Thumpthump. Thumpthump. Thumpthump. Wild, rhythmic was the sound of Andie Starr's heart - tempting, teasing - beckoning the predator that lay beneath the surface. The prey's fear was palpable, the scent of it permeating the air, further luring the monster closer; closer to the very place it most desired to be: free.

"D-Damon...? S-S-Stefan? Is that you?"

Shadows enveloped the hunter's form in its entirety as he stalked forward, moving slowly - footsteps inaudible to human ears - until he caught a glimpse of the news reporter's mousy brown locks as she passed through the threshold into his bedroom. Thrill overwhelmed him, followed by an indescribable feeling of sheer delight as she trapped herself within his chambers. For there he would corner her, have her at his mercy.

It was that very thought that that set the vampire loose, a menacing smirk curling upon his lips. The veins beneath his eyes darkened - protruded - while the whites faded into a frightening red, crystal blue irises now the color of obsidian. Gums exploding with an exquisite burst of pain, the beast's fangs descended, his throat burning with an almost unquenchable thirst unlike any he'd ever felt before.

Although the blood bags kept him alive, strong, they would never compare to a terrified human. They did not struggle as fangs tore through their flesh, they did not scream. They lacked... experience. They lacked taste, the adrenaline that seemed to make the blood sweeter, richer. How much longer could he do this; how much longer could he deny the part of himself that craved the kill?

Moving at a preternatural speed - practically invisible to the human eye - he went after her with determination; determined to drink until he could drink no more, to satiate himself once and for all. The door slammed shut behind his rapid movement, pulling a startled scream from his victim's lips as she jumped and turned to examine her opposer, whoever or whatever it may have been.

Andie's heartbeat quickened, doubling in speed, until it seemed like the fragile muscle was about to beat out of her chest from the intense force. Oh, how he longed to take her vein, sink into her soft flesh until his elongated canines penetrated her jugular. For nothing was more pleasurable than the feeling that washed over him as he drained a helpless, petrified woman dry; listening as the pounding in her chest grew fainter and fainter with each pull of the metallic tasting liquid into his mouth.

That was it. Damon Salvatore could restrain himself no longer. With his primal instincts taking hold, he lunged at his prey, his hands capturing her hips from behind. Grasping them with a bruising force, the vampire used the leverage to yank her back against his torso. In that moment his soulless eyes scanned the length of her exposed neck, he sealed her fate. An animalistic growl emitted from deep within his throat and his head lowered to the crook of her neck, incisors tearing through the surface.

The moment the first droplet of blood hit his tongue, the internal battle between man and monster began. He was almost positive that the man inside of him - how little that part may have been after a century of cynicism - was sure to keep the vampire in control; keep a good grip on the reality of the situation that he could not kill her. That was until her high pitched shriek echoed throughout the Salvatore boarding house. He had forgotten that he hadn't needed to compel her not to scream, as no one was there to prevent him from ripping into her. No Stefan. No Elena. Not a single person could save her now were he to lose control.

The shrill was a pleasant melody to his ears, encouraging him to sink his fangs in deeper, pull harder in desperation to taste more of her sweet nectar. Andie lost her ability to keep her balance when her knees buckled. A single thought crossed Salvatore's mind as he found their bodies crashing onto the nearby bed, he had drunk entirely too much. He'd taken too much from her vein and he could no longer stop himself. He was going to kill her.

I'd come for you. No one but you. Yes, I'd come for you but only if you told me to...

What...? What was that alluring tune? What was that subtle vibration in his pocket...?

I'd fight for you. I'd lie, it's true. Give my life for you. You know I'd always come for you.

It was his cell phone going off and, like a splash to the face with ice cold water, he was jarred out of the heavy fog brought on by his blood lust. The familiar tune belonged to none other than Elena.

As the vampiric guise began to recede, Damon retracted his sharp incisors from Andie's succulent flesh. With careful movements, he shifted her warm body to lay her upon the silken white sheets. Her whimpers as he'd settled her were subtle, weak. He'd drank too much. He'd have no choice. She'd have to feed from him, take advantage of the healing power in his veins.

Guiding his hand to his pocket, wrapping his fingers loosely around the black electronic device that continued to vibrate, he brought his free wrist to his mouth, sinking his fangs into his own flesh until he could feel the blood seeping out from the puncture wounds. Bringing the phone to his ear, he brought his wounded, rapidly healing wrist to Andie's lips, silently urging her to drink, which she obligingly did.

"Hello Gilbert, what sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now that you have to call me f -"

"Hello to you too, Damon."

Every muscle within Damon tensed, body frozen in place the instant he heard the masculine voice that greeted him; a voice that did not belong to Elena. He knew that voice and knew it well. It was that of Jules' little werewolf boyfriend, Brady.

"Where's Elena? If you touch one hair on her head, Brady - I'll rip your fucking heart out like I did to your little buddy Mason and this time, I won't settle for quick and painless."

"Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the man who has your precious little human? I could kill her at any moment. Now -"

"Now you're going to tell me where the hell she is, werewolf. I don't trust your kind. How do I even know if she's safe?"

The werewolves in Mystic Falls were starting to become a nuisance. If it was a war they wanted, a war they would get. Not only had they threatened Elena - possibly harmed her - they had called him out in the form of a challenge. If there was one thing that Damon Salvatore didn't back down to it was a challenge. He was about to make fighting in the confederacy in the civil war look like a tea party.

"Don't worry. She's alive and well. Aren't you, sweetheart? Here, why doesn't she tell you herself?"

"Don't do it, Damon! Don't trust him! He's -"

That's when he heard it; her voice, followed by what he had assumed was the sound of someone getting struck, hard. For Brady's sake, it had better have not been Elena.