Damian Wayne Older Novels & Stories

"It's just that I feel like I don't know anything about you. I'm your friend, right? I don't even know what you did abroad. What your job is. You never talk to me about yourself." "Are you interested in me?" Damian asked. I knew he was just teasing me. And my sharp gaze made him understand. He chuckled and apologized. "Where to start? Um... Let's start our introduction from the beginning. My name is Damian Blackwood, I'm 29 years old. My job includes lyricist, composer, music producer. People know me more as Whitehollow than as Damian. You can type that name into a search engine and you'll find out more. Then... I came home for a vacation, but my grandfather gave me a task of making a demo s

We have to at least try things out, correct the mistakes in time, and bring him back onto the right path before it’s too late. Without waiting for Cameron to say anything, Damian had already left the scene. Cameron covered her forehead and could not help but feel slightly disturbed. ‘Uncle Damian doesn’t know my identity, so that was excusable, but what’s wrong with father!?’ Waylon laughed from the depth of his throat. “I guess it’s time for me to extend my congratulations to you, Mr. Southern.” She turned her head away, feeling extremely annoyed. “Do you think this is funny?”

None of them could stop blabbering about Grandmasters son Hendric; they heard he was, quote, ‘dreamy’ and had high hopes of falling under his b***s if it turned out to be the truth. Damian had put his second in command in the first car cuz even though Noah was initially supposed to travel with him, his constant yakking of finding a witch female to spend the night with had really started to get on his nerves. Damian was well aware that it was a running joke around the pack that he was 27 and still not mated at his age, and he did not want that trip to turn into yet another session of “let’s find what is wrong with Damian” quizzes.

My father’s tone suggested this wasn’t up for debate. Before my father could respond, my younger brother Damien leaned into view from wherever he was lurking off-screen. “Maybe Lycian’s just too picky,” he said with a grin. “Waiting for some romance novel moment where he meets his one true love.” “This isn’t a joke, Damien.” “Kind of is, though.” Damien was nineteen and treated everything like a joke. “He’s got she-wolves throwing themselves at him daily. If he can’t pick one by now, maybe the problem isn’t them.”

I asked in annoyance. “His name is Damian Zade. Canadian origins. Not married, no children, gay judging by the intimate photos we saw of him kissing another man or men actually. His younger brother is named Daniel, he is his right hand man. We couldn’t find any addresses though. Only pictures of them” he said as he dropped two photos on the table in front of us. We all leaned closer to take a look at them. Their names were written on the side of their photos. Damian was apparently in his forties.

"How do you feel about that?" Damian took a breath. "My father is a broken man who chose to break me instead of fixing himself. I've spent my whole life trying to earn his love. I'm done trying." The studio was silent. Diane's expression softened, just a fraction. "That's very brave," Diane said. "Now—" She leaned forward. "I have to ask. There's been a lot of speculation about your relationship. About a bet. About a blood oath. Was it about sex? Or power?"

"Your decision will create problems. The Elders of Aeternum Pack won’t like it." I scoffed and looked Damian straight in the eyes. “The Elders of Aeternum Pack never liked me from the start. So what difference does it make, Damian? I don’t care what they say about me.” “You can’t act like this, Roseanne. Don’t make things worse. Just do as I say,” Damian said again, his frustration growing as he dealt with me. Damian needed to know who his real opponent was. He should have thought twice before deciding to marry me.

The office felt charged, the scent of sex thick, her submission to these older men, especially Damian, fueling the forbidden heat. Damian stood, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her petite frame. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her up roughly. 'Not done yet, red. Time to really show you off.' His voice was gravelly, commanding, the age gap between them—his forty-seven years to her twenty-five—making her feel small, owned. She stumbled to her feet, legs wobbly, cum trickling down her thighs.

"How long? How long have you known Mrs. Lancaster is your mother? Two years ago, you acted like you had no idea." "I was ten," Damian said flatly, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. "I found out when I was ten years old. And I have hated Nico every single day since. If I had a real family, I would've been living the life I deserved instead of being tossed aside like trash." "Damian, listen to me," Dante pleaded, stepping forward with his hands raised. "I never abandoned you. There's so much to the story that you don't understand......."

Though people always noticed the strong resemblances they just assumed as they said the blood of the males in the family was strong but in truth the only thing that had changed was Damians name by adding names such as junior or some other. And this continued throughout the end of the 19th century and the 20th century, the only thing that had changed was Damians ability to control himself while in the werewolf state though he occasionally lost control and stained his fur and body with blood. In the year 1999 Damian was reborn as Wilson Damian Smith in the state of Pennsylvania with the only people knowing of his true identity being the butlers he has had over years, but it was the year 2024.