Damon Salvatore Photos Novels & Stories

“I’m fine, my girl. Go and finish this. Damon helped me carry Scarlett to a magic Doctor's inn. “Emergency…!” “Be calm,” the Doctor assured us. “She will be fine. What is the issue “She got attacked by a wolf with enemy blood.” “Okay…” Very quickly, Scarlett felt safe again and was resting. Then Damon pulled me away from everyone. He led me straight to his private quarters in the Alpha house. As soon as the door was shut, the aura changed. Damon pushed me towards the wall, his body hard against mine. “Watching you fight that way… really drove me crazy,” he growled. He pasted his lips on mine. The kiss was wild and it showed how craving he was for s*x.

“I see you’re struggling.” Keiran’s breathing was uneven. His wound was worse than I thought. I tightened my grip on him. Salvatore’s gaze lingered before he turned back to Donovan. “Shall we talk?” Donovan scoffed. “You came with swords, not words.” Salvatore shrugged. “A precaution.” He stepped forward, stopping just before Damien’s corpse. He glanced down at the body. No emotion. Just mild interest. Then he looked at Donovan again. “You killed your own blood.”

I am wearing a purple long-sleeve glitter backlesss dress and paired it with my pump heeled sandals. Meanwhile, Damon is wearing a long pants and a white collared shirt which perfectly hugs his masculine body. He also wears his personalized dog tag with our names engraved on it. Damon is hot as hell right now. His aura is different from being a strict and intimidating CEO. Coz right now, he looks like just a normal person going to a club with his girlfriend.

Others hadn’t. Salvatore raised his hand and pointed. “Damon, step forward.” Gasps filled the room. Damon was a tall young man with wide shoulders and clear eyes. He looked shocked. “M-me?” Damon asked. “Yes,” Salvatore said. “You’ve worked hard. You’ve been loyal. And you’ve shown me that you care about this pack.” Damon slowly walked forward. He looked nervous. “I don’t know if I deserve this,” Damon said softly. “You do,” Salvatore replied. “And if anyone wants to challenge it, speak now.”

The door opens. Ethan first. My boyfriend. My anchor. He walks in and his eyes find mine and he smiles – steady, warm, I've got you – and the panic in my chest dissolves. Behind him: four men. Damon – tall, Black, built like an athlete, with a jaw that could cut steel. His eyes are dark and calm and he looks at me the way a man looks at something he's been given permission to devour. Nico – shorter, stocky, Italian heritage evident in his olive skin and dark curls. Thick arms. Thick hands. A cocky grin that says he knows exactly what he's good at.

A figure leaned against a sleek black Maserati and a thick cigarette burned between his fingers while he watched me with the kind of scrutiny that usually made weaker people wither. I recognized him at first glance. He was Domenico Salvatore, the Fourth Capo of the Salvatore family. He hadn’t changed much— he was tall, dark and still exuding that effortless Sicilian arrogance. He was wearing a tailored suit that fitted like a second skin and he looked at me the way a predator studies a rival that had stepped into its hunting ground. I let him look and let him wonder why I was here. I could bet he was speculating if it was because my father was dying.

Saige explained. Great. Now our plans have come to a pause. Damon’s blonde hair is slicked back and his ocean blue eyes held can pierce the soul of any naïve woman he wanted. He has an athletic physique which he framed with his ripped, black skinny jeans and fitted burgundy top. The black Chelsea boots and the leather jacket perfected complimented this mysterious bad boy picture he tried so hard to put on. I tilted my head to the side. Something about him feels familiar. “Have we met before?” I asked curiously.

It was someone else's. "It isn't over." I ran a shaky hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. It was just a dream. That's all it was. And yet, deep down, I wasn't sure I really believed that. A soft rustling pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to find Damon sitting in the chair by the window, his gaze fixed on me. He was shirtless, his dark hair slightly disheveled, and the way the moonlight highlighted the sharp angles of his face made him look almost otherworldly.

A sleek, armored black SUV pulled up to the curb, its tinted windows rolling down with a smooth, mechanical hiss. Damon. He sat in the plush leather interior, completely dry, a cigarette resting between his lips. He looked out at my pathetic, rain-drenched form, his gaze raking over the ridiculous pink tulle and the mud staining my knees. A slow, dark smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He didn't look pitying. He looked amused.

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before dropping it on the glass table beside him. “I am Damien.” He said. Now lighting a cigarette. The room fell silent. The tick of the clock became the only thing that could be heard. His eyes held mine, daring me to look away. And then, the corner of his lips curved. His voice cut through me like a sharp blade as the smell of smoke enveloped me. “...Salvatore DeLuca.” Voice calm. The name struck me like lightning, my body went stiff and I almost passed out on the spot.