Everyone finish their cold shower? lol
All of the reviews from the last chapter made my day! I really appreciate the feedback :)
Now, this chapter has a big TRIGGER WARNING, for depression and self harm. Please do not read if you are triggered by, or uncomfortable with those topics.
Other than that, I'll see you at the bottom!
There had never been a moment, prior to this night, that Damon had ever been so aware of his body.
Every friction and touch against his skin was a shock to both his nerves and his brain, replacing all rationale with the only thing that mattered.
This woman in his arms.
There were about fifty ways he could think to get Elena naked and be inside of her all within the next ten minutes.
He could open the back door and climb into the seat with her sprawled beneath him.
He could carry her three steps over to the hood and have her pants down in seconds.
They could hide away in the alley next to the building across the street and he could fuck her against the brick wall.
So many options; and from the way she was staring at him, there would be no argument against whichever he decided.
But hell, with the way Elena was staring at him, he was not even going to last ten minutes.
Maybe the back of the car would be-
Before that train of thought could arrive at it's station, an obnoxious voice split through the night, interrupting all possibilities of immediate gratification.
"Yoooo, you know this is a public parking lot right?"
Damon turned his head to see some pub crawling hipster on the street eyeing them while standing next to his half drunk buddy, who was long overdue for a trim off his grizzly beard.
The two had clearly noticed himself and Elena along their way to whatever bar they had next decided to grace with their presence.
And was that not a thing of great misfortune...for them.
"Keep walking," Damon snarled out as he felt Elena stiffened.
For her sake, he would give the bastards one chance to walk away, but it would seem that Mr. Loudmouth knew not when to take a hint.
"If ya gonna put on a show, the least you could do is fuck under the good lighting!"
The man made an obscene gesture with his hips, and Damon didn't waste another breath on him.
There was one universal language that everyone understood.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he withdrew the gun he kept holstered to his back and aimed it at the mother fucker.
And what do you know? That waste of space damn near pissed himself the moment he saw it, scrambling away, yelling and dragging his buddy with him.
"Fottuto stronzo," he muttered, before turning his attention back to the beauty in his arms.
"Apologies," Damon said, as he put away his gun.
His gun.
Elena had rejoined reality at the sight of it, and cursed her damn libido as she realized what a fool she was being.
No sex, however good it might be, could be worth the tumble down the rabbit hole she was now peering into.
Her soon to be employer had just pulled a fucking gun...on an innocent, albeit annoying, passerbyer.
All because the guy had dared to make a lude comment?
What kind of psycho did something like that? And even more so, what if the stranger hadn't taken off?
Would Damon have actually shot at him?
What the hell was she doing, acting this way with a man like him?!
Damn it, she knew better than this!
"Cara mia," Damon stroked her face, and Elena's stomach heaved, "Let me go."
"Wh-"
"Let me go," she said, a little louder, feeling suddenly cold, "Now. Or I swear to God, I'll knee you where it hurts!"
She was back on her feet before the words were even all the way out, but Damon was still too close, staring at her like she had grown another head.
"I do not understand…"
She shook her head, dropping her gaze to their feet, as not to get sucked back into his, "This...this is a bad idea. We can't- you can't touch me like that again. I told you before, our…" she couldn't bring herself to say the word 'relationship', "This is only about business."
Silence followed her declaration, stretching so long, she was forced to glance up.
Damon's brows were pulled together in confusion.
"You want me."
She flinched, but didn't bother denying his words.
There was no point. His hand had been inside of her; felt how wet she was.
"That's irrelevant."
"Elena-"
"We have a business partnership," she reiterated, cutting him off, "From now until I complete your task and get paid for it. When you are ready to discuss the job, you can message me and I will respond. Until then, I ask that you leave me the hell alone. Now, good night, Mr. Salvatore."
Then with as much dignity as she could muster, Elena shouldered him out of the way of her car door, and climbed inside of it.
Even as she cranked the engine, Damon still just stood there, staring after her.
She focused her eyes ahead and put the car in drive.
Then drove away without looking back.
A drink. He needed a fucking drink.
Despite his usual rules of divulgence, the first thing Damon did when he got to SINC was go up to the closest bar for a shot.
Then two. Three...five?
He quit counting, turning the glass up just in time for another to be placed in front of him.
It was not until his edging temper had been placated that he waved the bartender off and took a look around.
The place was infested with its usual patrons. Men with tattoos, dressed in black with different colored hair or piercings, women that were almost naked, dancing and rubbing against them, in ways he was sure they thought were enticing.
A mess of lights and faces and music thrummed around him, and it made him sick.
Damon fumbled his way across the club, to the bathrooms way in the back.
The room was dimly lit by blue fluorescents, seedy enough for people to get up to no good, but for now it was blissfully empty, and much more quiet when the door shut behind him.
He went to the nearest sink and splashed some water onto his face.
It did not help clear the images in his brain.
His intruder with hard eyes and a cold voice, bidding him goodnight.
Everything had turned sour so quickly.
What the hell had happened to steal all that heat she had been feeling before?
Surely it was more than that momentary interruption, though the urge to add the piece of shit to his hit list was tempting.
The asshole had ruined everything!
Or was it something that he, himself, had done?
No. She wanted me.
When that strapping date of hers had disappeared, Damon had quelled his more destructive urges by distracting himself with Elena, and the way she had responded to him...Mhmmmm.
His hips swivelled involuntarily at the memory of her frantic body against them.
Of the dampness between her thighs.
Fuck her, she had wanted him; as much as he had wanted her, and more than she had wanted her date.
She had burned for him, and he could still feel the scorch marks on his lips, where she had bitten down in her hunger to have more of what he was giving her.
So what the fuck had gone wrong?
Like a candle snuffed, that fire of hers had bled away, replaced with something else entirely.
He hated the way she had looked at him before her departure...as if she were already miles away from that dark corner with him.
She had been overcome with something so detached and so far from his reach he wanted to hit something...or scream.
Or both.
In fact….was he screaming?
Damon suddenly became aware that his mouth was open, but no...there was no other noise but the muffled music and the thoughts shouting inside of his head.
He forced his jaw to shut and fell forward, until his forehead touched the mirror, and he closed his eyes.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Was there not enough on his list to worry about? Why bother adding something else to it?
His problems were as numerous as his goals and at the end of the day, this intruder was no more than a means to an end.
Everything. Was means to an end.
Elena meant nothing; in the big picture.
Just like he meant nothing.
Damon's head rolled, smudging the glass, and a short, wild laugh escaped him.
God damn him….he was slipping.
And apparently losing his fucking mind on top of it all.
The room swirled a little, and he wasn't sure if it was the floor or himself that was moving.
Maybe both.
His grip on the sink tightened, until his knuckles were white and aching.
He pulled away...and looked at his reflection.
Whatever that was staring back...was not him.
No, it was a shell of the man he pretended to be.
Someone in control. Someone far removed. Someone untouchable.
The illusion had become so real that it was all he had now...all he had in the whole damn world.
Damon's head whipped forward before he was consciously aware of letting it, and suddenly there was blood...and pain.
The mirror had cracked, fragmenting beneath his forehead, and ironically, the pounding ache made things crystal clear.
It felt good to hurt...to release some of what had been denied to him not once, not twice, but three fucking times tonight.
The easing that spread throughout his body was so euphoric that he was half tempted to slam in head again.
And again.
Again. Again. Again.
How many times would it take until everything inside of him was set free?
No. He would need a bigger exit wound for that.
Damon reached under the back of his shirt and palmed his glock.
The gun was a familiar weight in his hand, and though cool to the touch, his fingers fitting around the grip was like coming home.
He pulled it out. Admired it.
Used the muzzle to scratch the side of his head and wondered just how bad a bullet to the temple would actually hurt.
People said it was a fast way to go, didn't they?
Just a quick POP and all that you are is no more.
It was how his father had left this world; execution style...and similarly, his mother.
As the hard metal bit into his skin, Damon wondered if they would be waiting for him, somewhere beyond this life.
If there even was anything beyond it.
He wasn't a big believer in fate, or destiny, or any of that, but perhaps some bloodlines were just meant to end with tragedy.
A single click.
The circle would be complete and all his worries would cease to exist.
His finger danced along the safety release and the room dipped once more, turning him faster and faster, until the walls were the floor and the floor was the ceiling.
Oh god, perhaps he had taken those shots at the bar too fast.
He closed his eyes, but the spinning didn't ease up, until a shrill noise broke through the haze in his brain.
His pocket was vibrating…
Oh. Right.
His phone was ringing.
"You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away," Elena finished singing the lullaby, brushing Nadia's hair back from her face as the sleep overtook those tiny features.
It was later than her usual bedtime, but the little girl had conned her aunt and mother into letting her stay up to finish a movie.
Elena hadn't minded.
The longer Nadia was awake, the longer it would be before Kat could ask her about the date.
Or, more likely, interrogate her for answers as to why she was at home watching a disney movie, instead of getting it on with the sexy doctor.
And in all honesty, Elena was having trouble even remembering what all she and Liam had even talked about on their date.
The events that had taken place in the parking lot had thoroughly wiped her memory of anything other than Damon's lips...Damon's hand...that deep, accented voice, breathless in her ear.
Which was not doing her a whole lot of good, considering she had all but ran from him, terrified that if she didn't, she would end up falling into the back seat of her car...or worse, fucking him right there against the driver door.
In a public parking lot.
After he had so very clearly threatened bodily harm to some stranger who had interrupted them.
God, a shrink would have a field day with whatever was going on inside her head.
Then would probably have her committed and locked away forever in some psych ward for self-sabotaging destructive tendencies.
Self destructive.
Now wasn't that the perfect description for all of the choices she had made her life?
Sticking around an emotionally abusive household; check.
Finally leaving said house with no plan, money, or place to live, and no immediate means of acquiring them; check.
Taking dangerous, life threatening jobs for the higher payout; check.
Being attracted to the likes of Damon Salvatore, acting on the impulse, and still planning to work for the man?
Check, check, check.
With a deep sigh, Elena pulled the sheets up higher around Nadia's body and slowly lifted off of the small bed.
Continuing to lay there in this state of mental deterioration wasn't going to do her any favors, and it would be best to let the girl sleep in peace anyway.
God knows she didn't need anymore bad energy floating around her.
Outside of the bedroom, she could hear Katherine in the kitchen, washing dishes from her and Nadia's dinner, and biting the bullet, Elena joined her.
"Did she go down okay?" Kat asked, whenuhu she saw her.
Elena nodded, "Easy enough. Do you want some help?"
"Sure," Kat moved a step to the side, giving Elena enough room at the sink to rinse off the dishes she had soaped up.
As they started to work together, she counted down the seconds before Kat asked the inevitable.
And sure enough, after exactly nine and a half beats of silence, she did exactly that.
"So I take it the date didn't go well?"
Elena sighed, and worked on her poker face, "It was fine. Liam was nice...I just wasn't feeling any chemistry there."
"Uh huh," Kat drew out the words, "Is that why you walked in looking like you wanted to kill someone?"
An uninvited image of Damon pulling out that gun ran through her mind, "Please don't even joke about that."
Her sister was staring at her now, the plate she was still running a washcloth over, all but forgotten, "Elena-"
"Don't give me the lecture about how we're twins and you can read my mind," she interrupted before Kat could do exactly that, "I tried the date thing tonight. It didn't work out."
Katherine's expression hinted that she wasn't buying it, "I may not be able to read your mind, but I know when something's up. You told me yesterday that being around our new boss had reminded you of how repressed you've been and the hot doctor was supposed to fix that for you. So what's the problem?"
Elena sighed dramatically, "No problem...other than my stupid brain finding 'the new boss' way too attractive."
"Yours and mine both," Kat smirked, and turned back to the extra clean plate, "Those baby blues make me want to do bad things to him. But what does Damon Salvatore have to do with your not going home with Dr. Sexy?"
Because I know just how it feels to do bad things with those baby blues staring at you with enough heat to light the world on fire, she couldn't help but think, and a blush colored her cheeks.
"I don't know," she said for Katherine's benefit, "Maybe I'm projecting or something. But whatever I was supposed to be feeling just wasn't there with Liam."
This, it seemed, was acceptable enough, and Kat shrugged, "Maybe it's the doctor thing? The hero-savior kind of guys have never been my type either."
"Oh, I know," Elena chuckled, bumping her sister with her hip, "You prefer the bad ones with the tricked out cars who refuse to wear condoms."
A little smile flickered across Kat's lips, "Well, at least I got something good out my bad taste in men."
Elena nodded and glanced toward Nadia's door.
Of that, she had to agree.
That little girl meant the world to them both, and was the reason for all the risks and close calls.
It would all be worth it if it meant Nadia could live a long and happy life, and nothing, not even the world's most smoldering pair of crystal blue eyes, was going to make her forget that.
Sitting the gun down on the sink, Damon pulled the screaming cell out of his pocket and hit the green, "What?"
Lorenzo's voice came back at him, sounding miles away, "Saw you on the monitor, Boss. Looked like a rough night. You leave us a mess to clean up?"
Damon laughed slowly as his eyes sought out their counterpart in the broken reflection of the shattered glass.
Blue and blood stared back at him with irony.
He was the fucking mess.
And it was going to take more than a mop and bleach to scrub away the stains that had seeped into his skin.
"No," he answered, well aware that the gruffness of this situation had warped his voice into something barely recognizable.
Or maybe he was just drunk.
"We are...solid," he elaborated after clearing his throat, "As long as you and Mason keep tight on the security tonight."
"On it," Enzo promised, then a weighty pause halted the line, "Boss...uh...might I make a suggestion?"
Damon looked down at the glock, "This is a free country, no?"
"There are hundreds of horny girls out on the floor at this moment," Enzo continued, taking his rhetoric as permission to speak.
Damon frowned, "Your point?"
"Fuck one of them. It will take off the edge."
The protest came to his lips, but Enzo shut it down, "I have seen you hit the bar tonight, Boss. You have an edge. Take care of it."
His subordinate ended the call and Damon was left disgruntled.
Was this night going to turn any more upside down?
He flickered his gaze back to the busted mirror and reached up to touch the red on his skin.
It needed to be cleaned up...then maybe, perhaps, it actually would be good to do as Enzo had suggested.
After all, there was more pleasure in spilling blood that was not his own, and it was not as if this self deprecation would be leaving him any time soon.
Making up his mind, Damon hit the redial option on his phone, and wiped up his face as it rang, holding pressure to stop the bleeding.
The line was answered quickly, and he wasted no time giving his order, "Your point is well received. Find a girl. Take her up to the office to wait for me."
An image of his intruder flashed across Damon's mind and he growled, "Oh, and Enzo...make it a brunette."
By the time the call ended, he was presentable again, save for the spiderweb cut on his forehead, which was easily hidden behind his hair.
Next, he reholstered his gun and thought of how often he had considered using it over the past year.
Then repeated the same words that always saw him to another sunrise, with breath still in his lungs..
Tomorrow, he lied to himself, there is always tomorrow.
A little darker this chapter. Let me know what you thought!
