Damian Wayne Costumes Novels & Stories

His employees scurried to get out of his way as he made his way to the security room. "Show me the footage," he growled, his eyes blazing with fury. The security guard nodded, his hands shaking as he worked the controls. The footage showed two men, dressed in black, sneaking into the warehouse and making off with the package. Damon's face turned red with rage. "Find them," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "I want them brought to me alive." It didn't take long for Damon's men to track down the thieves. They were brought to him, trembling with fear.

Then the double doors at the back of the briefing room slammed open. Every camera whipped around. He walked in. Damien. No cuffs. No prison jumpsuit. Just gray joggers, a plain black t-shirt, hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes were dark, stormy..,equal parts fury and something rawer. Worry. Exhaustion. Jaxon and Gerald flanked him, plus three other men I didn’t recognize, and a woman trailing close behind. We all screamed his name at the same time, hugging each other in celebration.

•• Victoria’s POV ••• The moment I mentioned I was going to the Goldclaw Pride Pack, Damien’s expression darkened dangerously. I rolled my eyes. If he thought I would leave my pack members to be punished or tortured by Elijah, he was so wrong. As an Alpha himself, he should understand my feelings. I went to the walk-in wardrobe and chose clothes that would make it easy for me to move - a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It wouldn’t restrict my movements if I needed to fight against any of them, since I couldn’t shift.

"Yeah, we've known each other since high school." "That's nice," 'That's nice.' What does he mean by that? "I didn't expect to run into you here," He chuckles, "Neither did I." "You live around here?" I ask, glancing down at this clothes. Damon stands in his casual outfit. Even though it's a first to see him without his suit, I can barely say I know him that well—we've only met each other twice including now but seeing him in his pair of jeans and sweatshirt, I'd say he's pretty laid back. It's like he was running errands and he didn't exactly expect to run into anyone in the streets.

Two beautiful ladies lay half-naked on the sofa, motionless and unconscious, with bite marks almost all over their bodies—on their necks, arms, laps, and even their tummies. Eric Damian came out from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He briefly glanced at the ladies before walking to his wardrobe. He meticulously picked out a black designer suit and trousers, a white long-sleeve shirt, a belt, a necktie, and an Italian leather pair of shoes. He laid the clothes on the bed, discarded his towel, and began dressing himself up.

“You’ll be the first to know if we find out anything.” It was enough for now. I watched as officers escorted the woman further down the hall and out of sight. The threat had been neutralized, but the questions remained, multiplying like shadows at dusk. Damien arrived about 20 minutes later. He was still dressed in the same sharp suit he’d worn to work, his presence commanding attention as he walked straight toward me. “Are you hurt?” I blinked, surprised by the directness of his concern. “No.”

I turned my head. He leaned casually against the doorway, though nothing about him was ever casual. Damian filled the space simply by being in it. He was dressed in his ceremonial Alpha attire, the black and silver suit tailored perfectly to his broad frame. Silver embroidery traced the edges, weaving patterns of wolves and swords, and pinned to his chest was the royal crest—a silver wolf beneath a golden crown. His golden eyes, sharp and unyielding to the world, softened when they landed on me. He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, and before I could say a word, he leaned down. His lips brushed my cheek, warm, lingering, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

"Get away from my door and leave immediately! I don't want to see you anywhere around this hallway. Getaway at once! As he was speaking, he heard the sound of footsteps retreating, so he knew that whoever had knocked on the door, had wisely decided to retreat to avoid whatever punishment the Alpha could mete out to him….or her. Satisfied, he opened his mouth to speak again. "I will bring you some clothes and then you can get out of this place," he said to Ariel coldly. She nodded. "Yes, Alpha." Damien turned around and pulled open a door before walking into his closet. He looked around at his array of expensive suits. His eyes roamed around the whole of the large closet, before finally settl

Nora clocked it. [@SpiceShelf: Take out Crimson Vow. I need to see the heir short-circuit.] [@MafiaMutt: Shirtless Damian behind that door? Paywall energy.] I admitted it. I had a mean streak. I took out the lipstick, clicked the cap loose, and pretended to study the last page of the file. Then I let the tube roll slowly between my fingers. The lounge door swung open so fast it nearly hit the wall. Damian stood there in nothing but dark trousers. His shirt was gone, leaving broad shoulders, a lean waist, and an old pale scar under his ribs on full display. He looked dangerous, half dressed, and much less composed than he wanted to be.

Damian. He walked in late, which was a power move in itself. He wasn't in a standard tuxedo; he was wearing something custom in deep midnight blue velvet, which somehow made him look bigger, sharper, and utterly untouchable. His black hair was slicked back, and his eyes, slate gray and instantly calculating, cut through the crowd noise and found me instantly, standing next to Julian. The contact was immediate, electric, and terrifying. The cold, corporate mask was back in place, but beneath it, I felt the sharp, possessive rage radiating across fifty feet of polished marble floor. The wolf in my core thrummed a dangerous, savage rhythm.