Home > Doves & Demons

Doves & Demons
Author: Clio Evans

Hello Creatures.



Doves & Demons is darker than any of my previous works. Please read the content warning below.

Violence, torture, body mutilation, child abuse (off page, bruises seen, not done by any main characters), mental abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, being locked into a box, somnophilia, forced orgasms, forced breeding, dubious consent, CNC, humiliation, breeding kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sadism, masochism, fisting, double penetration, triple penetration, blood play, blood sharing, monster cocks, past parental death, grief, pregnancy fears, breeding without pregnancy, discussions of sexual assault, murder, breath play, spitting, choking, and more.

Please reach out to me if you have any questions.



The Doves



London 1708



There was nothing tastier than a heart in despair.

Humans liked to create. I liked to destroy. I liked to watch them come apart at the seams as their creations failed…but even so, I’d never been able to truly prevent them from their growth.

It had started with sand sifting through the delicate bodies of hourglasses.

That was when I knew their world was changing.

I was created from the magic that was first imbued in their precious metals, a creature drawn up from the other world. I had been ravenous at first, devouring the little mortals. Stealing their inventions. I’d grown stronger and stronger, feasting on their ingenuity.

Over time, I stopped. Eventually, I became a watcher.

I liked to see how humans created their devices. The more they learned, the louder the world grew around me. The more monsters had to stay out of their way.

There had been a time when monsters didn’t have to lurk. They didn’t have to cling like urchins to the darkness, to keep themselves away from the mortals that surrounded us.

Unfortunately, those days were long gone.

Now, I watched a man from the shadows. I could hear the burr of gears as he tinkered away. Yellowed papers were scattered across his oak desk, his notes scrawled in ink.

He was ahead of his time. I could see that by the aura around him, the energy that bled out from his soul.

His fingertips were black with grime. He had been working for hours non-stop, all while I had watched him.

I couldn’t tear myself away. I was sure there were plenty of other interesting humans, but this one in particular drew my interest.

“I can feel you,” he whispered.

I was nothing but shadows and darkness. I didn’t move, still waiting to see if it were true.

Could this human sense me?

The man turned in his chair, looking straight at me. His eyes were dark brown, his expression kind. He smelled of oil and ink, remnants of both leaving smudges on his hollowed cheekbones.

I glared. Humans never sensed me, and if they did, they surely didn’t acknowledge me. I was the chill up the spine, the hair standing on the back of the neck, the feeling of dread that sent heartbeats thrashing. Humans knew of me, but liked to say I was nothing more than their imagination.

“Who are you?” I hissed. “What are you?”

“Just a man,” he said gently. “I am creating something. Something for men and monsters. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How do you know me?” I growled, my voice rattling.

I pulled forward from the brick walls of this home, oozing from the dark cracks like oil. My body clicked and scuttled, my bones constantly forming and reforming. My claws dragged over the floorboards as I crept closer.

“What is your name?” I hissed.

“Peter Ellis,” he said. “I know you. You devoured my grandfather's soul. I saw it happen when I was a child.”

Even in saying so, it was clear he didn’t fear me. Instead, his violet gaze was almost sombre.

“Come closer, creature.”

He swivelled back in his chair, turning his back on me. I did come closer, drawn in by my curiosity.

I looked over his shoulder, staring down at the array of items on the table. Bronze plates, screws, polished gears, scattered pieces of metal that he was working into different shapes. All of them were laid out in a way that reminded me of one of the horrible flying creatures that screeched in the air during the day.

“What are these abominations?”

“Doves,” he whispered lovingly. “They’ll look like doves, but they’ll be so much more. I just need something that will bring them to life and help me complete their purpose.”

I cocked my head and then he turned in his chair.

I felt the pain before I realised what had happened.

The human had driven a blade straight through my chest, straight into my heart. I didn’t move, but I did draw in a gargled breath as reality dawned on me.

I was only weak when I was in this form, and only my heart could be destroyed.

“How did you know?” I breathed, slowly sinking to the cold floor.

“Perhaps it was just my imagination,” he whispered, twisting the knife.

Blood gurgled in my throat and I growled, but it was no use. After killing humans for so long, I had become accustomed to being the hand of Death— but now I could feel her cold touch embrace me. A fickle beast, death.


“I needed it,” Peter said, his expression becoming hungry. “I needed it to complete my plans. Humans won’t cower in front of monsters any longer. All this time, you’ve been hurting us over and over, but now… Now, you’ve helped create the beginning of the end for monsters.”

I blinked, my vision beginning to darken.

“I’ll see you in Hell,” I rasped.

He only smiled, and I realised that perhaps I’d been wrong about humans this whole time.



Chapter 1



Into the Shadows



New York City 1921





“Close the curtains, Irene. I don’t want strangers to peep in on us.”

I sighed dramatically and yanked them shut, watching as dust bloomed from the fabric. I turned, going back to the long iron framed mirror that sat in the corner of the room, giving myself a once over.

“I doubt anyone would want to see inside,” I said, running my hands over my dress.

Despite the fact that my sister and I were handling business that was sad, we still dressed perfectly. My midnight blue dress was covered in sequins, my auburn hair in short waves. A brown mink fur shawl clung to my shoulders, keeping the winter draft from reaching me. A pearl necklace draped my neck, gleaming in the amber lighting that washed over the old living room.

I smoothed down one of the flyaways, meeting Florence’s gaze through the mirror.

Florence rolled her green eyes at me, setting down a tray with three steaming mugs on it. Her hair was much longer than mine, and she had it pinned back into a bun— the same hairstyle she’d insisted upon since we’d been 9 and 11. Where I liked bronze and glitter, Florence loved florals and gold.

“No, who in their right mind would ever want to spy on two young ladies,” she teased sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

I giggled, but then heard the door to the house open and close, a familiar voice echoing through.

“Evening, ladies!”

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