Novel & Cerita Damon Salvatore Eye

The feeling of it took her breath away. "What does the change mean?" Damon asked when he saw the dim, steel grey glow of his mates' eyes, the only light in the darkness. "Before, when you were angry, your eyes were dark grey but now they are more like the color of steel. What does it mean?" he asked, raising a shaking hand to skim over his mate's face, brushing a finger over her eyebrow and curling around under her eye, almost groaning at the spark that ran up her fingers and over her skin. He stared when his mate's eyes flashed brighter, shining silver in the darkened room. He withdrew his hand, worried that he had hurt her. "You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable" he whispe

A lady announced loudly on seeing him—drawing the attention of others who didn't notice him earlier. The people brought out their phones to capture him but Damon shot them a deadly stare. They knew better than take any pictures. "Any available room?" Damon asked the receptionist. His eyes were beginning to hurt. He had been struggling to keep them wide open so no one would notice he doesn't see clearly without contact lenses. Every face in the reception looked blurred and he had to pretend he sees them. He managed to drive there because it was nearby and he wouldn't be able to drive back home.

He deserves worse. I don't know if I believe it. I don't know if it matters. I clutch the bottle of vodka in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other. Same ritual as the night Tristan killed Kendrick. Sit, drink, pretend the world isn't on fire. Damon doesn't look up when I approach. He's in tactical gear, black cargo pants and a fitted shirt that shows off his lean frame. Blonde hair catches the sunlight, almost white. Green eyes stare at the horizon like he's calculating escape routes.

Drops of water were dripping slowly to his abdomen, then he suddenly disappeared behind that darn towel. I couldn’t help daydreaming about it. I looked back up and saw a wicked smirk on his face, flaming me up. Today, he was wearing all black like always, but this time, he added a black leather jacket to his “Damon Salvatore” look. It made him look like the badass he was, making me think in a different perspective.

Damon stood at the alley’s entrance, his frame tense, his presence a lifeline. But then I saw his eyes. They weren’t the warm brown I knew—they glowed a fierce, unnatural red, like fire trapped in glass. My breath hitched. What was he?

Damon stopped what he was doing and gave Salvatore a I didn't ask for the details look. Salvatore stopped talking. He never asked for the details, he doesn't need them but Salvatore never fails to deliver them. Damon continued what he was doing again, his face was devoid of emotions. "He asked if he can see Daisy" Salvatore spoke again. Damon's bulky shoulders stiffened and he paused writing. His head raised to stare at Salvatore without saying a word. "I told him you didn't order that. I didn't let him" He provided quickly.

I had never in my entire life blushed because of a man, so to blush every time Rai looked at me and smiled, must have said something about how beautiful he was. I asked them about their eyes, and Damian told me they were natural. His eye color is called Cognac, like the fine brandy. No wonder it looks more orangey than Amber. I, myself, wore gray contacts as I don’t have a 20/20 vision. I was envious of their natural eye colors.

“I need that dick deep inside me. Fuckkk!!" Damon opened up his eyes and it was shining all blue like a touch. He was very upset and before he killed someone he vanished away from the building.

They had left nothing for me to use as a weapon. The steel door grated open, splitting the darkness with a blinding shaft of pale yellow light. I squinted, raising a hand to shield my eyes, preparing myself for whatever violence was about to enter. It wasn't a mercenary. It was Damon Salvatore. He stepped into the cell, impeccably dressed in a light grey suit, carrying an expensive briefcase and looking infuriatingly fresh. He looked around the cell with a sneer, as if the cold and the darkness were a necessary, aesthetic component of the scene.

his index finger poking Damon’s nose. Damon gasped.like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing,what he was seeing.what he was feeling. Darian hit the counter.wood scattered everywhere .”impossible”he breathed out but his eyes were on Zara.on her gold eyes,his eyes.the same gold cat eyes. I stepped between them and my kids.they weren’t about to take my life away from me.Not when I’m still breathing. Damon looked at me slowly,the emptiness in his eyes seem to vanish.Replaced by rage.