Damian Priest Tattoos Novels & Stories

Father Damien cleared his throat, walked up to where she was lying, and poured the water gently on her skin, chanting some prayers he had learned earlier. “Oh Lord, by Your mercies, let her be cleansed,” he kept saying those words until he emptied the cup of incense water on her. It fell on her delicate skin gently, causing Anna to slip into her womanly wants. She almost let out a moan but held her tongue. I don’t want to corrupt this priest, even though he’s young, she thought. If only she knew he wasn’t a priest—and that there were many secrets yet to be unfolded. Damien dropped the cup close to the incense bowl, walked up to Anna, made the sign of the cross, and told her to stand up witho

She was so innocent. A few minutes later, Evelyn felt hot under the blanket. She couldn’t take it anymore so she uncovered herself but her breath hitched when Damian walked out of the bathroom, half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He was occupied with toweling his blond hair dry. Evelyn gulped, her throat suddenly went dry. Her eyes raked Damian’s body. His exposed chest was broad and well-defined with a six-pack. He had a tribal tattoo on the left of his chest and a dragon tattoo on his right arm.

Both men after sharing a moment of intimacy, Damien then asked to be left alone for he wanted to think and set his mind in order, he also had the Rogues to think of, he was not yet sure of their true intentions. “Take all the time you need man and when you need me I will be outside, just call out and I will be here at once.” Alex said to Damien who had asked to be excused. When Alex finally left, Damien went into a wave of thoughts once more but with a clearer and calmer mind now. He thought of all the wrongs he had done to Ariel first and how he intended to apologize then make up for them, if only she could make it out alive. He then remembered how he’d blamed and even cursed the moon Godde

The Priest didn't move like a man of God. He moved like a shadow seeking a place to rest. He kept the pistol leveled at the center of Damian’s chest, his finger draped casually over the trigger with the practiced ease of someone who had extinguished more lives than he had blessed. ​Damian stood perfectly still. I could feel the heat radiating off his back, a solid wall of charcoal wool and repressed violence. My own heart was a frantic bird caught in the cage of my ribs, beating against the spine of the journal I still held. I looked at the paper on the portable press. The ink had finally stabilized, the deep, authoritative black etching a single word across the 17th-century linen.

“Proceed.” Damien stepped forward before the Elders could summon him. He didn’t wait for permission. His voice was like frost slicing through the chamber—controlled, lethal, unwavering. “I am Alpha Damien Verlice of the Infernal Shadows Pack. Alpha and mate to Luna Victoria Solace of the Palemane Claws Pack. There was a time when her Beta was forced to call her to lure her back into Elijah's Pack. When I went to rescue her, he lied, saying she wasn't there.”

"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

“But standing here, I choose life. I don't really care, I want to walk into it together with you. I am not afraid of tomorrow, because I’m with you.” Damien’s voice was calm, but his hands were trembling when he took mine. “I have let you down before,” he added, “but I won’t do it again. I'm in your corner, darling. I offer you myself, not from addiction, but from humanness,” he concluded. “Whatever the Goddess asks me to do, I'll be right there with you.” As they tied up their hands with the ceremonial sash, there was none but the prayers of the elders that could be heard in the hall.

He did so. Dami didn't only see himself as a boss he saw himself as a king.His love for white color made his house inner painting white colour. He also had a picture of a flying dragon with fire in it's mouth hung on the wall in the sitting room,the same exact tattoo he had on his chest. Dami was sure he heard a female's voice underneath the loudness of the music,he was so sure cause this wasn't some movie where he'd be hallucinating or daydreaming such a thing.

“I’m worshipping. There’s a difference.” Kai’s breath hitched as Damien’s thumb dragged over the phoenix’s head, right above his left nipple. The tattoo was intricate—flames curling in shades of red, orange, and deep black ink that seemed to flicker in the low light. It stretched from just below his collarbones down to the bottom of his ribs, wings wrapping around his sides. Geometric patterns from his full sleeves connected to it, making the entire piece feel alive on his lean-muscled swimmer’s build.

He was there. Damien stood at the counter, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the deep V of his pelvis on full display. His muscles were insane — broad shoulders, thick chest, abs carved like stone, arms veined and powerful from years of whatever dark shit he did when he wasn’t playing the perfect husband. Tattoos covered his skin like dark stories I wanted to trace with my tongue. He turned when he heard me, and our eyes locked. The air thickened instantly.