Young Master Damien's Pet Novels & Stories

"I am almost there" Damien ends the call and focuses once more on driving, the face cap he had on earlier was now in the backseat and his face was revealed now. He had a face close to what he called perfection, he had small eyes, one that could hardly be seen when he laughed really hard but it had been long since he had such laughter so that didn't happen regularly, he had a pointed nose that trailed down to small, pinkish lips, his hair was jet black but his hair never maintained one color for too long, he usually dyed it different colors when he felt like.

"Great! I'll grab my gear and be right over. Just send me your address." "Okay, I will do that!" . . . Damien showed up in his adult look, ready to fool any paps who might be lurking near her apartment. "You look like a million bucks," she said, the consideration he had shown and his way of executing it warming her chest. Willow closed the door as Damien connected his gear to the TV and went to the kitchen to get some drinks and snacks. "Water or soda?" she called out. "Soda please!" The seventeen-year-old was a sweetheart. A total golden retriever. And he was going to make his sister-like friend feel better despite the scandal she was in.

They look familiar and Damien, who I remember first in this palace, is among them. Damien walks towards me and stares at me for a while. Maybe because my face is hurt, he does not recognize me at first glance. “ Damien , she is Cody’s slave, the one who accused us in the slave choosing ceremony.” I never know werewolves have such good memories. The guard never says anything since I saw him. I thought he is dumb and now I hope he were dumb.

People were right; I did look like her. Damien leaned over me to look at the album. "Damn. You were an ugly baby." I smacked his arm. "Will you shut up?" The next picture was of Damien as a toddler, running barefoot through a garden with our father chasing after him. "Heh," Damien muttered. "Look at that."

Remember, KY, this is all pretend… "How about you, DAMON? Let's take a look at your room?" KY asks. KY opens the door and finds a room that is a six-year-old boy's dream. Especially one who loves puzzles and dinosaurs as much as DAMON does. KY can tell that he's still a bit wary of ISAAC after the Lucky Charms debacle, and he's trying not to get too excited, but the fact that his little body is trembling lets KY know that he is.

But instead of danger, instead of the familiar edge of threat—what appeared in the doorway was small, rumpled, and half-asleep. Draco stood there in mismatched pajamas, hair tousled from sleep, one tiny hand rubbing his eye while the other clutched the plush wolf he refused to go anywhere without. The boy blinked against the dim kitchen light, squinting until his gaze settled on the lone figure at the table. “Uncle Damien?” The voice was soft and thick with sleep, innocent and unguarded. Damien exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders without him realizing it. He hadn’t noticed how tightly wound he’d been until that moment.

“I can’t imagine losing someone like that.” Damien exhaled slowly, as if trying to steady himself. “It was my own damn fault.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “We were just pups at the time, out playing where we shouldn’t have been—beyond the perimeter of the camp. The two of us were playing this stupid game… God, I don’t even remember what it was now. But he beat me.” He stopped, staring at the ground, lost in the weight of his memories. Raven stayed silent, giving him space to continue if he wanted to.

"Where is Magnus camped?" Nothing. Damien released him and stood, moving to the young one. The boy's composure cracked the moment Damien's shadow fell across him. His breathing went shallow and rapid, his eyes wide and wet. Damien didn't touch him. He just stood there, looking down, letting the weight of his presence do the work. "Boy." Damien's voice dropped, almost soft. "How old are you?" The young rogue's jaw worked. "Nineteen." "Nineteen."

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

We sat in one corner to crib while Damien looked confused. “Are you done complaining? Can we meet Grandpa?” “Who’s there, Vera?” A smiling old man, resembling Damien, emerged from a room. “Oh, Grandpa, how have you been?” Damien hugged him. “I’m fine, young man.” His glance went toward me. “Oh, won’t you introduce us?” Aunt Vera smiled and introduced me to Nelson Sylvester, Damien’s grandfather. “Oh, good that you brought your girlfriend along, Damien. We’ll get you two engaged while you’re here.”