Damian Priest Wife Novels & Stories

She smiled at the guests. Damian watched her approach. He didn’t smile. He didn’t tear up. He watched her with the polite, detached interest of a man watching a stock ticker. She reached the altar. Desmond handed her over. Damian took her hand. He didn’t squeeze it. He just held it. The ceremony began. The priest spoke of love, of sacrifice, of two souls becoming one. The words felt like lies. They floated up into the high vaulted ceiling and dissolved. “Do you, Damian Alfred Cross,” the priest intoned, “take Cassandra Elizabeth Hale to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Her intention was clear: she wanted to witness Vivian’s discomfort. The host was left speechless by her frankness. True to her word, Renee refrained from logging into T*****r until Vivian’s segment concluded. Upon checking, she noticed a tweet from Damian mentioning her in a trending post. Renee was puzzled. Damian’s tweet read: "She is my friend's wife. The speculation that she is my mistress is ridiculous! Reporters and bloggers, please don't throw out unfounded words! Thank you!" His words radiated a desperate plea for understanding.

In the end, Damian was dragged out of the city hotel by the guards. With nearly every important person in the military base present that day, his reputation was ruined in a single afternoon. To try to steal a bride from the son of the lieutenant colonel at her wedding was a serious offense to both the Maverick and West families. Damian had just severed his path to promotion. At the Conrad residence, Rosalyn collapsed in hysterics and screamed that Heidi was a curse upon their family. But after such a scandal, no woman would ever want to marry Damian again, so she had to swallow her pride and let Heidi into the house.

It was the contraceptive my husband, Damien, insisted I take whenever he makes love to me and most of the time, I take these pills daily. Damien. My husband, my mate, my Alpha. The man the Moon Goddess herself had chosen for me. He was everything a woman could dream of; strong, protective, and devastatingly handsome. With his storm-gray eyes and jet-black hair, he commanded attention effortlessly. He had a way of making me feel cherished, adored even. Every time he looked at me, it was like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. I have spent two years with him in this marriage.

A knock interrupted us before I could sit with that thought any longer. Damian stood in the doorway, tie loosened, that same exhaustion carved into his face lately. His eyes moved from me to Sophia and back, something unreadable behind them. “I didn’t realize you had company,” he said. “Sophia Bennett. My best friend since college.” I gestured between them, watching Sophia’s eyes light up with obvious, unrepentant curiosity. “Sophia, my husband.” “The infamous Damian Blackwood.” Sophia stood, extending her hand with confident directness. Damian shook it without flinching. “I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it from Evelyn, she’s been suspiciously tight-lipped.”

He’d met the woman of his life and lost her right before starting their life together as husband and wife. So, Damiano had arrived at the last minute, then sat in the back, avoiding every single acquaintance in the church. When he heard the priest intone, ‘Do you take this woman…’ his throat had tightened. Damiano shut his mind off, determinedly focusing on something else rather than the happy couple. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Damiano breathed a sigh of relief. He would have escaped then, except the groom’s uncle had latched on to him before he could, determined to talk to him about a ‘good business’. At least there hadn’t been an offer to introduce him to one of the bridesmaid

"Tell me this is a misunderstanding, tell me you haven't been stupid enough to get involved with a man of the church." "It's not a misunderstanding." I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "His name is Damien and I love him and tomorrow morning there's going to be a story about his past and our relationship." "His past?" Suspicion sharpened his tone. "What past?" "Before he became a priest he killed someone." The words came out flat. "He worked for criminals and murdered a teenager and then found God and came here to atone. And I fell in love with him knowing all of that."

“You’ve gone too far! I used to be your wife, Damian! You should still respect me.” Damian tightened his embrace around Tamara, his tone unwavering. “One thing you need to know. Your status as an ex-wife doesn’t give you any right to disrupt this family. Now I belong only to Tamara, and she’s the only woman I recognize as my wife. So don’t ever think you can come back into my life.” Tamara looked at her husband with pride. A small smile appeared on her lips, warmth spreading in her chest because Damian always stood by her side.

“Not in this case. She’s a Whitmore. Selina Whitmore” “Get out of here.” I waved my hand in disbelief. But looking at her sober expression and realizing she was serious, my head spun. I needed to play it cool, this was a golden opportunity that needed to be used properly. “As in Damien’s wife? This is incredible!” I was incredibly shocked, there was no need to fake that. “This is not the regular lying on the resume.” I looked at Priya with concern to make her believe I was on her side.

And then, suddenly, an arm slid around my waist, pulling me against a wall of unshakable strength. I froze. It was Damian’s. He held me close, his expression unreadable as he turned to face the sea of cameras. The crowd hushed for a moment, sensing the gravity that seemed to follow him like a shadow. “She is not Adrian’s anything,” Damian said, his voice carrying like thunder, smooth and commanding. “She is my future wife. And she carries my heir.” The world went still. The reporters gasped, then exploded into chaos, voices overlapping, flashes blinding.