Damian Priest Tattoos Novels & Stories

A strange kind of wave of relief ran in his body after knowing that she is not a lesbian. All of them finished their breakfast silently... ***** They were in the basement, Damian was standing in front of a man who was hanging in front him covered in his own blood, Rose and jack standing behind him with 2 other men... Damian was looking dangerously calm, his hands covered in blood and veins of his muscular arms were popping out due to his rolled up sleeves, he again sliced one of his finger making him scream in agony. "I won't repeat myself, Where is my drugs?..."

He scanned my expression, his brows drawing together. I sighed. “Sorry. Since my pregnancy I've been more emotional. I hope it’ll go away soon.” I cleared my throat then rested my palm over his shoulder blade. “What’s the meaning of your tattoo? You know why I got mine, but I wonder why you got yours.” A hint of wariness flashed in his eyes, the walls he was used to keeping up wanting to lock back in place. “Damian did it. About seven years ago.” I nodded to show him I was listening. “It’s a fallen angel, like you said. It represents the fall Damian and I took on the day our mother tried to kill us.”

, He said in a clear yet polite tone, loud enough to be heard by everyone present in the main hall. Damian heeded the request of the holy priest and let go of his none existence ego for a little while. He immediately kneeled before the priest The priest then took the holy relics from the flat wooden plate and asked Damian to raise his hands in the front. Damian raised his hands forward, ready to receive the Holy relics which are supposed to pass down to the next king. The holy priest picked up the relics, one was a wound, and another one was a pure crystal with a rainbow specialized inside it.

I froze. Damian stood in the living room, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other loose at his side. His jacket was thrown carelessly over the armrest, his tie loosened and crooked like he’d tugged at it one too many times. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms tense, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. Heck, I saw a tattoo peeking out too. Since when did Damian get a tattoo? I never got the chance to convey my thoughts because a low growl pulled me back to the present. I raised my eyes, and that had to be the biggest mistake I'd made right now, because his eyes burned.

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

Damian smirked as he took out two tropical drinks from the tiki hut bar behind him. He was tall and muscular, wearing nothing but a vibrant Hawaiian shirt and a pair of faded denim shorts. The shirt, adorned with bright and bold patterns of hibiscus flowers and palm trees, seemed to bring out the stunning blue of his eyes and perfectly complemented his sun-kissed skin. As he stared at me, a broad smile crossed his face, and his eyes lit up. "I've bought this for you." Damian pulled out a bunch of flowers from behind like a magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat.

I followed his gaze to see Knight who had just stepped out of his car, walking towards us in all his perfection. His curly hair was fallen behind his shoulder, his arm tattoos adding to the dangerous aura emitting from him now. He also had a black pants and black boots. He looked like the mafia man he was "W-who did you say he was again?" Damian muttered laying back on his seat. What a coward? Damian was a gym freak and had the perfect body with muscles at the right places. He was the catch of many girls at campus but he had eyes for only me, unfortunately for him.

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.

“I don’t have a mark. I mean, I’ve never had a tattoo or anything like that.” He stepped back, drying his hands on a nearby towel, his expression unreadable. “Damian… what is it?” Aria asked, wrapping the towel more tightly around herself as she stepped out of the shower. Her hair was dripping wet, her body still slick with water, but the temperature of the room had dropped drastically. Not from the air—but from the tension. Damian exhaled and leaned against the counter. “There’s a symbol on your lower back. A very specific one. A snake coiled around a dagger.”

the dragon warrior informed Damien before he turned to face me and smirked. "You can leave us, all of you," Damien dismissed all three women in the room, who were all younger dragon ladies that I knew weren't his mate. Damien rose from the bed, picked up his towel, and wrapped it around his waist, with his back and hard buttocks facing me. I didn't see his shaft, not that I cared to see what he had. "You didn't let your fellow North dragons know that you're fit and here entertaining the women when you should be out calming your colleagues?" I questioned him. He laughed and turned to face me, revealing a tattoo of a black flying dragon on his chest.