Damian Vance Novels & Stories

I ran my finger down the hilt. “You want death?” I whispered to the silence. “Then I will give you extinction. I will be sure that each and everyone that chose to defy me is going to learn their lesson. I'm not going to wake up, not again, and if it is love that I need to fight against, then it is what I'm going to do.” And when Damon opens that letter… he’ll know. He’ll know this isn’t politics anymore. This is vengeance. This is blood. This is the beginning of the end.

"My department requires the confirmation paperwork by next week. I'm just trying to decide which firm would give me actual experience without dragging me into weird corporate politics." Damian stopped beside my chair, his dark amber eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding, analytical intensity. He reached out, his large, warm hand cupping the front of my neck, his long fingers pressing lightly into the thick black leather collar hidden beneath my high-collared cashmere sweater. His thumb traced the cold, smooth contour of the silver D pendant resting against my throat. "Apply to Vance Global," Damian commanded flatly, his tone leaving zero room for debate. I blinked, my eyes widening sligh

Damien stroked my hair before pulling away. He turned to Vance. "Round this up. Call backup for the remaining men. Secure the captives. And get vehicles ready-we need to transport Marcus now." Vance nodded and moved towards the door, but then I noticed Damien swaying. Before I could react, he fell hard on the floor with a loud thud. My breath caught. I couldn't move as I stared at his body. Vance was already at his side, checking his pulse. "He's lost too much blood." He looked at me. "He'll be fine, Rachel. I promise."

~~JULIAN VANCE~~ I had a pretty decent sleep and woke up in a good mood that was until I picked up my phone. There was message from Lucas, one of my men. "Damian is gone, sir. He slipped out through the back. We're looking." I sat up fast, the sleep vanishing in an instant. Gone? What did they mean, gone? I stared at the message in anger. I had put men on Damian's house. I had paid them well to watch the old man and make sure he stayed put until I was ready for him. And now he was gone.

"I want to meet that person. Since you seem to know me, you must also know the man who has the same face as me." "Who the hell are you!" Damien hit Cedric on the head with the gun. "I'm Damien, I'm looking for the truth that was hidden from me." Cedric had no choice but to run the car as Damien ordered. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Canis and now he was in trouble again. ***** Diana had just returned from the kitchen and was about to go to Alpha Darren's office to meet him when she heard the sound of a car stopping. So she peeked through the window.

He stood tall, dark, and terrifying, blocking out the amber light of the temple. He wasn’t looking at Aria. He was looking at Liam. His expression was one of absolute, clinical evisceration. He looked at Liam the way a lion looks at a gazelle that has wandered into its den—not with anger, but with the cold promise of violence. “Vance,” Damian said. The name sounded like a curse. “I… we were just dancing, sir,” Liam said, stepping back, releasing Aria’s hand immediately. “Dancing,” Damian repeated flatly. He looked at Liam’s hand. Then he looked at Aria’s waist where Liam’s hand had been.

Damian Vance walked in. He had discarded his tactical armor for a impeccably tailored slate-grey three-piece suit, minus the tie. His dark hair was brushed back, though a few stray strands fell over his forehead, and his sharp jawline was freshly shaved. He carried the natural authority of a king walking through his court, but the moment his stormy grey eyes locked onto mine, the coldness in them melted into pure, molten heat. "Good morning, Arthur," Damian grunted politely, sliding a hand into his trouser pocket as he approached the table. He gave Daphne a brief, respectful nod. "Daphne."

Damon stood by the glass, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking dangerous and hungry. “Close the door,” he ordered. She did. “Damon, about last night—” He moved fast. In two strides he had her pinned against the cool glass, her back to the city. His big hand yanked her skirt up roughly around her waist. “Shut up,” he growled. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about this dripping cunt.” Before she could argue, he dropped to his knees right there in his expensive suit. His strong hands ripped her soaked panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

“So unless you believe I've suddenly forgotten how to choose the people allowed in my boardroom, I suggest you stop questioning her presence.” The man's face tightened, and he immediately lowered his gaze. “Of course not, sir. That's not what I meant,” he replied, his earlier confidence disappearing as he realized he had pushed too far. “Good,” Damian said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on the table. “Then don't make it sound that way.” His eyes remained fixed on the man for another second before he finally looked away, and nobody in the room dared say anything.

I charge towards them yelling a war cry. *Warden* I go through a stack of documents on my desk, retracting my spider legs into my back. I searched for Damian’s file to see why he was so strong, so well powered, and so forth. At last, I found it in a drawer where I keep a bottle of wine. I pulled it out, poured myself a glass and drank as I read his file. Strange, he doesn’t appear to have a birthdate or parents. In fact he has no history of any kind. As I read, a commotion from outside drew my attention to the door. The door suddenly kicked itself open and in front of me was a blood stained Damian, anger lacing his features. He slowly walks towards me with a sword in his hand. He is breathin