Stefan Salvatore Damon Salvatore Mga Nobela at Kwento

Leonardo Salvatore used to never smile. To be continued!!

"Hmm. " " I miss my brother." " I miss my brother too and he wouldn't like me keeping the fact that I've been alive for the past five months as a decoy . " " Salvatore isn't Romano's son he is uncle Claudio's ." " What the hell ?" © #KCMmuoe

He crumpled to the ground, groaning. Salvatore, still bound and at the mercy of my men, watched with a hint of amusement. "You're a hothead," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your father was the same way." "And now," I said, crouching down to look him in the eye. "You're going to tell me everything that you had planned." For a moment, I saw doubt flicker in Salvatore's eyes. Then, he laughed, a harsh bark that sent a shiver down my spine. "You think you can threaten me?" he said. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

Getting my woman back depended on the success of I and Mayor's discussion. I stood in the dimly lit room of Mayor's base, his men surrounding me with their hands on their weapons, ready to strike at any slightest provocation. My heart pounded with adrenaline as I thought of how every minute was passing by and Taylor was with those bastards. "Hello, Mayor. Or should I call you, Thompson Volkov." "What brings you here, Diego Salvatore?" Thompson asked. "Simple, I'm here to kill you."

Luca confirmed as he loosened one knot and immediately got to work on the next one. “Since you don't care and it doesn't matter I'll just tell you who he is, That is John Marshall, The man who blew up the van.” Damian said and immediately Luca froze, his eyes immediately shot to Damian and the worry was quickly replaced with something much more savage, He rose up and walked to John’s front, looking down on him, it was like Damian was staring at another person, the one who just wanted to help a stranger had dissapeared without a trace and the only thing that remained now was the being that was overflowing with hateful energy.

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.”

“Killian Crist Salvatore… my older brother.” My breath caught. He didn’t just say that. He didn’t just do that. “Come on,” Jeremy added with a dry laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. You all know him. Called him rude, aggressive, standoffish. He broke your son’s nose once, remember?” A few people gasped. Some faces lit with recognition. Others were still trying to make sense of it. I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in my ears. “Oh,” Jeremy said casually, “but most of you know him as Dmitri Salvatore.”

His thick, veiny cock sprang free , the swollen head already leaking precum in a shiny bead. Elena stared, breathing hard. He stroked it once, smearing the precum. “You’re mine,” he said, voice low and raw. “I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days. This cock is going to ruin this pretty pussy forever.” Elena reached down and wrapped her hand around his thick shaft, stroking him. “Please, Daddy. I need it. I need your cock inside me right now.” Damon gripped her ass with both hands, lifting her slightly. The fat head of his cock pressed against her soaked, twitching entrance. He rubbed it up and down her dripping slit, teasing her clit.

He pulled it out and frowned at the screen. "Unknown number." He answered it anyway. "Hello?" His face went white. Dante was on his feet immediately. "Who is this?" Luca demanded into the phone. Then: "No. You're lying. He's in prison." Dante took the phone from him. "Who is this?" "Dante Salvatore." The voice was unfamiliar, male, with a heavy accent. "My name is Sergei Kozlov. Viktor's brother. We need to talk about returning what you stole from him."

We snap back. I turned to climb the stairs, hips swaying like payback, and that’s when I saw him. Damian Salvatore. He looked like he just stepped out of a Forbes magazine—perfectly tailored black shirt, arrogant posture, all brooding and sexy. Ugh. I hate that he’s fine. “Where have you been?” he asked, fake casual. I didn’t even blink. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Mr. Salvatore,” I said, dragging out his name like poison.