I look up and suddenly she's there, standing in the doorway like it's ordinary, like it's nothing, like I haven't spent the last 145 years thinking about her.
"Very brave of you to come here," I say, trying not to show on my face the excitement that pulses through me at her presence. Katherine's always had a hold over me and she knows it.
"I wanted to say goodbye," she says, purring seductively, her lips parting briefly to allow me a glimpse of perfect white teeth. I feel an instant pang of arousal, a jolt of violent desire, as I feel the sudden urge to take her in my arms and kiss her hard but I won't. At least, not yet. Soon. That's the way I'm hoping it works out at least.
"Leaving so soon?" I attempt to sound casual.
"I know where I'm not wanted." She pouts, making a face, pulling the spoilt little girl expression I can't help but find utterly irresistible.
"Don't pout. It's not attractive in a woman your age." The words are harsh but I don't care. I want to hurt her, want to cut her to shreds for leaving me all alone, for abandoning me, letting me search for her for all those years.
"Ouch. What, no goodbye kiss?" She locks eyes with me and she knows in that moment she's got me. If she wants me she could eat me for breakfast, I'm putty in her hands. Only this time I'm not letting her get off so lightly, this time I'm going to make her apologize.
"Why don't I kill you instead? What are you doing here?" I keep my tone even, though my breathing starts to come harder as I gaze at her. Katherine, the eternal vixen, the woman of my dreams. The only girl who fulfils every damn fantasy I've ever had.
"Nostalgia. Curiosity. Et cetera." She shrugs.
"I'm better at the enigmatic one-liners, Katherine," I say, rolling my eyes at her, and trying not to look like I'm desperately hoping she'll touch me.
"What are you up to?" I eye her warily, even though I'm glad she's here I need to know why she's turned up here, now.
"Trust me, Damon. When I'm up to something, you'll know it," she says, narrowing her eyes like a cat. Jesus, she's sexy when she pulls that look.
"Come on. Kiss me. Or kill me." She moves closer to me, running a well-manicured fingernail down my chest, her face dangerously close to mine and I feel my body automatically weaken. That face. Those eyes. I am weak for her.
"Which will it be, Damon? We both know that you're only capable of one," she says, taunting me, baiting me, knowing I'll rise to it, to everything, as I always do, always have, for her. Only for her.
"My sweet, innocent Damon." She moves in pressing her body against me and I take her in my arms, unable to resist any longer. I kiss her hard, my lips crushing hers, kiss her with every inch of me, this woman who I've existed for since as long as I can remember.
I feel her body respond to me, undulating beneath mine as I take her by the waist, as I kiss her greedily, her scent filling my nostrils, the tips of her chestnut hair brushing my arm with a velvety softness as I hold her. It's every bit as explosive as it ever was. Scratch that, it's better, you don't wait for someone for nearly two centuries for nothing. God she drives me wild.
She pulls back from the kiss, placing her tiny hands on my broad chest and looks at me, in that maddeningly provocative way of hers, that way that's so completely Katherine.
"That's more like it," she says, purring, her eyes flashing with possibility, the kind of possibility that makes my blood hum with excitement at the chance she might just love me, that this might all be real. I have to know, I have to ask her the question that's been on my mind ever since I first found out she didn't dessicate while trapped in that tomb, that she'd abandoned me by choice instead.
" Okay, wait," I say, taking a deep breath and bracing myself, knowing full well this could ruin everything but feeling emboldened by the memory of her body moving against mine, by the way she feels, smells. Even though technically I've been dead for centuries she makes me feel so alive.
She looks at me questioningly, a pretty little smile on her pretty little face as she moves towards me again, her hands pawing the front of my chest, her fingertips raking the expensive silk. Okay, here goes. It's balls to the wall now.
"Wait,"I say again, pushing her off me and standing back. I have to push her away, I can't think straight when she's near me. She does things to my mind, things no one has been able to do. Except, maybe, Elena. I think of her, Elena, so unlike Katherine in every way apart from that beautiful face, that face with its sensual lips, with eyes you could drown in and die a happy man.
She frowns, the gesture causing a tiny wrinkle in her brow that provokes an irrepressible urge in me to kiss it.
"I have a question," I say, trying to keep my breathing steady, "Answer it and it's back to fireworks and rockets' red glare. Answer it right and I'll forget the last 145 years I've spent missing you. I'll forget how much I loved you. I'll forget everything and we can start over. This can be our defining moment. Because, I mean, we have the time. That's the beauty of eternity. I just need the truth."
I move towards her as I speak, hoping for a miracle, hoping she'll look into my eyes and tell me everything I've been wanting to hear, utter the words I've dreamed of hearing, the words I've imagined her saying over and over again. But she's not speaking, not saying anything, just looking at me with those eyes, as the tiniest expression of mirth creeps over her beautiful face. Please no. Please don't shred my heart all over again. You have the power to ruin me.
"Just once," I say, my voice faltering slightly, stepping closer, hoping, praying.
She holds up a hand. "Stop," she says, her voice still seductive though her eyes tell me she's not trying to seduce me anymore.
"I already know your question," she continues, "And its answer." I brace myself. Please. Don't Crush. Me.
She leans into me, her lips agonizingly, temptingly close to my face and for a second, for the smallest second even though I know it's pathetic I allow myself to taste hope.
"The truth is I've never loved you. It was always Stefan," she whispers, looking me right in the eye as she breaks my heart all over again.
I wish I had never been born. If I had never been born then I would never have met her and she could never have ripped out my heart and stomped all over it. I sit by the fireplace in the drawing room, a tumbler of whisky in my hand, the humiliation of Elena's words still burning in my ears.
"It's always going to be Stefan." I cannot bear to think of the way her eyes looked as she destroyed the only hope that's been keeping me from completely losing it. It was her eyes that made me snap, they weren't mocking like Katherine's were earlier when she told me practically the same thing. No when Elena told me she wanted my brother I saw something worse in her expression. I saw her pity.
The weird thing is I've spent a century and a half loving a woman who doesn't love me back only to repeat the cycle all over again with Elena and I didn't even realise what was going on. I mean nothing to Katherine, so little she can discard me in an instant, in a mere sentence. But Elena's different. Somehow, though I didn't think it could ever be possible her rejection of me hurt more. And yet, even now I think of her, her face haunts my mind.
So naturally I snapped Jeremy Gilbert's neck. I wish I hadn't, but it's done now, the rage welled up inside me in an instant, a hot blaze of anger that bubbled up the way it always does when I allow myself to feel, to care too much. Damn her, I'm a fucking wreck because of her, but I've only got myself to blame. I'm an idiot for falling for a girl who doesn't want me all over again.
I have to admit, even for me, snapping the Gilbert boy's neck was a pretty vile thing to do, not because I killed him, but because he's Elena's brother. Yeah I really am that selfish.
And yet I still can't get her out of my damn head.
I stand up and hurl the glass into the fireplace, angry at myself now, the rage rippling through me like the red hot embers that dance and spit on to the carpet as I curse out loud at the top of my voice, the sound echoing through the empty house. I am Damon Salvatore, I have lived longer than three lifetimes, I should know better than this by now. But I am as weak as a kitten when it comes to her. Elena. And now she'll never speak to me again.
I didn't want to admit to myself how completely gone I am on her but I should have realised. I mean here I am the eternal stud and the highlight of my nights now is watching her through the window as she sits curled in her favourite seat, writing in her journal. It's strange but when I look at her, I feel calm, she's the only one who can make me feel that way, even Katherine cannot soothe the rage I feel inside. When I look at Elena though, I feel as though I am home.
How can it be that one woman could cause me so much pain for so many years and how can it be that another woman, a woman who looks exactly like her, can take it all away? I know I stirred something in Elena tonight, before my violent act of rage ensured she'll never think of me like that again, I know she wanted me on some level, even though she'd never choose Stefan over me. But tonight I pushed, too hard, and now I've ruined it all. I kick out at the corner of the fireplace chipping a bit of the authentic Victorian brickwork as I swear aloud again.
I've hit rock bottom before but without a doubt this is the worst I've ever felt. Well I'm damned if I'm going to spend the crappiest night of my life alone.
I watch from the shadows as she makes her way down the street in front of me, dark haired and tan, her ponytail bouncing as she strides confidently, her canvas book bag on her shoulder. Sorority girls, you gotta love 'em. They never see it coming.
In a flash I'm in her path and she's looking up at me with that shy, flirty smile so many girls have when they look at me.
"Hi," she says, looking confused. I grin at her, winking, and I know by the way she reaches up to twirl a strand of her hair that she's going to be making a little detour tonight. Some nights I'll compel them to come with me, to be my distraction for a while, to make me forget. Other times, like tonight they come of their own free will, the power of my charm and sheer physical presence more persuasive than any mere compulsion could be. And then there's the nights where there's no need to compel them at all, when the darkness overtakes me and their bodies slacken helplessly and slump to the ground, drained of life force, sapped of all their strength. Those are the nights I prefer to forget.
"Why hello," I say, seductively, reaching out for her hand. She offers it to me willingly, and I clasp her slender wrist, twisting it to expose the vein. It pulses deliciously, the blood beating beneath the skin, and I hear the rush in my ears, the sound heavy and rhythmic.
"I don't know you," she says, faltering and looking a little scared but I know she doesn't really want to run, not really. I may have many flaws but a lack of sex appeal is not one of them. Stefan may be the one most girls dream about running off into the sunset with but I'm the one they think about when they give themselves over to their darkest, deepest fantasies.
"Would you like to know me?" I arch my eyebrow at her, and let the question hang heavy in the air between us, as I allow her hand to fall away from mine.
"Maybe," she says, smiling at me, "but I don't even know your name." She has olive skin and deep brown eyes, eyes that remind me of Elena. I stare at her and smile again.
"I'm Damon," I say, moving closer to her, "and you are?"
"Layla," she replies, allowing a small ripple of laughter to erupt from her perfectly shaped lips.
"Layla," I say, rolling the syllables on my tongue as I keep my eyes on her. I reach for her hand again, this time bringing it up to my lips and kiss her wrist. She giggles again, the high, tinny sound irritating me but I don't show it. Not yet at least. Tonight I need someone to quell the loneliness, tonight I need someone to pretend. Someone who can temporarily quench the passion I have all compressed inside of me, the longing that threatens to consume me.
"A pleasure to meet you Layla," I say, whispering the words in the darkness, my lips still against her skin.
"What are you doing?" She looks at me, giggling in that highly annoying way again. I grit my teeth and force myself to smile.
"Appreciating you. But if you don't like it I can stop of course?" I pull back, withdrawing my mouth from her flesh, savouring the disappointment in her eyes. I enjoy it so much more when I can see just how much they want me.
"No, I –
She begins to speak but I press my finger to her lips, shaking my head as I stroke her dark, silky hair. She makes a little noise in protest and I let my finger slip just inside the silken pillow of her mouth, massaging the soft wet flesh there slightly.
She gives a little gasp of surprise at the action and I close my eyes, smiling with satisfaction. She will need no more convincing. Tonight at least I can pretend I have her by my side.
"Hush,"I say, "no need for words. Come with me and I'll give you exactly what you need Layla."
Afterwards, when I've satiated myself on her body and drained her neck and she's snoozing peacefully in my King sized bed, blissfully unaware of what just occurred, I open a bottle of Bourbon and sit by the open window. I stare at her honey coloured limbs dangling down over the side of the bed and the curtain of dark hair that obscures her face. Lying there like that, I could almost imagine she were Elena. I pour myself a large glass and take a gulp, the burning sensation going some way to numb the pain that engulfs me in sharp waves.
I sit there drinking as the open wound from Layla's neck spills onto the stark white sheets of my bed, staining them. I better clean up before Stefan gets home or he'll only bitch at me. Not that he hasn't had his fair share of blood in his time. But it's different with me. I'm the bad brother. The out of control, slightly psychotic brother. The one who can't control his lusts or his temper, who goes off the rails and pines after his brother's girl.
His brother's girl. And to think I met her first. I stand up, draining the last of the bourbon from the glass and slamming it back down on the table. I reach for the bottle pouring another and draining that quickly too before I walk over to the sleeping girl on my bed. It's not enough. It's never enough. Nothing is ever enough to make me forget.
Layla must be aware of my presence as she stirs into consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open as she smiles at me.
"Hey lover boy," she says, and I can tell from the way she's looking at me that she wants more. So do I, a lot more, I want to tear into her jugular vein and suck the life force out of her. If she's lucky she'll still walk away breathing.
"Hello again," I say, smiling in satisfaction as she moves over to allow me to slide between the sheets. I'm naked and so is she and I feel her body press against mine invitingly as she rolls on top of me. For a moment, if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend.
I run my fingertips down her spine and she gives a little shiver and groans into my ear. She starts grinding against me and I can feel myself becoming aroused again, hear the bloodlust roar in my ears.
Not long now. Just a moment longer. She starts breathing real heavy as I arch up into her and I pull her to me, my arms encircling her waist. I can smell the blood from the open wound on her neck but she's unaware, she doesn't realise what's coming next.
As she starts to moan I bend my head to her neck, curling back my lips to reveal my fangs and sinking them deep into her vein.
I suck greedily as she groans, the energy draining from her body, suck and suck until I can't stop, as if draining her of blood will somehow make me forget it all. I can feel her weakening in my arms and somewhere inside me I'm conscious of a voice telling me to stop but I can't seem to do it. The voice winds its way into my mind, threading through my consciousness, soft and melodious.
"Damon. Stop. You're better than this," it says. I continue to feed, well past the point of satiation, not even tasting the blood now, the rush so magnificent it can almost blot out the sound of the voice.
"Please Damon," the voice implores me and I stop dead in my tracks for a moment. It's her voice, Elena's but she's not in the room, she's not here, she has no right to be in my head, to have gotten under my skin this way.
She has no right to expect me to be what Stefan is. I am not Stefan but even if I were ten times the man he is I know she still wouldn't choose me and the knowledge of that blinds me to the voice in my head, enrages my body to do the opposite of what it's imploring me to do.
"Please," I hear the Elena in my mind whisper again, as defiantly I bend my head to Layla's neck, severing her caratoid artery.
I'm lying there on my back when he bursts into the room, his hands at my throat, pinning me to my own bed. I raise an eyebrow at him and he raises an arm, drawing it back and punching me square on the jaw but it's the only chance he gets as I roll out from under him deftly and before he knows it I'm the one who's pinning him down, twisting his arm behind his back.
"Why did you kill Elena's brother? What the fuck is wrong with you?" He croaks the words out as I twist, forcing his arm further back.
"She pissed me off," I say flatly, still restraining him. I won't let him go until he calms the hell down but then I have that luxury. When you drink from the vein instead of snacking on bunnies you tend to be able to get one up on those who feel guilt ripping the head off a chipmunk.
He looks down at the congealed blood on the sheets and the sleeping girl with her oozing, still open neck wound.
"You're sick, You should get the hell away from Mystic Falls. After tonight no one's going to want to see your face here again."
"I'm sick? Because I don't let my emotions get in the way of every decision I make. Because I actually understand the difference between being a human and vampire?" I release his arm, tensing ready to react if he comes after me but he doesn't. I allow myself a small smile of satisfaction, in physical strength at least, Stefan must concede superiority to me.
He turns away from me, shaking his head as if there is something wrong with me, as if I am a lost cause. There is something wrong with me but it has nothing to do with the sorority girl in my bed or the blood or even what I did to Jeremy Gilbert. Stefan could do well to take a leaf out of my book anyway. I might kill people but at least I'm not a buzz kill like him.
"What's the matter with you? Why are you like this Damon?"
"Why do you even care? You've got the girl, now you can ride off into the sunset together with your hero hair and your high moral ground," I say, sneering at him. Sometimes I wish my dear brother dead. Sometimes I wish I could be the one to stake him. I turn my attention back to the girl, studying the blood congealing in her neck. I am just about to bend down to wrap her dead body in the bed sheet when he speaks.
"You could have killed Jeremy Damon." I stop dead in my tracks, spinning around.
"I did kill him," I say, looking at him in confusion. What's he talking about?
"No," he says, "he was wearing the ring. But Elena hates you, she'll never forgive you for this." The ring of protection. Of course.
I gulp, trying to swallow down the relief that wells in my throat. It's not a reprieve but it feels damn close. I'm not normally one for regrets but I would have done anything to take back that one instantaneous moment of selfish rage.
"Yeah well, she can hate me," I say, shrugging as I try to play it cool," but let's face it, she hated me anyway. At least she can still bitch about me to baby bro now."
"You really don't have any remorse do you? And there was me thinking there was still something in you worth saving," he says, his tone bitter. Hate me. See if I care. Right now I wish you were dead.
"Oh, wait, I forgot you're in your self-denial phase, the one where you get to pretend to be the self-righteous brother. That should last about half a century then you'll be back to being a good ole Riper again," I say, allowing myself to fall back on to the bed. Hypocrite. How dare he criticize me when he was responsible for nearly wiping out half of Chicago in the 20's?
"I'm not like you Damon. I actually feel things for people." He smirks in that irritating way of his and I want to wipe the expression off of his smug, stupid face. Stefan the sensitive one. Sensitive my ass.
"Oh I feel things," I say, taking the sorority girls limp hand in mine and meeting his eyes.
"No you feel people then they wind up dead," he says, with an ironic smile. Prick.
"Touche," I say with a grin, running my hand along the girl's arm. She's cold now, her flesh clammy to the touch but I drape her arm across my bare chest anyway.
"You're sick in the head," he says, turning away from me.
"At least I actually know what it is to enjoy myself while you're off playing Edward Cullen with Elena? Corpses are the new must have accessory don't you know," I say, calling after him. Actually I don't want him to go, he's annoying but at least it's better than being alone. I really don't feel like being on my own right now. I look down at Layla's corpse and sigh.
He stops in the doorway and turns back to look at me, the smug expression back. Uggh.
"You spent the last 145 years pining for Katherine. Are you really going to do the same thing with Elena?" Damn him. I'm not playing nice anymore.
I'm on my feet with my hands around his neck and squeezing inside 2 seconds.
"I don't give a damn about your little partner in martyrdom," I say, spitting the words into his face.
He arches a brow at me so I tighten my grip and his hands fly to his throat as he tries to loosen me.
"Get off –
I block his airways so he can't speak then hoist him up against the wall flanking the fireplace, and grin at him.
"Cat got your tongue baby bro?"
He tries to curse at me but he can't get any words out. Job done. Almost. I keep him pinned there with one hand, reaching down for the poker that hangs by the side of the fireplace. I don't hesitate, ramming it straight through his spleen.
"What the fuck," he says, choking out the words as the blood gurgles and rushes up in his mouth. This is fun. It beats being alone and taking my rage out on Stefan is so easy, especially because he's actually a big part of the reason I feel so angry in the first place. Asshole. If I had what he takes for granted I'd be wearing a big ole perma-smile on my face, not mooning around like some bleeding heart liberal who takes on everybody's pain.
I release him, letting him fall to the floor the poker still penetrating his spleen and watch with satisfaction as he writhes around in agony.
"What the hell is wrong with you," he says as I calmly turn my back on him and busy myself with rolling Layla's corpse up in a bedsheet. It seems such a waste; these sheets are pure Egyptian cotton.
"Maybe if you stopped snacking on bunnies and started indulging in the finer pleasures of being a vampire you'd stop getting your ass kicked and be able to stand up for yourself," I say, tucking the corner of the sheet neatly underneath the body on the bed. Corpses are so damn heavy and I'm strong, I don't know how serial killers without superhuman strength ever dispose of their victims.
"I…never…want…to..be like you," he says, the last couple of words coming out in a rush as he pulls the poker out. Blood gushes out of the open wound and dribbles down on to the Persian carpet and I furrow my brow at him as I wonder how I can get the stain out.
"Careful brother. That rug is an antique."
"You've got a damn corpse in your bed and you're worried about that?" He looks at me like I'm crazy but he's the crazy one. Sorority girls are ten a penny; 500 year old Persian carpets are a little rarer. But maybe not as fun in bed.
"Well unlike you I have an appreciation of beautiful things. I don't just want to lock them up and prevent the world from getting into their pristine underpants," I say, smirking.
"Go to hell," he says, tossing the poker to the ground and standing up, "you're psychotic."
"Maybe," I say to his retreating back "but at least I'm not predictable. No wonder Elena makes flirty eyes at me, you probably bore her to death in bed."
"Dream on Damon," he says, shrugging the insult off with the ease of someone who knows better. The action infuriates me and makes me want to stab him with the poker again. Repeatedly. Only this time I also want to follow it up by ripping out his heart.
"Don't worry bro," I call out, "one of these days I'll teach her how it's done. You can thank me later."
I'm answered by the loud slam of my bedroom door as Stefan stalks off, his hero hair firmly ruffled by yours truly.
After I'm cleaned up, I hit the shower, the suds foaming up over my naked skin, the soothing needles of hot water running over the rivulets and crevices of my body. I'm not doing too badly for nearly two centuries old I guess; at least I've never had a problem getting a girlfriend. I just have problems getting the ones I want.
I step out the shower, grabbing a towel and mopping up the droplets of water. The last of Layla's blood's still pulsing through me, making me feel high, wired. I can't stay in the house tonight. I need to see her again.
I dress with speed and leave, moving fast through the leafy streets of Mystic Falls, the tall trees that grow everywhere shrouding me in shadows as I walk. I know exactly where I'm headed, it's the same place I'm always headed, where I like to hang in the darkness and observe her, unchecked. It's sad, it's pathetic but it's my addiction. She's my obsession this girl, she's gotten under my damn skin.
Elena, the epic love of my brother's life. If he knew exactly how I felt about her, he would rip my heart out. At least he would try. I'm stronger than him of course, since he chooses not to partake of the same pleasures I do but well that's Stefan for you. A regular hero.
I'm outside her window, waiting, and I can see the shadow of her through the curtains of her bedroom. She's still up, probably writing in her journal or maybe she's getting ready for bed. I've already checked Jeremy's window and he's sleeping peacefully and definitely alive just like my baby bro said. I'm glad for Elena's sake he's okay, actually I'm more than glad. I feel like someone with cancer who thinks they're going to die and then finds out their disease has gone into remission instead.
Through the curtain I see her stand up and move over to the window, the slender silhouette of her as graceful as a dancer. I imagine the way that perfect body would feel pressed against mine and shut my eyes, and for a second I can almost feel her lips against my own. Like that's going to happen now. Like it was ever going to happen.
I press my back to the wall as she comes to the window so she won't see me. I could disappear of course, could move into the shadows so fast she wouldn't even know I was there but there's a part of me that almost wants her to discover me. A part of me that longs for her attention, for a crumb of acknowledgement from her.
I am pathetic I know but she is the only one who can make me forget, who can make me forget everything, even myself.
"Stefan," she whispers, into the night, "Stefan?" I wish it were my name on her lips. I wish I could crush her to me and kiss her, press my body against hers and erase Katherine's memory entirely. Only Elena can make me forget her. Yet, like Katherine, her heart belongs to my brother.
How is it I can charm most women so easily yet when it comes what I want most of all I am as clumsy as a colt learning to put one foot in front of the other?
How can it be my cursed luck the only woman that could mend my broken heart can never be mine? I stand there in the shadows watching the night breeze sweep through the dark curtain of her hair, watch how it caresses the contours of that beautiful face. The longing, the hunger course through me, and it is all I can do not to blur to her and take her, to pull her to me, to steal a kiss from those lips.
I will not though. Something prevents me, for though she looks like Katherine, they are not the same. Elena is different.
Katherine brings the worst out in me, provokes the urge to violate, to hungrily take what is not mine. Yet I cannot help but long for her all the same, I will likely never stop lusting after her.
With Elena the feeling is entirely different. I yearn for her to come to me and look at me with those big, brown beautiful eyes, look at me as if I am the only man in the world. I dream about it.
I stand there a few minutes more watching her at the open window then I turn away and slip into the velvet curtain of the night.
I see her the next day when she comes to the house to visit Stefan but she just looks at me, not saying a word.
"I see baby Gilbert's back on his feet," I say, trying to make light of the situation but she doesn't even raise a smile. Can't say I blame her but right now humor's the only thing stopping me from going completely insane.
"Sorry I snapped," I quip and her big brown eyes widen as if she can't believe what I just said.
"You're a monster," she says, her lip curling in disgust as she looks at me. Hate me. Hate me more. Hate me so long as you feel something for me.
"Yep," I say grinning, "but I'm a hot one."
"You're repulsive. I never want to talk to you again. I never ever want to see you again," she says, turning away from me.
"Well that's kind of difficult seeing as you're dating my brother," I say, still smiling. God she's hot. She's even sexier when she's mad. I actually feel guilty which is weird because it takes a lot to make me feel anything much these days but I'd rather drink a pint of Vervain than admit it. People expect me to be the bad guy, it's my role in life and well, I don't like to disappoint the public's expectation.
"Get lost Damon," she says, glaring at me as Stefan comes out of his room, satchel on his shoulder ready to trot off to class. The pair of them look like the picture perfect American teen couple. Jesus Christ. I think a little bit of vomit actually just came up in my throat.
"Don't mind my brother," he says, looking at her, his eyes all sensitive. Uggh. Of course. Now we've had the dramatic death and resurrection of Jeremy, we're onto the persecution of the villain. This'll last until the pair of them run into some kind of trouble and I have to come help them out. Again. Maybe I won't this time.
"Yeah don't mind me, I'm just the other brother. You know, the one you love to hate but secretly fantasize about when you're lying alone in bed late at night," I say, waggling my eyebrows at Elena. Stefan glares at me, and I smirk to myself. Someone's getting their hero hair in a huff.
"I can't get hold of Caroline," Elena says, turning to Stefan, brow furrowed, "have you heard from her, she's not answering her phone?
"Maybe she's out getting loaded. Or laid," I say and they both turn to me fixing me with identical looks of disapproval.
"Just ignore him. I'll drive you to school," my brother says, shooting a warning glare at me as he heads out the door with Elena.
"Yeah just ignore me. See you in your dreams Elena, you know you think about me," I call after them as Stefan slams the door on me for the second time inside 24 hours.
Caroline Forbes is a vampire. Of all people. And not just any vampire, she's a blood starved vampire pacing around my living room, and trying and failing to listen to lecture on how to feed, delivered by my dear brother of all people. Sweet Jesus.
"Caroline,"I say "don't listen to the bunny muncher, trust me, people blood is more fun and way more satisfying." She looks at me, her big blue eyes wide, strands of her blonde hair falling into her eyes.
"Damon, I can't kill people. I already felt horrible about feeding on the woman at the hospital. I don't want to be like…" She stops abruptly, clamping her hand to her mouth like she's said too much already.
"Like me," I say, finishing the sentence for her with a grin.
"No, no," she says, lowering her eyes to the ground.
"Yes," Stefan says simply, "don't be afraid to admit it, you don't want to be a monster like my brother. And I can help you not to be Caroline, you just have to trust me," he says, laying a hand on her arm. Uggh. Vampire Barbie and Veggie Vamp bond. How nauseating. I can't stay and listen to this.
"All this is very twee but I have some place else to be," I say, grabbing my jacket and shrugging it on. Stefan shoots me a-help-me-for-god's-sake glance but I just shrug my shoulders at him.
"Damon, she needs our help," he says, sounding like he's my parent not my brother. To look at him you wouldn't think he was a day over 18 but by god he behaves as if he's rapidly approaching middle age. Actually he's a lot worse than middle aged. After all I know from personal experience cougars can get kind of wild.
"What," I say, "I'm sure you can handle it brother. Teach her all about the deer and squirrel she can forage in the forest and then compel to forget." Stefan feels guilt if he kills a rabbit. Immortality is wasted on him.
I exit the house that's been my home for nearly two centuries and shut the door, striding confidently down the path as I head to the town centre. I don't know exactly where I'm going, maybe I'll go sink at few at the Grill or maybe I'll go find some college kids to party with and catch myself another sorority snack or three.
Sorority girls are a fun distraction for a while and they're even better in pairs. Mmm sorority sandwich, I could go for that for a while, it would help take my mind of the many shades of hate I'm going to have to endure from Elena for the conceivable future anyway.
I decide on the sinking a few option first. After all I can always go grab some fast girl food later after I'm sufficiently lubed up. I push the door open to the Mystic Grill and head over to the bar, giving a wink to the cute looking brunette waiting tables as I stand there.
Matt Donavon nods at me as he approaches to take my order, his all American good looks as freshly irritating to my senses as a clean cut teenybopper waking me up to scream Justin Bieber lyrics in my ear at some ungodly hour.
"Damon," he says, rather unnecessarily brusquely I think. He stands there a moment, eyeing me warily and I can see he's torn between his job, which entails he needs to be nice to me since I'm a customer, and his loyalty to Elena.
"Matt," I say, smiling. "I'll have a shot of bourbon. No make that two shots. Actually screw that give me the goddam bottle." He shakes his head at me and holds out his hand and I open my wallet, dumping a wodge of $50 dollar bills in his open palm. That should do it.
He shoves a couple of shot glasses across the bar top, so violently they would have flown off and shattered on the floor if I hadn't caught them. I grin, flexing my hand, proud of my prowess. There's a lot of perks to being a vampire, super human reflexes are the least of it.
"Keep the change," I say, grabbing the Bourbon and spinning around. Then I see her as she comes through the door of the Grill, her dark hair framing the face of an angel, and for a moment I stand there like a complete dick just staring, open mouthed like a love sick dog. Like I'm Matt or something.
She locks eyes with me for a split second then purposely turns her head away again in that faux huffy way girls do when they want you to know they're really, really pissed at you. Actually it's probably not faux, she is pissed at me, and I suppose she does have a point, I did kill her brother after all.
"Elena, hi," I hear Matt shout behind me and I remember I'm not Matt and pull myself together, ducking into one of the side booths where I can observe her from a distance. Everything about Elena is perfect, from her elegant dancer's body to the way she carries herself, regal, like a Queen but not arrogant like Katherine. Elena is kind, soft where Katherine was spiny, sensitive where Katherine thought only of herself.
Between the two of them they're enough to drive a man half crazy. And both of them chose my brother. Ain't life a bitch. I pour a hefty shot of Bourbon and slam it down, the liquor burning my throat satisfactorily.
She flicks sly glances over at me as she sits at her table, the look in her eyes making me pulse with desire. She's mad at me obviously but she's confused too, though about what exactly I'm not sure. The weird thing is, the way she looks at me, sometimes I could swear she wants me. Right now though I think she just wants me to apologize but even though I'm sorry, that's not my style.
If she were mine it'd be different of course but then again if she were mine I'd never have done it in the first place. No I'm not going to apologize for snapping Jeremy's neck, because if I apologize then I'll have to explain the real reason I did it, which, let's face it she probably already knows. But I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of making me say just how much I want her. I'd rather her see me as an asshole than know the pathetic truth. I'm just another sucker in love with her.
She looks over at me again and I can't resist giving her a smile and a wink but this time she turns her head away from me, pretending to be disgusted by me. If I didn't know better I could swear she's given me flirty eyes on more than one occasion. Then at other times the thought that she might pay me any attention at all, that I might be in her consciousness as anything other than a hate figure, seems utterly absurd. Maybe it's just me. Maybe Katherine made me crazy.
I finish the bourbon in my glass and stand up, making my way over to her table. I'm not going to say sorry but I'm going to say hi, she's like a drug drawing me closer. I'll take any kind of interaction with her, even her hatred, as long as I can be near her.
"You," she says, rolling her eyes as I approach her table.
"The one and only," I say, grinning as I look her up and down appreciatively.
"I'm waiting for Bonnie," she says, "go away Damon, I'm not in the mood."
"Hard day?"
She sighs, shaking her head at me and reaching up to push her hair away from her face in that endearing little way she has.
"More like hard week. One of my best friend's has just been turned into a vampire by a girl who's also a vampire and happens to look exactly like me. Oh and my brother's recently come back from the dead because you killed him," she says, her eyes flinty as she shoots the accusation at me.
"Life's a real sucker punch sometimes ain't it," I say, laying my hand on her back and patting her. The gesture's done casually although it will probably bug the hell out of her anyway but I just like making excuses to touch her. Thing is, sometimes she doesn't pull away.
"I find certain distractions help me take my mind off things," I say, purposely eyeing up the blonde waitress who walks past our table just then, smiling at me like she wants a piece. It's all for show of course, when Elena's around there's no one who can hold a candle to her. Actually, even when she's not around there's still no one who can compare. Except maybe Katherine, but only because the two of them look identical. Aside from that the two are as different as Stefan and me. Believe me that's a big difference, I'm no hypocritical bunny munching martyr.
"Yeah well, not all of us are insensitive jerks Damon," she says, looking pointedly at me.
"Hey I get it, I get it," I say, holding my palms out in a gesture of submission. "you're not ready to make nice yet. We could make nasty if you prefer though?" I wink sleazily at her, the action deliberately designed to provoke.
"Uggh you're a complete pig," she says, standing up and placing her small hands on her chest to push me away. I don't move, allowing her body to brush against mine momentarily, savouring her smell, the sweetly spicy scent of her intoxicating. What I wouldn't give to run my tongue all over that body, It's probably good for her she does constantly reject me, if I ever did get my hands on her, I'd consume her.
"Try to be," I say, noticing she doesn't seem in too much of a hurry to get away from me, even though she's obviously not pleased with me. "But somebody's got to play the bad bro I guess," I say, shrugging.
"You have a real problem with Stefan and me don't you?" She glares at me, expecting me to answer. As if. She knows all too well I have a problem with it and she knows why. She should be mine. Right now. On the floor of the Mystic Grill.
"Not at all," I say, arching a brow as I launch into my standard comedy routine. "I understand his hero hair has special powers. Don't worry when he bores you to death in bed I'll give you pity sex," I say, winking at her and swatting her butt playfully. If you can't win the girl act like a snarky insensitive sexist prick and show her you just don't give a shit. A clever, funny, snarky insensitive sexist prick who's naturally extremely handsome of course.
"Yeah, I'm out of here," she says, her dark hair flipping out like a silken sheet as she stalks away. My hand still tingles where I touched her, that was probably a step too far but I can't regret the feel of her perfect ass in those skin tight jeans against my palm. The thing about Elena is she's a goddamn tease and she knows it. She pretends to be such a good girl and well, to all intents and purposes she is but underneath it all I just bet she's waiting for someone to come and ruffle her pristine perfect feathers. Someone like me.
"You'll have to talk to me soon you know," I call after her and she stops momentarily spinning around again and confronting me with that perfectly pouty little face.
"And why is that exactly?"
"Because we're heading out to Duke tomorrow remember? To track down Isobel's research? Or did Stefan give you vamp sex that was so out of this world you forgot. Oh wait, it's Stefan, of course he didn't."
She rolls her eyes at me, her nostrils flaring slightly in irritation. "I didn't forget. I'll be at the house tomorrow but if you try anything funny Damon, I'm warning you."
I nod grinning as I wink at her. "Try anything funny? I don't have to try, I am funny."
"Okay," she says, holding up a hand, "I can't do this now. This conversation is done. I'll see you tomorrow." She turns away from me and stalks off out of the Grill and I watch her cute little ass sashay away from me right up until the door swings shut.
The whole way to Isobel's place Elena doesn't really say much, still obviously pissed at me. Alaric and I get talking a little about his ex-wife Isobel and what she might have found out about the whole werewolf deal while I sneak glances at Elena in the rear view while driving. It's kind of hard to keep 100% focused at points, especially the points where she does that cute little laugh thing and tips her head back oh so temptingly to expose that pretty throat. What I wouldn't give to sink my teeth into her flesh and taste her. Of course, unlike some people, I actually have restraint so I'd know when to stop unlike my brother aka the Ripper.
When we get to Isobel's we discover some interesting stuff out about vamps, werewolves and the curse. Apparently werewolves and vampires used to roam freely together until the curse made bloodsuckers like me shun daylight and forced wolves to turn on a full moon. Thank god for witches and daylight rings, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't hang around college campuses in the day and prey on college girls.
The highlight of our trip is when Isobel's friend tries to kill Elena. I say highlight because naturally instinct took over and I wound up taking a bullet for her. Well actually it was an arrow and it hurt like a bitch but it was totally worth it. I wasn't doing it for brownie points but I know I got them from the oh so grateful way Elena looked at me like I was her big saviour. It made me feel a little weird actually but definitely not in a bad way. It's just I'm usually the bad guy so it was a little freaky to play the hero for once. Still it was worth it to feel her tight little bod brush against me, even with a dart in my back.
After we get home and have dropped 'Ric off , I take Elena back to the boarding house to see Stefan so we can tell him the news. I park the car and jump out, hopping round to open the door for her because that's the kind of guy I am. Actually that's not the kind of guy I am at all, but it's apparently the kind of guy I am with her. She raised her eyebrows at me but I think she kind of liked the chilvary.
"You know you're so confusing Damon," she said, shaking her head at me, her big brown eyes looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car as she looks at me.
"What's there to be confused about? I mean I'm charming, rich, ridiculously witty, impossibly handsome –
She raises her hand to cut me off. "Stop clowning for just one second would you. I mean you do these things, these horrible things, things that make me think there's no hope for you and then you do these other things, nice, selfless things that just make me think you do have feelings after all."
"Feelings? Uggh, no way," I say rolling my eyes. "Sounds messy." She stares at me a long while, and I could swear if I wasn't a damn vampire my heart rate would have just tripled. She's not an obvious vixen like Katherine is but she's a sly little seductrix all the same. She must know exactly what she's doing, the effect she has on me with just one look.
"Why can't you be like you were today when you saved me all the time?"
"Oh I see, "I say, winking and taking a step closer so I'm right up against her but not quite touching her. "You mean my body against yours, you breathing in my ear, all hot and heavy, wondering what the hell just happened and what the hell's going to happen next? We can replay that one now if you like?"
She colors up, the blush staining those pretty, perfect cheeks and I feel an instant ache in my gut. She's going to drive me crazy one of these days I swear. I wonder if she blushes like that when she's in the throes of something hot and steamy – Ewww no wait. I don't want images of my bro and his hero hair balling the girl I dig in my mind. Major gross out.
"I mean, why can't you be nice all the time," she says, sighing but she doesn't move away, even though she could. I don't know whether she just gets a perverse kind of pleasure out of turning me on to the point of insanity almost every time we meet or if she genuinely doesn't know how hot I am right now for her but I know one thing for sure, I might have to start investing in pants a couple sizes larger if Ms I'm so Innocent I don't know what I could possibly be doing keeps this up. No pun intended.
"Because if I'm nice who's supposed to be the bad guy," I say, my voice a lazy drawl as I reach up to finger her collarbone. She still doesn't move away, her lips so temptingly close I find my head bending to them, unable to look away from her, unable to turn my head from her face.
"Damon," she says, and her voice is practically a moan, the sound sending me into a spiral of fantasises. What I wouldn't give to make her moan like that, only ten times louder and screaming out my name.
"What," I say, the words a whisper, my face centimetres, millimetres from hers now. I can tell by the way her pupils are dilated she's attracted to me, in these moments I know it with absolute certainty. How could I ever have doubted it?
I reach for her, pulling her close to me, closing my eyes for the briefest of seconds as I move my lips to hers. Just as I'm about to kiss her with every inch of the hunger she's been making me feel since I first met her in the boarding house all those months ago, I hear my brother's familiar voice shattering my paradise and bringing me down to earth instantly.
"Elena, where are you?" She jumps apart from me and I inwardly groan. Stefan. Ever the buzz kill.
"I have to go to him," she says, hurriedly smoothing down her hair, even though I haven't been able to lay so much as one damn finger on her yet. Well maybe one. So she's leaving me alone again to so I can go jerk off in some lonely bathroom while she goes off to make out with my brother in my own damn house. Am I the biggest asshole in the world or what?
"Of course you do," I say, with an ironic grin but she doesn't see it as she's already turned her back on me to run into the house and his waiting arms.
She tricks me later when I drop her off back at her place after she's done making out with my bro, when she turns to me in the car with that pouty little face of hers and asks me straight if I knew Jeremy was wearing the ring before I killed him. Of course I had to tell her, the thing about Elena is, even though I know full well I can lie to almost everyone else, with her it's like I just can't. Weird, maybe she's some kind of witch or something? That would explain a lot, especially the sadism.
Naturally she tells me she wants nothing to do with me before storming into the house and leaving me on the porch, wanting her, again. I remember when I kissed Katherine on this porch, thinking she was Elena, remember the momentary surge of joy I had when I actually thought she liked me back. What a pathetic idiot.
All this mooning around after a girl, I'm turning into Stefan. Time I brought back the eternal stud and gave the girls of Mystic Falls the thrills they've been waiting for their whole damn surburban lives. I blur away from Elena's porch and head for my second home, the Grill where I know a bottle of bourbon will be waiting with my name all over it. I know the perfect accompaniment too, that cute little blondie who was giving me the come on when Elena blew me out. She'll do nicely for an evening, if she amuses me sufficiently, I might even heal her and let her walk away without a scratch.
The cute little blonde bartender smiles at me as I wait to be served, her white teeth blindingly bright. I wonder if she brushes with Colgate.
"Hi," she says to me, "what can I getcha?"
"Well," I say, "I'd love a shot of blonde, I mean bourbon. Oops thinking aloud again, bad habit." I wink at her and she giggles, reaching up to twirl a lock of her equally cute, blonde hair. I stare at the strand as she winds it round her fingers, imagining what it would look like twisted around my fingers when I'm ravishing her perky little body.
"Coming right up Sir," she says, grinning and turning to fix my shot. I nod, sliding her the smile none of them can resist, the easy, lazy grin I've perfected that lets them know if they come home with me, I'll give them orgasms they never forget, every kind of way they ever dreamed of.
I spy Mason Lockwood across the room and my grin swiftly turns to a frown. I know something's up with that dude and I'm going to make it my business to find out exactly what. The get together at Jenna's should provide the perfect opportunity. My frown changes back to a grin as I think of what I've got planned and I wink at Mason. He just stands there staring at me, raising his eyebrows. Okay Mason, you wanna play it cool? Let's see how cool you can keep that wolfie temper when you've got a hot piece of silver wedged somewhere between your spine and your spleen.
Blondie returns with my shot then and I nod and smile as I slide her a $20 bill, forgetting about Mason for the moment and turning the ole Salvatore charm back on. She stands there, hanging around like she's some kind of Valley Girl as I openly check her out, and I can hear how loud her heartbeat is, can tell how much she wants me to jump right over that bar and take her right in front of everyone.
"How have I not seen you before," I say, looking right into her eyes before letting my gaze drop slowly to her mouth, "I thought I'd seen all the important sights around here by now."
"Are you flirting with me?" She's twirling her hair again, her cheeks coloring up at my obvious compliment.
"Would you like me to be," I say, arching my eyebrow and knocking back my shot, "because you know, that could be arranged." I slide the empty glass across the counter and fix her with a hungry look, the kind of look that lets her know she's right where she wants to be, about to blow her shift and this joint and come home with me. Be my distraction for a while.
"Oh really? Ready for something a little better than bourbon?" She eyes my empty glass and I snort at her attempt at wit.
"Oh there's not too much that can best bourbon," I say, drawing myself up to full height and reaching across the bar to trail my finger down the front of the blue Mystic Grill t-shirt she's wearing. I spy her name on the tag that's pinned to her shirt and I grin to myself. Tia, such a suitably blonde name.
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow at me, smiling like she's cheerleader at a pep rally.
"Uh uh. Though I might be able to think of a couple of things that could drag me away from it for a while," I say, running my tongue over my lips. She gives a little shiver and I can tell she's going to be easy, just how I like them on nights like this.
"What say we blow this joint and head back to mine and I'll show you," I say, whispering the words in her ear at the same time as I pinch her ass.
"Sure," she says, her voice all quivery, like I'm already in her, like she's already imagined all the ways I'm going to make her yell out my name.
"Great," I say, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and my jacket and motioning for her to come with me, "let's hit the road sweet cheeks." I laugh at my corny banter even as she follows, not even hesitating for a moment. Sweet Cheeks? Did I really just say that? Did she really just fall for it? These Mystic Fall girls are just too easy.
Back at the boarding house I settle Tia down on the sofa and go fetch a bottle of champagne from the cellar, stopping off at the bathroom on the way back to draw us a bubble bath.
She smiles at me as I re-enter the living room, looking me up and down hungrily. Careful sweetheart, you're the prey here remember.
"So," I say, smoothly popping the cork and pouring the frothy liquid into two crystal flutes, "tell me all about you." I walk up behind where she sits in my favourite antique leather reading chair, and hand her one of the glasses, raising the other to my lips and taking a swig, The cool slightly fizzy liquid slips nicely down the back of my throat. Gotta love a good vintage champagne.
"Uh well, there's not really much to say," she says and I roll my eyes behind her back. Great, personality plus she is not. Never mind, I have other uses for Tia, apart from intellectual stimulation.
"I'm a college student studying –
She's stopped mid-sentence as I bend forward and begin to blow lightly on her skin.
"Studying?" I grin, lifting a hand to lightly stroke along her collarbone, enjoying the way her flesh gooses beneath my fingertips. I can make girls scream out my name just by touching them, and it's looking likely Tia is going to be no exception.
"Uh," she says, floundering as she tries to form a sentient sentence, "for my history major…" I bend my lips to her neck, closing my eyes and inhaling the pungent scent of the heat pulsing beneath her delicate, creamy flesh. I feel my blood lust rise within me and drain the glass of champagne, placing it on a nearby end table and extending a hand to Tia in a flourish. Her eyes are glazed, like she's in a trance or something but she takes it willingly, and I smile as I pull her to me, brushing her blonde hair from her face.
"How would you like to come study with me in the bathtub?" My meaning is clear and she doesn't hesitate, nodding shyly and averting her eyes as her cheeks color up. Come with me my little lamb, I'll teach you the finer points of appreciating a beautiful historical object worthy of desire.
I take her hand, smirking at my own humor as I pull her behind me, our feet crossing the thick Persian carpet as we make our way to the marble bathroom.
After I ball her brains out, I sink my teeth into her neck and she's so hot for me she doesn't even scream. Sometimes I prefer it when they are like this, when I'm not on a rampage and can control the hunger that sweeps through me. I lean towards her as she sits opposite me in the tub, the scented bubbles from my Prada bubble bath covering the soft swell of her cleavage and pull her to me.
Maybe I won't even compel her, at least not for a while. It gets kind of lonely being a monster sometimes.
"Tell me about you," she says, flicking a batch of bubbles at my face. I flinch, flicking the bubbles away, momentarily irked, but I quickly recover myself, remembering step one of making friends. I must try to be more sociable and tolerate people's irritating little foibles. Until I tire of them of course, then I can just go back to ripping their heads off and enjoying the peaceful bliss of silence, my own company and a good bottle of bourbon. And my fantasies of Elena.
"Oh, I'm really not that interesting," I say, making a face and shrugging as I poke between her legs with a foot. She's soft and pliable, I like that, or at least, I like that right now. I'm not in the mood for anything feisty tonight, I'm in the mood for someone to drown my sorrows with.
"How can you say that? You're a vampire, of course you're interesting. That's freaking fascinating," she says, moving closer to me, her hands padding the bottom of the tub as she crawls towards me. I grin and extend a hand, caressing her neck, fingering around the open wound I've made but careful not to let my soapy finger touch where it might sting.
"Well maybe a little interesting," I say, purring the words inches from her face.
"But tell me something, Damon," she says, emphasizing my name in a way that annoys me, "how is it a guy like you hasn't been snapped up by now?"
I smile, and reach for the glass of champagne I set down by the side of the bath and take a big gulp.
"Oh I've had my fair share," I say, "I wouldn't worry that pretty little head about me too much." She nods but I can see it in her eyes, she's curious, she wants to probe. Don't probe too much Tia. Thank your lucky stars I'm in a charitable mood and walk away with your heart still beating and the memories of the night of your life. Be a smart girl.
"But there must be someone who's captured that heart," she says, her blue eyes looking right at me as she grins stupidly in my face. I get the instantaneous urge to wipe that ridiculous smile off her face but I grit my teeth, forcing myself to be polite. Maybe she'll drop it soon.
"There might have been once," I say, the memory of Katherine rising to the surface, the last words she spoke to me engendering a surge of anger and humiliation to rise up in my chest cavity, "but she wasn't worth it."
"Oh baby," Tia says, reaching a hand out to stroke my cheek, "oh my poor, sweet baby. Did she break your heart."
I snap. I don't know if it was the words poor, sweet baby which so reminded me of the way Katherine addressed me in our last exchange of if it was the stupid way she looked at me, as if she wanted to psychologically feed off my fucking pain and yet feel sorry for me in the same breath but I snap.
I growl, springing forward at her as she shrinks back, the black veins under my eyes bristling as I lunge, bubbles flying out everywhere as water sloshes over the sides of the marble tub.
"No," I hiss, moments from sinking my teeth into her jugular vein, "but I'm going to break your neck my poor, sweet, blondie." I close my eyes, allowing the rage to take me over as the red blood spurts, hitting the back of my throat, hitting the white tiles, and pooling in the water of the tub, tinging it with a deep pinkish hue. Tia barely has time to yell out in pain before I've sucked her dry, her body slumping in my arms as I throw back my head and howl out to the empty house.
Guess that little distraction didn't work out so well. Great. Now I'm completely fucking alone.
Later that day, after the get together at Jenna's, I stick Mason Lockwood with a knife I snagged from Jenna's cutlery drawer. Shortly after, I realise my mistake. That old silver myth was exactly that, a myth, and now I've royally gone and screwed things up and make a doggone mess of everything. Pun intended.
With the fresh an slightly disturbing knowledge that wolfie boy's out for my blood, I decide to head to the Grill to sink oh a few hundred shots of bourbon and when I'm done and on my way out, who should I run into but Ms Devious Pants herself. Yep, Katherine.
"Bad day?" She looks at me, her eyes assessing my slightly rumpled, bourbon soaked state and I know immediately she can tell something's up. She doesn't miss a trick that one.
"Bad century. I heard you were on the loose," I say, dryly, arching a brow at her and pulling an I could care less expression. The last person I want to see right now is Katherine. As if I didn't feel like a total failure at not killing Mason, here she is to remind me just what a loser I am.
"What's the matter? Jealous I spent the day with Stefan?" Her eyes sparkle in that mocking way she has almost every time she looks at me and I feel the rage, the hopelessness, the frustration and the humiliation well up in me all over again. Fuck, I hate how much control she has over me, still.
"I don't do jealous. Not with you, not anymore." I keep my voice steady as I speak, not wanting to give her any hint of how, even though I despise her for what she's done to me, she still has so much power over me. I hate her for that I truly do. If only she was more like –
"Then why so pouty?" She interrupts my train of thoughts just as I start to trance out into the Elena zone.
"I tried to kill a werewolf, I failed. Now I feel like I'm not living up to my best self," I say, pleased with the snappy come back. Still smooth.
"Well, werewolves aren't easy prey," she says in that seductive fifties starlet purr she has down so well.
"What do you know about werewolves?" I eye her sceptically.
"Why don't you ask your brother? Don't try to be the hero, Damon. You'll end up dead." Like she cares. I realise now she's never given a damn about me, not since I met her. As she put it so eloquently, it's always been Stefan.
"Been there, done that," I say, grinning at the irony as I face her off, "at least this time it'll be worth it." That one felt good. I enjoy hurting her even though it can never make up for the amount of sadistic pain she's inflicted on me over the years. I turn away from her, clutching the bottle of bourbon I snagged from the grill, leaving her standing there, not caring what the hell she's thinking and not wanting to hear what she's got to say anymore.
I need to be somewhere alone to process all the shit that's gone down recently, not just the wolfie vendetta crap with Mason but the raw emotions that still well in me whenever I'm near Katherine.
I head to the cemetery and find my usual favorite drinking spot, plonking my ass down on the heavy slab of marble serving as a tombstone for some poor sucker who's long gone.
I take a hefty pull on the bottle of bourbon and shut my eyes as the familiar sting of the alcohol soothes my frazzled nerves. It wasn't always this way. I didn't always hate Katherine like this, I loved her once, loved her so much I would have done anything for her. I did do anything for her. I died for her.
I remember the way she looked when I first caught sight of her face, dressed in the finery befitting a Victorian lady. That's an irony right there, because even though Katherine always carried herself as if she were a Queen, lady she has never been.
I remember that time in my bedroom, when she came to me in the dead of the night, her provocative little face grinning at me, knowing she was going to grant me the one thing I'd been fantasizing about every time I saw her. Knowing she was going to possess me completely.
"Damon," she breathed as I rose from my bed to greet her, naked, as I always liked to sleep, even back then.
I saw the way her eyes slid below my waist, saw the hunger in her as she pushed me back onto the bed and straddled me, her tiny waist emphasized by the delicate bones of the burgundy silk corset she wore. I didn't know what she was then of course, though by the end of the night I would know. But by the time she was done with me I wouldn't care.
I can still recall exactly how her body felt, pressed against me like that, her thighs straddling me. Even though I was strong, she had me completely pinned into submission by her mere presence, every fibre of my being on edge for her, aroused to the point of madness.
"Katherine," I remember saying, looking up at her face as I reached to stroke her cheek, "Katherine, I think I love –
"Don't say it," she said, rubbing a finger across my lips, as she took my hands and guided them to the back of her corset strings, "just enjoy me. I know you've been wanting me like this for a while haven't you Damon, I know you've been thinking of what I might look like naked."
I gave a heavy groan, as she ground on top of me, nodding as I looked up at her helplessly. She helped me unlace her, smiling down into my face as the expensive silk of her corset slid away to reveal pure perfection beneath. I reached up automatically, grasping for her as she hitched up her skirts and allowed me access to the one thing I never thought I would be admitted too, my version of paradise. I knew then, instantly and in that moment that this woman was in my blood, that she would always be in my blood.
And moments later, as she rode me past the point of blissful delirium, she was into mine, her sharp fangs buried in my neck as she drained me of everything, everything I had until I was nothing but a hazy, moaning shell, utterly spent and completely weak for her.
I open my eyes and see a big black raven just staring at me with one of its large glassy eyes, its head half-cocked as it watches me.
"What you staring at birdy," I say, draining the last of the bourbon and lobbing the empty bottle at its head.
It squawks at me, spreading its wings and flying off to one side where it settles on a nearby tombstone, eyeing me again.
"You come to feed off my pain too," I say, sighing, "well there's none left sorry." I stand, squaring up to the raven which still keeps staring at me in a way that's now starting to creep me the hell out. Weirdly it reminds me of Katherine, dark, beautiful, and deadly. I stand there a moment just looking at it before I finally force myself to get it together, shaking my head and turning away from the creature.
"Jesus," I say out loud, "now I' m talking to birds." I start walking away from the cemetery, making my way to the wrought iron gate guarding the entrance and separating Mystic Falls living population from it's dead.
Well some of them anyway.
As I'm about to make my way through the gate I see a small figure push its way through, and I stand back as the person steps through into the cemetery. I stop in surprise when I see who it is, and she looks right back at me with a start as if I were the very last person she was expecting to see in this place even though she must know by now I come here all the damn time.
"Elena," I say, pausing momentarily to take stock of her, "how are you?"
She smiles shyly, brushing her hair out of her eyes, which takes me aback because I thought she was still pissed at me but I'm not about to complain at this sudden change of heart so I smile back like a dope. Damon Salvatore. Always a sucker for a pretty face.
"Uh, I'm okay," she says, gesturing to the brown leather journal she's carrying under one arm, "just felt like getting away from it all and spilling my guts on paper you know."
"Yeah I know how you feel. I actually came here to blow off some steam myself."
She raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Guess this where the cool kids come to hang out huh?"
"Guess so," I say, looking at her with curiosity. Her behaviour is weirding me out, it's as though she's completely forgotten the fact I nearly killed her brother. Well technically I did kill him but the protection ring he was wearing kind of got in the way of that, thankfully.
"So," I say, walking back into the cemetery and gesturing around me, "where's your favourite I want to get it away from it all spot."
She laughs, the sound a throaty chuckle, more vixenish than Elena normally sounds.
"My favourite spot? Well I tell you what," she says, stepping closer to me and looking up at me from under those eyelashes, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Okay now my weird alert just went through the roof. Is she flirting with me? I cock my head at her and give her the smile, trying to weigh up whether I'm in with a chance or whether she's just messing with my head. Because believe me if she wanted to get her revenge on me for what I did to her brother, I just bet she knows it would be easy as pie to lead me on, get me all hot for her and then blow me out, leaving me with nothing but my own frustration.
"You really want to see mine? I mean, I'm happy to oblige, I know Stefan's kind of lame in the bed department," I say, grinning. She doesn't roll her eyes at that the way she normally does when I trash talk Stefan. Interesting, maybe Ms Perfect and Hero Hair are on the outs. Time for smooth talking big bro to move in and demonstrate his lady killing skills. Well not literally of course, because that would be freaky. For her.
"Damon, you know what I mean," she says, but she's smiling as she looks at me.
"Follow me," I say, "it's this big ole slab of rock right-
I feel the impact and wince as my back hits granite and look up in confusion.
"Here," she finishes, looking down at me as she straddles me.
"How did you...?" I begin, rubbing my head as my brain tries desperately to figure out what the hell's going on. Since when did Elena get to be so strong?
It hits me then and I groan out loud, hitting my head against the tombstone as I throw it back. Katherine. Of course.
"The hell," I say, attempting to push her off me, "you gotta stop doing that." She doesn't move, merely continues to grin down at me as she grinds her crotch against me. I have to admit, the action's kind of arousing, not to mention the sight of her breasts spilling out of the low cut scoop neck tank she's wearing. I should have known it wasn't Elena as soon as I saw the way she was dressed. Only a bona fide vixen like Katherine would dare to wear jeans that tight.
"Sure you want me to stop?" She grinds some more, bending her head to my face and making a pouty expression. Like she gives a shit if I reject her, Katherine doesn't have feelings. If I reached into her chest cavity and ripped out her heart right now I'd probably find an empty space instead.
"Katherine you can't just ambush me in a damn graveyard pretending to be Elena and expect me to just give it up."
She arches a brow at me. "Oh, can't I?"
I shake my head firmly, even though the last thing I feel is certain but anything right now. My body's already betraying me, the lousy, traitorous way it does whenever she's this close to me and my strongest instinct right now is to roll her on her back, rip off all her clothes and show her exactly why she chose the wrong Salvatore to get all love sick over. I hate myself for being so damn easy.
"Do you know what I think Damon?" I watch spellbound as she brings a finger to her mouth, parting her lips slightly to lick at it seductively.
I furrow my brow at her, I hate it when she says my name in that patronising way, like I'm still the green behind the ears dick that fell hopelessly in love with her 145 years ago. My body, however, is definitely not averse to the moves she's pulling as she writhes on top of me, expertly teasing me.
"Katherine," I say, groaning, "do we really have to do this now? Can't you find another mouse to play with instead?"
She grins at me, her brown eyes flashing with mischief.
"Maybe," she says pawing my chest, "but this one's so much fun. Anyway, I wanted to tell you something. I think you might like it."
She bends forward to me again, trailing her lips against the side of my face and I force myself to stuff down the urge to reach out for her. She's got me to the point of no return now and I know I have no choice but to listen to whatever she says until I can get my brain out of my pants and firmly back between my ears where it belongs. Whatever she does have to tell me I know it can't be good, there's always an ulterior motive whenever Katherine's involved.
"Your little crush," she says, smirking, "you know the one Stefan's been moping around about, Ms Elena, I'm too Good to be True Gilbert?" She spits out the words as though they taste bitter but then again she probably is bitter. We have something in common in that department, Katherine and I, we both want someone we can't have.
"What about Elena?" I look at her, not understanding.
"Well," she says, eyeing me with consideration, "I think Stefan can be persuaded to drop his little love interest and when he does, I want you to step right in as a nice little distraction." I look at her in disbelief, she really must be desperate.
"You've got to be kidding," I say, shaking my head, "even if was willing to listen to anything you say, which in no universe would ever happen by the way, Elena hates me. There's no way I can distract her from anything." Much as I'd like to be the one that occupies her thoughts, as Elena's made so clear, it's always going to be Stefan. I wince at the memory of her words.
"Well do your best," she says, "and I'll help you get the girl. Deal?" She spits on her palm before thrusting it towards me but I turn my head from it in disgust.
"I'm not making any deal with you Katherine," I say, "and you're wasting your time anyway. Stefan will never give up Elena." Unfortunately.
"Oh I think you'll find I can be remarkably persuasive," she says, narrowing her eyes.
I stand up, throwing her off me and blurring back so I can finally get some distance between my body and hers in order to start thinking clearly again. Katherine has never really known the meaning of personal space.
"Persuasive how?" I eye her suspiciously.
"Let's just say I don't think the Hero of the hour will do anything to endanger his little princess," she says.
"You better not hurt Elena," I say, moving towards her again, "or I swear I'll kill you myself before Stefan has the chance to drive a stake through your heart."
She laughs at me, the sound high and mocking, filling my ears with all the memories of the times she's pushed me to the edge, got me to do things I never would have done, betray people I never would have betrayed. I'm on her in a blur, my hands around her throat squeezing tightly and she's quick but not quick enough as I choke her.
"I'm warning you once Katherine. Hurt Elena and I'll make it my business to end you," I say, looking into her eyes so she's clear I mean exactly what I say.
I release her, and she stumbles backwards, making a face as she brushes down her crumpled clothing.
"Careful, this jacket's Armani."
"I'll do a lot more than hurt the jacket Katherine I promise you. I think you'll don't require much clothing when you're dead," I say, the threat in my words plain.
"You Salvatore boys are always the same," she says, dancing round me like a cat stalking its prey "some girl gets you all hot under the collar and there you are, ready to lay down your lives for her. How romantic."
"Yeah,"I say, looking her up and down, "well at least it'd be worth it this time."
"Ouch," she says shrugging, "well it's been fun but our business here is done. Think about what I said. I'm sure I'll find Stefan more amenable to my little proposal once he learns his perfect princess is in jeopardy. Then once he's put her to one side, I'll move in and he'll forget all about her."
"Katherine, I'm warning – I start to speak, but she's gone in a blur before I even get the chance to finish my damn sentence.
I enter the boarding house and look around, calling out for my brother.
"Stefan," I yell, "where are you brother?"
He walks into the living room with a sulky look on his face, as if I've just disturbed him from doing something he was really into. Ewww he better not have been making out with Elena. I can't stand to think of him pawing her. I make a grossed out face and he shoots me a weird look, his hero hair looking larger than ever and especially bouffant today.
"I see you've been hitting the hair gel hard brother," I say, grinning at him. To give him his credit, he does raise a smile so I take the opportunity to ruffle his feathers a bit more by walking over to him and mussing up his hair. It feels hard beneath my touch and a bit sticky, like he used too much product or something and I yank my hand away quickly before he can bat me off.
"I see you're in the mood to torment me as usual," he says, with a heavy sigh.
"Actually no,"I say, "although I'd lay off the hair gel if I were you. Your do feels 145 years old Bro. Not cool."
He just rolls his eyes at me and sighs. "You know if you just called me to mock me brother, can it wait? I was Skyping with Elena."
My smirk widens into a full on grin, it sounds so funny to hear Stefan say that. I can't imagine why Elena would want to see my brother's gloomy, serious face mugging all over her screen. That girl must have serious mental health issues.
"Well," I say, crossing the room to where a half drunk bottle of bourbon and a glass tumbler stand on a silver tray, "much as I hate to be the party pooper and break up your hot little cam sex party, I need to talk to you about a certain someone who looks very much like Elena." I pour myself a healthy glass of bourbon and raise it to my lips, taking a big gulp. Damn that stuff burns so good. Never gets old.
"Katherine," he says with a groan and I nod, I know exactly how he feels, she's good at eliciting groans is Katherine, in one way or another.
"What's she up to now?" He eyes me warily.
"Well I think it's safe to say you feature pretty majorly in her future plans brother," I say, knocking back the rest of the bourbon.
"But tell you the truth, it's not you I'm worried about. Its Elena," I add, looking at him to assess whether he's taking any of what I'm telling him in.
"I can handle Katherine," he says, "she won't get very far with whatever she's scheming. Her charms don't work on me remember?" He looks at me pointedly like he's just said something clever and I scowl at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I continue to glare at him but he just shrugs.
"Anyway," I continue, pretending to ignore his little dig at me, "you may be impervious to the not so enticing charms of Katherine Pearce but that's exactly the problem. She's gone a bit fatal attraction. And I'm worried she might do something to get Elena out of the picture so that you and she can ride off into the sunset together and make sweet vampire loving."
He frowns, going all Rpatz on me for a second and I can't help but feel a little smug at having silenced him temporarily.
"Guess your girl's gonna be needing my protection brother," I grin, "but don't worry I don't mind lending a hand."
"I don't need your help Damon, stay out of this." He's got that preachy tone on he always gets when he thinks I've done something unforgiveable, like murder someone, or muss up his hero hair, or have hot vamp sex with his girl. Well the last one I haven't actually done, yet.
I roll my eyes. "Come on brother, we both know you're no match for Katherine once she puts her mind to it." Apart from the obvious fact Stefan eats roadkill so isn't nearly as strong as he should or could be, Katherines older than him by like oh, around 350 years. She'll eat him for breakfast after she slaughters Elena like a lamb, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand back and let that happen. Wait, I'm a vampire, I'm already damned.
"Don't think I'm going to let you try anything funny," he continues, clearly still in lecture mode. I chuckle, pouring myself another bourbon and draining the glass in one gulp.
"You know, if I didn't know you better I'd say you were jealous brother," I say, setting the empty glass down and turning back to face him with a smirk.
He raises an eyebrow at me and makes a scoffing sound as if the idea he could be jealous of me is entirely ridiculous. He forgets the amount of girls who would gladly step over him to get to me. Apart from the one who shall remain nameless in my thoughts from now on because she's beginning to become a total fixation in my mind and to say her name even mentally makes me fixate ten times worse. Oh yeah and her evil doppelganger nemesis.
"Elena hates you remember? Or did you forget you killed her brother?"
I shrug. "I didn't forget. But I could make Elena forget and then compel her to beg me for a hot night in my bed just to see what she's missing," I say.
He's across the room and at my throat in a blur and I laugh at his pathetically weak attempt to strangle me, knowing I've succeeded in doing what I set out to do all along, which was get under his skin. Well if he's going to be the brother who winds up with the girl I like twice then he's not going to get off lightly. I throw him across the room easily and stand there observing him as he tries to dust himself off.
"You know it doesn't matter what you do Damon," he says, shooting me a pitying look, "it's me she loves."
I grin at him, refusing to back down.
"For now brother," I say, folding my arms across my chest as I eye him, "for now."
I don't know if it's the Katherine Pearce effect or whether something else entirely unrelated is going down but I notice a few days after that little altercation with my baby bro Elena and him seem to be acting really weird around one another. It's almost like they're on the skids, avoiding each other, arguing, then storming off. I'm outside the Grill when I hear Caroline say something strange to Matt Donovan.
"Elena and Stefan are having issues," she says in that hyper peppy cheerleader type way of hers. I honestly don't know how I put up with that girl as my blood bag for so long. Now she's a vampire it hasn't stopped her from being annoying, it just means she can do it and kick my ass when I bitch about it. Well she can try to of course, although I am older than her so I'd probably take her but she does have more of a chance than Stefan at least since she drinks people blood, even if it does come out of hospital blood bags.
"What kind of issues," I say, rounding on her in a blur and blocking her path as soon as Matt has left to go back into the Grill. She glares at me as if I'm Satan incarnate but I can tell from the look in her eyes she has the good sense to realise I am not going to let the matter slide until she tells me all the deliciously dirty details.
"I think Mystic Fall's romance of the year could be on the skids." She eyes me nervously, shooting a glance across the street.
"What a pity," I murmur, following her line of vision. I watch Elena saunter up to Bonnie Bennet,a perky smile on her face. Strange she doesn't seem overly upset.
"Well Elena seems to be taking it rather well," I say. Caroline rolls her eyes at me and huffs off somewhere and I stand there watching and thinking as a plan comes to my mind. If what Barbie Vamp said is true and the two of them are breaking up then maybe it's time I stepped into the vacancy and showed her what she's been missing all along. Of course we'll have to get past the Jeremy incident, not to mention the fact I used one of her best friends as a walking blood transfusion for the best part of a month but hey she's sure to forgive a little death and draining when I'm giving her the mind blowing night of her life, on repeat.
Okay it's unlikely to happen but a guy can dream can't he? Anyway the Law of Attraction clearly states that what we think about most often we will receive, so I'm hoping to receive a lovely little Elena shaped package to unwrap soon, since that little minx seems to be holding the thoughts I have that don't include her hostage.
I watch as Bonnie and Elena say goodbye to each other then saunter up to Elena and grin.
"How's things," I say, trying to keep as casual as I can and not let the fact I'm near delirious with excitement at my brother possibly having blown his chance with her.
She looks at me and sighs. "They've been better."
"I heard you and Stefan were on the outs? His hair gel and allergy to fun finally got to you huh?"
I see her trying to supress a smile. Guess it's hard not to be amused by my awesome wit even when you're pissed at me.
"We've been having a few problems yeah," she says, looking suspiciously calm about losing the supposed epic love everyone goes on about her and Stefan having.
"So you're breaking up? Or not quite broken yet? Cos you know if you need a replacement I'm happy to fill that little vacancy, " I say, gesturing to myself.
"We're not broken, we're just, having issues. Your brothers impossible to talk to lately you know." She rolls her eyes and makes a face and I nod, trying to show some semblance of empathy though inside I'm screaming yes, yes, yes.
"Ah the long slippery road to destruction begins. The troubles of young love," I say, in a pseudo dramatic voice.
"It's not like that," she says, looking at me and shaking her head, "were just taking a break right now." Stefan is a major idiot, taking a break, is he crazy? If Elena had agreed to go out with me instead of Stefan there is no way I'd have let it get to the stage where we were agreeing to take a freaking break. Who does he think he is Chris Martin? Next he'll be talking about conscious uncoupling.
"How about I buy you a drink to take your mind off it?" I gesture over to the Mystic Grill and cock my head at her in what I hope is a winning way. She doesn't seem to go for the offer, shaking her head at me again and pulling a funny expression that looks a bit like the one a parent might pull before they're about to scold a naughty child.
"Damon you're not my break up buddy you know- She stops suddenly, mid sentence and I catch her staring over my shoulder.
"What is it?" I turn round trying to catch sight of what's so damn interesting when my eyes catch a fleeting glimpse of an extremely familiar face lurking at the far end of the street. Katherine.
"Katherine?" I look at Elena in confusion, not understanding at first, then the possibility of something starts to dawn in my mind.
"You think the problems you and Stefan are having are something to do with Katherine," I say, my eyebrows shooting up in my head. Of all the things Elena should be worried about when it comes to dating my brother, the possibility of him cheating on her with Katherine is like a minus 1000000 on the list. He hates Katherine with a passion, almost as much as I do now I realise the bitch never cared I was so crazy in love with her I would have and did quite literally die for her. The only difference between us being Stefan never loved her in the first place, Katherine compelled him to. With me she didn't have to bother, I willingly drunk the Kool Aid.
"You know on second thoughts let's go grab that drink," Elena says, taking my arm and dragging me towards the Grill at a rather unnecessary speed.
"Woah there speedy," I say, "wow guess you really do need a drink huh? Mind you," I add, as we pass Katherine, and push our way into the Grill, "I can certainly empathise. Katherine's enough to send anyone to drink."
Katherine doesn't follow us inside but then that's not really her style, she'd probably prefer to keep a low profile in here so she can pretend to be Elena whenever the mood takes her. Drinking in the same bar as her doppelganger would probably raise all sorts of questions she wouldn't want to have to answer.
We walk up to a booth and I gesture to Elena to take a seat.
"I'll get the drinks in, cos your cute little baby face will get asked for ID," I say, winking smoothly at her.
She nods, and smiles though the smile doesn't reach her eyes. I can't help but grin to myself, Elena is the complete opposite of most girls, usually when I compliment a girl and offer to buy her a drink they're all over me like cheap perfume.
"I'll have a vodka. Actually you better make that two," she says.
"Hitting it hardcore eh? I know my bro's depressing but wow. I didn't even think such a pristine young lady would let a drop of the hard stuff touch those perfect lips," I say.
"Pristine?" She arches her eyebrow at me.
"Are you telling me you're not?" I glance down, to the tantalising peek of honeyed skin exposed by her strappy tank top, allowing my gaze to roam over her body oh so briefly before I meet her eyes again. My meaning's fairly obvious and I know I'm probably crossing a line I should never cross but when I make her blush I feel a peculiar kind of pleasure.
"I really don't think that's any of your business Damon," she says, and I can't help but smile at the way she says my name. She makes me sound as if I'm three years old and caught eating the Christmas candy but it's totally adorable.
"Debatable," I say, "but hold that thought, I'll go grab those drinks. You can finish telling me about all the deliciously filthy and un-pristine things you've done when I get back. As long as none of them involve my brother of course."
I don't give her the chance to reply, wheeling around and heading to the bar but I know she must be rolling hereyes at me behind my back.
As I return with the drinks she looks up at me and for a second I could swear there's a spark of something as our eyes meet. Maybe it's just my wishful thinking but she really looks like she's giving me the come on at times, though it's probably not intentional. I may have been blessed with the face and body of a demi god but even I wouldn't get that lucky.
"Thanks," she says, taking one of the two glasses of vodka and draining it then reaching for the other.
"Woah you might want to slow down a bit," I say, "or you'll be dancing with me on the tables."
"With you?" She eyes me sceptically.
"Sure, I can pull some epic dad dancing moves. I'll show you some time," I say, grinning. She laughs and knocks back the other drink and I can tell she's loosening up a bit so I slide in a little closer to her on the bar stool, pressing my thigh almost but not quite up against hers.
"So, you seem to be handling the break up rather well," I say, "or whoops sorry I mean the time apart."
"Yeah, uh well, we'll work through it I guess," she says, suddenly looking shifty, and averting her eyes from me. What's going on? I lay my hand on her arm in a friendly, empathetic manner, though it's really just an excuse to actually touch her.
"Hey I know I'm forever teasing you about Stefan but I get that you two had something serious going on and I understand what it feels like when the shit hits the fan," I say, looking into her eyes to show her I mean it. God her lips are so damn kissable.
"Oh err thanks," she says, acting like she's really not paying too much attention to what I'm saying.
"Need another?" I gesture to her empty glass and she nods so I pour a hefty measure into it.
"Good job I came prepared," I say, "once a boy scout and all."
"Damon you were never a boy scout," she says, laughing.
"Want to bet? I can tie a mean reef knot you know," I say, leaning into whisper in her ear "handy in an emergency when you don't have handcuffs."
She pulls a pretend disgusted face but I can see she's not really offended by the amusement in her eyes. She shakes her head at me and lifts the glass to her lips, those tempting lips, and I can't help but openly stare at the way her mouth caresses the rim of the glass.
She catches me staring, her cheeks coloring up but then for just a second I see something in those deep brown eyes that I recognize. Lust.
"You know," I say, my voice huskier than usual because I'm now firmly in the Elena zone,"I'm sorry for what happened. I wish I could change it but I can't obviously."
"Damon, I really don't want to talk about what happened with Jeremy right now," she says, sighing and taking another sip of her drink.
"Okay, then how about I show you those dad dancing moves, since this is one of my favourite songs ever" I say, draining my glass and setting it down on the table. She listens to what's playing for a moment and tilts her head at me, raising an eyebrow.
"Heart Shaped Box?"
"Gotta love a bit of Nirvana. Go on just one dance with the villain of the piece then you can go back to moping over the hero brother I promise." I offer her my hand and she looks at it for a second, then to my relief takes it, shrugging.
"What the hell, I've had the worst day. Anyway I actually really love this band," she says, as I spin her round playfully.
"Yeah, they were about one of the only good things to come out of the nineties. Well I guess the front man didn't quite make it through the decade but you get my point," I say, winking and spinning her into me so she's wrapped up in my arms momentarily.
She looks up at me rolling her eyes but she's still smiling thankfully. "People are going to think we're such complete freaks," she says, "dancing in the middle of the Grill."
"What you don't think they'll be in awe of my amazing moves?" I pretend to be shocked, whirling her around again before temporarily letting go of her to perform a quick rendition of my best Pulp Fiction style dancing.
"You are such an idiot," she says, "but you're taking my mind off everything so you can carry on being an idiot for a while."
"You mean to tell me Elena Gilbert is actually having fun? No way," I say, shaking my head. But inside I'm totally stoked that not only is she laughing at my jokes but she's not complaining when I brush real close to her, not even a tiny whisper of protest. In fact, I could swear she's rubbing that perfect little ass against me, oh so subtly.
"Maybe," she says," but I'm still pissed at you Damon. Don't think this is me forgiving you because it's not. Think of it as a temporary cease fire."
"Oh okay Ms Gilbert," I say, pulling her close to me and running my hand down her side. I blow on her neck ever so lightly and she shivers but she doesn't pull away from me and I swear, I fucking swear she pushes back against me.
"Temporary truce it is," I whisper, my lips grazing her ear lobe. It's a bold move but I want to test her, just to see how she reacts. If I'm ever going to have a chance with her it's got to be now when she's nicely plied with alcohol and pissed off with Stefan.
"Damon, you shouldn't," she says, but it still takes her a beat longer to finally pull away from me and I spin her around to face me because I want to look her right in the eyes.
"Shouldn't I? Are you sure about that?"
She nods, smiling patiently at me like I'm a toddler who needs to learn how to behave. My heart sinks, I know that smile, it's the friend zone smile.
"I'm not broken up with Stefan remember, we're just taking a break. And he's your brother."
I nod, and give her a weak smile, catching her by the waist and pulling her to me.
"I know your Stefan's girl silly," I say, "I can't compete with his hero hair and anyway I'm not cut out to be a martyr so I'm obviously not your type. But," I say, silencing her with a finger as she goes to protest, "you're still fucking gorgeous," I growl, holding her to me for just a moment, just as long as she'll allow me to.
She looks up at me, her brown eyes slightly sad, but I can feel there's definitely a sexual tension between us, some kind of weird energy going on and it's not just the party in my pants. She's allowing me to touch her, hold her, even though the words she's saying sound like she's giving me the brush off.
"Can you honestly say there's nothing between us," I say, "that you don't feel one shred of attraction to me? That you've never wondered what it might be like to feel me against your skin, breathing in your ear as I –
She does pull away this time, her cheeks stained with an oh so becoming scarlet.
"Damon stop."
"Answer the question." I stare at her, I'm adamant, I'm not backing down.
She sighs, looking away from me, then looking back at me again, the last strains of the song playing out.
"It doesn't matter. My heart belongs to Stefan, it always will."
I raise my eyebrows.
"I thought you were having problems."
"We are, but," she says, sounding flustered and pulling the shady look she pulled earlier.
"Are you guys actually fighting," I say, eyeing her suspiciously "or pretending to for some freaky ass reason I don't know about?"
She doesn't answer me, averting her eyes and looking at the ground. I think for a beat then it slowly dawns on me and I want to kick myself repeatedly in the head as I realise why I'm such an epic dick.
"It's Katherine," I say, "isn't it? You're only here because of Katherine? She threatened you so you're pretending you and Stefan have broken up?"
She nods, looking at me, a guilty look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I just wanted her to think-
"That you were flirting with the other brother. The one she doesn't give a crap about getting her claws into," I say finishing her sentence for her.
"Damon," she says, reaching out for my arm, "it's not like that."
"Oh? Sorry have I got it wrong? You mean you're actually interested in spending time with me? You weren't just teasing me because you don't give a damn about my feelings?"
"I wasn't teasing you," she says, her cheeks flushing again.
"Oh? Then why when I hold you don't you pull away," I say, stepping closer to her," why when I hold you do you allow me to think for just one fucking moment that it might not totally revolt you if I kissed you. That you might even want me to."
"I'm with Stefan, Damon. You know I can't even if I wanted to."
"Tell me," I say, grabbing her arm, "tell me. Do you want to?"
She tries to pull away from me but I keep hold of her, pulling her back.
"No Elena. You look me in the eyes and answer that question now."
She sighs, shaking her head, looking at me as if I'm something to be pitied and I suddenly feel about 1cm tall as her big brown eyes regard me. "Why is it so important? Can't you just let it go?"
"Just answer the question? Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never fantasized about what it might be like to let me kiss you."
She looks away again, her cheeks bright red now, the blush a hot stain, yet for some maddening reason and even in this crappy moment where I feel like total shit, I'm still incredibly turned on.
"I could compel you to tell me," I say, moving in closer to her and taking her by the waist again, like I did when we were dancing together, when for that one glorious moment hope surged through me. What an idiot I am.
She gasps as I grab her, looking up at me, her face inches from mine, her lips temptingly close. "I'm wearing Vervain remember. You can't compel me," she whispers.
I look down at her, just staring at her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. "No," I say slowly, "I can't compel you. But I can do this," I finish, pressing my mouth to hers. I close my eyes as I crush my lips to hers, fully expecting her to pull away from me straight off but she doesn't, allowing my mouth to linger agonizingly on hers, the heat between us unbearable. I kiss her with force, with so much passion, communicating to her with that one kiss every single inch of the desire I have in me and it feels like forever yet no time at all before she finally pulls away, pushing me off her with an indignant gasp.
"You can't do that," she says, "we can't…" She tails off weakly.
"Oh we can do that Elena. In fact we just did. And I felt it too, you wanted me, or a part of you did, if only for a moment. But you don't want to want me do you? You don't want a monster like me?" I smirk, my expression as bitter as the words I speak.
"I have to go," she mumbles, pushing her way past me to the exit.
"Go back to Stefan Elena. When you tire of him I'll waiting for you, cos that's the kind of sucker I am," I call after her as she exits the Grill, the door swinging shut in her wake.
I take a hefty swig from the bottle of bourbon I'm clutching then lay down on the familiar ground of the Wickery Bridge, looking up at the stars above my head. Things are swimming in my mind unbearably; Elena's face, the memory of Katherine's words, my brother, Jeremy. It's on nights like this I wonder how much pain I will have to endure, I have already withstood more than any man can stand surely?
I loved Katherine for more than a century, and though it makes no sense a part of me will probably always long for her, but stranger still are the feelings her doppelganger provokes in me, stronger even than any feeling I have ever known. I know now if I didn't know it with absolute certainty before that Elena has stolen my heart, knew when I held her for those brief moments in my arms at the Grill that I would love her forever. How I wish I could be the one to make her smile. But instead she plays with my heart and just like Katherine, picks my brother. It will always be Stefan. Of course it will. Why change the pattern of a lifetime?
I take another swig of the bourbon, the tears coursing down my face at the depressing realization, the awful dawning of truth. I love her. But she will never, never love me. How can I bear it? How can I stand the knowledge I will never have her?
Almost as if it's answering my question, I hear the car coming from some distance away, the wheels travelling swiftly over the road. They will stop as they see me lying here, slow to a halt, and one or both of them will come out of the car to check I'm alright. I do this some nights, when the loneliness and the longing gets too much and turns into an all-consuming rage that threatens to drown me in my own grief and self-loathing if I don't strike out, if I don't unleash the Damon that dwells in the darkest depths of my soul. Despair, my only friend, my constant companion these long dark nights, has some outlet after all.
The car slows down as predicted, the engine sputtering to a halt and my senses are primed as I hear a stiletto heeled foot hit the asphalt of the bridge. I hear the click clack of stilettos as the vehicle's owner walks toward me and as she stands over me, a look of concern on her face, I see she must be no older than 25. She's sweet faced, an all American looking blonde, a regular girl, with regular friends and a family that loves her, people who would be devastated if anything were to happen to her. If she were to lose her life to a monster like me.
"Are you alright?" She bends down to me, her hand on my forearm. I nod and smile as if I'm unsure where I am, even though I know of course exactly where I am, down to the millimetre. This bridge, this spot, is the hunting ground of my shadow self, the killing fields where my darkest impulses are enacted. And sometimes, just sometimes, if for only a moment those impulses provide a temporary salve, a balm to the pain that torments my thoughts. Sometimes they can even make it all go away in a glorious fountain of blood.
"I think so," I say, taking the hand she offers me as I get to my feet, "I don't know what happened, I think I must have passed out." She's kind, maybe too kind. Shit. Even though the rage, the anger, the humiliation is screaming in my ears, I don't feel the urge to sink my teeth into her arterial vein just yet. I'm feeling dark, but tonight I need something, something to flick the switch, to tip me over into the black abyss where there is nothing, nothing but the kill.
She eyes the bottle of bourbon and I see the judgy look flash across her face for a brief second. It's enough, I feel the irritation ripple through me, the emotion heightening the rage I already feel.
"Perhaps," she says, carefully, looking at me, "you had a little too much to drink."
I smile, I feel the blood lust rising in me, the anticipation priming my every sense, and I draw myself up to full height as I stand before her. She can sense the predator in me now, I know she can, and she takes a step back, her body language becoming wary, defensive.
"Perhaps," I say, stepping closer and reaching for her, "but then again, perhaps I haven't had enough at all." She tries to run, the panic writ plain on her face as the black sclera beneath my eyes bristles, the fine fronds tipping my cheekbones. The rage swells within me and I'm on her too fast, she doesn't have a chance, not tonight, not when I've already decided I will be the predator and she the prey.
"Please," she begs, her voice desperate as frightened tears course down her cheeks, "please don't hurt me." But it's too late, far too late for that for though I can understand her words I can't really hear her at all. All I can hear, all I must serve, is the yammering rush of pounding hunger rising and falling within my veins, the instinct that tells me if I let myself do this, this unspeakable thing then I can attain peace, if only for a moment.
"It will always be Stefan."
I let out a wild howl, gripping the blonde tightly to me as I bend my head and sink my teeth into her neck. As I penetrate her delicate flesh with my fangs I feel it, the pure bliss of release seeping through me, the rage leaving my body in one glorious, brutal act of violence, one action that once done can never be undone. I feed on her hungrily, sucking her, draining her with an anger that she does not deserve but that which I cannot help but feel. Some, most nights I snatch, eat, and erase their memories of the whole experience with the expert precision of a master hunter but tonight only draining someone entirely of their life force will be sufficient to satiate the pain and humiliation that tears through every fibre of my being.
I feed and feed, feed until there is nothing left to feed on. It's selfish what I am doing, selfish and monstrous but then I am a selfish monster. It's what I do best and its one of the reasons why Elena despises me but it's not the reason she doesn't choose me. I only wish it were. The plain, awful horrible truth is she just doesn't love me enough. That knowledge hurts but here, tonight, I can make it all go away. For a while.
I howl again, the sound echoing across the empty bridge as I sever the blonde's neck and I tip my head up to the star studded sky as the relief pumps through me. I am a monster. That is all I am. Without the hope of her love that is all I know how to be.
I drop the blonde to the ground, her body hitting the asphalt with a thud and close my eyes, savouring the moment. I feel nothing now but sheer exhilaration, I am pure physical sensation, high on the raw energy of another's life blood. There is no pain, no shame, no fear, nothing but the taste of blood, the feel of it buzzing through my veins.
I hear a noise then, behind me and I start, wheeling around. Whoever it is, is unlucky to come here, will soon regret happening upon me this night. Not that they'll stay alive to regret if for too long.
I see her then, staring straight at me, a horror stricken expression on her face as she takes in the sight of me, the fresh blood still dripping from my mouth. Elena. What is she doing here?
"Damon," she says, barely able to say my name, "did you do this?" She looks down at my feet to the dead girl slumped there, her eyes filling with revulsion and I see the truth on her face, she hates what I am. Good. Let her hate me, I'd rather her hate me than feel nothing. I smile, purposefully exposing my bloody fangs, aware my eyes still glow with the eerie brightness of a monster. I am a monster.
"Admiring my handiwork Elena? What are you doing here at this time of night? Didn't Stefan teach you not to walk around Mystic Falls after dark?"
"I came here to see the place my parents died. You know the night my whole life got destroyed?"
I wince, I forgot her parents died here. No, that's not true, I didn't forget. I just didn't want to remember, didn't want to imagine her pain. I never want her to feel pain.
"Why don't you join me for a drink?" I gesture to the bottle of bourbon. I'm still refusing to give up my swagger, I'm still buzzing from the blood high coursing through my system, I still don't care enough to be the gentleman I always am to her, yet.
"Like I'd join you in anything. I suppose you'd have me feast on your victim with you if you could. If I was a-
She stops remembering Stefan.
"A monster like me?" I finish her sentence for her. "You forget your little boyfriend isn't quite so stainless as you think Elena."
She knows exactly what I'm talking about. My blameless brother; the innocent gentle vampire responsible for killing thousands over the past century and a half.
"Leave Stefan out of this," she says, her tone warning me to lay off.
I ignore her, pressing the matter. "On the contrary, don't you think this is the ideal time to discuss the matter," I say, "after all, what would you do if you saw Stefan indulging like this Elena?"
"I see you relish in the business of destroying people's lives so what would you care?" She meets my eyes, silently daring me to challenge her, to say something even worse, daring me to insult her so she can hate me more than she already does. But I can feel the rage slowly ebbing away from me now, the high dissipating slowly and along with it my motivation to taunt, to be the cruel bastard she thinks Damon Salvatore really is.
"Oh I don't care," I say, hoping I sound glibber than I feel, "but I thought you should prepare yourself for the worst, you know, because one of these days your perfect boyfriend is going to have one of his little turns and he's going to go on a killing spree that makes me look like a damn apprentice."
She looks at me for a second then shakes her head, as if I'm the scum of the earth, as if what I've said is completely out of the realm of possibility and not the absolute cast iron fact it has always been. Stefan is a ripper. He always will be. In a way I envy him. I actually have to feel something to work myself up into a frenzy that's violent enough to kill. Stefan doesn't need messy, icky emotion, doesn't need to wait to suffer a pain so all-consuming that he has to kill someone or kill himself. No, all he has to do is flip the humanity switch and boom, he goes from Mr Nice guy to a serial killer in an instant. She knows this of course and she still loves him anyway.
"I'm not listening to this Damon. I'm not listening to your hatred of Stefan anymore." She turns to walk away from me. I blur quickly to her, blocking her path.
"Tell me you didn't feel anything when I kissed you at the bar." I look into her eyes and feel a pulse of fear, there's nothing but revulsion in the warm brown depths.
"Don't play games with me Damon. Let me pass."
"I would love you for a lifetime," I say, feeling suddenly emboldened, the blood and the bourbon blurring pleasantly in my system and dissolving all my inhibitions. "I would love you to the end of time and I would sacrifice anything, anyone for you." Even myself. Especially myself.
She looks at me as if she cannot believe what I am saying, the expression in her eyes making me flinch from her momentarily, so fierce is the hatred I see reflected in them.
"I could never love a monster like you," she says, her lip curling as she looks up at me. "Just get away from me." She pushes me off her and I let her go, watching her as she walks away. Even now, even when she insults me so openly to my face I still can't hate her. Don't go. Don't walk away from me.
"You will," I say to her back, determination rising in me, "you may not right now but I promise you Elena, one day I will make you love me."
I wipe the tears from my eyes, then the blood from my mouth as I watch her walk away.
It is clear to me now what I must do, clear as the bell that tolls from Fell's Church every Sunday. I will make that girl love me. I will find some way to make her mine. Someday, somehow I know I will find a way to make Elena love me or I'll die trying, because in the deepest recesses of my soul, I know she belongs to me. Elena. The only girl worth living for. The only girl worth dying for.
