Damon And Stefan Salvatore Novels & Stories

She never cared about others feelings. There was another person present at the banquet. Damon Salvatore. His heart skipped a beat looking at his Mate. His wolf was screaming at him to go to his mate. But he couldn't do that. He had promised to himself that he will move on from Josephine and claim Samantha as his Mate. While Samantha was becoming green out of jealousy beside him, seeing him looking at another woman.

My stomach churned at this and I was forced to drag him to myself. "Damon was a very special friend to me. We grew up together and did things together but she killed him. He was Wendy's mate." Wendy...Wendy's Stefan girlfriend. My hands slacked off his body and my expression changed. "What?." That gasp escaped from my lips before I could stop. He spun his head to look at me.

And now, here he was, striding toward me with that ever-infuriating smirk, as if he owned the damn place. Damien Salvatore. The quarterback of Bar Harbor High. My rival. And more importantly, the future Alpha of WoodlandHunters, the pack that bordered ours. “Caleb,” he drawls, his voice thick with amusement, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his coat. “I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by. See how you’re preparing for our annual match.”

I knock on the door and he tells me to come in. "Will said you were looking for me?" I say as I step inside, my eyes going straight to a man sat on the couch. He's in only leather pants and has his sculpted chest out on display as he looks at me coldly. "Come sit down Mason, I'd like you to meet Damon, he's a new Dom and I think you would both be very good for each other," Marcus says as he gestures to the other couch. I keep my eyes lowered because Damon is radiating dominance that is making me want to drop to my knees already.

“Do not play games with me. You will give me answers. Or your empire burns—from north to south. Forty-eight hours. You get her name cleared, or I destroy everything you have ever built.” A small laugh escaped him. “Forty-eight hours?” “Yes. Forty-eight hours,” I repeated. My men shifted, silent and ready. The room felt alive, like a beast waiting to pounce. Salvatore’s smirk widened. Then he said something that froze the blood in my veins. “Do you remember the Domingos?” I blinked. The name was like a bomb detonating in my mind. “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously. “They returned,” Salvatore said smoothly. “Empowered, funded, and seeking revenge. I aligned with them.”

In all of this chaos, Salvatore sat near the mini bar stand taking everything in and nursing his glass of alcohol. The guts of this man. He wasn’t even troubled. I caught sight of mother rushing to safety. Father was shaken but stood tall, with his guns in both hands. The people who dared do this were no other than the Giuseppe’s. Matteo’s father was not involved but I caught a glimpse of the man I had been betrothed to. He was the one leading his dogs, they turned the once clean and well arranged venue to a pile of shattered glasses and wasted food.

He smiled again, wider now, and stepped back as if we were just two old friends catching up. “You’ve done well with the mask,” he said lightly. “But I knew Elena. And I never forget people who help me survive a war.” I blinked. “Wait.. what?” He raised his glass. “Dante Salvatore. Former associate of your late alter ego. Once a thorn in Bruce Calloway’s side.” He tapped his glass to mine. “Still am.” The twist in my gut didn’t loosen. “What do you want?” “To help you,” he said plainly. “And to destroy Bruce. Piece by piece.”

While he hurried up to wear new clothes so that Alicia wouldn't change her mind and insist on going back to her father's house. Alicia came out of the kitchen, and Lady Helen informed her, "Master has gone upstairs to his room." "I know. Let me sit waiting for him," Alicia replied, and Lady Helen nodded and left her, going outside to sit and not disturb the lovebirds. Alicia then sat on the couch and waited for Jonathan to return. **** Meanwhile, Damian went for a business meeting with some other mafia lords, and they wrapped up at 4 pm. Although these set were loyal and in corporation to his territory rules and business dealings, Damian received a report of some members that had shifted to

"When you ask me that, I usually don't know what to say." "What's your full name?" "Damon Salvatore," He said with a smile. "Italian, huh," I nodded at him with a smile. I knew. He had the features. The trim figure, olive skin, dark hair, characteristic razor sharp jawline, aquiline nose and lastly, the natural charm and charisma. "I can see why," No wonder he had this pull. He exuded so much confidence. He didn't even have to act it. It was a part of him.

He takes the available seat, ignoring her shocked expression, he continues, “I’m certain you know why I'm here. I know about the unholy alliance you've forged with King Vincent. Your treachery runs deep, Cleo. I agree I didn't calculate that.” Cleo's expression changes, the facade of indifference cracking. “You're mistaken, Damon. I have no allegiance with him. We are just friends.” Damon narrows his dark piercing eyes, a dry chuckle escaping his throat. “Friends who fucks each other?” He throws a skeptical question at her, and he notices the glint in her eyes. “Your denials won't shield you from my wrath. You should have thought deeply about the repercussions of hurting MY mate.” Cleo clear