Title: Inner Turmoil Part 12/?
Author: Lady Grimms
Email: ladygrimms@hotmail.com
Chapter Twelve:
The darkness had no ending. Time had no meaning. There was no light, no comfort. And yet, something pulled at her. She wandered aimlessly, trying to find it but there was no path to follow, simply that never-ending feeling that something was waiting for her.
She released a cry of despair, only to feel something grab her by the ankle and pull downwards. She struggled against it, but it was much stronger. She snarled in frustration, striking out at anything.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
Her fingers curved, revealing dagger sharp nails. She brought her hand down and met flesh.
Light invaded her senses as her eyes flew open to reveal one annoyed man pinning her arms above her head. She snarled again, revealing pointed teeth as she struggled against her captor.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
Recognition came the moment his head turned, revealing dark eyes and hair. Fine features damaged by four red lines streaming blood running along his aristocratic face. She stopped struggling, and simply stared at the red.
The lines were already starting to fade.
Her captor seemed to sense that she had finally found some sense, and he released her, but was still on guard.
She sat up, and tilted her head. Her eyes met his narrowed ones, and she slowly leant forward and ran her lips along the small cuts. A tongue snaked from her lips and licked the excess blood.
He pulled back, and caught her chin. His eyes bored into hers until finally, a small smile curved the right side of his mouth. "I brought a present for you, Bonnie."
Is that who I am, she thought? Bonnie? It didn't matter.
Her eyes lowered to rest on the hand he had extended, an unspoken offer. She took it, and was pulled to her feet. She followed him a few steps until looking down at herself. He pulled her forward before realizing that she had stopped moving.
"Problem?" he asked innocently.
She waited a moment, not saying anything. Of course, there was a problem. She was naked.
He sighed and walked toward the walk in closet. He emerged a moment later, carrying a long sleeved buttoned shirt, and a pair of silk boxers. She took them and put them on, then followed him down the stairs and into the front room.
The floor was cold against her bare soles. He walked into a room through a vaulted ceiling, and flipped on light. A rather large television took up much of one wall, surrounded by a multitude of speakers and sub-woofers. It was more a theatre than a room to watch bad talk shows.
She hesitated when she noticed an unfamiliar young man sitting on a chair, staring vacantly toward the blank screen. This wasn't right, but it didn't matter because he was beckoning to her.
Come here, he said with his mind.
She approached cautiously as he lifted the dazed human's chin. "Drink here," he said, running a finger along the neckline. Annoyance flashed across his features when she simply stared at the human stupidly.
This time when he ran his finger across, a line appeared on the humans skin. A rush of blood followed and this time Bonnie knew what he meant.
Her head lowered slowly, lips covering the entire wound so no blood would be wasted. Then instinct took over and she bit, hard. Her victim winced, but didn't move again otherwise. His heart was slowing, following her rhythm.
A hand slowly pried her off.
The blood entered her body, opening a valve in her mind and a small trickle of memory found its way free.
Bonnie straightened and stared at the dark eyed man again. "Damon," she said with a small smile.
"Feeling better?" he asked, watching her start to move around the room.
"Maybe," she replied. Truthfully, her muscles were already surging with renewed strength as she walked the length of the house once and then turned to go back. Her feet faltered when she noticed that the blinds were still closed despite daylight peeking in through the small openings. That frightened her.
A dark presence approached her from behind. Cool, silken lips touched her throat, while hands wrapped around her waist, sliding under her shirt. She leant into the touch, and smiled in anticipation.
********
Bonnie awoke to a heavy arm draped over her stomach. She blinked and turned to stare at the man sleeping next to her.
Must have been a fun night, she thought. She brushed a hand against his forehead, lifting a dark lock away from his eyes.
"First rule of my household," Damon said coldly, eyes still shut tight. "Never wake me after an afternoon of sex."
Bonnie smiled wryly and lifted a hand. Turning it back and forth, the first thing she noticed was that the lack of energy was gone. It looked the same but wasn't. Her psychic senses were highly attuned to all movement in the house.
There were mice scuffling outside in the garden, the shift of drapes in wind from an open window on the main level. A low moan from the main floor as someone shifted in an uneasy sleep.
"What the-" she began, sitting up in alarm.
Damon sighed in annoyance and finally opened his eyes. "You had to eat something."
"You mean-" she began then stopped in mid-sentence. After clearing her throat, she said, "Well, at least he's not dead."
Damon smirked, and said, "Not all our victims are so lucky. Some are worth the kill."
Bonnie stared at him for a moment. Her initial shock faded as she considered his words. Some are worth killing. In all honesty, what he said was true. Rapists, killers, molesters all deserved death.
"What now?" she said, clearing her throat. "How am I supposed to fake my death if I'm already a vampire? I hope I don't have to let myself be buried."
"That was taken care of, youngling."
The way he said it made Bonnie realize that it was supposed to be a statement left unquestioned. But it was her right to know.
"How?" she asked, and then understood. "That red-haired woman you attacked."
Damon seemed partially shocked. "How did you know?"
"I saw it when we exchanged blood."
"I see."
"But she looked nothing like me apart from the red hair," Bonnie protested.
"All you need to know is that a woman was found dead and identified by her family to be a Miss Bonnie McCullough. Her body was cremated and will be buried on Wednesday."
Before, Bonnie would have been disgusted with his ease of talking of murder. But there was something in Damon that was not evil. If he killed, he had good reason. "Was she worth it?"
He smiled dreamily in remembrance. "Indeed. Had her husband murdered for insurance money."
"Indeed," Bonnie said, returning the smile. Then realization hit. She was dead, her family was already grieving their loss and she was laughing at their pain.
A hand went to her mouth, trying to cover the tremble. Finally overwrought with emotion, she turned and burrowed her face into Damon's neck.
His arms wrapped around her hesitantly, as if unsure how to deal with such emotion. Finally, he understood that all she need was a little comfort.
TBC
Chapter Twelve:
The darkness had no ending. Time had no meaning. There was no light, no comfort. And yet, something pulled at her. She wandered aimlessly, trying to find it but there was no path to follow, simply that never-ending feeling that something was waiting for her.
She released a cry of despair, only to feel something grab her by the ankle and pull downwards. She struggled against it, but it was much stronger. She snarled in frustration, striking out at anything.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
Her fingers curved, revealing dagger sharp nails. She brought her hand down and met flesh.
Light invaded her senses as her eyes flew open to reveal one annoyed man pinning her arms above her head. She snarled again, revealing pointed teeth as she struggled against her captor.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
Recognition came the moment his head turned, revealing dark eyes and hair. Fine features damaged by four red lines streaming blood running along his aristocratic face. She stopped struggling, and simply stared at the red.
The lines were already starting to fade.
Her captor seemed to sense that she had finally found some sense, and he released her, but was still on guard.
She sat up, and tilted her head. Her eyes met his narrowed ones, and she slowly leant forward and ran her lips along the small cuts. A tongue snaked from her lips and licked the excess blood.
He pulled back, and caught her chin. His eyes bored into hers until finally, a small smile curved the right side of his mouth. "I brought a present for you, Bonnie."
Is that who I am, she thought? Bonnie? It didn't matter.
Her eyes lowered to rest on the hand he had extended, an unspoken offer. She took it, and was pulled to her feet. She followed him a few steps until looking down at herself. He pulled her forward before realizing that she had stopped moving.
"Problem?" he asked innocently.
She waited a moment, not saying anything. Of course, there was a problem. She was naked.
He sighed and walked toward the walk in closet. He emerged a moment later, carrying a long sleeved buttoned shirt, and a pair of silk boxers. She took them and put them on, then followed him down the stairs and into the front room.
The floor was cold against her bare soles. He walked into a room through a vaulted ceiling, and flipped on light. A rather large television took up much of one wall, surrounded by a multitude of speakers and sub-woofers. It was more a theatre than a room to watch bad talk shows.
She hesitated when she noticed an unfamiliar young man sitting on a chair, staring vacantly toward the blank screen. This wasn't right, but it didn't matter because he was beckoning to her.
Come here, he said with his mind.
She approached cautiously as he lifted the dazed human's chin. "Drink here," he said, running a finger along the neckline. Annoyance flashed across his features when she simply stared at the human stupidly.
This time when he ran his finger across, a line appeared on the humans skin. A rush of blood followed and this time Bonnie knew what he meant.
Her head lowered slowly, lips covering the entire wound so no blood would be wasted. Then instinct took over and she bit, hard. Her victim winced, but didn't move again otherwise. His heart was slowing, following her rhythm.
A hand slowly pried her off.
The blood entered her body, opening a valve in her mind and a small trickle of memory found its way free.
Bonnie straightened and stared at the dark eyed man again. "Damon," she said with a small smile.
"Feeling better?" he asked, watching her start to move around the room.
"Maybe," she replied. Truthfully, her muscles were already surging with renewed strength as she walked the length of the house once and then turned to go back. Her feet faltered when she noticed that the blinds were still closed despite daylight peeking in through the small openings. That frightened her.
A dark presence approached her from behind. Cool, silken lips touched her throat, while hands wrapped around her waist, sliding under her shirt. She leant into the touch, and smiled in anticipation.
********
Bonnie awoke to a heavy arm draped over her stomach. She blinked and turned to stare at the man sleeping next to her.
Must have been a fun night, she thought. She brushed a hand against his forehead, lifting a dark lock away from his eyes.
"First rule of my household," Damon said coldly, eyes still shut tight. "Never wake me after an afternoon of sex."
Bonnie smiled wryly and lifted a hand. Turning it back and forth, the first thing she noticed was that the lack of energy was gone. It looked the same but wasn't. Her psychic senses were highly attuned to all movement in the house.
There were mice scuffling outside in the garden, the shift of drapes in wind from an open window on the main level. A low moan from the main floor as someone shifted in an uneasy sleep.
"What the-" she began, sitting up in alarm.
Damon sighed in annoyance and finally opened his eyes. "You had to eat something."
"You mean-" she began then stopped in mid-sentence. After clearing her throat, she said, "Well, at least he's not dead."
Damon smirked, and said, "Not all our victims are so lucky. Some are worth the kill."
Bonnie stared at him for a moment. Her initial shock faded as she considered his words. Some are worth killing. In all honesty, what he said was true. Rapists, killers, molesters all deserved death.
"What now?" she said, clearing her throat. "How am I supposed to fake my death if I'm already a vampire? I hope I don't have to let myself be buried."
"That was taken care of, youngling."
The way he said it made Bonnie realize that it was supposed to be a statement left unquestioned. But it was her right to know.
"How?" she asked, and then understood. "That red-haired woman you attacked."
Damon seemed partially shocked. "How did you know?"
"I saw it when we exchanged blood."
"I see."
"But she looked nothing like me apart from the red hair," Bonnie protested.
"All you need to know is that a woman was found dead and identified by her family to be a Miss Bonnie McCullough. Her body was cremated and will be buried on Wednesday."
Before, Bonnie would have been disgusted with his ease of talking of murder. But there was something in Damon that was not evil. If he killed, he had good reason. "Was she worth it?"
He smiled dreamily in remembrance. "Indeed. Had her husband murdered for insurance money."
"Indeed," Bonnie said, returning the smile. Then realization hit. She was dead, her family was already grieving their loss and she was laughing at their pain.
A hand went to her mouth, trying to cover the tremble. Finally overwrought with emotion, she turned and burrowed her face into Damon's neck.
His arms wrapped around her hesitantly, as if unsure how to deal with such emotion. Finally, he understood that all she need was a little comfort.
TBC