Damian Priest X Reader Novels & Stories

Damian smiled at the priest and he gulped. I wondered why the priest was so damn quiet listening to every single word Damian said, I could see fear in his eyes and his hands were trembling as he spoke. My eyes landed on the glass table on the altar and from the reflection I could see an assassin on the rooftop aiming its gun at me. Why me? Or was it the priest? Or could it be Damian? I couldn't care less if it was either Damian or me. At least I will be free. The priest conducted the ceremony in fear and we signed the document, after all the process, Damian went straight to his car and drove off leaving me at the church.

Damian moved in closer, his chest brushing against my shoulder as he whispered in my ear, loud enough for Chris to hear: “Rachel, do you want to know what really happened to your mom?” I froze. My blood turned to ice. “What?” I whispered, my lips trembling. Chris stood there looking at me But before I could even think, Damian’s hand cupped my face and he kissed me. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire and claim and demand all in one. My knees almost gave way as the heat of him swallowed me whole. My eyes fluttered shut forgetting Chris was there, my heart hammering so loud I thought it might burst out of my chest.

“She’s unreal.” “Those curves… that face—how does someone like that even exist?” “And that body—Jesus Christ.” “I’d pay anything. Anything. One night. Just one.” “Look at that face—so innocent, like she doesn’t even know what she does to men.” “I swear I’d ruin her completely if she gave me a chance.” Quiet laughter followed, their voices dripping with lust, eyes roaming shamelessly over her form. Damian heard every word. Each one felt like a blade.

Damien’s POV Cleo dropped to her knees, naked desperation painted across her face. “He forced himself on me!” she cried, clutching at her chest, dragging in ragged breaths like she was the victim here. “I didn’t want it—he just grabbed me! Damien, you have to believe me!” I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “That’s what you said the last time,” I murmured. “With Jaxon.” Her lips parted. “And now the same fucking story?” I scoffed. “Are you really that shameless?”

To protect him. Her fingers clenched the rosary she’d stolen from her father’s study, though she hadn’t prayed in years. She whispered anyway: Please… don’t let him fall tonight. The cathedral doors groaned open. Damian entered like a storm given flesh. His presence filled the chamber before he even spoke, his black coat dripping with rain, his gaze cutting through the shadows. Every elder stiffened. Every rival measured their chances and faltered. Isabella’s lips curved in triumph, though her fingers twitched against her skirt.

It was like I keep getting to junction where I unravel a new personality of Damian at each step. More like a ghh game. I kept taking the layers off but it never seemed to end. “What do you they say happened?” “He got on the bad side of one of his victims and they targeted his brother for revenge.” “It happened back in Italy. Now that I thought of it, maybe that's why he permanently relocated here.” Was this true? How much authencity was in those papers and blog posts.. But in the a small part of my mind, a voice warned me to trust it.

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.”

His eyes moved over me with the inventory quality and registered nothing unusual. I had been kissed in the rain by another man four days ago. He saw nothing. We sat at dinner and he talked about London and the meetings and the outcomes and I nodded at the correct intervals and asked the questions that demonstrated appropriate engagement and inside the performance, underneath it, in the place he had never once found access to, I was somewhere else entirely. I was in a narrow bookstore aisle with aged paper around me and a voice reading Keats at low volume. I was under an awning with rain coming down and warm hands at my face and a mouth that had known exactly what it was doing.

Damian said coldly " what are you talking about? " Amaya asked, the confusion now setting in "pretending are we" Damian snorted coldly "I don't know what you're talking about" Amaya said now annoyed Damian found it repulsive how someone could lie so well, He lifted his slender finger to her chin and pressed down her lips with his fingers "such beautiful lips full of lies"

"She isn't going to kill me." "I don't care." "She is injured." "I don't care." "Do you actually care about anyone?" His expression didn't change. "Yes." He looked straight into my eyes. "You." The priestess sighed. "Oh, Goddess." Damien didn't even glance at her, and I felt my face warm despite everything, despite Paige down the hallway, despite Tamara missing, despite my entire life being a disaster. Somehow he could still make my heart skip. "You're impossible." "So are you."