Damon Salvatore Photos Mga Nobela at Kwento

He held out his palm, which I ignored, and as I walked past him into the building, he quickly caught up with me and grabbed me by the wrist. “You should be happy I’m holding your hand in public, Princess. I don’t do cringey things like this.” I opened my mouth to give a witty response, but never got around to it, as a tall man in a suit, with several face tattoos and braided hair, walked up to us. “Damon Vyon, a pleasure to see you,” he greeted, offering his hand for a handshake. Damon clasped it firmly, his face crashing in a little smile. “Pleasure’s mine, Carlos.”

Well I better go submit this documents so I can take a quick look at my project , I chuckled lightly but was honestly a little bit excited to see him Damon is quite attractive, I’ve not gotten every detail of his face but he’s very cute and those ivy blue eyes ,I swear I could get lost in them if I stared at them for too long. “Good day sir , I’m here to submit the documents, I’m done with them” , I spoke out trying to get a glimpse of his face and he was definitely acting like I wasn’t here. I’m so sure with this look on his face there might be no outing, he’s so engrossed in his work but he honestly looks a little bit cute being so serious and not spitting out any annoying words at the mom

I wanted to vomit. Damon had done this. There was no mistaking it. “My King?” One of the men holding me left me and walked toward Damon who was sitting still by a corner, his hands covered with blood. His stare made me uncomfortable as I couldn’t tell whether he was still in his right mind or not. What if he was just resting from his killing spree and would soon snap again? He looked more like a savage at that moment than the man that was my mate. Slowly, he got up and began to walk to me. I swallowed, falling back and realizing all the other men who had brought me in there had disappeared. I shut my eyes, praying he would remember who I was and not hurt me.

Alessio tightened his grip on the Oath Blade. “What are you?” Damien’s smile widened. “I am…” He took one slow step forward. “…the future your father was too afraid to accept.” He opened his gloved hand. Resting in his palm… Was a faded family photograph. Vittorio. Leonardo. Little Alessio. And standing beside them… Smiling as though he belonged there… Was Damien. Not as an enemy. As family. Alessio’s breathing stopped. Leonardo stared at the photograph in disbelief.

Then, under the restaurant’s crystal lights, he lifts it. Gasps ripple again. My breath catches. His torso is sculpted perfection—hard abs, skin like golden marble. But there’s no tattoo. Not a trace. My body goes cold. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, it was there. I saw it.” Damian doesn’t look smug. He looks calculating. Dangerous. He slips his phone from his pocket, swipes, then thrusts it in my face. On the screen: a photo of him. And another man.

"Find what you're looking for?" Damien leaned against the doorframe, shirtless, a tumbler of bourbon dangling from his fingers like an afterthought. The camera feeds painted his torso in shifting blue shadows, illuminating the scars I hadn't known about three parallel lines raked across his pectoral, pale and raised like the marks of some great beast. I lifted the letter opener between us, letting moonlight dance along the blade. "Does the footage come with director's commentary, or do you just jack off to the silent reruns?"

"I get it off the internet. None of the local places will carry it. It's imported from England, and yeah, it's pretty darned good. The only thing I like better is their Oatmeal Stout, but I only drink one of those on very special occasions. It packs a wallop and it's just a little heavy. One bottle and you feel like you just ate a meal." She did like talking about her favorite beer. She watched as Mark took another sip and smiled. Another convert. "Oh, I'm sorry Mark, where's my manners. Mark Lockhardt, this is Damien; Damien, this is Mark Lockhardt." She sat back and waited for the two 'men' to size each other up. Mark looked at her like she had lost her mind, but then looked at the wolf si

He answered. “Okay. He is probably in his late twenties or early thirties, he was heavily built, he has blue orbs and dirty blond hair. Recognize anyone with those features??” I asked. “Hmmm yeah. Matthew, only difference is that Matthew has brown orbs instead.” Damian answered. “I know who Matthew is and that clearly wasn’t him. I almost forgot. He has a black mole on his left cheek.” I said. Damian froze when I mentioned the mole. “What did you just say??” He asked as he suddenly became very serious.

“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 don’t believe anything from a man who watched us bleed and said nothing.” “If you’re so sure I’m lying…” Carter’s eyes flashed, “then kill me. Right now.” Damon stepped forward, lips curled in disgust. “Too easy.” He stared Carter down like he was filth beneath his boots. “If she’s real,” Damon said coldly, “if Tatiana’s really the one pulling your strings, then let her come for you. Let her crawl through the shadows and save you.” He turned, already walking. “Prove it,” he said over his shoulder. “Or rot.”