Damon Salvatore Photos Novels & Stories

Just last month, the entire Hale family had both made the cover of Vintage Daily for family of the week. And then—Damon. He stood just behind them, slightly out of the line of focus, as if he didn’t want to be there at all. His hair was a dark chestnut brown, neat but not overdone, with a few rebellious strands that caught the light. He wore a slate shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the wrist, the collar open just enough to reveal the faintest line of his throat. It was too simple an outfit for a boy of his name, but maybe that was what made him stand out.

Her words cut me far deeper than I’d like to admit. But no matter how reluctantly, I end up checking her profile anyway. And sure enough, once her page loads, dozens and dozens of her pictures with Damon appear. Damon in a crisp white shirt, his hand resting on Hannah’s waist. Damon at dinner, laughing — really laughing — while Hannah leans into him. And then there’s Danny — their son — grinning up at Damon as he carries him on his shoulders, all three of them glowing under the golden light of a weekend sunset.

*AURORA* “What sort of drama is this? There is a real and fake Mrs Sullivan?” That voice sounded in the air. I swallowed, recognizing his voice. Damon. I turned around to find him walking up to us. Today, he was dressed, casually in black sweatshirt and sweatpants. I wanted to lie and say he looked less attractive, I wanted to say he looked better only in suits but I had to admit, the man could look majestic in anything. “The polygamy is this city is interesting and it seems like both women don’t even know that they’re married to the same man.”

“I know I’m just a nominal Luna and I have no right to expect you to stay loyal to me. It’s part of our contract, no? I’ll accept it as long as you keep your part of the bargain. You need to help me seize back my pack and my company.” Damien stepped closer and pinched my chin so I wouldn’t escape his gaze, even though I had always looked into his eyes ever since we started our conversation. He growled with his eyes kept changing between his eyes and his wolf’s. “Tell me the truth,” he snarled. “Did you really feel nothing about what you saw before? That you were okay with me kissing another woman? Or even fucking them? Tell me straight to my face that you feel nothing.” Was he angry? But why

The door opened quietly. Damon stepped in carrying a glass of water and a small plate of cut fruit. He had been up early, handling calls with the security team and the legal office. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing one of the old T-shirts he only wore when he was staying close to home. He looked tired but calm, the way he always looked when he was carrying the weight of protecting us without letting it show too much. “Morning,” he said softly, setting the water and fruit on the nightstand. “How are my favorite people doing?”

fice. Damon got out of his chair, a,d damn. Naomi tried to keep her eyes on his face, nowhere else. He was wearing suit pants, a light blue shirt that compliments his skin tone, and a double-breasted waistcoat. He looked more mature with less of the childish features she had seen in the pictures on the tabloids.. “You didn't tell me you were coming,” Damon said, his tone as cold as ice. “You never respond to my messages or calls.” Naomi folded her arms.

I knock on the door and he tells me to come in. "Will said you were looking for me?" I say as I step inside, my eyes going straight to a man sat on the couch. He's in only leather pants and has his sculpted chest out on display as he looks at me coldly. "Come sit down Mason, I'd like you to meet Damon, he's a new Dom and I think you would both be very good for each other," Marcus says as he gestures to the other couch. I keep my eyes lowered because Damon is radiating dominance that is making me want to drop to my knees already.

It was as if he was staring at me. No no no.... It can't be.... I switched off the TV and ran to the room and brought out my laptop..... I typed 'DAMIAN SALVATORE' into the search bar Numerous articles relating to him displayed I read some and proceeded to check his pictures... He looks more cute in pictures... An article caught my eyes... NYC's sweetheart and youngest billionaire DAMIAN SALVATORE at 28 still yet to marry What? Are they for real?! Is he gay?

Then from behind— Then the flight attendant squealed, “Mr. Salvatore! It’s really you—I’m such a fan…” His eyes flicked sharply toward me before he lifted the newspaper, pressing it gently but firmly over her mouth. Not a shout, but a quiet hush. I caught the faintest flare in his gaze—not anger, but something more guarded, almost possessive. Damian. My husband. In a bunny hat. And ugly glasses. Of course I’d recognize the man. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I excused myself to the bathroom mostly to escape the sexual-tension-air-pressure triangle.

He placed the two helmets on the seat before turning around. Once he noticed the look on my face, he blocked my sight of the motorcycle. “Hey! Don’t go looking at my baby like that.” He refuted back. I rolled my eyes at him. He ran his fingers through his messed up hair. He appeared insanely gorgeous with that messy look. “You have a death grab!” he suddenly exclaimed as he lifted his shirt up as if to prove his point, surely enough, there were three fingernail marks that I had left behind. “You told me to hold on tight.” I murmured as I glanced down.