Damon Salvatore 1864 Novels & Stories

Mark was hoping to get a reaction out of Damien, and he did. I am the only one in this area. I have been known to eat a cow or two when the elk and moose are scarce. I am the one this Bud Grierson shot. Elena hugged Damien as she listened to him talk to Mark. She shivered as she remembered that day, seeing the gaping hole in his side and the blood dripping from his nose. A tear glistened in her eye as she thought about that fateful day.

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

Across from him, the ornate iron gates of the Hale estate loomed—a gilded cage he’d occupied for two decades, and one that had finally soured into a tomb. "You’re sure about this, John?" Officer Daniel Miller’s voice was a low rasp. The Gamma’s uniform was tight across his broad chest, his fingers twitching toward the damp ink on the registration forms. "You’re the Don’s son. Adopted or not, Marcus wouldn't just watch you march into the Abyss. Your brothers..."

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.”

A figure leaned against a sleek black Maserati and a thick cigarette burned between his fingers while he watched me with the kind of scrutiny that usually made weaker people wither. I recognized him at first glance. He was Domenico Salvatore, the Fourth Capo of the Salvatore family. He hadn’t changed much— he was tall, dark and still exuding that effortless Sicilian arrogance. He was wearing a tailored suit that fitted like a second skin and he looked at me the way a predator studies a rival that had stepped into its hunting ground. I let him look and let him wonder why I was here. I could bet he was speculating if it was because my father was dying.

He and my dad are of the same size. Also, I don't have many clothes for him to wear so he needs to go shopping. "Come on, let's go," I say making my way towards the door with him following me. He closes the door while I open the garage. I take out the 1969 Chevy Camaro Convertible. Damon Salvatore also has the same car. That is why I'm in love with this car. I drive it through towards the driveway where Christian is standing. "Holy Fuck, this is your car?" He asks. "This is an original classic."

No interviews, photographs or personal details. Another article mentioned how he loved his private life, with only a few of his business associates knowing anything about him. The guy was loaded, but something about him was off. I scrolled further. A news article popped up, and a photograph of Damien and me from earlier today filled my screen. Real Face of Salvatore Russo Spotted With His Newly Wedded Wife, Skylar Morrison. “Welcome home, Sky.” Damien's eyes met mine as he drove through the open gate and brought the car to a halt.

He wasn’t even halfway through when Damian suddenly spoke. “Salvo.” The driver paused. Damian had already pulled out his phone. He scrolled quickly before holding the screen in front of the man. “Was it this man?” The driver looked closely. Then nodded immediately. “Yes.” “That’s him.” The name meant nothing to me. So I turned to Damian. “Who is Salvo?” Damian’s expression hardened slightly. “One of Victor’s men.” Silence filled the small store. For a moment, none of us spoke. Then I thanked the men for their time and walked back to the car.

But he carried me through the club like he paid the rent on my body. “Put me down, you egoistic bastard!” He didn’t. Not until we were outside, in the alley outside the hotel, moonlight sharp on the streets of New York. He pinned me to a wall, one arm by my head. “How dare you?” I raged. “Let me reintroduce myself Wife,” he murmured against my ear, voice low and sinful. “I’m Damian Salvatore. Your husband. I own you in every way.” His fingers tangled in my hair while his other hand slid down to grip my throat, tight enough to freeze me, not with fear, but shock.

the stranger said with a smirk in his face. " Excuse me! " Nina replied not understanding anything. " Well, seems like my brother forgot about my arrival and you're the only one to help me keep company now " the stranger said. " But whose your brother? "Nina asked confused. " oh yeah I totally forgot to introduce myself, I'm the one and only Stephen Salvatore, Damon's half brother " Stephen said clearing Nina's confusion. " Oh Stephen I'm so sorry. I didn't recognize you, Damon never told me you were coming" Nina said embarrassed.