Novel & Cerita Damien Monster Prom

Damien actually wanted to hangout with his friends..MJ(mason jnr) and Edward Johnson(Eddy). they have been friends since childhood. they know each other deepest secret and most happy memories...they are like brother's, when Damien wanted to look for a pretty girl to set a barrier against him and Elena they gave him their full support. Damien have to leave his friend for some minute in order to check on his new contract wife. after talking to Arrya and make sure she ate

And that was all I needed. Dante growled, almost taunting me. But he has no idea the damage I could do when I swung the hammer and hit him between his legs, and the howl to let out was enough to blow his lungs out. Even the guards flinched, and Lilliana’s knuckles went white. The fear in her eyes was so obvious and alive when Viktor turned to Dominic. “Are you ready?” he asked, and Dominic gave a slight nod. I fought the urge to take over because I was not sure if he had it in him to do whatever it takes to get the information out of her. But above all, he was a Romano.

Vivian said, her voice filled with a mix of disgust and disbelief at Damian's actions. “I have never denied the fact that I am a monster. That's what I am, but I am not the only monster that walks the earth," Damian replied, his tone defensive yet resigned. "The coven of the Red Spider was also made up of monsters, mostly women who took pleasure in sacrificing their fellow humans. In fact, they came after me with the intention of using me as the ultimate sacrifice of an immortal soul, but they met their deaths."

"Keep telling yourself that, baby but we all know the truth." My phone buzzed in Dante's hand and it was another message from Marcus. I'm coming for you soon. Sleep tight. Kai smiled and it was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. "Let him come. I could use the entertainment.”

“I’m just saying, if I do become immortal, I'll never work a night shift again. Ever. I will haunt the rich exclusively.” I snorted. “You already do that.” She grinned. “Practice makes perfect.” Then it happened. A scream tore through the night. Not a drunk’s yell. Not laughter. Not a lover’s argument spilling into the street. This was pain—pure, ripping, animal. Mae froze. So did I. Another scream followed. Closer. Then another, layered over it, deeper and broken short like someone choking on their own blood. My stomach dropped. “That’s not—” Mae started.

I felt him before I saw him — that unmistakable commanding presence. Damien’s hands cupped my face gently. “Little girl,” he breathed, voice rough with emotion. “Are you sure you want to see your monster before you say forever?” I nodded. He removed the blindfold. Damien stood before me in a tailored black tuxedo that looked illegally perfect on his powerful frame. His steel-gray eyes burned as they took me in — robe, collar, bare feet, and all. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then he dropped to one knee right there in the sand.

And what was the Dark King of the Dominion really planning? Chika leaned in, whispering to Lucien, "They're terrified of you." "Good," Lucien whispered back, his hand finding Chika’s under the table. "They should be. Because they haven't even seen the best part of the dream yet." He squeezed Chika’s hand, his touch warm and firm. Chika realized then that whether it was a dream or a nightmare, he was exactly where he wanted to be—at the side of the most dangerous man in the werewolf world.

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

Fangs threatening to break through again. He gripped the sink. He’d promised himself—no more feeding off the innocent. But now… even the memory of Luxian’s blood was making his mouth water. He punched the mirror. Shards rained down into the sink. He watched his hand heal in seconds. “One more drink, Damien,” the voice hissed. “He’ll never know.” POV: Damien The night was cold, but not enough to explain the shivers crawling up Damien’s spine. He stood on the corner of a broken street at midnight, the orange glow of a dying streetlamp casting his shadow across the sidewalk like it was warning people away.

"Find what you're looking for?" Damien leaned against the doorframe, shirtless, a tumbler of bourbon dangling from his fingers like an afterthought. The camera feeds painted his torso in shifting blue shadows, illuminating the scars I hadn't known about three parallel lines raked across his pectoral, pale and raised like the marks of some great beast. I lifted the letter opener between us, letting moonlight dance along the blade. "Does the footage come with director's commentary, or do you just jack off to the silent reruns?"