Well hello there old friends! or new friends alike. I am back with a new story. For those of you that followed my other story, many of you may not know that due to unforeseen circumstances it was removed, and whilst I was extremely bitter about it for a while, I used it as motivation to make my next story (which I guess is this one) even better. So I hope you're ready for a journey you have NEVER been on before :)
WARNING: THIS IS AN AU FANFIC! However all rights to The Vampire Diaries characters go to LJ Smith & The CW, so all recognisable characters, locations and dialogues belong to them.
"Please"
The enraged vampire looked down at the man, whom seemed in complete and utter astonishment at the current position he finds himself in. If she looked closely, she could almost imagine that his eyes held a trace of fear. However her own eyes held nothing but determination. A soul crushing desire to kill, to cause irreversible pain, and to end this bastard's life was overriding everything else.
Allowing her lethal canines to emerge from her gums, and those terrifying veins appeared under her eyes, she descended into his neck.
Now he can experience what they have to on a daily basis. The blood that would now run its course through those veins but be tainted, impure. Just like hers was. His entire body would feel as if it's collapsing from the inside out, in aggravatingly slow fashion. It would be brutal, it would be unbearable. It would be torture.
It would be sweet revenge...
When one finally gives up, and surrenders, there is, of course an overwhelming sense of sadness. The body feels heavy under the enormous weight of defeat. You feel your face begin to heat up, due to the inner rage simmering just beneath the surface. Hatred for your own weakness clogs your mind.
However, there is also a tremendous amount of relief which you involuntarily feel.
The battle is over.
You no longer have that inner struggle, you are no longer tethering, and you are simply, free.
In a perfect world, when Elena succumbed to defeat, she should have felt all these things. She should have cried pools of salty flavoured tears, and shouted multiple profanities at him, for making her do this, for leading her down this path in the way that he did.
She would have been free.
She should have been free.
Instead there she stood hours later, barefoot, in the ocean of crimson red liquid, Elena's very unique tears of defeat, yet these tears were not her own, and they were not tears.
Instead of an aroma resembling that of a sea side coast, her nose solely caught the distinctive perfume of metal. The pigment was everywhere, staining the beautiful Persian rug beneath her, her dress which was previously a white which one would associate mostly with the appearance of a fresh sheet of bed linen, now was barely visible.
The soft tendrils of her chestnut hair were clumped together in parts and if one was to take a fleeting glance, they would presume she was displaying the latest style of dip-dying and the base of her hair was supposed to be that colour. Her beautifully plump pink lips concealed over by the blood, excess was trickling from her chin to her neck. Elena very nearly giggled at the sensation
She always had been a messy eater.
There was no feeling of self hatred, or guilt, there was merely the feeling to which she had been an unwilling slave to her entire existence.
A feeling which dominated her mind, her body, her heart. Make no mistakes she knew it was wrong to act on these feelings, but they simply wouldn't go away.
Thirst… An inexplicable, undesirable, unquenchable thirst.
What are the consequences?
Bodies.
Numerous bodies scattered across the Boarding House floor, all dead, killed, by her. Mostly drained, completely, of all the deliciously warm liquid that had coursed through their veins. Liquid that now filled her body, flowing down her throat, leaving a burning trail as it went.
Sweat began to quickly and increasingly form on her skin. A layer of slick moisture coated her entire body. Feeling as if the world's deadliest earthquake was erupting inside of her, her feet gave way and she found herself flailing, almost as if she drowning in the sea of blood red water, except it was just that, blood.
How was that possible? Because not alone was she incredibly thirsty, her body was already beginning the familiar process of rejecting the liquid.
Elena's limbs moved of their own accord, thrashing about in a frenzy. She was indeed in the middle of a vast shallow red ocean, her arms and legs trying desperately to keep her on the surface, but they had been doing so for too long.
Her body was tired. She just wanted to sleep, wanted nothing more than to for her to die, to no longer have this painful existence.
To longer be on the verge of dying.
To just simply, die.
Pity the universe seemed to hate her.
"Happy? Yeah, Elena. I'm absolutely ecstatic."
The door had been ripped from its hinges, despite there being no locking device actively in work on the premises, why would there need to be?
Who would be stupid enough to even think of breaking into a notorious vampire haven?
The most infamous house in Mystic Falls. Which is saying a lot
The oldest son of the house, the so called, "prince" of this disgusting empire in which she was forced to live in, stood there, at the mouth of room, his eyes angrily taking in his surroundings.
Watching as the "king" lay lifeless on the floor.
His head was gruesomely detached from his body, his body covered in the same blood that was adorning Elena's dress.
His blood.
The burning sensation in her throat worsened as she looked at him. Blues eyes crazily scanning the room, obviously realising what she had done.
Yet those gorgeous blue orbs never strayed away from her for too long. How was it that even when she was at her worst he could bring out such intense feelings in her.
A few short days ago, hell a few short hours ago, one look like that and she would have been on her knees, either in earth shattering weakness derived from all consuming love, or another reason which a proper lady should never speak of.
Yet here she was writhing, crippled with undeniable pain, and he was still looking at her like she was the most beautiful, messed up creature in the world
After all, if anyone was deserving of that title, it was surely him.
The white t-shirt he had been wearing was dirty from soil and it clung to his body like a second layer of skin, his toned chest protruding out under the thin layer of cotton.
Must be raining outside.
They looked the same, both damp faced, both pale and shaking violently. Like her, his mouth laced with blood, though she could tell it was his own.
Though, how different they actually were.
"Oopsie daisie, guess little Lena threw another spanner in the works for you huh? How are you ever gonna clean up this mess Salvatore?" The maliciousness of the tone in which she spoke echoed throughout the room, surprising even her. It felt like her throat was as dry as the Sahara, and the huskiness made the words reek with an extra layer of viciousness.
Simultaneously as he growled angrily at her, she rolled over onto her weak side, turning over so that she was facing away from where the growling voice had erupted from, Elena determinedly drew in a shallow breath, despite her body shutting down.
"Threw a spanner in the works? You completely screwed the fuck up, Gilbert."
Although it was hard to hear due to her senses deteriorating, and his rage was making his voice crack in places, syllables were cut off in places then rammed together in a single breath, Elena squeezed her eyes shut.
Don't make me do this, please.
Grunting, she turned over on her back. The blood seeping through her dress, sending repulsive shiver up her spine. The back of her neck saturated.
She was now officially doused in a vibrantly red shampoo.
Every girl's dream.
Keeping her eyes and mind focused on the ceiling above her. Gritting her teeth to the point where if she clenched them any more then there was a real danger of them dislodging from her mouth.
"No Damon, if anyone is to blame for this, it's you. You screwed up. "
That did it.
Fast as lightening and loud as thunder, he was on top of her, once again snarling, cutting her off mid-sentence. His jean clad hips keeping her lower half crushed under his hold, she couldn't move a muscle. His strong arms pinning her to the floor, ceasing her feeble attempts to push him off her, and his hips stopping her legs from kicking out at him.
"What am I supposed to do huh? When this heart drums its final beat?" His voice very much epitomising how angry he was at for finally succumbing. Yet she heard the undertones.
The sadness. The grief.
The absolute terror that mirrored exactly how his precious king had sounded moments before she did him a mercy by tearing his head from his shoulders. By ripping out his evil, macabre primary vascular organ from his chest. By dancing in his blood as it spewed out from his body.
The almighty dictator had been so scared. Now so was he.
But his emotions were not correctly reflected in his actions, as he gently lay down on her chest, listening to the meagre hum of her aortic pump carry the vessel of disease ridden blood around her body.
Whimpering out of the agonising pain rippling through her body as a result of her surrender, Elena made eye contact with him, as his head rose up slowly.
Of course, she no longer had a choice in the matter as his fingers grasped her chin roughly, tugging her face towards his own.
"When those hypnotic bambi eyes are no longer looking at me with the same twinkle that never fails to make me smile. " and he did smile, a gorgeous uplift of his mouth, though it did not last long.
"W-when these infuriatingly irresistible lips open to inhale and exhale your final breath."
Damon traced her mouth with the whisper of his fingertips, and she saw the change in his eyes immediately.
His very own irresistible blood stained lips descended on hers with undeniably strong force. The blood of this enticing demon mixing with the mouth-watering human blood she had minutes ago drained from that poor man's carotid artery.
His kiss was hot and feverish, or maybe that was just her. Her tongue surrendered to his, after all, as strong as she may have been before.
He always won this fight.
She could feel him begin to tug her bottom lip into his mouth, no doubt sucking the remaining traces of Giovanni, or Leo, or whatever god damn servant was the last she had feasted on.
Allowing him one final moment, allowing herself to feel his glorious kiss one last time, she tugged him impossibly closer, clutching his soaking shirt in her hands.
"D-Damon" she moaned out, pushing him away slightly, though she knew it was a lost cause as he was still a mere breathe away from her. She could taste him on her lips.
Why did his blood always make her entire body ignite in the way it did? It made her feel like she was flying, soaring carefree around the world, nothing to fear, nothing to hide.
"…when I hear that melodic voice moan out my name for the very last time.. When I won't hear you beg for me anymore, those soft little gasps whenever I.." Damon's voice barely a whisper.
It was clear his anger wasn't diminishing but she knew his mind and body had been taken over by lust, but it was different than last time, he was rougher, meaner.
Fuck, it was so damn sexy.
He was so damn sexy.
That mischievous tongue swooping out to catch the dripping blood down her neck. Languidly licking up her throat, his blunt teeth scraping her skin, teasingly biting it.
Man, he was sure doing everything in his power to distract her to convince himself that the promise wasn't real.
That it didn't still stand.
Of course, she knew why, she had never shown sign that she could give up, give in, like this.
Damon had deluded himself into thinking she never would.
Shaking hands ran through his short raven hair, soft moans escaping her as his lips left faded blood kiss marks over her skin, and each kiss left an even bigger mark on her heart.
It was beginning to get to the point of no return however, because as good as Damon was making her felt this even stronger. This was different. Powerful.
Elena's head was beginning to feel as light as a feather, the room around them spinning, though with the way his mouth was now working over her exposed skin, she really wasn't surprised.
Suddenly, Damon's wickedly talented tongue froze on her collarbone. She heard him sniff the air, trying to decide if this was just some cruel joke that the universe had played on him.
Realisation of what she was truly feeling slammed into her, hard and fast.
Speaking of, if Damon's slickened wet hands don't remove themselves from their current location underneath her dress, then this would end harder and faster in a way that she would have never predicted this moment to have gone.
"D-Damon, baby. Please."
What will I do when you finally d-die?"
It cut her deeper than any knife ever could. It hurt her more than any amount of pain she had ever endured had. It made her insides want to turn themselves out, and she had felt like that before. She had been on the brink of death for a very long time.
It pained her to reminisce about a time when he had promised her this with the uttermost sincerity. When he made this vow. Although at that time, she had no idea what was about to arise. No idea of the war that would come.
It was a simpler time.
Despite her limbs failing her, she mustered up enough strength to do what she must. With his head currently nestled in the crook of her neck, she tenderly placed her arms around his neck, and stroked the skin just below his hairline, at the nape.
"Baby, you will finally get to live." Choking, stumbling over the word that she meant with every fibre of her being.
This had always been what she wanted, and there was a stint in their history, in which he would have gladly given her what she deeply desired, what she needed. Now, she was left to do on her own.
Do. Not. Cry. Elena.
Refusing to let her tears fall, she kept them heavily brimmed up in her eyes. Elena had been through far worse than this, and not once had her cheeks been stained with the aforementioned venomous salty substance, that was currently threatening to move rapidly down its course, if the river mouth was opened.
A quick snap was all it took, and his body drooped onto hers, unconscious. Once more, sifting a hand through his soft locks, Elena used her final ounce of strength to roll him off her, and he lay by her side.
"Love is a vampire's greatest weakness." Which is the only way in which one could explain how Elena managed that, to get the upper hand.
Because she would always have the upper hand on him.
Because he gave her his hand, his trust.
He gave up his strength when he fell for her, gave it to her on a shiny silver platter, and she was clumsy enough to lose her balance, and fall with him I her hands. So some could say they fell together, perhaps that's how romantics may look at it.
But he was an idiot, and she was a fool.
Of course just like that very first night, she turned on her side, to watch his sleeping form, except this time she managed to find the courage to do what she couldn't do that faithful night and placed a small, sweet kiss to the crown of his head.
This is your fault Salvatore. You're the one that fell in love with a girl you once swore to kill, mercilessly, in cold blood.
In revenge.
Which is how our story began, and how it was always going to end.
We were always going to end up here.
So here is the prologue. I hope you get a sense of what's in store. However if not, don't worry. All will be explained in time. This story will be a working progress, and unfortunately it will be a slow one. I hate waiting for updates as much as the next guy, but I'm afraid with college, and work and- well- life in general, it may be a fortnightly thing *hides* I'll try my best to get chapters up asap but bear with me! Also click that small review button, and let me know what you think!
Quick honourable mention to Morgan aka morvamp whom I first told this story idea to and she gave me so much love and her excitement increased my desire to write this! Check out her stories, THEY ARE AWESOME!
Delena Shamrock (ALSO follow me on twitter delena_shamrock for possible spoiler teehee)