Damon Salvatore Novels & Stories

I spat, “What exactly is your problem?” “My problem? Do you want to know exactly what my problem is? It's you, my problem is fucking you!!!” Damian yelled, “You knew I was drunk and you took advantage of the situation.” “What?” I stood to my feet, “Are you dumb or what? I take advantage of you? You are not all that, Mr. Damian Salvatore; I guess when you drink, you have memory loss, so let me remind you that I didn't approach you, you did, and you even begged me.”

Salvatore sighed; he wished he could do more for her the way Adler did, take matters into his hands and make sure she was okay, He might be holding her deepest secret and helping her get rid of it, but was that enough? "Hey," a hand fell on his shoulder, "I've been looking for you." Salvatore stared at the hand on his shoulder, then looked up at its owner, he immediately went rigid, listening to his world go silent. "I didn't know you were here, Boss." Victor Domenico, second son to the Godfather, standing at least six foot, with an easygoing frame, sad brown eyes that were inherited from his mother, sharp intellect that set him above the rest, and an excellent attribute that could have had

Damien growled, his face contorted, and his canine protruded; his eyes flashed a dangerous reddish color. A pain-filled cry surrounded him, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced around to see everyone was on their knees. Except for Mark. No, he was using every of his strength to stop him from falling to his knees. Damien was freaking more than a hundred years old. He was an alpha, and he had commanded a response that everyone must obey. Mark believed the curse had intensified it as well. Damien frowned, his eyes shifted around the large gathering that had fallen to their knees.

from Damien? A scowl twisted my lips as I thought of the man that had stolen Vivian's heart. Damien was dangerous, no doubt about that. But Vivian didn’t know that. She didn’t know the world she was involved in, didn’t know the kind of person she was surrounded by. **Damien Sullivan was a part of the Cosa Nostra**, and that meant he was a part of something far darker than she could imagine.

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."

How could Donovan be so mean? She heard sure footsteps and rushed to her feet, her heart pounding as the door was opened to reveal Donovan. She observed Donovan's curly hair, now longer and more pronounced, triggering memories of his past cruelty when he bullied her as a child. But this time, he stood before her as an adult, his hair lending him an air of rugged allure rather than innocence. It no longer softened his features; instead, it accentuated his confident demeanor, transforming him into a figure of unsettling allure, like a wealthy male model untouched by the burdens of the world.

“But sir, do you think you and Arya can be… married couples? She still doesn’t know who you are.” Sir Damien stopped in front of the door, his hands already on the door knob. “But I know who she is. My first love. Stop the questions. She’s not home now. Go yourself, get your young master a wife.” As he walked out, his driver, standing outside the Lamborghini pushed the honk button then bowed. “Sir Damien, where do you want to be?” “At Northern Eclipse university.” He sighed, getting in. He saw the Butler leave the room and wave, as his Lamborghini dashed out of the compound.

I said, lingering too much at the scar right beside his left eyebrow. “Trust me, he is at least ten times that,” Captain Morrison said, pulling me out of yet another memory, and continued, “He is the brains behind the entire organization, nothing moves without his okay, and he controls people like he owns them, and get rid of weak links like he was simply swatting flies. Damien Salvatore is dangerous, and this department is going to do everything to bring him down.” Captain Morrison finished. I swallowed, there was something kind of cataclysmic about bringing down a man you once loved, and would have given anything at all for if he just asked. It had me clenching my stomach.

Damien’s voice was unnaturally calm, but it cut through the silence like a razor’s edge. Caruso laughed, pulling me to my feet and dragging me in front of him, a cold pistol suddenly pressed against my temple. “Salvatore! So glad you could make it. I was worried your broken heart might have slowed you down.” “Last chance,” Damien said, taking a slow step forward, Marco fanning out to his right.

We waited by a rusted crane, the sea choppy and black behind us. Exactly on time, a black sedan arrived. Damon Salvatore stepped out, accompanied not by a low-ranking mercenary, but by his most trusted, brutally efficient Sicilian lieutenant, Marco. Damon looked impeccably dressed, but the sweat on his brow betrayed his desperation. He was walking into this exchange because his financial situation demanded it. “Vladimir,” Damon said, his voice carrying the false warmth of a man who believed he held the upper hand. “How tragic that we meet again under such trying circumstances. My deepest condolences on the… setbacks you’ve experienced.”