Monster Prom Damien Novels & Stories

He asks while introducing himself. Beta Damian is a little on the short side for a werewolf of rank. He’s about 6ft, has sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s well-built and has tattooed sleeves. He has a well-maintained beard, almost short enough to only be called stubble. It works for him.

"[... I must not be careless by killing my precious shadow troops collections ...]" Dudummm~ ... Dudummm~ ... Dudummm~ ... Dozens of saltwater crocodiles in the form of shadow troops crawled towards Damien. Damien smiled widely. "[... As for you useless beasts, I'll just slaughter you ...]" Damien dashed towards the saltwater crocodiles in the form of the shadow troop. He clenched his fists and hit the heads and bodies of the crocodiles mercilessly. The combination of punch power and speed that is not inferior to Ansel Gaute Costi, the noble class vampire who has a special ability in terms of speed, allows Damien to go on a rampage without anyone being able to stop him.

“Good girl. Relax your throat. This is what you were made for. Between sessions, her mind wandered again. The bodies are piling up. Marcus bleeding out while Daddy knotted me… that messenger torn apart. Am I becoming a monster too for enjoying it? Yet every time he touches me, I forget everything else. As evening fell, security alerted Damien to another intruder a Silver-fang scout hiding in the forest perimeter with recording equipment, clearly trying to capture evidence of Monalisa corruption for blackmail. Damien’s eyes darkened. Watch, princess. This is what happens to those who threaten what’s mine. He made her sit in a chair in the basement viewing room, legs spread wide, fingers slowl

Damien I couldn't shake the gnawing sense of frustration that had consumed me since the encounter with Monroe. Despite my best efforts, he remained elusive, a shadowy figure lurking just beyond the reach of my grasp, taunting me with his insidious presence. I knew that if I wanted to get any closer to him, I would have to shed the trappings of my corporate identity and embrace the instincts of a soldier once more. It was a daunting prospect, one that filled me with equal parts trepidation and determination. But as the hours dragged on, each passing moment serving as a painful reminder of my failure to protect those I held dear, I knew that I had no choice but to act.

I asked him. “Ah it seems you don’t know everything,” he said. “Like I told you, it’s stuff I made up and dreamt about,” I said to him. “The man you spent all your time with, Damon Woods, he’s an Enforcer,” Calvin said. “Is he like you?” I asked him as my heart started beating loudly. “In a way, we’re wolves, they’re jaguars,” he said. “What is an enforcer?” I asked him as pieces started fitting together. Damon knowing things, always being awake when I was no matter what the time. Damon always finding me. Damon sniffing the air just like Calvin had done, his eyes slightly changing.

Damien squinted his eyes, his teeth bared, and his nose twitched, which often happened when he was furious. "By whom?" His voice was cold, likewise his eyes. Just like how Roy had imagined they would be. As Roy didn't respond, he asked again, "I said by whom?!" "Rogues, witches," Roy shrunk back, trembling. Standing abruptly, Damien slapped a hand on the brown desk, and a low growl escaped him. "Did I just hear the last statement correctly?" "Is it the witches?" Roy asked stupidly, and Mark sniggered.

"What was that? I was looking through your eyes, wasn't I? You were a Roman soldier, weren't you? That giant black wolf attacked you and you killed it. It infected you with something that turned you into this, didn't it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper; hoarse from her ragged breathing and the screams she hadn't heard ripping out of her throat. Damien nodded his head, not quite meeting her gaze. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nose. He was relieved that his effort to keep the deeper emotions and the raw pain of his experiences from overwhelming her had succeeded. Still, he could tell she was drained from the experience. He needed to give her time to truly compre

“Half the families are pulling back. The other half are demanding a meeting to… remove you.” I didn’t look up. My thumb hovered over the screen, replaying the moment I told them to keep going. The words had felt right in the basement. Necessary. Now they looked like proof that I was becoming exactly what my father had been. Damien’s voice cut through the silence from the bedroom doorway. “Turn it off.” He stood there leaning heavily on the wall, shirtless, fresh bandages wrapped around his torso. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with that familiar Reaper fire. He shouldn’t have been out of bed.

My dad always beat me to black and blue except the face so, he could not see what kind of monster he had become through the years. Same as everyone. So, I needed to show them what they are. Monsters. My innocence was stolen from me by the people like Nicholas and Caleb. I'm one of the victims of this tragedy, broken by reality. My scars are like a badge reminding me every day of what had the nightmare brought down by my father has made me. I looked into his face letting him peek through my hardened walls. I didn’t know what exactly he sees but I saw him flinch before he mouthed a silent sorry and nodded his head in an affirmative. So, I did without batting an eyelid.

And since they had been in their hands for more than twenty years, no one else knew anything. Dura motioned for Rasha to open the door, and she did so cautiously. Standing outside was a tall, dark-haired man with piercing green eyes. He wore a long black coat and carried a sword at his side. "Who are you?" Dura demanded, stepping forward. The man bowed slightly. "My name is Damien. I am a werewolf, and I have come to offer my assistance." The rebels were skeptical, but they had no other options. They allowed Damien to enter the cabin, and he immediately went to the table where the demigods lay.