Damon Salvatore Pictures 소설 & 이야기

"Yeah, I am. Damien assured me that the movie crap isn't him and he doesn't run around killing people. So, yeah, I'm okay with it. I may have to take a vacation after this, but I'm okay with it." He was getting more comfortable around the two and he relaxed more into the chair. He finished his coffee before it got cold. He was sitting there thinking about his conversation with Damien and that he spoke Latin. Roman Latin to be specific, according to Damien himself. Did that make him a priest before he was changed? Latin? Why was that sticking in his head? OH YEAH! Now I remember! My brother had a t-shirt and the school suspended him for it. Mom and Dad would never tell me what it said. What w

Before he left Roman walked up to her, and Raven was caught off-guard, his scent was really good and he was way more handsome up close. "Can I have your number?" "Sure," Raven told him her digits and he saved it. "Talk to you later." Roman winked at her as he went out and when she looked next to him she found Damien watching her. He didn't say anything to her as he also walked out after Roman Early access to chapters: www.patreon.com/taniashava

faces, dossiers, crime scenes, each a monster in its own right. “Diovolo Castellano,” Salvatore said first. A handsome man with sharp eyes and an arrogant smile filled the frame. “Daemon Castellano.” A taller, broad-shouldered figure with a scar running down his cheek stared back. “Draven Castellano.” The youngest, almost ethereal, his beauty is a dangerous bloom. Then finally... the last image appeared, and my breath caught. Draco Castellano. The man from outside the cathedral. Sharp features. Dark eyes. An expression devoid of warmth. He looked terrifyingly emotionless in the photograph. A king raised inside violence.

Alex seemed to be quite shocked by Damien's request, but he didn't bother to show it. Damien on the other hand didn't want anything alcoholic. He wanted to be sober for a while... At least until he was ready to go on his bout against the Rogue Wolves. He knew that if he took any drop of alcohol in his taste, he would end up drinking himself to stupor, and that was the last thing he needed right now. "Okay, then. I'll go fetch Ariel and tell her to make a hot cup of tea. I'll see you in a bit", he said a d with that, he left the conference room... *********

He had a proud Roman nose, a mess of curly hair that hung just above his eyes, high cheekbones, and soft lips that women in the bar would probably die to kiss. Seriously, this is the man I get worried about? “Montreal.” Salvatore smiles. The heavy and thick Italian accent rolls his tongue. He quickly stands up from the couch he sat on and moves forward with one arm extended, ready for a handshake. “I’m glad we wouldn't be stood up tonight. I prepared a feast.” Damon joked, clapping his palm on his shoulder. I stay back a little, letting the two indulge in their reunion even though I know they’ve just seen each other at the engagement.

"Most people have already left. There are specifics that Father and Cavallaro need to go over with Salvatore Vitiello. Now there is just Damon and his group." I peered through the gap and had a clear view of the throng of chairs gathered around the fireplace. With his legs crossed and a glass of Scotch in his hand, Damon relaxedly rested against the fireplace's marble ledge. He was sitting next to his brother Matteo, who had his legs apart and a wolfish grin on his face. During dinner, they had called Romero, the second bodyguard, and Cesare to sit in the other recliners. Romero appeared to be around 18 years old, which is the same age as Matteo. By social norms, they are hardly men, but n

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.

Just as I turned toward my bed, my bedroom door opened and there he was again. Damon stood there, wearing only gray sweatpants. He was shirtless. His abs was looked like muscle that has been sulpted. He had scars that ran across his midsection and shoulders. Plus, there was a fresh fresh scratch mark running down his left side. “Sophie,” he said, his voice was rough and it sounded very dangerous. “We need to talk. Now.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. I suddenly became very much aware of how little I was wearing. My silk robe had slipped open slightly, revealing the swell of my breasts and the curve of my thighs.

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.

Although, he didn't seem to mind it at all. "Thank you. You look handsome." I said honestly, a grin on my face. Dominic always looked neat but that particular night, he looked a little bit different. A good different. He was dressed in a black suit and tie, tailored for his large body. The tattoos trailed down from his neck down to his hands and onto his fingers. At first glance, one would know not to fuck with him. He looked ravishing and despite telling myself it wouldn't happen again, I knew it would because I wanted it to.