Damien Bloodmarch Mga Nobela at Kwento

The scent of her blood was making him loose control of his senses enough and he knew himself. This blood was going to control him from no on.. He couldn't tell just why yet but it was going to. And if he were unable to keep her by his side, he would have to live with he fact that he would keep living his manor this way anytime he were to perceive the scent of her blood. "What are you doing here?" Damian said coldly on walking towards where he stood, keeping a few centimeters difference between them. His were-soldiers gathered, and a gamma who was higher than the other soldiers stood beside him, awaiting his orders on what to do to the unarmed man.

“It’s done. His men are surrendering or running. We need to move before the cops get here.” I nodded, but my eyes stayed on Marcus. Another half-sibling. Another ghost from my father’s past who thought blood gave him the right to destroy everything I loved. I felt no guilt. Only exhaustion and a strange, cold relief. Damien limped over, supported by two of our men. His leg was bleeding badly, but his eyes burned with pride when they met mine. “You did it,” he said, voice rough. “My wife.” I holstered my gun and moved to him, sliding under his arm to help support his weight. “We did it. Together.”

He looked like a cross between a gladiator fresh from the pit and a vampire who bit the wrong artery. Oh geez. I just broke Damien’s nose. Okay, technically I didn’t break it…yet…but judging by the Niagara Falls of blood pouring down his face, I definitely gave it a hell of a head start. My brain screamed Run! but my stupid injured foot screamed louder: Sit your ass down before we both die. Damien’s chest rose and fell like he was one exhale away from turning into a dragon. His nostrils flared wide, blood dripping onto his perfectly ironed shirt, staining it in angry red blotches.

He detested them and preferred to stay away from knowing anything about them. "You do have a point though. Those bastards really are the absolute worst and we should expect nothing less from them." Damien said as his memory flashed back to the time when he was attacked by one of them out of nowhere. About eight years ago, Damien was attacked by a Redmoon pack member who had been sent to assassinate him. Fortunately for Damien, he was able to immediately detect the presence of his assailant as soon as she was close enough and when they both got into a fight, he overpowered her and used his claws to dive deep into her heart, killing her instantly. He had gone against a good number of them at o

Damon asked, his voice low and even. "It's the package, sir," Marcus replied, his expression grim. "It's been stolen." Damon's face turned red with rage. "What do you mean it's been stolen?" he thundered. Marcus took a step back, his eyes darting nervously around the hallway. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what happened. One minute it was there, the next it was gone." Damon's anger was palpable. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his fists clenched at his sides.

He was one to fear the stench of blood that he left the killing of the animals to me or the servants but seeing him hold Elder Rowan’s heart dripping with blood in his hands made me doubt a whole lot of things. A sharp pain stabbed through the chest, and I stumbled, nearly losing my footing. As I righted myself, I glanced back for the first time, and there he was, Damien. The man who had once promised me the world was now hunting me like prey. His figure was a dark silhouette against the night sky, his eyes glowing an ominous red. The smile that twisted his lips sent a cold shiver down my spine—a smile that spoke of cruelty and bloodlust.

Damien growled, his face contorted, and his canine protruded; his eyes flashed a dangerous reddish color. A pain-filled cry surrounded him, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced around to see everyone was on their knees. Except for Mark. No, he was using every of his strength to stop him from falling to his knees. Damien was freaking more than a hundred years old. He was an alpha, and he had commanded a response that everyone must obey. Mark believed the curse had intensified it as well. Damien frowned, his eyes shifted around the large gathering that had fallen to their knees.

"[... I must not be careless by killing my precious shadow troops collections ...]" Dudummm~ ... Dudummm~ ... Dudummm~ ... Dozens of saltwater crocodiles in the form of shadow troops crawled towards Damien. Damien smiled widely. "[... As for you useless beasts, I'll just slaughter you ...]" Damien dashed towards the saltwater crocodiles in the form of the shadow troop. He clenched his fists and hit the heads and bodies of the crocodiles mercilessly. The combination of punch power and speed that is not inferior to Ansel Gaute Costi, the noble class vampire who has a special ability in terms of speed, allows Damien to go on a rampage without anyone being able to stop him.

The chamber erupts before I can take another breath. Shouts collide with growls. Wolves shift mid-stride, bones cracking, claws scraping marble. Steel flashes as guards reach for blades—some bearing Riven’s crest, others Damien’s. The air thickens with the metallic scent of blood and the electric snap of rising magic. Damien still stands at the center of it all, the embers of the Blood Flames’ mark burning across his skin like a serpent made of fire. His eyes glint with triumph, not shame.

I said nothing. "When I returned, I was told you and Damien had left after he snapped one of my men’s necks." He exhaled smoke slowly as his gaze drifted to the bookshelves. "I tried to understand the situation, but then I remembered who Damien is. His bloodlust…it’s inherited." My brows pulled slightly. "Bloodlust?" He looked at me, amused by my reaction. "You didn’t know? He’s a contract killer. Has been for years." My heart dropped.