Summary & Timeline: An AU one shot where Bonnie is Life, and Kai is Death.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own TVD, but if I had, Bonkai; and Kai and Bonnie in general, would still be going strong today. I don't care what the Plec had to say on these two, they will live on in my heart.

Warning(s): I listened to the song, "Dark In My Imagination," by Of Verona far too much and I got feels. Rated R for situations.

Words: 1,228

His fingers bit at her flesh, and he whispered that he'd sit her on a throne of blood and bones and name her queen. And she'd giggled, wispy and child-like. She hadn't caught the red in his eyes—the divine passion of which he wished to take her, wholly and mercilessly. She wasn't an angel, no. She was a celestial deity among the fair, and she was his.

There were some things to be said about Kai Parker. He could guarantee they were none to sweet to the ears, but when he was at the top their envious slurs always fell deaf. He sat on a throne of sin with no cause for redemption or mercy. He took what he wanted and prided on the fear of others. And, oh, had they feared him. A look, a smile, a touch—all went on bent knees at the sight of him.

All, but Bonnie Bennett.

She was a special kind. She hadn't feared him outright, rather, she knew what he was and accepted him all the same.

Now, Kai had many interest, and if asked he'd be at the ready to write it down, with a knife at the ready...or a gun. He wasn't prejudice to these things. He liked his options like he'd liked his victims. But damn, when it came to Bonnie Bennett, he'd found his options were faint.

She came in like pure holy, eyes aflame, and a lush grin. She hadn't known a thing, but she'd entrapped him in her fervor grip, made his head daze, and washed the vice from under his feet.

And now—right when he caught those green eyes amongst the mist—she knew he would rip away the halo to paint her a crown of thorns.

There's a place she liked to go. It was all her own and her lonely. The times when she'd be bombarded with the world's problems had been too long now that she thought on it. She supposed it was part of the title. She supposed it was her fate to please and give and never ask for a gift in return. She had to be the savior with a heart colored lilac, blessing those with solace and honey, and for her this was okay.

This would be okay.

For once she'd like to think that at the end there would be a light specially made for her and all her own. Instead, it was only darkness and the constant reaping of what she once was.

But it was okay. It would be okay.

And then he came to her, wrapped in white velveteen, a grin so wicked, and a voice so black. Those cool blue eyes marked her a grim fate, for all the life she'd given, death had finally come to keep her.

When the town sleeps and her world is dark, he'd stood there—her shadow. Cold fingertips dare to pry her from the air, dragging nails along her spine, and awakening her tired soul with vigorous thrums.

The urge to deny him any favor was ever present, like it had been all the times before. A word or two on how his admiration was unhealthy, and he, a little twist of the head and a raised brow were always his just response before he swept her in a kiss.

And it was an often occurrence. He'd stride by with nary a say, plucked her from the earth, and put her on a plinth. It was a cliché, the way he worshiped her.

She hated it.

She hated his hands—oh, those very hands that dared caress her skin, they held her close, and he so devoutly claimed her.

And she can't help herself as all notion is lost on her.

And he hated her for it.

It was always like this. He'd come to take her very breath, stood behind with arms round her waist, and a whisper in the right of her ear. She'd stiffen and try her might to have him leave—forget her and all that she was. But this time was different.

Bonnie faced him, a haze to mask the viridescence, and darken what was usually the only light he'd ever known. It was her who had pressed him to the duvet, made him see the high. He was used to quick movements and cold words. He expected them, completely heartless—no warmth when death comes knocking down your door demanding what was meant for him.

But not Bonnie. She took Kai with a fire, stripped him bare without remorse, and when he thinks he's found the moment to take back the control he's lost—running palms over naked knees, to rest on hips, then cup those pert breasts. He made the mistake of falling in sight of that piercing gaze. He was stilled, lost in her warmth. His kiss was clumsy, knocking her teeth, and biting her lip. He had never been so virginal and unsteady. He was always the one to give, and she the diffident—the angel.

"I'm no angel." Bonnie strokes her palm along his sex, giving a tight smile while he swears in the dark. "Sometimes I regret it—them—all of it."

Kai shushed her cries, the pads of his thumbs brushing away the sorrow that stained her tawny skin, and biting away all her pain between his teeth. He wouldn't be so cruel to have her drown like he had. He took her with her name on his lips, like a prayer, like she was the only religion he'd ever known—just him between her bare thighs, and the hum on her tongue that burned so sweetly in his ears.

And he gazed upon her, traced the everglow along her flesh, and sounded her name once, twice, thrice more, just, "Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie..."

It was always Bonnie when he'd interlace his fingers in hers, in the way she'd wrap round his waist as he rocked against her, drawing out in slow motions to bring her right there, right on the edge of where he stood, in everlasting darkness and frozen death. He couldn't help himself—never could he help it when those nails drew along his spine, or the endearing accolade of which he'd come to know had been reserved for him—never was there a secret when his life had been held so lovingly in green eyes.

But when it was over. When the fire died, and the colors of his reverie dulled into black and white, Kai was silent on his side, while Bonnie did the same on hers—ever remaining at opposite ends of the line, and never agreeing on the aspects of meaning, for she was the beautiful lie, and he the ugly truth.

He laughed, manically, out of pain and despair. Bonnie was used to that odd disposition of his, and this was the first she'd felt for him, and felt that she too should be right on that edge with him.

"Did you know," he came with bitter recite. "You'll be the death of me one day?"

And she giggled, wispy and childlike, stating, "That's ironic."

AN:

I've been wanting to write some Bonkai for a while, but happy things. Per usual, I lack happy things, so maybe next time with something a bit longer... Hope you enjoyed. :)