Elena watches Damon spread an avocado over the toast and sprinkle tomato chunks on top. There is a joy in how he does it, as if for a moment he's happily absorbed in the prospect of doing something for her and her alone, a joy made plain by his subtle smile and soft gaze.
He brings it over, a breakfast that may or may not become a part of the rhythm of their lives. For the first time ever, she can see her future, and she wants it; she wants to stay and be a part of it more than anything she's ever wanted... for this new relationship to be something she sails within until she's very old... She's not naive or delusional, though. No, Elena is all too aware of all the things they still have to talk about, but for now...
"Who knew you could cook?" Elena jests, taking a bite and nearly moaning at how good it tastes.
"Avocado toast is hardly cooking, but I am pretty good in the kitchen if I do say so myself," Damon teases, winking at her.
"Thank you for staying, for taking care of me and making me breakfast. I really appreciate it."
"I was happy to do it," he admits, picking up her hand and kissing it.
She practically melts into a puddle at how charming he can be. "Will you look at the time?" she gasps, noticing the clock. "I need to go to the police briefing."
"You go; I'll clean up."
"Thanks, Damon," she replies, before hurrying to get ready, but before she's even through her bedroom door, Damon latches onto her wrist and pulls her back to him.
"What about a goodbye kiss?" he entreats, waggling his brows suggestively.
Elena keeps her eyes open until the very moment that Damon's lips touch hers. When she sees his lids flutter shut, she does the same so she can concentrate on every single sensation he elicits in her body, how his lightest touch feels like lightning arcing through her every nerve ending, how his lips, though still barely touching hers, make her feel like a phoenix, rising on the flames of passion. It's ridiculous and lovely, and she wouldn't change a moment. ..
She slides her hands down to rest on his chest, and not even a split-second later, he pulls her flush against him, lips closing possessively over hers. Elena sighs into his mouth as his hands move to her back, pressing her breasts against the firm, muscled wall of his chest.
Damon removes his mouth, but before Elena can protest, he begins to plant soft kisses everywhere, at the right corner of her mouth, at the perfect bow of her top lip, at the left corner. As she feels her knees beginning to buckle, he completes the circle, gently sucking her lower lip between his teeth.
When he lowers his mouth to hers once more, Elena makes a little whimpering noise in the back of her throat. Damon's hands move up from around her back, allowing him to cup her face in his hands. He moves her head and she feels the way his lips press more firmly on hers, deepening the kiss..
No man has ever kissed her like this before. Like she's the only woman in the world. Like every time he kisses her, he finds new and wonderful ways to bring her the most exquisite pleasure she's ever felt. So, when she feels Damon pulling away, Elena touches his lips with the tip of her tongue; just as quickly, his mouth parts, and she sinks into the heaven of it.
Her hands come up from his shoulders to thread her fingers through his hair and bring him closer. When she pulls hers back shyly, she feels his tongue surge into her mouth to gently trace the rough surface of her teeth. Soft moans of pleasure are the only sounds in the kitchen until she pulls back out of a need for oxygen. Damon rests his forehead against Elena's while she struggles to get her breathing under control.
Elena gently rubs her thumb over Damon's lower lip and smiles. "Will I see you later?"
"You can count on it. Call me when you're free," he tells her and drops another peck on her forehead.
"I will," she agrees, pressing her lips to her fingertips and blowing Damon a kiss.
He raises his hand in a wave and pushes the door closed.
Like a moth to the flame, her fingers migrate to her still-swollen lips. That was the most sensual, toe-curling, knee-buckling, mind-blowing kiss that she's ever experienced.
Elena runs into the police station and hurries to the conference room, taking a seat just as Elijah begins to speak.
"Yesterday evening, another murder occurred, this time at the Binion Gambling Hall. We don't yet have the coroner's report about the cause of death, but we believe this killing is related to the others," Detective Mikaelson speaks into a microphone as cameras flash around him.
"Miss Starr," Elijah acknowledges, pointing at her.
"Was a rose left at the scene?"
"Yes," he nods. "Elena," he calls her name when she raises her hand.
"Do you have any surveillance footage?"
"Yes, our technicians are going over it now."
"If it picked up anything, will you put it out for the public?" Elena asks in follow-up.
"Our hope is that if, and that's a very big one, the camera caught someone, the public will be able to help us find and identify that person," Detective Gerard answers for Elijah.
"We can't show the entire video—it's evidence and will be needed for the Grand Jury if we make an arrest. However, we'll provide still photos to show what the suspect looks like to the best of our ability. And, of course, that's all contingent on if the film yielded anything useful," Elijah adds.
When the press conference concludes, Elena ducks into the stairwell, hoping to speak with Rebekah.
"Elena, wait up," Elijah calls after her.
"What is it?" she turns, watching as he reaches her level.
"Meredith told me that you got mugged. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine...You didn't let the guy go did you?"
Elijah shakes his head. "His name's Silas Buell. Long rap sheet, he was on probation and broke off his ankle bracelet, so he won't be leaving anytime soon."
"Good. Damon said he'd extricate his heart if you let him go," Elena tells him, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
"Excuse me?" Elijah asks, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"Nothing. He was being facetious. If you need me for anything regarding Silas, let me know."
"That'll depend on how he pleads in court."
She nods. "If there's nothing else, I'm going to go downstairs," Elena says, pointing down the staircase.
"Rebekah should be in her office. Watch yourself," he cautions.
"I will, and thanks, Elijah," she calls after him before disappearing the stairwell door.
"Hello, Elena," Rebekah remarks, spinning her chair to face her friend when she appears in the doorway.
"I just came to see if you had anything on the autopsy yet?"
"Nope, her body's still in the cooler; I've been rather busy."
"But you're not the only pathologist. Why don't they help with the backlog?" Elena questions, leaning against the door frame.
"Because a couple are on vacation. Now unless you have something important, I need to get back to work."
"I got mugged last night; does that qualify?" Elena asks with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
"What!?" Rebekah gasps, and jumps to her feet to look over her friend. "You don't look any worse for wear, but are you okay?"
"Damon helped. He called the police and took me home."
"Damon? Is he that cute guy?"
"Yes, he's very cute," Elena admits and smiles to herself for a moment. "If you learn anything, call me, will you?"
"I'll try," Rebekah agrees and walks with her to the stairwell door.
"I'll talk to you soon. Bye," Elena adds, blowing her a kiss before heading back upstairs.
Ted Bundy arrives at the Florida State University Campus on Sunday morning, January 8, 1978, and settles into a room at the Oak. Unrecognized, he moves about the campus, sometimes even sitting in on classes. He knows no one, and no one knows him; he is a nobody.
It's 3:00 A.M. when Nita Neary arrives at the Chi Omega House after a night out with her boyfriend. When she gets to the back door, she finds it standing open. This doesn't really alarm her; she knows the lock needs to be fixed. Shrugging if off, she goes inside and almost immediately hears a loud thump. Thinking that it's her boyfriend, she looks outside just in time to see him getting into his vehicle. A moment later, she hears someone running in the corridor above.
Curious, Nita moves to the doorway leading into the foyer, being sure to hide from anyone coming down the front stairs. With the chandelier still lit, she can see it well. The footsteps sound on the front stairway now. And then she sees him, a slender man wearing a dark jacket. A navy blue, knit cap is pulled down over the top half of his face. The man is crouched over, his left hand on the doorknob. In his right hand, he's holding what looks like a log with some cloth wrapped around it.
Seconds later, the door opens, and the man flees. The first thoughts that pop into Nita's mind are that they've either been burglarized or maybe one of her sorority sisters snuck a man inside? She only catches that glimpse, now frozen in her conscious mind, of the crouching figure with a club.
Elena hits the pause button to take a swallow of coffee.
In the early morning hours of Jan. 15, 1978, an assailant broke into the Chi Omega sorority house at Florida State University and sexually assaulted and murdered two women. He then made his way down the hall and attacked Kathy Kleiner, and her roommate, Karen Chandler in their room. He wasn't done yet. On that same night, he went a few blocks down the street and similarly bludgeoned dance student Cheryl Thomas.
In the sorority house, rooms 4, 8 and 9 are littered with the debris left by both the killer and the paramedics. The walls are sprayed with droplets of blood, both the floors and beds are full of it, along with bits of bark from oak log used to bludgeon the women. Officer Oscar Brannon went to the rec room, and, on his hands and knees, collected eight pieces of the same bark. Entry had obviously been made through the back door where the lock had been nonfunctional. He found a pile of oak logs in the backyard of the sorority house. It appeared that the killer had picked up his weapon on the way in...
Some investigators feel that Lisa Levy was attacked first, and her killer waited in her room for other victims. It is more likely that Margaret Bowman was the first victim, Lisa the second, followed by the brutal beatings of Kathy Kleiner and Karen Chandler. If true, the man, in the grip of a compulsive, maniacal frenzy, moved through the Chi Omega House second floor with his oaken club, killing and bludgeoning his victims all within a space of less than fifteen minutes! And all within earshot of almost three dozen witnesses who didn't even hear him.
As Lisa Levy and Margaret Bowman were lying in the morgue of Tallahassee Memorial Hospital, the area around the sorority house became alive with patrol and detectives' cars from the Tallahassee Police Department, the Leon County Sheriff's Office, and the Florida State University Police Department, all looking for the man in the dark jacket and light trousers. They had no idea what he looked like-no hair color, no facial description beyond the fact that he'd had a large, sharp nose.
It was in Lake City, Florida, midway between Jacksonville and Tallahassee, that Bundy's last and youngest known victim, 12-year-old Kimberly Diane Leach, was abducted outside her school on Feb. 9, 1978. Her body was found two months later in a deserted hog shed.
On January 24, 1989, Bundy was executed around 7 a.m. at the Florida State Prison in an electric chair sometimes known as "Old Sparky." Outside the prison, crowds cheered and even set off fireworks after Bundy's execution.
Bundy's body was cremated in Gainesville. Before he was executed, he requested his ashes be scattered in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State, where he murdered at least four of his victims. He stands as one of the most prolific serial killers in American history. No one knows the exact number of women he murdered. He confessed to 36. But the real answer to that question went with Bundy to the electric chair. While alive, Bundy hinted at as many as 100 victims, but there is no real way to know for sure.
After reading the list of his known victims, along with their ages, she has to pause for a moment to compose herself.
"That's it for today's podcast. I am hoping to be able to give you an update on the Las Vegas case in my next episode. If there are stories you want me to tell, send your suggestions to me at elgilbert55 at gmail dot com.
I'm Elena Gilbert and this is 'Someone Knows Something'.
"I actually met Ted Bundy once," Damon remarks, poking his head in, having heard the ending of her podcast. Elena gives him a slack-jawed look.
"How could you have met him? He's been dead for 33 years," she asks incredulously.
"Well, Elena, that's the thing about vampires; we don't age...I'm the eternal stud," he teases, winking at her.
"So how old are you?"
"Do you want the truth?" he grins impishly.
"Yes," she replies, arching an eyebrow.
"I'm 181 years old. I was born and raised on a grand Virginia Plantation."
"Did you fight in the war?" Elena asks, hanging on his every word with rapt attention.
"Which one?" he quips, and waggles his brows.
"Which one?" Elena asks, pondering the question. "I guess you have lived through a few. I meant The Civil War."
"I did. I joined the Confederate Army on my father's order. I hated everything the South stood for," Damon admits, looks far away for a moment. He snaps out of it when he feels Elena squeeze his hand. "I had been planning to desert for some time...and I finally did, right before my platoon joined General Lee's Army of Northern Virginia at Gettysburg. If I hadn't, I think I'd be buried there now... The only reason I didn't leave sooner was I knew I'd earn my father's wrath."
"Oh my God, the things you can tell me. You're a living, breathing history book!" she marvels, her face practically aglow. "You said you met Bundy; did you know Lizzie Borden? Jack the Ripper? Al Capone? Elliot Ness? John F. Kennedy?"
"Woah! Slow down there," he says, laughing. "I didn't know who Ted Bundy would become when I met him at the University of Washington. I didn't stay there long."
"You went to college?" Elena questions, her forehead creasing.
"Sure, plenty of times. I always had a thing for sorority girls," Damon touts, his mouth curling into a smirk.
"You're disgusting," Elena says with a guffaw and a playful roll of her eyes.
"I know..." Damon agrees, winking at her. "As far as the others," he shakes his head back and forth. "I didn't know them, but I may have shared a little bootlegged whiskey with Al..."
"You have to tell me..." she starts, the words dying on her lips when Damon pulls her hard up against his body and lowers his mouth to hers. He only holds the kiss for a few seconds before he raises his head to look into her eyes.
Elena sees his eyes darken before he drops his mouth to hers once more. His lips are soft and fluid as they caress hers. He moves his head back and forth slightly, causing friction she's surprised doesn't cause spontaneous combustion on the spot. Elena feels liquid heat course through her veins, making the soles of her feet burn and threatening to melt every bone in her body.
Damon places one thumb in the center of her chin and applies just enough pressure so that her jaw eases and her lips part to allow his tongue entrance. When it rubs against hers, Elena moans softly. Feeling his indrawn breath when she boldly pushes it back and does some exploring of her own.
As if not to be outdone, Damon slides one hand down her jaw, causing Elena to make embarrassing little moaning noises in the back of her throat. She aches to tell him where she wants his touch, but he just keeps kissing her. When his hand gently brushes across her breast, she begins to grind against him.
Damon's hands are electric, they must be, for wherever they touch, her skin tingles in a frenzy of static. Every nerve in her body and brain is electrified. It's the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible. It feels so insanely good that she seriously considers pushing him to the floor and having her way with him.
When they break apart, she can see the question in his eyes. He's leaving it up to her whether they go further or not. She can feel it, both his need for her and his desire to respect her choices. She's eternally grateful, if not a little annoyed that he doesn't just pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. Then again, maybe it's best to wait. No reason to be too hasty and get her heart broken.
She takes a few more deep breaths before smiling ruefully and nestling closer, luxuriating in his strong arms, the rough feel of his t-shirt against her cheek, his scent. This is good, too, she thinks. After a time of contented cuddling, he takes her hand and they turn and go for a walk in companionable silence.
Huge thanks to all of you. You're inspiring and have kept me here long past when I had thought about getting a new hobby. You're all amazing.
Huge thanks to Morgan and Eva for their contributions to this story. They're amazing and so are their stories.
Chapter title: 'I Can't Hold Back' by Survivor.
Ah, the 80's! They did have the best music! ;)
Have a beautiful day and a wonderful week in front of you. Until next time...