’s rib cage. Desire to unleash what he truly was, strip himself bare of the make-believe human image he wore and let loose the beast that ruled him. The hellish creature wanted nothing more than to crawl between big thighs and screw the brains out of the vision of loveliness dancing alone not far from where he stood. Pale, thin women didn’t excite Sly. He liked deep tanned, soft, curvaceous bodies with wide hips and ample breasts.
This one had it all.
Sly could barely contain himself as he watched her swivel and gyrate her ass in front of the stage where the DJ did his thing. Her raw scent, the smell of sweat and womanhood permeated the air, teasing his dick to a stiffness he couldn’t control — didn’t want to control. Horns and hooves wanted to burst through his skin, fingers wanted to reach into the pussy he’d sniffed for far too long now.
This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. She had been here each night he came to this particular club for the last month, and something about the woman kept drawing him back.
Oh, man, I want some.
Looking across the crowded bar, he caught his younger brother smiling.
Stay the fuck out of my head, Slick. This one’s mine.
Sly, born minutes before Slick, could best him most of the time, run circles around him when need be. But the firstborn triplet wouldn’t be so easily caught off guard.
Sharpening his vision, careful not to let the red flames of Hell lick from his eyes, Sly searched the room for Wicked. He couldn’t feel him, no telltale smell of fire and brimstone that often preceded the eldest. Wick took anything he wanted when they walked on Earth, and it usually turned out to be something or someone his younger siblings had their eye on. Wicked skated on thin ice with the power below each time he used humans, then tossed them aside as if they were old shoes never to be worn again.
Except with their father’s express permission, they didn’t kill.
Disturbing the balance between good and evil wasn’t allowed. What Wick left behind bordered on dead. Mere shells of men and women, afraid of their own shadows, bereft of the spark of life in their sad, vacant eyes. In that broken condition they held no appeal for Sly or others like him who slipped from below to cavort in their very own human playground. Wick was off somewhere, and if Sly knew his father, he’d concentrate all his energy in the older brother’s direction.
Thank God, because he wanted this woman for as long as she could take his heated passion.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t do those things but she wishes she could!
Multi-published and Amazon bestselling author of Romance in Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide-they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.
Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele