Damon Salvatore sat across from Carol Lockwood inside a booth tucked away in a secluded corner of the Grille. He appraised every expression that crept across her Botox embellished face as she stared at a picture of Emily Bennett wearing her amber talisman. After only a few moments of glancing at the photograph she passed it back to him.
"My word, that thing is hideous." A frown attempted to pucker the skin between her brows.
He pushed the picture back towards her. "Yes, but have you seen it?"
"No," She said. He opened his mouth to press the issue, but she held up a finger to silence him, "something as god awful as that I'm absolutely sure I'd remember."
He pressed his lips together to prevent his tongue from speaking his frustration. "Of course." He managed to bite out instead.
She took a sip of the cheap red in her wine glass. "Why're you so interested in a clunky piece of costume jewelry that once belonged to Emily Bennett?" Her voice lowered to a stage whisper. "You know she was the last unofficial woman to be burned as a witch here in Mystic Falls don't you?"
"Fascinating," he said, his tone just shy of being jaded.
"Isn't it? You should've met Sheila Bennett…"
He forced his eyes not to roll. "She was Bonnie's grandmother, right?"
"Right," she said, pausing long enough to wave a waitress down to refill her glass. "She was a very odd woman, rather eccentric if you ask me. Always telling anyone who'd listen that she was a witch. She even taught that hocus pocus nonsense down at the college. Can you believe that, a respected establishment like Whitmore allowing such a course to be part of its routine curriculum?"
"Zach said she could see the future," he said for the sake of the conversation.
"Really?" Carol chortled, before placing a hand to her chest, "Then I wonder why she didn't see that fire hydrant hurtling towards her. It struck her on the head. Right there in the parking lot of the college."
"Yep, definitely was the day to call in sick," he added with a bob of the head.
Carol's watchful stare took a cougar turn. She shifted in her seat and slightly leaned forward, making sure he glimpsed a hint of her saggy cleavage. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to diddle her vanity, he feigned interest and spared her aging goodies a quick look, before folding his face into one of contrition, or at least he hoped.
"Now I feel even worse. You see, Bonnie and I started off on a harsh note, and I'd rather not leave things the way they are between us. Especially, since she's become really close with Stefan." He shrugged. "I thought maybe it couldn't hurt to smooth out our issues," he said as he slid the picture back into his jacket.
"And you think giving her that thing would land you on her good side?" She released a bemused chuckle. "Please, Bonnie Bennett doesn't have a good side. She's a lot like her flighty mother in that way. Take my little pearl of wisdom, move on. She's not worth the effort."
Damon inclined his head, while forcing a smile. "Noted." No longer seeing the reason in pointless small talk, he moved to exit the booth.
She placed a hand on his forearm. "My condolences on your loss. Zach was an upstanding member of this community, who will be greatly missed."
"Thank you for the sentiment, Carol." A—I'll soldier on—smile settled on his lips as he gave her hand a pat. "As you may already know Stefan's not taking it well." He twisted his face in what he hoped was a pity inspiring expression. "Guess you can say he's acting out. Last night he didn't even bother to come home. And you'd think he'd call, but…" He shook his head.
"Oh," Carol's hand slithered down his arm to capture his, "It saddens me to hear your uncle's death has had such a negative impact on Stefan. He's such a nice boy. But I can relate." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "Unfortunately, acting out is Tyler's default setting. I swear it's just one thing after the other with him. You know he actually brought Bonnie Bennett home as some kind of cry for attention."
Damon hoisted a slightly engaged brow. Bennett and the Alpha douche, hmm... "Do tell."
She raised her free hand with a slow shake of the head. "All I'm saying is, whether you need a sounding board or sound advice I'm here for whatever."
"You're too kind." Once again he attempted to stand. "There's no way I could repay such generosity."
She flicked his words away with a snap of her wrist. "Nonsense, of course you can."
Damon's already arched brow travelled even farther up his forehead. "What did you have in mind?"
An artificial smile twisted Carol's lips in a calculated turn. "Well Zach, may he rest in peace, used to supply my foundation, the Greenhouse Society, with a beautiful rare flower called Vervain. It no longer grows around here but he was somehow able to-,"
"Vervain?" He drilled her with a pointed stare as the name fell from his mouth dry and flat.
"So you've heard of it, good."
He settled back in his seat. She'd tweaked his curiosity. How much could this wilting southern phony know about vampires and the affect that Vervain has on them? Then the answer backhanded him with a name. "The Founder's Council."
"What about the Founder's Council, dear?" Her slicing gaze attempted to cleave through his.
Didn't Stefan slaughter them all in the early 1900's? "I'm a Salvatore, Carol. We're taught early on about all things that goes fangs down in the dark."
"Damon!" Carol hissed. She took a moment to glance from side to side. When sure no one was listening she took a second longer to somewhat compose herself, and then continued. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Although I have Tyler, I'm not at all fluent in the lackluster phrases of teenagers."
"Cut the shit, Carol," he snapped, wishing he could compel her ass and just be done with it. But thanks to dear old Uncle Zach the founding families were apparently drinking Vervain extract by the gallon. "If you want the damn Vervain then you're gonna have to be straight with me."
"But Zach promised it to us."
"And I'm worlds away from giving a shit," he lowered his voice when a couple in the next booth glanced over at them. "You want the pretty purple flowers, then spill." When she continued to remain silent he made a show of leaving.
With a slight narrowing of the eyes, she pursed her lips before saying, "Fine. I see no harm in confirming something we already both know." A sigh slithered from her painted rose-pink lips. "Over the last few months, there's been a surge in animal attacks in Mystic Falls." She speared him with a pointed look.
"And you think the mountain lions have returned."
She inclined her head. "Zach provided us with enough Vervain to protect everyone on the council, but since the attacks increased…"
"Members have become uneasy," he supplied.
"Well, yes. If the vamp-,"
"Mountain lions," he quietly corrected, cutting her the hell off.
A faint smile troubled her lips. "If the mountain lions have come back, then our family members should be protected as well." Oh so it was just the council members guzzling down the vamp off, hmm…noted. "One attacked William on school grounds for Christ's sakes. Who's next, the children?"
"Carol, I'd be more than happy to pick up where my uncle left off," he covered their joined hands with his free one. Relief radiated from her nipped and tucked face. "On one condition."
"Condition?" She snatched her hands from his. "What condition?"
"I'd like to take my uncle's seat on the council," he answered.
"I don't have the authority to grant such a request, Damon."
Damon sucked in a minimum amount of air through his teeth. "Ooh, then I doubt if I can help you, Carol." He moved to stand.
"Wait," she closed her eyes as she swore under her breath. "I'll have to speak with my husband and Liz first, but I don't foresee their being an issue. Your family is one of the founding families after all, and your ancestor Giuseppe Salvatore did form the Council…,"
His teeth clenched and his muscles locked at the sound of his father's name. "Endorse my membership, and the Council will have more Vervain than they'll know what to do-," The arrival of Bonnie Bennet and Kol Mikaelson threw a brick wall in front of his train of thought. "I have to go, Carol. Call me in the morning with the Council's decision."
He hurried towards the side door at a pace that was almost inhuman. Once outside he stopped a few steps from the cement stairs. Shit, shit, shit! Kol Mikaelson was the last Mikaelson he wanted to run into. Mainly, because the ancient psycho had strapped his immortality to a countdown clock. Damon had less than a day to find out which vampire wanted the youngest Bennett Witch ten toes up and he didn't have a hint, inkling, or suggestion of a fucking clue.
"You're a hot older guy. Do the damn math! How hard can it be to get next to an unpopular seventeen year old introvert?" A familiar voice bitched.
"It shouldn't be fucking hard at all, but clearly Bonnie Bennett isn't as unpopular as I remember. The chick's gained status since the last time I fucked off in the halls Mystic High," Another voice snapped back.
The mention of the Bonster's name yanked his antennas in an upright position. He crept closer to match a face with the—oh so—familiar voice and was met with an unsuspected blast from his human days. Annabelle? Why the hell wasn't she in the tomb with Katherine and her mother? And what reason could she possibly have for wanting Bonnie dead? His eyes rolled, what a stupid question. Anna must've had the misfortune of meeting the teen witch. Tough shit, the older vampire would have to curve her urge to rip Bennett to shreds, just like he'd done. Regardless of how much Bonnie twerked his damn nerves, they still needed her to perform the spell that would open the tomb.
"Oh skip me with the glory day's trip down memory lane. You just graduated a few months ago." She stared at the infant vamp as if he were the dumbest shit on two legs. "How much hall cred could she have gained?"
The dumb shit in question shrugged. "A shit ton of it. Look, maybe she started busting it open, because every time she comes into the Grille, she's one to three deep with those old fangers you call Originals."
Originals? The name slid across his mind and committed itself to his memory.
"Holy dicks! We'll never get close to her if things keep crawling along at this pace." She pressed her fingers to her temples and squeezed her eyes closed. After a moment, her eyes snapped back open. "Well we're damn sure aren't gonna figure things out in the middle of Mystic Falls Square. Let's head back, we need a few new plays. Didn't you say she sold loud?"
As the couple bled away into the night, Damon followed.
Bonnie settled herself in seventh period study hall, preparing to take her afternoon nap. Moments later Rebekah claimed the desk next to hers.
"This discussion hour is pointless," the blonde said as she produced a fingernail file from her bag, and then proceeded to file her already flawlessly manicured nails. "We should altogether omit this study period from our schedule." The original flashed her a smile with a just a hint of fang. "I can think of more invigorating things we can do with our time."
"Oh, yeah?" She returned her girlfriend's smile with a filthy one of her own. "What kind of invigorating things did you have in mind, Becky?" She raised a finger. "And if you say cheerleading, I will fucking maim you with that file."
A shadow descended upon the original's golden features. "And if you address me by that name again, know that I'll utilize this very file to retrieve your tongue, Lover."
"Ooh, fangs and claws. I'm having a difficult time keeping my knees together," she said, more than ready to ditch her afternoon nap for a quick grind session in the girls' bathroom. Then her thoughts switched lanes. Rebekah hadn't spoken a sentence to her since the day of the Founder's Party. "Hold up. So you're talking to me now? Who the hell snatched you out of your feelings?"
The blonde original averted gaze to eyeball the hell out of Mr. Adler. "I'm truly sorry for not disclosing my past with Marcel to you, however I honestly believed him dead. And if I'm to bring to your attention every one of my dalliances over the last thousand years you'd be silver haired and back in nappies by the time I made it through the D's."
"Rebekah, I don't expect you to run me your whole damn hit list. I just need to know about the ones who've had you all in your feels and puts that heat in your eyes." Now it was her turn to avert her gaze. "It's the same thirst bucket look you get whenever you look at Stefan or Marcel."
She heard Beks clear her throat and wondered if the action was really necessary. "Well-,"
"Bonnie," Mr. Adler called from the head of the class. "Gather your things. Your schedule has been changed."
"What?" She and Rebekah yelled in unison.
Mr. Adler's four eyed glare flicked between the two of them. "I don't want to hear it. If you have an issue with the changes, make an appointment with the guidance counselor. For now, remove yourself from my class. You're to report to the art studio in the sky portables."
Bonnie bit back the disrespectful remark parlaying on the tip of her tongue. She tooted her lips at Rebekah before grabbing her bag and hauling ass out of class. Once in the hall, she thought about chucking deuces and ending the day early, but decided against it. She wanted to see what fresh fuckery they'd deposited her in without even a whisper of her consent.
Several minutes later she reached the sky portables at the back of the school. As soon as she stepped inside the classroom a forgettable but extremely compelling voice set fire to her ears.
"Miss Bennett, what an honor." A fiery image enflamed her line of vision. "I'd become rather apprehensive over your collapsing pursuit of academic advancement."
Shock knocked her down and had its nasty way with her. "What the shit break are you doing here?" She demanded before she could check herself.
"Welcome to Art History Appreciation, Love. I'll be your instructor, but you may refer to me as Mr. Gerrard."
"This course will encompass the entire history of human creativity. From finger paintings on cavern walls fashioned by prehistoric cavemen to Derrick Adams' exploration into the deconstruction and operation of structure and surface."
Elijah's dubious stare narrowed as he watched what appeared to be Marcel Gerrard prance and preen about a makeshift discussion hall while he lectured a small gathering of dispirited adolescents, which curiously happened to include Bonnie and the human doppelganger.
The younger vampire's supercilious blustering, coerced his eyes to roll. The little urchin attempted to wax poetic for the superior part of an hour. Had the end of lecture alarm not sounded, the form of his prodigal nephew would still be posturing upon his own overinflated self-importance.
Elijah entered the portable room and stepped to the side to allow the students to exit. His gaze remained fastened upon Bonnie and the way Marcel lingered a half meter too close to her.
"It's against the law to use school grounds to troll for dates. Especially if they're minors, Elijah." The human doppelganger…Elena Gilbert he believed it was, stepped into his sight line and ruined an absolutely faultless view with her mediocrity.
"Please, refer to me as Mr. Mikaelson, Miss Gilbert. Any other handle would be highly inappropriate." He regarded her with a barely tolerant closed lipped smile he reserved for unfavorable associates.
"How about you stay away from me and Bonnie, then I won't call you anything, Elijah," she uttered in a hissed whisper. "I swear, lately I can't open my eyes without being forced to see you or your family."
"You do make quite the unsolicited vision yourself, Miss Gilbert. And it would seem you go to remarkable lengths to do so. Why just this morning I witnessed one of your extracurricular activities online. Your skill set may have left a lot to be desired, yet the effort you committed to the performance was…admirable. I'm amazed you still discover the fortitude required for academic achievement." He took a moment to relish her distress before allowing his gaze to stray back to Bonnie and his alleged nephew.
Marcel appeared quite conflicted. Almost as if he was just as perplexed by the Bennett witch as he and his siblings. And as always she continually remained oblivious to their reaction to her.
"Why don't you find a speeding train and step in front of it," the unoriginal Gilbert girl hurled at him before taking her leave.
Bonnie's gaze collided with his at the slamming of the door. A smile without artifice possessed her tempting mouth and in turn coerced one from him. She truly was exquisite. No longer able to take the intolerable agony of distance, he went to her.
"Elijah Mikaelson, now isn't this an alteration to your ever methodical pandering of all things doppelganger," Marcel said in a most peculiar way unfitting to his common style of speech. "What's the source of such hostility on your part, did her boots not pair well with her bag?"
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Marcel's face. His animated facial expressions appeared slightly excessive for his generally subdued features. "Marcel, your brief jaunt to the other side has introduced a rather sarcastic flare to your character. It would be wise to refrain from such flickers while in my presence. In its absence you'd do well to explain the purpose of your attendance here."
"And why the shit break am I here?" Bonnie demanded, while capturing his hand.
The familiar pulse of her sorcery pricked his palm and surged up his forearm. The exquisiteness of her magic nearly forced a moan from his mouth. Yet, abandoning himself to his urges in the presence of his so called nephew simply wouldn't be acceptable. So he pressed his lips together and persevered. When his stare reclaimed Marcel's a knowing smirk met his gaze. It would seem the cur had witnessed his momentarily loss of decorum.
"My father's passion for art moved me to accept this station. Acquainting undeveloped minds with the likes of Botticelli satisfies my craving to repay the debt afforded to me all those years ago by your family." A hint of mock tainted his words as his gaze slid over Bonnie's phenomenal form.
"Captivating, yet I discover myself more interested in your presence in Mystic Falls in general. You've been dead to us for the better part of a century. Why present yourself now?" He stroked the back of Bonnie's hand with the pad of his thumb. Tiny lances of ecstasy pierced his very anticipating nerve endings. "Is this some sort of nonspecific Machiavellian attempt against my family?"
"You mean our family," Marcel gave him a condemning look, before becoming sentimental. "And my only wish is to reunite with them, which entails you as well, uncle."
"Aww, how pussy of you and sooo unnecessary," Bonnie snapped as her glare attempted to slice through him. "Why don't you run your ass back to New Orleans and swan dive back into the grave you climbed out of? Rebekah's good on you, Lazarus." Her gaze rediscovered his. "Are you ready?"
"Not quite, I need but another moment alone with Marcel." He brought their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of hers.
She nodded as she continued to glare at Marcel. "Yeah, okay. I'll wait for you back at Mikaelson House. Try not to waste too much more time on him. Immortal or not, he's not worth the seconds that makes up a minute," she said, before seeking her leave.
Marcel clutched his heart, while feigning an expression which oozed agony. A smirk toyed with his lips as he watched her go.
"How long do you plan to continue this farce?" Elijah slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers as he regarded the face of his nephew.
The imposter's brows cavorted just beneath his hairline as his eyes flared in assumed shock. "Uncle, whatever do you mean?"
Elijah hoisted a tolerant brow, before he began to pace around the classroom. "What do you hope to achieve with this ill-prepared plot?" He turned to regard a very authentic Rembrandt painting his brother undoubtedly had passed off as a print.
"Uncle-,"
"Spare me the unconvincing portrayal of your adoptive son, Niklaus." He pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. His patience was approaching its end. "At this juncture, Bonnie is the only one among us who is unaware of this inane ploy of yours." He opened his eyes to fasten a damning glare on his foolish younger brother.
Dimples lined Marcel's cheeks as a smirk besmirched his lips. "It would seem Rebekah has become rather fond of the comforts of her dagger and coffin."
"You will leave our sister be, Niklaus. Rebekah did not betray her word." Elijah moved on to another painting which practically radiated chaotic darkness from its canvas. Undoubtedly one of Niklaus' creations. "Mother recognized your magical signature the moment you entered Mystic Falls. Surely, you knew such schemes would never deceive her."
A devil-may-care shrug raised and dropped Marcel's shoulders. "It wasn't mother I wished to deceive. In fact, I had no designs of interacting with our mother while in this form."
"And an interesting form you've elected to utilize to be sure," Elijah tsked.
"Which is neither here nor there. I only meant to take the measure of the prospective Bennett witch before a formal introduction could take place between she and I."
"And is this," he waved a hand at Marcel's body, "some unconventional method of discipline you've decided to use on your wayward progeny for failing to inform you of his continued survival after Mikael razed our home to the ground?"
"Brother, I find your assumptions wildly inaccurate and greatly presumptuous. Yet, quite predictable. The art of deduction has never been part of your astoundingly limited skill set." Niklaus clasped his hands behind his back, while continuing to mock him with another's face. "I selected Marcel's form based on proximity alone. However, you may rest assured, his day of judgement will indeed fit his crimes. For now, my only aspiration is to become aquainted with the little witch with whom you all appear to be so taken."
Elijah allowed the pads of his finger to glide over a stone tablet he'd believed to have lost centuries ago. He should've known Niklaus had absconded with the precious artifact. Items of beauty often incited the covetous beast within his younger brother. If he didn't proceed with caution Bonnie could fall victim to his ever avaricious nature.
"Niklaus, you'll cease with all of these stratagems and confess your true identity to Bonnie or I'll take the liberty of informing her of your schemes myself," he said, turning to lend his brother the full weight of his attention.
"And the point of your dagger will reacquaint itself with your heart, there soon after." The writhing veins beneath his eyes contradicted Marcel's human façade. "Whatever transpires between myself and the witch is of no concern to you or our family. The bloody lot of you will hold your tongue and not interfere with my evaluation of the prospective Bennett. Should one of you endeavor to test me, I'll forgo the unraveling of the prophecy in favor of breaking the sun and moon curse." Niklaus paused to consider him. "Are we in agreement or do I have a human doppelganger to sacrifice?"
"You'd do that to mother? Leave her completely defenseless to the harsh retribution nature will most certainly rain down upon her." Elijah strolled forward, subtracting the distance between them.
"You seem to forget, mother is the sole architect of our thousand year dilemma. Whatever nature bestows upon her will be a fate well earned." With that said he sought his leave.
Rage surged through every vessel in Marcel Gerard's person. Concentrated anger nearly vibrated Niklaus Mikaelson's essence right out of his adoptive son's form. How dare Elijah think to present him…HIM…with an ultimatum? The prospective Bennett was his to claim in whatever respect he so chose. In verity, the prophecy said as much.
His mother and siblings' concern for the little witch had grown beyond the boundaries of unassuming preparation. Elijah's eyes practically smoldered with embers of longing. Why, the pitiable bastard was well-nigh besotted with the witch. Truth be professed, they all were infuriatingly infatuated with her.
He stalked through Mystic Woods with the descending sun at his back and no single destination in mind. More or less, he sought to decompress. So he allowed instinct to order his steps and soon after he discovered himself upon the site where the white oak once grew. Though to his surprise he wasn't alone. The prospective Bennett stood before him. Confusion glazed her striking verdant eyes.
Her gaze flicked about the forest until it landed upon him. "What the holy fuck am I doing back here?"
A flash of a memory infiltrated his confirmed reality and decimated its foundation. Her pressing a kiss to his brow under the white oak tree when he was but a boy compromised everything he thought he knew about his childhood. The recollection was vivid, but still rather fleeting. What was the meaning of this line of sorcery? His family assured him the witch was a novice in the ways of the craft. Yet, memory implantation required skill and infinite power. Especially, in a mind as old and guarded as his.
"Edify my curiosity." As he approached, his eyes traveled over her in dawdling assessment. The rawness of her splendor appealed to him like no other. "Are you following me, Little Witch?"
"Don't call me that! And how the hell could I be following you when I was here first?" She looked away to resume examining the forest.
Her dismissal irritated him. Who in bloody hell was she to be dismissive of him? "A witch's sorcery affords her many advantages, even glimpses into the future. Unbeknownst to me, you could've prearranged this little tryst." She ignored him in favor of scanning the fucking trees. "What of this unremarkable landscape holds your interest?"
"I'm not interested in the landscape, fire crotch."
The handle yanked his head sideways. "Fire crotch?"
"I'm more concerned with the tree line pattern." She turned about to scrutinize the space the white oak tree once occupied.
Three wrinkles gathered between her brows, her lips slightly puckered. The irresistible pricks of her magic beckoned him to come closer and readily he indulged. He permitted himself to be drawn to her and didn't stop until the front of him grazed the back of her. Instead of removing herself to reestablish polite distance, she leaned back and applied pressure to the slight contact between their persons.
Allowing instinct to guide him, he gripped her upper arms, and then leaned down to position his mouth next to her ear. His lower lip brushed her lobe. Her answering gasp nearly ended him. "Why're you concerned with the tree line pattern, Love?"
"There's no change, and…" She commanded the rate of his heart with a sideways glance.
Her profile was just as artistically compelling as the rest of her countenance. "And?"
"I thought since I ended up back here that maybe…"
Before her gaze swung away he saw just the hint of yearning simmering in her eyes, and the transparency there partly assuaged his curiosity. "Who were you expecting, love?"
"Niklaus'," She uttered to his surprise.
A silent prayer glided across his tongue. He thanked the mother of all that his lungs no longer depended upon oxygen, for her whispered confession impeded his air supply.
"Niklaus' name on your lips is become an unvarying occurrence, little witch. Why're you so riveted by him?" Maybe her answer would explicate his own rapidly mounting obsession with her.
"I'm not rivet-…ugh…Where the fuck is he? Why isn't he here?" The muscles in her arms tensed, while the beating of her heart escalated. Coconuts, pineapples, and the intoxicating hint of Bennett magic scented the air.
Not one to deny himself the finest of what his undead life had to offer, he dipped his head to breathe in her inebriating fragrance. His gums throbbed. Blood hurtled through his vessels and pooled in his cock. Burying himself deep within her feminine channel ascended to number one on his list of priorities.
"He'll be here straightaway, little witch. You have my unconditional word." He'd contact Greta about accelerating the time line. He could practically taste the imminence of her quickening. He spun her about to face him. "Do you still dream of him?"
She tore her lush green gaze from his and at first he thought she wouldn't answer, but she staggered them both by saying, "Not lately, but I think I may…miss him. It's crazy, I know. I haven't said one shitty word to him, it's just…Gawd!" She reached up and grabbed fists full of her hair. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
He grabbed her wrists and proceeded to untangle her fingers from her hair. "It appears fate means to have her way. Foretelling states, Niklaus Mikaelson and the prophesized Bennett's souls and magic will merge on a metaphysical tier. As the witch's quickening approaches, she will be induced to reunite with her other half through, magical, spiritual, and physical means. Only then will the two redefine the jurisdiction of nature's law and bring about a neoteric supernatural world order.
"Everything you're saying sounds unnatural, contrived even." She yanked her hands from his hold only to replace them on his chest. Magic surged from her palms and penetrated his rib cage, seducing and infiltrating each cell in his borrowed body until the point of rupture. "What I feel for Niklaus is completely different. It's intense, but just as natural as my instinct inhale and exhale. He should be here."
"And so he shall."
He cupped her face in his hands and permitted his eyes to greedily devour her tantalizing features. His back teeth clenched. On all things sinful and decadent, Bonnie was beyond breathtaking. In her presence he misremembered family, lovers, and enemies alike. Even his name escaped him when he found himself imprisoned in the insurmountable depths of those damnable pools of rain forest green.
His gaze drifted to her plump lower lip. A compulsion to plunder her mouth overran his resolve. Without the presence of mind, his lips discovered hers in a clash of tongues and teeth. In a series of sighs and gasps, she melted into him. Her arms slid around his neck, and dragged him closer to gain an improved access to his mouth. He obliged, all while allowing his hands to run unchecked down her back until they gripped the firm swells of her cleverly rounded bottom.
Breathy moans slipped from her mouth into his. Waves of intoxicating sorcery vibrated against the seam of their joined lips. The unique wild sweet taste of her wrapped about his tongue. Every pulsating nerve in Marcel's body pleaded to be stimulated, whether it was from the firm grip of her hand or the biting edge of her nails. He wanted to experience every complicated part of her and he intended to spoil himself thoroughly.
After a several moments of dueling tongues and nibbling lips, he lifted her into his arms. "I have a cottage just beyond the break in the woods. How about a bit of extra credit, little witch?"
"It depends," she said in between nipping at Marcel's bottom lip and thrusting her tongue in and out of his mouth.
"On?" He growled, beyond the boundaries of patience.
She pulled her enticing mouth from his to glare down at him. "Are you here for Rebekah?"
"Not even if they offered me an immortality supply of doppelganger's blood," he said, meaning every bloody word which crept from his mouth.
"Good, because I've always gotten off on doing extra credit," she murmured as she ground herself into the lower ridged muscles of his abdomen. "And as a matter fact, I've got just the right brains for the job."