Damon Elena Wedding Novels & Stories

"Whatever this started as, Elena, it isn't that anymore. Not for him." Elena didn't trust herself to answer that. She simply nodded, throat tight, and let Vivienne settle the veil into place. The ceremony was small, quiet, held in a glass conservatory overlooking the city rather than the cathedral spectacle the tabloids had probably imagined. Elena walked down an aisle of exactly nineteen guests, her pulse loud in her ears, and found Damian waiting at the end of it in a black suit, watching her the way he'd watched her that very first night, as though she were the only equation in the room that had ever actually mattered.

But our moment of peace is short-lived as Helen suddenly barges in, her eyes ablaze with anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Damon?" she barks, her gaze flickering over to me before turning back to him. "You shouldn't be protecting a woman who's been cheating on you for years!" Damon stands tall, his face determined. "That's exactly why I won't remarry her, mother," he says firmly. "Elysia is not the only one to blame for our problems." I feel a mixture of shock and confusion at his words, unsure of what to make of his declaration. But before I can say anything, Helen lunges towards me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me towards her.

He nodded solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “And you will not, not make any remarks about our relationship outside the script.” “You’ll write the script, Eleanor. I’ll follow it.” God, what was I getting myself into? I took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.” The moment the words left my mouth, something shifted in the air between us. Damian’s expression turned unreadable, the heat in his eyes replaced by something far more dangerous. Possession. “Well then,” he said, moving toward me slowly. “Let’s get engaged.”

Even then, it seemed, Elara Rivers had a way of bending her surroundings to her will. "And the engagement?" I questioned, my eyes narrowing slightly as I noticed vague references scattered across the file. Edward shifted, his wolf barely masking its distaste. "Damon," he answered shortly, as if the name alone explained everything. "It was planned as a politically ideal match. Elara and Damon—uniting the Stone Pack with a secondary bloodline of the Thornes. It was widely celebrated." Luke growled faintly, his disdain for my half-brother rumbling beneath my surface calm.

She trailed behind him, her heart hammering against her ribs, a palpable sense of dread weighing her down. "How was the wedding?" his voice cut through the silence, sending shivers down Kesha's spine. "Beautiful," Kesha responded, her words slipping out like a sacrificial offering. Damon halted abruptly, his eyes boring into her with an intensity that made her stomach churn. Kesha swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear. "I mean, that's what the newspapers said. They described it as a beautiful, small, intimate ceremony. No photographers, just Elena, Aaron Granger, and two witnesses... and the priest, of course."

Elena frowned. “Guests?” “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Damien’s expression remained unreadable. “I was.” He checked the time on his watch. “Right on schedule.” Elena looked between the two men. “Who are they?” Damien buttoned his suit jacket. “The people whose opinions matter before I make you my wife.” She blinked. “My… wife?” “I never make decisions alone.” “What does that mean?” “It means my family deserves to know who you are.” A cold knot formed in Elena’s stomach.

I just saw the boy I had loved three years ago. “Why did you really do it, Damian?” I asked softly, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “Why did you really marry me? You could have picked anyone. You could have picked Victoria.” Damian’s hand tightened on my waist. He pulled me closer, until there was no space left between us. His face was inches from mine. “Because, Elara,” he whispered, his breath warm against my lips. “Victoria never broke my heart. And I need to make sure yours breaks exactly the same way.”

I told him and he nodded. “I'll be there soon, love. Just give me a sec” he returned and I left the kitchen. I walked into the living room and placed the bottle of wine on the table first. With the wine glasses still in hand, I grabbed the remote to change the channel and I froze when I got to the news channel. It was breaking news. My grip loosened and the glasses fell to the floor, shattering into many pieces as my eyes zeroed on the screen before me. Elena and Damien were getting married. According to the report, they claimed to have fallen in love when their paths crossed as I worked with him as a partner.

She just looked at him like she’d already accepted the worst of it. “Who told you to come here?” he demanded, pushing himself upright. The room spun. Elena flinch. “you asked for me,” she said. Her voice was steady, too steady for someone who’d been dragged into a marriage against her will. “Your wife. According to the marriage certificate you signed at 3:14 AM.” Damien stared at her. The name meant nothing. The face meant nothing. He’d been told Sophia would be here. Sophia, nineteen, soft-spoken, desperate to please. This woman was older, sharper, and she wasn’t looking at him like he owned her.

Waiting to complete the transaction. Elena swallowed hard. Each step felt heavier than the last, her breath shallow. She should have been happy. A wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion. But with each step, she felt like she was walking deeper into a prison she could never escape. Finally, she reached the altar. Damien didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t even look at her properly. The officiant began speaking, but Elena barely heard the words. Her mind was spinning. This is real,