Damon Salvatore Eye Novels & Stories

DAMON'S POV: I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie and straightening my suit. My features were sharp and defined, just like my reputation. At six foot three inches, I towered over most people, my lean muscular build a testament to the countless hours I spent in the gym. My neatly shaved beard framed my perfectly chiseled face, giving me an air of authority. But it was my strikingly bold grey eyes that seemed to capture anyone's attention, drawing them in like a moth to a flame.

He thrust out his hand, but she didn’t surrender hers, since she didn’t know if she was likely to get another sloppy kiss or a proper handshake. She stared at both of them, amused by their hijinks, but not wanting to reveal that. “You look identical to me.” “Ach, not at all,” insisted Daron as he pressed closer. “See? I have a more defined philtrum. It’s regal.” “No one cares about your philtrum,” said Eamon, sounding annoyed. “And my eyes are a darker blue,” added Damon.

My eyes slowly drifted back to his face, and I realized this was the first time I was truly seeing him properly. Sharp eyebrows. A straight nose. Thin lips. A defined jawline that somehow made him look even more intimidating. And then there were his eyes. Dark grey. Not silver. Not black. Grey. I had never seen eyes like that before. They were cold and calm, yet there was something strangely hypnotic about them. Something that made it hard to look away. It felt like they were pulling me in without permission. "You've been staring for a while now," Damien said suddenly, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. "Do you like what you see?"

"Stand there, near the wall. You'll want a good view." Margaret moved to where she was told, but her eyes never left me. I stared back at her, trying to understand what I was seeing in her face. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs. Heavy. Deliberate. Taking their time. Dante Salvatore appeared in the doorway. He looked exactly the same as last night—expensive black suit, perfectly styled hair, that thin scar cutting through his beard. But there was something different about his eyes. They were colder somehow, sharper, scanning the room with the methodical efficiency of someone cataloging weapons.

My eyes only lingered on his face for a second before I soaked up his – well, appearance; a black pulled over sweater underneath a crisp white collar shirt paired with jeans. His profile was sharp, jaw sharp enough to cut a diamond and eyes pools of grey, piercing and dark. “May I come in?” I choked on my breath before nodding my head, wobbly knees as I stood up. “Yes, please.” As I came to stand in front of my desk, I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were even more striking up close, eyelashes dark and long, drawing delicate shadows onto his cheekbones. “Hi, I am Damon...” He looked over his shoulder before meeting my eyes. “The receptionist told me to see you submit my script.”

The crowd was dense, but I pushed through and made a beeline for the stairs. I drew nearer and the individual glanced up and met my gaze briefly before averting his eyes. I kept back a bit, waiting for them to take the first step. Another buzz. I did not even need to check my phone to know who it was. "Close enough?" I smiled and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and leaned in somewhat and spoke a bit softer. “You the one texting me?” He didn't say anything at first; he just sort of leaned in and displayed those incredible eyes, and I definitely saw the dark iris in his eye.

Shocked. “His eyes,” Damian whispered. I couldn't breathe. “They’re… sensitive,” I stammered. “Like I said.” “No,” Damian said. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out. “The color. Helen… his eyes.” “They’re brown,” I lied. “Just brown. Like mine.” “They aren't brown,” Damian said. His voice was trembling. “They’re green. And gold. They look like…” Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

Kendrick looked at him warily, but Damon just smiled. "I believe we were discussing the terms of our deal," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. Kendrick nodded, his expression cautious. "Yes, that's right." Damon leaned forward, his eyes locked on Kendrick's face. "I want a piece of your company," he said, his voice firm. "And I want it now." Kendrick hesitated, clearly taken aback by Damon's demands. But Damon just smiled, his eyes glinting with ruthlessness.

One of them noticed me. “You.” It was a stern-looking man with dark skin and the kind of build that suggested he could beat most people in a fight. Most people. Not me. There was a huge scar running from the top of his forehead down to his eye. That eye was a cloudy grayish-blue, indicating he was probably blind on that side. The other Alphas stopped. I spotted Damon among them. His face was still busted from our last encounter, making me smirk. He looked breathless as he lowered the tire and glared at me.

I opened my eyes. Damon stood there. He was barefoot, wearing only low sweatpants, hair still messy from sleep or from whatever he had been doing with Sophia. His hand was still on the doorframe. His eyes were locked on where Tyler’s cock disappeared inside me. The look on his face was pure, ugly hatred mixed with something darker and more possessive. He didn’t leave. He just stood there and watched. My rhythm faltered for half a second. Tyler felt it and opened his eyes. “What’s wrong—”