Damon Name Meaning Devil Novels & Stories

I asked him. “Say her first name with her last name then you’ll see…” he smiles. I frown. “River King?” I still don’t get it. Beckett snickers. “What?” I don’t get the big deal. “Oh God she’s doomed. Her name sounds like she’s the King of a river.” Damon says in a duh tone… I glare at my brother. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You are making fun of your niece. Your first niece as well. Besides her name as a special meaning. Its in honor of her deceased mother, I dare you to make fun of that.”

"- Before we leave, my beloved Dracono, I would love it if you would help me pick names for the babies. I tell Dracono knowing how happy he is. -Would you give me this honor, for real? You make me so happy, my queen! Dracono replies with a huge smile on his face. -Of course, my darling. What do you think about Giselle for the girl and Lucifer for the boy?" I ask Dracono. Dracono tells me that he loves both names, but suggests considering Annabelle for the girl and Damon for the boy. I think for a little while and realize that Damon and Annabelle are the perfect names to give to my children.

“And because, for once in their lives, wolves and Lycans actually agreed on something. And you do know they hate that.” He smirked. “You of all people should know that I’m indestructible now. Just like you.” He spread his arms wide, dark energy coiling around him like smoke. “We’re the same. The only difference is—I won’t suffer any consequences if I misuse my power.” “You don’t even know what you are,” I mocked. Damien’s grin faded. His voice dropped low, dark, almost calm. “Do you know where the devil’s ritual came from?” he asked. “We heard stories of its evil. But never of its good.”

“He used the Italian weakness, your greed for Isabella’s inheritance, to destabilize the entire region and put the blame on me. He is burning the bridge and blaming the architects.” I leaned across the table, my presence suffocating. “Your choice is simple. You can fight me, and I will wipe your name from the registries of history. Or you can join the hunt. Damon has my wife, the mother of my two unborn sons. He believes that by taking her, he has broken me. He has not broken me, Domenico. He has unleashed a monster.”

She looks around, completely unfazed by the thirty or so huge, jacked bikers surrounding her. “I’m looking for a… Damon Montague,” she says, checking a small slip of paper. My eyebrows shoot up, and I glance at Devil, who’s now glaring at the girl. “The fuck you want with him?” he growls. His voice is threatening, but the girl couldn’t care less. “None of your fucking business,” she says, matching his tone. Damn. Girl’s got balls. Devil has a nasty rep... almost as bad as mine. His name wasn’t given to him for fun. The methods he uses for killing or ‘talking’ aren't jokes.

I knew it! I rolled my eyes. "I never said that." "You implied it! Wait—what's his name?" I hesitated, the name on my lips like a whispered secret. "Abbadon." The line went silent as a tomb. ".Skyla?" "Elara." Her voice was serious. "Do you know what that name means?" I scowled. "What?" "Doom. Destruction. He is literally named after hell itself." I shivered, remembering the way his voice had wrapped around me like a dark promise.

His eyes were pryingly gazing at Damien as if he would escape in just a blink of an eye. "You came right here for your death then. Well, I wouldn't ask how to get out from the chain and ruins binding you, I guess you are the Devil's son indeed" Damien said and it ignited whispers among the pack members. The devil's son? What? For real? Is he the main deal? Then we are all in danger? The pack members kept whispering but it was louder to all ears since those present were all werewolves and demons. The more they talked, the more they stepped back in fear.

Here I am Damien, the Devil's son. Now, do not get me wrong, I love to see pain brought to your face over and over, but this does not hold the same excitement it used to hold me before. It is the same as always, mostly, funny enough, it is not murder, yet they are my favorite ones to watch. What gets you down here is your own greed; you, yourself, will be your own downfall. Although I do love to watch you stew in your own mess, I do also sometimes crave the things that a man like me should not crave. Those little things that are forbidden.

His eyes were a darker shade of black and he stared at him with a soul piercing glare. The raw force and power emanating from him were enough to bring Rayven to his knees, and he began coughing up blood. Damon took slow, deliberate steps toward him, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He crouched down to Rayven’s level, gripped his chin tightly, and forced him to stare directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Do you know why I am called Damon?” he drawled with a cold smile that sent a chill down Rayven’s spine. Rayven couldn’t breathe—he trembled under Damon’s grip. “That’s because even the devil and his demons bow to me.”

His blue eyes sparkled, his dimples deepened, and his laughter was deep and warm — the kind that could make a person forget he was dangerous. “Do I look like a saint to you?” he asked, still smiling. “I’m the devil himself. Devils don’t pray.” That’s right. Damon was the devil. Heartless. Dangerous. But was I any better? I wasn’t here for holiness. I was here for revenge. Still, I said firmly, “Close your eyes.” “No,” he said sharply. “Come on, Damon,” I begged quietly. He sighed, then finally obeyed. I said a short prayer. He didn’t say Amen, but that was good enough.