Novel & Cerita Damian Wayne Costumes

“Thank you.” The assistant looked at him. “Are you going to say anything else?” Damian glanced at her. “What should I say?” “That you look like a man who just saw his future wife for the first time.” I nearly choked. Damian smiled. “She isn’t my wife yet.” “Yet,” the woman replied. I laughed nervously. “Next dress.” The assistant handed me another, then another, and another. Some were elegant, some were dramatic, one had an enormous train that nearly swallowed me. When I walked out wearing it, Damian laughed, I glared at him.

Everyone was there in the center crowded around the fire pit, when they noticed Ruby and I everyone went quiet and you could hear Damian whistled and say, "Damn ladies who knew y'all could clean up like this." Seeing him stand by Ryker I took a long look at both of them seeing that they were dressed nicely themselves, so I got the nerve to call back to Damian, "Right back at you, who knew that you could even put pants on." Everyone chuckled at my reply and I heard some mumble agreements because since I have been here I have never seen Damian in jeans only sweats or basketball shorts. He had a huge smile on his face as Ruby and I walked over to where they were. Wiggling his eyebrows he said,

Betsy gripped Emberlynn's hand, and they stepped out of the alcove and into the mating ground. Damien was now present, standing very close to the older, but he wasn't in the outfit he was in earlier. Now, he was on a sleeveless tunic that molded to his muscular frame like a second skin. The tunic features intricate embossing and stitching. At the neckline, the tunic plunged low, exposing his bronzed chest, and the smooth, rippled muscles of his torso were accentuated by the flickering torchlight. Emberlynn's eyes almost bulged out of their socket, and her mouth ran dry. How could they let him come out in such a manner?!

Damian sat at the head of the table, a mug if coffee and a business newspaper was shirking his face. He was wearing an expensive navy suit, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled precisely to his elbows, revealing those thick, roped forearms that had haunted my dreams for four years. He didn't look up as I entered, but the air around him crackled with a suppressed violence that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Dex was to his right, sprawled in a chair that looked comically small beneath his bulk built. He wore a tight black t-shirt that strained against the definition of his shoulders.

Toast, coffee, and tea, with different spreads were present. Plates of fruit, bacon, and eggs are also within the mix. “Tea please.” I respond with a polite smile. Just as she begins to pour the tea, my senses heighten. My nose picks up his scent and a fuzzy sensation sparks through my chest. “Your husband is on his way here.” My wolf, Jade, snickers. True to her words, the guards at the entrance announce Damian’s presence before opening the double doors. Damian had changed into a navy blue t-shirt with black jeans–his usual outfit with a twist of blue today. His long strands fall over his face almost as though to cover his bloodshot eyes.

“Agreed.” The rest of the day passed in a controlled frenzy. I chose a blood-red gown for the summit — elegant, powerful, with a high collar and long sleeves to hide the bruises and scars. Damien wore a tailored black suit that made him look every inch the Reaper, even with the slight limp. We stood together in front of the mirror, a matching pair of dark royalty. “You look like sin,” he murmured, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “My favorite kind.”

Damian said, and added “ This is life ” They parked near a shady alley and Damian stepped out of the driver’s seat. He wore a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and combat boots. So far from royal robes and ceremonial armor he may as well have been someone else entirely. He was no longer a prince today. Just a twenty year old guy with too much energy and a hunger for something real, for his mate and freedom. “You look like the love interest in a high school drama,” Kevin smirked. “If the girls weren’t staring before, they definitely will now.”

I opened my office door and froze. Damian was sitting on the edge of the table while talking on his Bluetooth – his long muscular legs stretched out, the ankles crossing each other, hands folded in front of his muscular chest. He was wearing a white shirt with a dark brown tie and a khaki waistcoat. His trousers were the same khaki color as his waistcoat, and his shoes were dark brown. He looked so good; it was ridiculous how good he looked.

Damian murmured softly, pecking Celine's cheek. "Good morning." Celine responded happily, smiling at him. Damian took a step towards her and pulled her into a hug. When he let go of her, he pulled the covers down to reveal the fact that her pajamas consisted of nothing more than a pair of white panties and a sports bra. Celine rolled her eyes and pushed Damian playfully. "You know exactly why I woke up like this, Damian Wayne." She said with a smirk. Damian chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yes, dear wife. You always wear less clothes when I spend the night with you."

She had ruined us in many ways. I wasn't even in the mood to smile as I stared back at myself in the mirror. Damian had insisted I didn’t come, saying it was his battle to fight. And even though he assured me that this wasn't a big case, the court hearing would only make things official and put everything to a close. Damian walked into the room, already dressed up in his three piece suit. He looked absolutely amazing. His hair was perfectly combed and his jaw was clean shaven, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and making his blue eyes even more intense.