Dark Side.
Chapter 14: Brave New World. Part I.
"So, leave me in the cold.
Wait until the snow covers me up.
So I cannot move;
So I'm just embedded in the frost. […]
'Cause this is torturous electricity between both of us.
And this is dangerous 'cause I want you so much.
But I hate your guts.
I hate you."
—Landfill. Daughter.
The big house is quiet as a mouse when she enters. Perhaps, too quiet. The sharp click of the door closing resonates down the hall, until it suddenly hits an obstacle and comes to a halt. It's barely noticeable, except there's little her ears don't catch anymore.
"You gonna say 'hello' or what?" Cassandra calls down the hall.
She turns on her left, walking towards the kitchen. Today's already been a long day and it's barely seven am. She left the boarding house the second Damon fell into a deep sleep. Her shirt was ruined, she's missing a bra. Not to mention she feels incredibly ashamed. Last night shouldn't have happened. She took advantage. It was wrong.
Leaning out of the fridge with a cup of raspberry yogurt, Cassandra comes face to face with a grinning Katherine Pierce, who is lazily leaning on the kitchen island, one hand supporting her chin.
"Hello." Katherine deadpans.
"Hi." Cassandra laughs. She reaches into the second left drawer, pulls out two dessert spoons, and slides one Katherine's way. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten I exist."
"Please." Katherine digs into the small raspberry goodness with a roll of her eyes. "Ugh, this is disgusting."
"It's not." Cassandra frowns.
She takes half a spoonful of the sugar-free yogurt, licking the utensil clean. Amused, she watches as Katherine does the same, grimacing all the way.
"Why did you buy it sugar-free?" Katherine complains, pouting. "You always buy them sugar-free. They're awful."
"I don't like sugary ones." Cassandra shrugs, pushing the brunette's spoon away. "Stop eating it if you don't like it."
"Fine." Katherine drawls with a tone that would suggest this is the biggest inconvenience in the world. The teaspoon clatters across the kitchen island until it stops, half its body dangling perilously off the edge. Cass sends her a look. "Oops!"
The giggle that escapes the older vampire is the most irritating sound Cassandra has heard in a while.
"Why are you here, Kat?"
Katherine frowns, the previous amusement disappearing within a heartbeat.
"Can't a girl visit her friend without an ulterior motive?"
"Katherine, I've known you my whole life." Cassandra sighs. "You want to, maybe, I don't know, stop evading?"
Katherine takes a breath, keeping the air between her cheeks before blowing it out slowly. Cassandra leans on the kitchen island with the whole upper side of her body, balancing on her elbows as her tiptoes push off the floor. She focuses on the delicious light pink goop in front of her and takes another spoonful, playing with the spoon inside her mouth with her tongue as the yogurt begins to melt slowly. She says nothing, doesn't even show that she's getting annoyed. Katherine will talk. Once she realizes Cassandra isn't playing along.
Two more spoonfuls later, and…
"Did you find it?"
"I did a locator spell." Cassandra nods and says nothing else.
In front of her, Katherine straightens up. Her eyebrows perk up in contained interest. Cassandra remains quiet, but her lips lift into a mischievous grin, her left eyebrow twitches daringly.
"So?" Katherine demands. Her upright arm drops to the marble surface; her daylight bracelet clanks against it. This woman is all noise today. "Where is it?"
"Exactly where I told you it'd be." Cassandra nods, enjoying the fact that she holds the power in this conversation.
"Why didn't you get it?" Katherine demands, sudden anger marring her voice.
"I'm not going anywhere near werewolf territory." Cassandra points out the obvious. "Your pet's gonna have to take care of that one."
"If I didn't know better…"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence." Cassandra snaps, irritated at the insinuation. "They smell. They're volatile, angry, disgusting. The very bottom of the food chain."
Werewolves are a mutation that should have gone extinct centuries ago. The idiots simply won't die out completely. She hates them. Her best friend sleeping with one is just the icing on the cake. Because now she has to look at one more often than she'd like.
"Whatever happened to you, Vicomtesse des Loups." Katherine laughs with a shake of her head, teeth digging into her bottom lip.
Cassandra's whole body tenses at the mention of a title that was everything but real. A joke born out of fear, a tease for the girl who was understandably more British than French.
"Those were actual wolves." Cassandra points out.
"Fine." Katherine rolls her eyes. "I'll ask Mason to do it."
"Great." She chirps with feigned enthusiasm.
Within the same breath, she flips the teaspoon around and drives its handle through Katherine's hand, in between her knuckles. The older vampire hisses, left hand rushing to rub the pain away, blood slipping through fingers.
"You'll do well to remember I am not your lackey anymore, Kat." Cassandra warns. Katherine opens her mouth to speak. She lifts one finger up in the air, stopping Katherine in her tracks. "You mention my human life again, I'll rip out your heart."
With that she pushes herself off the kitchen island and turns around without a second thought. She needs a shower, and clean clothes, not Katherine Pierce thinking herself clever.
The Carnival takes place in the High School's parking lot. It starts at four pm and is meant to go on until ten pm. Cassandra arrives at seven. Caroline is still in hospital, so there's no one to reprimand her for not helping set up what is, in her humble but experienced opinion, a death-trap waiting to happen. Still, she goes because she promised she would.
Wearing a pair of skinny, high-waisted black jeans, a sheer black long-sleeved shirt tucked in, with a snake-adorned belt—her red high heels and red faux leather jacket the only splash of color in her outfit—she parades around the school grounds. Sure, she may not like the idea of carnivals, but that doesn't mean she's going to attend one looking anything but hot as Hell. The way the tight and see through shirt shows off her body, including the carefully selected black lace bra from La Perla, makes her hotter than any Beauty deity there's ever existed… okay, so maybe she's a bit narcissistic, sue her.
Around her, the parking lot is loud with obnoxious carnival music mixing with delighted shrieks as the roller coaster speeds by and the pirate ship careens dangerously back and forth. The smell of donuts frying, and popcorn popping, and oh-all-the-sweet-sweet-fresh-blood surround her senses, a delicious juxtaposition against the clear smell of trash liquids and sick permeating the air. It's at rare times like these where she lowkey wishes she didn't have supernatural senses.
For some strange reason, the atmosphere manages to be both light and dark at the same time. A chill runs down her spine; another clue that something bad is coming. Or, maybe, she's just being dramatic. Carnivals have never been her thing, blame it on the old, zero-safety-regulations carnivals. Once you've seen someone get decapitated thanks to a primitive roller coaster ride gone wrong, there's little else you can think of when nearing one, supernatural being or not.
Half-eaten bag of salty popcorn in hand, Cassandra finds Elena by one of the round target stands. She's with Stefan, and the combined disapproving glance the couple sends her is enough to know that she's been caught. She expects Elena to say something, except the brunette simply shakes her head—the typical gesture a mother would give her unruly child to explain how she's not mad, she's just disappointed—before grabbing the white-and-red popcorn bag from the redhead's hands and starting to eat from it. So, she doesn't ask, doesn't mention Damon, and when Stefan passes her the toy gun so she can 'attempt' to win, Cassandra grabs it without question, playing into the joke that she will not be able to hit the faraway target.
She hits two of the three bullseyes dead center, without blinking, but misses the third one on purpose, happily taking Stefan's dig at the other two being beginner's luck and playfully adding that she's a dancer not an athlete. It isn't until they're nearing their third booth that Elena informs her today is a drama-free day. Most importantly, Stefan adds with a raised eyebrow, it is a Damon-free day.
"Oh, I'm all up for that." Cassandra smiles, turning the group towards another popcorn stand.
Last night was not terrible. It wasn't awful. It is still something she wishes she could take back. She should not have slept with Damon, not in the state he was, not in the constant, infuriating state of love she seems to be stuck in. Not if she doesn't want to repeat history. She still doesn't know how to deal with it, so a Damon-free day seems perfect right in this moment.
Elena and Stefan seem surprise by that, but, again, they say nothing. It starts to get annoying fast, this constant walking on egg-shells around her. Which is why the second Bonnie is invited into their little party—a blatant attempt at restoring the peace between Hybrid and Witch—Cassandra excuses herself. She walks off at the same time Bonnie does too. The only difference is Bonnie has the patience to call them out on their bullshit.
Being alone is perfectly fine by her. She gets to go on the Ferris Wheel, eat a puffy cloud of blue cotton candy, and lure a hot, tall brunet boy from the football team into an empty classroom for a quick make-out session that ends up with him losing a pint of blood. It's been a long time since she's had fresh blood straight from the vein. It's ridiculously intoxicating.
"God, you taste amazing." She moans against his neck, tongue lazily licking a rebellious drop of blood off the corner of her mouth.
"… uh… thanks?"
The guy—Joshua may be his name—presses a hand to her waist and pulls. She reluctantly complies and steps away. The lights inside the physics classroom are turned off, but the room is close enough to the parking lot and has enough windows that the carnival multi-colored lights bleed through. They shower maybe-Joshua's face and shoulders in red and green lights, a spur of yellow flashing by once and again. Maybe-Joshua is a handsome young man, probably one of Mystic Falls' finest, with an athletic strong body. In his best day, he could probably take on Tyler Lockwood. Which is why, Cassandra thinks, he looks so shocked right now. There's no way tiny, skinny, new-girl Cass should be able to hold him down against a blackboard and control what he does. Except that she can. And the power she gets from that is just as intoxicating as the blood running through his veins.
"Trust me, it's a compliment." Her hands push on his shoulders, bringing him back against the blackboard. The minute squeak behind his throat snaps her staring contest with his jugular. "What did I say?" Cassandra asks, words biting with more than just a question.
His blue eyes find hers, wide and bright with fear. Still, he manages to gulp and respond the command:
"Don't scream." Joshua—she'll call him Joshua until she finds out his real name—quotes her.
"Then what are you attempting?" Cassandra's voice is faux-sweet.
Her fingers tiptoe up his chest and over his shoulder, they trace the curve of his neck until her index finger finds the puncture wounds.
"S-sorry!" Joshua quietly exclaims before clamping his mouth shut.
He leans his head back on the blackboard, the ends of his hair right below a velocity equation, and scrunches his eyes closed—ready for death. When her finger hovers over the wound, applying the slightest of pressure on it, Joshua flinches, teeth biting into his bottom lip. She brings her blood-covered finger to her mouth, disappointed at the fear Joshua feels having finally soured his blood. She rolls her eyes, subconsciously finding the result to the equation on the board without thinking hard about it. It's 600 mi/hr. That was so easy it's almost sad.
She turns back to Joshua, witnesses the way he's practically trembling. This was supposed to be fun, but Joshua is so terrified she can't even have fun with math.
"Ugh. Whatever, just go." Cassandra sighs in annoyance.
"What?" he splutters, eyes wide open again.
She loses patience. Her left hand snaps up, taking a hold of his face and squeezing hard enough that her nails dig into his cheeks. Slowly, she forces him down to her level. His heartrate accelerates, his breathing becomes labored and shaky.
"You bored me." She snaps at him, eyes blazing. "Run away, forget this ever happened."
The compulsion takes effect in a second. One moment Joshua is staring at her blankly and the next he's scrambling over himself and running away like the classroom is on fire. She leans against the teacher's desk, accidentally knocking a pencil holder over. Three pens roll out of it until they come to a halt in a strange, fanned position over the green folder on the desk. After a moment of quiet contemplation—a moment that has her chest threatening to burst with, damn it, sadness—she breathes in once, fixes her hair, and turns to the first row of desks, where she dumped her coat and bag earlier.
Just as she's lifting up her compact mirror to her face, Damon enters the room. She watches him lean against the door frame and doesn't move. The two of them look at each other for a moment, silent, with her observing him through the mirror's reflection and Damon simply leaning against the door, lips placed on a smirk, blue eyes half-hooded.
"You know, you could have invited me to your dinner party." He lazily shrugs.
"I didn't know you were coming to the carnival." Cassandra shrugs back. Her compact mirror closes with a loud click. "You're a little old for high school extracurriculars. At least I look eighteen."
When she turns around, she can't help but send a teasing smile his way. Damon chuckles, pushing himself from the door. He walks towards her with a confident strut that's all sex, and she thinks this would not be so hot if she hadn't said goodbye to reason last night. She tilts her head upwards, meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow when he's already within her personal space and doesn't seem to stop nearing her. His hand reaches out, finger tracing the edge of her bottom lip. Cassandra forgets how to breathe. His finger leaves her mouth with a smudged bead of still fresh blood.
"Hm, you're right." Damon nods. When his tongue darts out and quickly licks his finger clean of the blood in a way that is both casual and charged as all hell, she nearly moans aloud. Oh, I hate you. "He does taste amazing."
His eyes do this thing. This thing that should not be working because she's five centuries old and she knows every trick in the book but, lord, it is. Damon drops his hand but doesn't step away from her. He smirks suggestively. Cassandra can't help but laugh an amused, fond laugh. His smirk softens into a smile. She laughs because, damn, if she doesn't, she'll end up riding him right here in her physics classroom. It may be the 21st Century, but she is not having sex at school. Talk about indecorous and cliché'd.
"Stop looking at me like that." She shakes her head.
"Like what?" Damon challenges.
Nothing in his composure changes. It's such a drastic change from the man she knew, from the man she met last month. Last night had not been prefaced by flirting, so this is a whole new thing. A whole new thing Cassandra can't help but fall for so hard she can't even come up with a not-lame, decent comeback.
"Like you've seen me naked." She retorts slyly.
She bites her bottom lip in a feeble attempt to regain control of the situation. Unsurprisingly enough, it works. Damon's eyes immediately drop to her lips at the action, his breathing hitches. He subtly changes his weight from one foot to the other.
"Well—I have." He points out. His hand leans on the desk behind her. "Multiple times."
By this point, they're so close he has to lean down to be able to maintain eye-contact with her. Finally, she purrs in her mind. This is familiar territory. This—the teasing and seducing and near touching—this she knows, this they do well. Her back presses against the desk, her hand finds his hip, pulling him even closer. Damon's other hand finds her waist, fingers splayed against her ribcage. She did not dress today in the hopes of seeing him, but right in this moment, she's thankful of the thinness of her shirt.
"About last night…" she starts, voice barely above a whisper.
There's no need for loudness when there's so little space between them. She feels his next smirk against her cheek. Cassandra tilts her head to one side, hand snaking around his torso and up his back at the same time his mouth finds her neck. He plants one deep open-mouthed kiss right where her jaw meets her neck. Mmm… yessss… she closes her eyes, absentmindedly tightening her hold on him as she presses her leg against his. It isn't until his other hand presses against her lower back that she remembers this was not the plan.
"You seemed to enjoy yourself." Cassandra clears her throat.
She tilts back slightly at the same time he lifts his head from her neck. She matches his self-satisfactory smirk with one of her own, plus an added raise of her eyebrows.
"So did you, if I recall correctly," Damon says it like it's a secret and he's breaking a rule by telling her.
"I just wanted to let you know…" she trails off, index finger trailing a path down his chest. "That you should cherish that memory."
At that she looks up, meets his blue eyes square on. For a moment of charged silence, neither of them speaks. In the distance, the clown music slows down into an almost sinister tune, announcing the end of a ride, before starting again, quick and cheerful. It's a strange background music for the scene playing out within the four walls of this classroom, but they're enough distraction that Cassandra can stop hearing her heart beating long enough to start hearing his.
"Why is that?" Damon asks, curious, as he leans towards her again.
"Because," Cassandra breathes against his lips. "It won't happen again."
Easily, she sidesteps around him. Shrugging on her jacket, she watches Damon blink twice. There's a strange sense of pride growing within her. She can still leave him breathless. It's been a hundred years and they're still the same. The same but different, and that fact has hope dripping into Cassandra's blood, making her light-headed. Damon turns to face her, still a little stunned, lips parted slightly and brows furrowed. She giggles, walking out of the classroom without a second thought.
"I've heard that before!" Damon calls out to her after a beat.
Cassandra doesn't say anything. Her stomach flutters twice; her heart follows. Damon was smiling. She's sure of it. She made him smile.
"Aw, fuck." Cassandra mumbles to herself half-way to the parking lot.
Because, sure, she may have made him smile, but Damon might or might not be in love with Elena which means she just played herself. Again. Because of her thirst for one man. Again. Which means she's going to end up getting hurt. Again.
Maybe she should consider celibacy for a while…
UPDATED: 16/01/2020