Damon Salvatore Eye Novels & Stories

"This is the Red Stone pack business." Damon turned slightly, and for the first time, I could see his face. For a moment – I forgot how to breathe. He was... stunning. He wasn’t just handsome. He was unreal. Like the Moon Goddess had carved him out of stone herself. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw that looked like it had been sculpted with care, full lips that looked soft despite the hard expression on his face. But it was his eyes that truly stole the air from my lungs—hazel, glowing faintly under the moonlight, wild and calm at the same time. Like golden fire trapped in still water.

(Serena) Damon’s shouts still vibrate in the air. Savannah’s shrill sobs riding the edge of hysteria. My my, how the tables turn. I don’t smile but I want to. But all I can see is the man Damon floored. His jaw grotesquely swollen, blood streaking his mouth and chin. The side of his face is a mess and his eye is already blooming from the impact on his jaw. Everyone’s eyes are locked on Savannah and Nico, drinking in the scandal like it’s wine.

Her hair flows down her back in wayved darker than the night sky, and her eyes… the gods help me, her eyes were the kind of danger and sharpness that no blade or swords could defend against. They were deep, endless and full of promises and that could make a man forget even his own name. Damon stepped in his tracks right beside me and I heard his breath audibly hitch, and I didn’t need to turn to look at him to know that his eyes were locked on her. I balled my hands into fist, realizing what she was even before she opened her mouth. Even before zeke’s voice rang out through the air from the mirror Damon carried like was some kind of cursed but prized relic.

This is control… hanging by a thread. And I’m suddenly very aware of two things at once. The destruction around us. And the fact that I just walked straight into the center of it. Damon tilts his head again. Blinks. And it’s gone. One second his eyes are shadows— the next… nothing. Just that measured and contained green. Though there is still something wild about them. He inhales slowly through his nose. Lets it out. Does it again. I don’t move. Don’t speak.

Although there’s a glint of amusement dancing in his amethyst orbs, betraying his masked disposition. Just as I’m about to say something, Damian speaks up behind me. “Oh? Our little mate was being naughty?” His face has a smirk on when I turn back to look at him, “Were you trying to eavesdrop on us, sweetgirl?” He says, lowering his towering form on one knee, “I wasn’t eavesdropping.” I mutter. Damian shoots an eyebrow up, a look glinting in his ember eyes. They catch the light, glowing softly like cooling lava. It’s the first time looking into his eyes or noting how beautiful they are and I’ve always thought they were a beautiful pair.

I wondered why. “You want something to eat?” I asked. “Yeah, that’d be great.” I went to grab another bowl; still taking notice in the way Damon seemed to be eying everything. “It smells good.” Damon dressed in a Navy blue T and dark jeans. It looked as if he had literally rolled out of bed and headed out his door, being the fact that strands of his dark hair lay messily over his head. His green eyes were brighter than ever. They were still one of the things that caught my attention when it came to Damon. The others would be his height and broad shoulders that went very well with his rather larger arms and toned stomach.

, Damon demanded. At one two men left their positions and walked out of the room. The remaining baffled faces shivered watching the cold rage racing in Damon. His eyesbrows were knitted and his forehead wrinkled with his blue eyeballs lying between the red veins spaces around them. Damon had his fists tightly closed and his other hand was gently laid in his pocket. Damon's stiff posture described his amazing physique and his masculine structure but his aggressiveness was seen in his eyes. His gaze was piercing and his tightened veins were much more visible with every pounding heartbeat.

Whatever fragile control he'd maintained shatters. He blocks my path. Growls low and dangerous. "Wash that male's scent off you, Rhea! You're my Mate! Mine!" I laugh. Actually laugh at the absurdity. "Weren't you disgusted by me?" I smile, stepping back. "Didn't I reek of Wolfsbane? Didn't my very existence make you sick?" Damon approaches. Removes his mask with deliberate slowness. The face he reveals is devastating. Perfect bone structure. Otherworldly beauty. Those violet eyes cold as winter stars.

I watch him slowly roll up the cuffs of his black shorts, exposing more of his forearm as he does so. Damon - the Moon - whoever he may be, chose and created the perfect body. He may be strange, with his stark white hair that is smoothed perfectly back, only a few strands ever falling out of place. I know he is hiding his true eyes, that odd milkiness that has been replaced by icy blue irises. It's his way of trying to prove he doesn't have magic. Thankfully I see right through him. But it's not about that right now. I rest my hip against the dresser, staring him down. This is what it's about, seducing him. Whether he is going to fall for it or not, is another story.

He was already there. Damon stood just inside the heavy curtain, his broad shoulders blocking the strobe-lit chaos behind him. He wasn’t in club clothes. He wore dark trousers and a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as if he’d come straight from something far more serious. In one hand, held loosely between his fingers like a forgotten cigarette, was the first holy Grail shard.