Damian Wayne Ethnicity Novels & Stories

Damien said, stripping. My eyes stared at his naked torso. As much as I didn't love him, I'd admit he had a beautiful body. Damien was muscular. He had even got better over the years. His golden brown hair was like every Cord's, curly and soft. He had gotten his dark brown eyes from his maternal side rather than the green eyes that Linda and Daniel had. Damien often made women swoon wherever he went and could be term as every woman's dream. At least those that fancied him, I guess. I didn't want him, and I didn't enjoy seeing him.

Lexie Damian was a decent human being. He was an older and more experienced version of the boys I'd dated throughout my time in high school and college. He was a little bit older than I was. Sincere, charitable, and possessing a warm and welcoming demeanor, this man gave off the impression that you could put your faith in anything he had to say. I used to fall for phrases like that all the time. He helped me by holding doors open and carrying my lunch tray. I was very grateful. He told me that he was from the Midwest in the United States. He entertained the notion that he might return there one day. He didn't belong here; it just wasn't his thing. If I hadn't lost my virginity to a forty-yea

"Yeah, I am. Damien assured me that the movie crap isn't him and he doesn't run around killing people. So, yeah, I'm okay with it. I may have to take a vacation after this, but I'm okay with it." He was getting more comfortable around the two and he relaxed more into the chair. He finished his coffee before it got cold. He was sitting there thinking about his conversation with Damien and that he spoke Latin. Roman Latin to be specific, according to Damien himself. Did that make him a priest before he was changed? Latin? Why was that sticking in his head? OH YEAH! Now I remember! My brother had a t-shirt and the school suspended him for it. Mom and Dad would never tell me what it said. What w

Ok, let's come back to the present, I guess you now understand mom's reason for calling me Demian, a name that rhymes with a demon. Well, it's true, I'm Damian, a hybrid of mom a beautiful human lady, and Dad, a seductive Akwa-being, and a Sea King, I guess that made me an Aqua-prince, and yes this is the story of my life.

Elena stayed hidden behind the curtain, watching the man who now stood before the world stripped of his armor. “Thank you for coming,” Damian began. “There have been rumors—questions about my past, my family, my name. I’m here to tell you the truth.” The audience leaned forward. “I was not born a Cross,” he said simply. “I was born Damian Blackwell.” Gasps rippled through the hall. He continued, voice steady. “Richard Cross adopted me after my family abandoned me. I owe my success to his faith, not my bloodline. Every decision I’ve made, every risk I’ve taken—it’s been for this company. I will not apologize for that.”

“Miss Xiver, nice to meet you too, but I think you’re saying something wrong; he had the blood from this dog; how can he be a Xiver?” Damian Welsh’s words were like burning chilly in Nina’s heart; how dare he call her son a dog’s blood? Even though she has no soft feelings for the man, he is still her son’s birth father, so of course, if someone curses him, it would fall on her son indirectly. Damian’s Welsh didn’t hurt Ace; he is used to this treatment since he came to know why he came to this world. “Mr Welsh, it seems you have the same dog blood.” Nina’s words were like a rough slap on Damian Welsh’s face; he looked at Nina with bloodthirsty eyes.

“And sure, Damian’s a cousin, but he’s more of a usurping, evil relative that we don’t invite around and don’t give our address to.” “Usurping?” I frowned. “He… framed werewolves for the attack?” “Oh, no, that was all werewolves. Damian’s the sire of the king’s brother. Hence cousin. No one likes him, not even his brother,” he wrinkled his nose. “I don’t even think Damian likes him. None of us… originals… descendants?” He shrugged. “Whatever you want to call us. The true heirs stand with him. They’re not even welcome in our world.”

Damian's last name was Moretti. Lorenzo Moretti's Moretti.

Damian cut in. Damian Cross has been friends with Avery and Roselyn since they were kids, but unlike them, Damian came from an average family; his dad was a professor at Central city college and his mom owns a store, unlike hers, whose dad was a billionaire investor and businessman whose focus spanned wide, from tech companies to chains of hotels, entertainment companies and construction.

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.”