1864 Damon Salvatore Novels & Stories

Damian asked, his voice cold as he looked at Samantha's face again. "I came to see if—you and I can get along and if you can release my father," she replied nervously, fidgeting with her fingers. Samantha hadn't been brave enough to chase after a man before. Most men chase after her. Now, she was the one chasing after Damian Tucker, a ruthless mafia boss.

I grab his asset and fuck! I step back in fear, breaking the kiss, and in the end, Santino ends up knocking my lip. My hand feels my lips that feel raw. Some blood stains my finger where he bit me. “Fuck you!” “Are you sure? That you want to do that? ‘Cause you chickened out the moment you felt my dick. I did warn you not to test me, Samantha. I am the dragon king. I am way much bigger than your average human being.” He smirks, and fuck, he can be just as cocky as Maximo if he wanted to. I finally conclude that Santino is dangerously ruthless, and he knows I am scared of the monster in his pants.

Outside, the trees blurred into highway as the car picked up speed. Then, Damian’s phone buzzed again. New Message. Priority Encrypted. Sender: A.R. Subject: NOT OVER. Damian opened it with a single swipe. No media. No frills. Just a line of cold text: He cornered me. I didn’t fold… I preserved what I could. If I fall, you’ll be next. We both know what happens if he consolidates the South. There’s still a way to balance this… Contact Salvatore. Damian read it once.

I told him. Damian looked at me, almost like he was accessing me, I'm sure that's what he was doing. “Don't forget the reason you're doing this Tristan. You took her to bring down Salvador and his cartel.” Damian tells me. “I haven't forgotten, he will pay for every life lost. I will bleed him dry until he crumbles.” I tell him and he nods his head, even if emotions are still hard for my brother to understand, he understands the effects of mind games in war. And we were at war, Salvador started all of this and drew first blood, and I was going to end it.

Damien’s territory marked not because I respected his borders but because men who refused to map emotion alongside geography were usually the first to die surprised. Salvatore stepped closer to the table. “We can move whenever you say.” I studied the city. Lucian still believed he had room to manipulate outcomes if he struck from the side. Sokolov was too consumed by old grievance to understand when he was being redirected. Damien, for all his intelligence, had finally become what I expected any man that attached himself to my sister would become—dangerous, unpredictable, compromised. “We don’t move yet,” I said. Salvatore glanced at the screens, then back at me.

The reflection of the restaurant flickers over the windowpane, blending strangers and headlights into a moving blur. I open the folder again, because of course I do. Some part of me can’t stop. Damon Vale stares back at me from a glossy phototaken at a conference, suit immaculate, expression unreadable. He looks like a man who never loses control of anything. Not his company. Not his secrets. I trace the line of his jaw with my eyes, studying every detail. He’s the kind of man people underestimate until it’s too late. The kind who makes enemies quietly and buries them just as silently.

He and my dad are of the same size. Also, I don't have many clothes for him to wear so he needs to go shopping. "Come on, let's go," I say making my way towards the door with him following me. He closes the door while I open the garage. I take out the 1969 Chevy Camaro Convertible. Damon Salvatore also has the same car. That is why I'm in love with this car. I drive it through towards the driveway where Christian is standing. "Holy Fuck, this is your car?" He asks. "This is an original classic."

"When you ask me that, I usually don't know what to say." "What's your full name?" "Damon Salvatore," He said with a smile. "Italian, huh," I nodded at him with a smile. I knew. He had the features. The trim figure, olive skin, dark hair, characteristic razor sharp jawline, aquiline nose and lastly, the natural charm and charisma. "I can see why," No wonder he had this pull. He exuded so much confidence. He didn't even have to act it. It was a part of him.

It was war smelling the mate bond. I thought the bond was dead. “You smell like power now,” he growled. “Like storms and the moonlight. What really happened to you?” I stood tall, refusing to hide my body. “I survived. I was what you tried to kill.” Damon’s jaw dropped. For the first time, I felt pain appear right in his eyebrows. “I was wrong, Annie. Cassandra lied to me. I only allowed pride and fear to make me throw away the best thing in my life… my coming Luna.”

"Yeah, I am. Damien assured me that the movie crap isn't him and he doesn't run around killing people. So, yeah, I'm okay with it. I may have to take a vacation after this, but I'm okay with it." He was getting more comfortable around the two and he relaxed more into the chair. He finished his coffee before it got cold. He was sitting there thinking about his conversation with Damien and that he spoke Latin. Roman Latin to be specific, according to Damien himself. Did that make him a priest before he was changed? Latin? Why was that sticking in his head? OH YEAH! Now I remember! My brother had a t-shirt and the school suspended him for it. Mom and Dad would never tell me what it said. What w