Damned Novel Novels & Stories

“He’s just a worker at the auction house and from the little we've seen I don't think Jamal's gonna start a war over him.” “More wars have started for less, I'm not putting anything past him.” Damian replied, rising from his sit and walking across the table to the shelve of books that occupied an entire wall. Old dusty books, Novels, biographies, textbooks, Government records, Mafia history, He had it all and he was proud to say he had read every single piece of literature that occupied a space on that shelf. “Do you read Don?” “Not really.” Don said calmly as he watched Damian moved from one end to another as he browsed through the columns.

she added, quieter now. But even as she said it, the feeling wouldn’t settle. Hate was sharp. Clean. Certain. What sat in her chest instead was restless. Unfinished. Painfully human. Sera closed her eyes. Was it hate… or was it something far more dangerous to admit? .......................... Two nights later, Damian returned from the burial grounds with dirt still clinging to his boots and the taste of rain in his mouth. The sky had been heavy that night. Low. Pressing. Like it wanted to collapse with him.

said king Damien shocked and trying his best to keep his anger under control . " These BL novels are the hottest ones on the marked . Before I came here , I would read them online . Never thought that I would be able to read a hard copy of these one day . If the library expenses for the new orders aren't confirmed by you , your majesty , they can't be bought . " said Charlotte with a bit of a serious expression . " Are you a fan of them too ? " asked king Damien . " Not really but as I said I am a fan of nice and strong abs that's why I read them . " said Charlotte with an excited smile .

For the first time, his composure fractured. The red book lay open between them, exposing every secret he’d tried to bury. He crossed the room in three strides, slammed the cover shut, and gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood groaned. His eyes silver again—burned with light that didn’t belong to a man. Lena trembled, heart hammering. She grabbed her notebook and wrote, her hand shaking: What are you? Damien’s throat flexed, his jaw tightening as if words clawed at his silence. Then he wrote, each letter pressed deep into the paper:

How he’d fumbled clumsily with dolls, trying to make different voices, trying his best to entertain her when he was far too old for toys but unwilling to deny her excitement. His voice had softened when he told me that story, almost unrecognizable from the man I’d thought him to be. And as I lay in his arms that night, my heart had twisted painfully. Because maybe there was more to Damien than the monster I told myself he was. Another night, Damien had told me about his first visit back to Russia. Both he and Ana had been born and raised here, and though their blood ran deep with Russian heritage, the stories he shared revealed a side of the country that made my chest ache. He spoke of negle

That’s why he was so angry hearing about them. But my wolf denied it instantly. She has a belief that Damien didn’t kill his mate. We have a serious argument about this all day, and that was giving me a headache. So I blocked him out, as she was not letting me think anything. After coming here, Selena has become too disobedient. Whenever it comes to Damien, he always thinks he can’t do anything wrong. But why would people say bad if he was so right? At night I was sleeping when thunder roared and I woke up startled.

“Not helping…in my defense, no one asked you to be hot without even trying.” "Damn it!” He growled so softly, it felt like a breeze but it did wonders to my body. Almost like my dam was almost broken. I felt my knees weaken. The words were dangerous, exposing, intimate. I tried to pull back, but his grip was unwavering, the weight of him anchoring me to the spot. “Damien, this isn’t—” I tried again, but he silenced me.

He just shut the door behind him and began gesturing into the room, his eyes dragging across every inch of her body. Isadora’s body quivered from within, the look in his eyes stirring up something rough and dangerous within her. But she shut it out. Because… she couldn’t be dripping or desiring him again, like he and his brother didn’t fucking ruin her body like she was theirs to greedily ravish. “So, you are into stuff like this?” Damian asked, raising the book that she was reading. It was a dark romance, and the title was enough introduction about what the book contained.

The study window is dark. The blue notebook is inside. On the desk. Between the law books and the biographies. "Okay," I say. "Okay?" "Yes. I will read it." "Now?" "Now." --- We go inside. Damon walks to the study. He opens the drawer. He takes out the notebook. Blue. Leather. The pages are worn. The spine is cracked. He has read it and reread it and read it again. He hands it to me. His hands are shaking.

My chest pounded hard. I crept towards the broken window and peered inside. A man held his bleeding hand and kept screaming. In Damian’s hand, was a knife covered in blood. My hands flew to my mouth as a gasp escaped. Damian turned to me but before his eyes could catch my sight, I turned away. My feet rooted to the spot. Then Damian called, “come inside, Janelle.” My fingers tightened around the door handle, but I didn’t move. “Don’t make me drag you!” He said again.