Novel & Cerita Damien Bloodmarch

But victory tasted like ash. Damian lay on the cracked concrete, blood pooling beneath him from the deep gash across his side where the Ruler’s final tentacle had struck. His breathing was shallow, ragged, the faint blue glow under his skin flickering erratically from the mutation’s last throes. The collar around his throat was streaked with blood, the platinum chain tangled across his chest. His eyes still sharp, still burning with that possessive fire locked on Alex as he knelt beside him.

Blood doesn’t lie. But it can be manipulated, rewritten, twisted into something unrecognizable until you don’t know whether it flows from your heart – or your enemies. Damien stood before the Montrose mausoleum, stone-faced beneath the moonlight. It wasn’t grief that hollowed his expression. It was a revelation. I stood beside him, the cold wind threading through my coat, the silence stretching heavy between us. The engraved name on the tomb mocked us both: “Lucien Damien”

I look around Zane just in time to see one of his pack members lurching toward us. Holy fuck… Damian. The guy whose ass I kicked during my first sparring match with the males. He isn't fully human, but he isn't full wolf either. Damian is somewhere in between, similar to a lycan, but his deformed legs are crouched and his back hunched over, like he physically cannot stand upright. The fur on his back is black and wild, spiked in every direction. His hands are human, but with claws, the same way mine looks when I’m fighting a shift, but the skin is sickly pale, like that of a corpse, and every blue vein is visible.

I looked up. Damien stood three feet away. He was eighteen now, taller than I remembered, jaw sharper, eyes darker. He wore a black training shirt, and there was dried blood on his knuckles from sparring. He stared at me the way a man stares at something in his path that he has not decided whether to step over or crush. The pull hit him too. I saw it. One fraction of a second where his eyes changed, where something animal and ancient moved across his face. Mate.

I asked, carefully keeping my fangs from extracting out, but my gum was already throbbing. "You don't need to know, but we know about you. Now, I understand why it was so hard to track down a half-blood. You just hide in your human shell, but thanks to that old vampire lord." "Are you Dimitri's bodyguards?" "No," he said. "We work for someone more powerful than that wimp. Master was right, one day you would show up to him." "Go away," Cammie asked. "Too much talking," the other undead guy said impatiently and gestured to his partners. "Just get her."

Luxiana Sommeris Ray stiffened at Damien’s words, his jaw clenching. “They’re not hunting me. Walkers can’t come here.” His voice was sharp and irritated, but something else was underneath—hesitation, uncertainty. Damien, however, didn’t falter. His expression remained grim as he took a step closer. “Yes, they are.” Without warning, he grabbed Ray’s shoulder and spun him around, his fingers digging into his skin. That’s when I saw it, the mark. Dark, swirling like smoke trapped beneath his skin, pulsing with an eerie glow on his bare back. It stood out starkly against Ray’s skin, it was a sinister mark. One that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I told her there was something up with you from the very beginning! She never listens! You monster… what have you done?!” “I wouldn’t hurt you.” “Liar!” Damien snapped. The cigarette between his fingers crumpled like ash as he crushed it; the smoke hissed away and, in an instant, his pupils flared a bloody, impossible red. The air thickened—heavy and hot—and I sank back into the chair as if I could fold myself out of sight. He rose, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. Is he going to kill me? The question screamed in my head. Had I crossed the line?

Damian looked at his stepmother's face, who wore a devilish grin even as she pretended to be concerned, and then at his stepsister, who looked away from him. They weren't closed, and he knew that with Damon's return, there will still be war. "Get out! And don't forget, you have 24 hours left!" Mr. Mark warned angrily, while Damian turned and walked out of the mansion. He went back to his car, got into it, and drove back to his own residential estate. His anger was boiling, but he was not afraid of his younger half-brother's return. Damian went back to his mansion to re-strategize. As he was not scared of Damon's return, he already had plans to secure his future, knowing that his father could

“And how do you know what they were-” “He’s has witch blood in him,” Damien comments, leaning against the bar. “What?” I shoot a quick look at him, surprised. “How do you know that?” “His wrist,” Damien grabs my chin in that overly dominating way of his and turns my face in the direction of the old man’s left wrist. There are three tear shaped black mark on his inner wrist.

"A few rogues—four in total—managed to get through our defenses. They came in and started attacking, but we took care of them fairly easily. But… the end result was the same." There was a pause, a beat of silence, and I could feel the weight of what Damien was about to say settle over us. Caroline’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her face. She wasn’t expecting this. None of us were. I knew it, and Damien’s next words confirmed that. "Black blood," Damien continued, his voice dropping lower, almost as if the words themselves were dangerous to speak. "Their bodies decayed at a phenomenal rate. We’ve never seen anything like it before."