Damian Priest Before Wwe Novels & Stories

Damian groaned, and rose to his feet. "Are you alright?" I asked him worriedly as he rose up. I had idea why Damian didn't fight back when Alessandro hurt him, but it occurred to me that he was probably scared of fighting back because Alessandro was stronger. Damian was an Alpha too but unlike Alessandro, there were limit to what he could do while Alessandro properly had no limits because of his reputation. "Why weren't you able to accept the rejection?"

It was unbelievable that Damian had just died like that. “Your messiah died in less than a week here. Couldn't last one fucking week!” he pressed on, angry at them for not trusting him. “Next time I tell you I'm capable of something, let me handle it. Okay?” he added before walking out. The two black scorpione men covered their heads in thought. They had gotten the news some minutes before Romano barged in and were still unable to process everything. Damian was supposed to be the messiah out of all these. Guess Romano was right after all. They were stuck with him.

“Say, do you have a powerful smite spell as a priest or something poisonous that I can drink? I don’t feel like walking. Waking up in the church is quicker.” Surprised that Damian asked to be killed as a shortcut, Zen wondered if friendly fire was allowed. He did not have such spells or poisonous substances in his inventory. However, he had weapons on him that might do the trick. “If it works, it might hurt a lot,” Zen warned. “Close your eyes. I don’t feel good attacking another person, especially someone on my team.” Laughing, Damian beckoned for Zen to stab him in the jugular correctly. One good stab would send him right back to where he wanted to be.

It was like moving underwater. Then he stepped into the ring. Damian. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, his bare arms glistening slightly with dew. He was powerful, confident—and utterly focused on me. “You ready, cutie pie?” he teased. “Don’t start with the flirting, Alpha,” I warned, tightening my grip on the staff. “I’m here to kick your ass.” His grin widened. “That’s the spirit.” We circled each other, the charged silence between us thick with anticipation. My muscles tensed. Snowy crouched inside me, urging me to move.

Since then, he started experiencing discomfort in his legs, which progressed into a complete loss of senses. Hence, he had always suspected his current condition to be a result of the fight two years ago. Reminded of the fight, his resentment for the Libertons grew, and at the same time, he was impressed by Mister Yair for making such a precise diagnosis. "Mister Yair, can Damian be cured?" Patrick asked in anticipation. He had hired countless doctors to treat Damian in the past, but none of them had been able to help; on the contrary of those doctors, Mister Yair managed to tell that Damian had been injured in the past after simply checking him over, which meant that Mister Yair was far mor

Just pretending. And then it was our turn. Damian appeared at my side like he’d been summoned, all dressed in a black suit that hugged his body too well, his jaw was tight, eyes scanning the crowd like he expected a sniper somewhere. He didn’t look at me at first, just kept clenching and unclenching his fists like he was ready for round two with Gabriel at any second. “You ready?” he asked, eyes finally flicking to mine. “Yeah.” why did my voice suddenly get soft?

He gritted his teeth and roared in a low voice, “Damian, you have no idea who you have just messed with. I will kill you all! I will kill every damn member of your family, and you will watch me do it! I will make sure that you endure pain worse than death itself!” … Meanwhile, Damian was basking in his wife’s praises as she congratulated him. “Honey, I never knew that you are such a bad person. Why didn’t you tell me that you had such a grand plan?” Damian laughed. He was sitting in his new office as he watched people moving up and down and around the city. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I just wanted them to think that they have the upper hand, and I am nothing but a poor church mouse.”

He had killed all the Elders in less than a few seconds; who the hell was he? Damien turned, his eyes red and his face still in his beast form, "Who else wants to challenge me to evict me from my position?" "I say come forth!" he yelled. But no one dared. Instead, they bowed, pledging their allegiance to him. "Very well," Damien stated, breathing hard, and when he turned, Emberlynn noticed he was now his normal self. Except for the blood stain on his clothes and face, he looked pretty much normal, yet she knew there wasn't anything normal about him after all that she had seen.

The Queen turned to the King, her mouth opening to argue, but his raised hand silenced her. Damien’s shadow fell over me as he crouched slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Don’t look, little flame,” he murmured, the words gentle despite the tension in his tone. “You don’t need to see this.” The trapdoors fell with a sickening thud. My father, my mother, my brother—gone. A scream tore from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I collapsed to the ground, my legs giving out beneath me. I didn’t need to see it; the sound alone was enough to shatter what was left of my heart.

Everything waiting for the moment he would finally rest with her… And she was gone. Damian ripped off his ceremonial robe and flung it aside. His chest heaved as he looked around the room, and rage twisted violently inside him. With a choked sound, he groped handfuls of his Raven black hair and pulled hard until several strands tore free. A hoarse, broken scream broke out from his throat. Then he collapsed to the floor. “Why now…” he whispered, voice raw and trembling. “When we were just getting happy?” He closed his eyes tightly, pressing a hand to his face as he forced himself to breathe. He reached out mentally, spiritually calling for the Moon Goddess.