A/N: I know that I really shouldn't be starting ANOTHER story, but I got this sudden burst of inspiration!
Enjoy and review
I felt so cold.
You'd think that in my twenty-one years on this earth—in this family—that I would be able to get used to seeing death all around me.
Not likely.
This was the first time that I have ever been exposed to something so heinous. I watched as they killed her… in front of me. Those cold-blooded, heartless, murderers... Disgust! That's all I feel for them. And one day, I am going to have my revenge.
I watched as they lowered her body into the cold ground; the weather, matching my mood. Today was not a happy occasion. My mother was dead. And it felt like no one but me gave a damn. At this time, I was nine years old. I knew about my father's dealings; I was exposed to it at a very young age, and he never stopped. It was almost as he was trying to groom me to take over the 'business'. My mom, kept me from going down that road, and no matter how much my father tried to teach me the rules of the trade, I knew that I wasn't going to succumb like a good little girl.
Liam Bennett Davenport is a household name—one that shouldn't be. He deals with illegal drugs, gambling, and even sex trafficking. He's a sick bastard, yes, but he is also the sick bastard who helped give me life. I'm disgusted at the thought of being a byproduct of one of his conquests.
That's right… they were never married. He got her drunk, had sex, and she maintained the title of his mistress. Though I love her, I would never find myself in the same position as she was in. Never. Not if I had anything to say about it.
I lifted my eyes from the dirt-covered gravesite and looked across the cemetery. Staring back at me was a young boy, a few years older than me, dressed head to toe in black—his ice blue eyes staring back at me emotionlessly. Next to him was a man who looked to be the same age as my father. Just like the young boy next to me, he was staring at me, his eyes glinting with malice and evil. Cold shudders went down my back.
Little did I know, those two were going to be permanent fixtures in my life.
Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than on which it is poured.
It had been several months since it happened, and I still had nightmares. In each waking moment, I could hear his voice laughing at me and taunting me. I could still smell his aftershave and cologne. I could still feel the stubble from his face as it pressed against mine. I felt like it was permanently ingrained into my skin.
Everything from that night from twelve years ago was still tattooed in my brain. I could still feel his hot breath on my skin; the feel of his calloused hand on my upper arms, bruising my skin.
But most of all… I remembered when he killed me.
My dad tried to kill me when I refused to submit to his wishes. He wanted to use me as collateral for his stupid pact with the Salvatore Clan. I tried to get away. I tried to say no, but then I felt the impact of his fist on my face.
Slowly, I lifted my hand to my face and felt the blood pulsating beneath my skin.
"Make yourself presentable." He said. My position was not to speak, only to speak when spoken to. I was 'betrothed' to the eldest Salvatore brother, Second in Command of the Salvatore mafia. Maybe betrothed wasn't the right word… more like 'mistress.'
"Liam," Damon began, "leave me and your lovely daughter to it."
That was the first time in my life, that I've ever seen Liam back down to anyone, especially a man younger than him.
After Liam and Giuseppe cleared the room, Damon turned to me and began circling me like a vulture that discovered his meal.
"What do you want?" I seethed.
"Isn't it obvious, Bon-nie," he drawled, "you."
"Why?" I asked immediately.
"I've known that I wanted you since the day of your mother's funeral."
"But you were—"
"—Eleven at the time. Your point being? I remember seeing this small, fragile, young girl who needed protecting."
"And you figured that you were the one to do it?"
"It's in the name," he said coquettishly. At my confused look, he further explained, "Salvatore translates to savior. So now that we've gotten the small talk out of the way… let's seal the deal."
And before I could ask him what he meant by that, he grabbed my forearms and pressed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his own.
That was the day that I knew that I hated Damon Salvatore.
