Damien Knight Novels & Stories

I got up and pushed out into the storm. Water soaks through the leather as I walk fast toward the subway entrance, heading home, the pavement slick and reflective under my boots, mind already shifting gears from killer to avenger. Damien's face from the news reel earlier tonight, smirking at some high-society gala, arm casually around some socialite who doesn't know the devil she's dancing with. Untouchable, they say. Not for long. Eclipse, his private club downtown. High-roller event tomorrow night.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this… but you seem good for him.” I almost dropped the teapot. “Me.......?” “Yes, dear.” Her eyes softened. “Damian has always been… controlled. Too controlled. He carries his father’s name like it’s armor and chains at the same time.” She sighed. “He needed someone who sees the man, not the title.” Something tugged deep in my chest. “Damian is… complicated,” I said softly. “Of course he is. You don’t build an empire without learning to lock a few doors in your heart.” She smiled knowingly. “But he’s opening those doors for you. I can see it.”

I returned the gaze suspiciously. “We have a very important guest today,” Dad said just as footsteps echoed through the room. I turned to see him—Damien. Dressed all in black, looking like a king. His outfit and presence commanded power. “What the fuck…” I cursed under my breath, wondering why he was dining at my house. “Damien Kings, welcome,” Dad said, standing to shake his hand. Theo followed suit.

Adrian seemed to have deliberately made himself forget. My Damian never woke up in the end. He died that winter. That little knight with the same gray-brown eyes as his, the child who'd cry in my arms in secret asking for his daddy, late one night more than two years ago, his heartbeat finally flattened into a single straight line. His cold, small body was buried in the cold ground, frozen forever at five years old. I said, Adrian, there's Damian's life between us. How could we ever be happy?

Damian pressed the gun firmly to the back of his head one last time because that was just about to be the last relief Mathew would taste. When he stepped into the light, the two brothers were already beside him. They stood before the confused-looking Mathew, with Ryker to the right, Alex to the left… and Damian in the middle. “Normal,” Damian began, dragging the sleeve of his suit up. “I have no business introducing myself… But…” Damian placed one of his legs on the edge of Mathew’s chair, then dropped his elbow on his knee and leaned forward enough for Mathew to stare into his face. “I am Damian. The letter D in the RAD. Hello. And welcome to… death.”

He wasn't the cold billionaire who had first brought her into this house. He looked vulnerable. Almost uncertain. "Cynthia, say yes," he said. "I won't hurt you. And after a long time, I never felt this way with anyone." Her eyes softened. She knew how difficult it had been for him to admit that. Damien was a man who kept everything inside. He didn't talk about his emotions. He didn't let people see the parts of him that were hurting. Yet he was standing in front of her, asking her not to be afraid.

Instead, there was a quiet sadness she couldn’t understand. He gestured toward the leather chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat.” “I’d rather stand.” “As you wish.” His calm response unsettled her more than anger would have. Most powerful men she had encountered liked to dominate a conversation. Damien simply waited, as though he had all the time in the world. “You know who I am,” she said at last. “Now tell me who you are.” “I’m Damien Knight.” “I know your name.” He inclined his head slightly.

Damon stood by the glass, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking dangerous and hungry. “Close the door,” he ordered. She did. “Damon, about last night—” He moved fast. In two strides he had her pinned against the cool glass, her back to the city. His big hand yanked her skirt up roughly around her waist. “Shut up,” he growled. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about this dripping cunt.” Before she could argue, he dropped to his knees right there in his expensive suit. His strong hands ripped her soaked panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

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.”

“But pour it anyway. I want something to watch while you work that smart mouth.” Kai’s smirk sharpened. Twenty-six years old, sleeves rolled high to show the full sleeves of geometric ink and the snake that curled around his left wrist, he looked like sin poured into tight black jeans and a button-up that clung to every lean muscle. The silver hoop in his ear caught the low rooftop lights of Eclipse as he slid the glass forward. “Careful, suit. I bite back.” Damien took the scotch in one swallow, throat working, then set the glass down with a soft clink. “Good. I like it when they fight a little before they beg.”