They made a handsome couple. Elena dressed in a beautiful brown and gold evening gown that complemented her warm complexion, and Damon looking like a model in his fashionable tuxedo. Clothing of any kind was available in Vegas provided one had the money. He openly ogled her up and down with a proud possessive stare, and she returned the look. "You're the handsomest man here," she whispered.
Damon winked at her as they hung far back from the crowd queuing up to enter a large white building. Damon had coached Elena, and she was letter perfect. They pretended to make small talk while he fiddled with her bracelet until a likely couple, separated from the herd of people streaming in, came near them. Damon, waiting until precisely the correct moment, turned and with great care accidentally bumped into him. The man looked at Damon's face as Damon put a hand out to steady himself, and his eyes were caught. Elena quickly stepped between the man and the woman and captured her attention.
"What is this affair and how do you gain entry? Smile while you're talking to me," Damon commanded, laughing lightly and keeping a friendly smile on this face.
"It's a special exhibition of a privately owned painting by Matisse. It's a charity event, a thousand dollars a couple. I have our invitations." The man cheerfully told Damon the requested information.
"Give them to me. You and your wife are not feeling well. Bad food. You want to go home and spend the evening quietly."
Elena dilated her pupils while she spoke to the woman. "Your stomach is bothering you. Must be what you had for lunch."
The compelled man rubbed his stomach. "You know I'm not feeling that good."
"Me either." His wife agreed with her husband while moaning slightly.
"Hey, would you like our invitations?" He reached into his tuxedo pocket, offering them to Damon.
"Why, thank you." Damon responded politely as he took them. "I know you'll feel better tomorrow. You'll also feel pleased with yourself that you were able to help such a nice young couple."
The compelled pair smiled and quickly left for home.
Damon put his hand on the small of Elena's back and politely ushered her along. They easily blended in with the crowd of well-dressed men and woman heading into the large building. The interior was lavish without being gaudy. Tastefully elegant passed through Damon's mind.
There was a security area that everyone funneled through as invitations were carefully checked. Damon smiled cheerfully at the somber guard with the earplug, watched by another man whose demeanor and dress screamed private security guard.
As they passed through the check point, they entered a crowded gallery. An oil painting on an easel, highlighted by discreet lighting, was the focal point of the room. There were two men and a woman standing near the painting. They were obviously the organizers and perhaps the owner of the painting. They were greeting people as they moved close to view the painting, protected behind red ropes and by armed security guards. Security cameras were openly evident.
One of the men was a beacon drawing all eyes. He was a large man, at least six foot five with a powerful frame, and he dwarfed the slender man and woman standing near him. His thick brown hair, sprinkled with gray, was neatly pulled back in a ponytail, with a mustache of the same brown merging into a short beard framing his face. His high bridged nose and piercing hazel eyes under thick brows made him striking, but not everyone would call him handsome. Still he had rugged good looks. Only a custom made tuxedo could have fit those broad shoulders and still be molded to the rest of his body. The pants were perfectly tailored and the Italian leather shoes worked with the rest of his clothes to make him the picture of elegance.
The big man turned towards Damon as if he had caught him on radar, so Damon gave him a friendly nod. He was confused by the enigmatic smile that was returned. Elena noticed the little byplay and whispered, "Do you two know each other?"
Damon shrugged, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't recognize him offhand, but I think maybe I'm forgetting something. Like I should know him or of him." Something was unsettling him, but he couldn't pinpoint it. "Let's avoid him just to be on the safe side."
Elena nodded agreement, and they followed another crowd moving into a large ballroom type area. A band was playing and a lavish buffet was set up. It was crowded enough that they could move around unobtrusively. Damon grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Elena. They stood together, not quite back to back, but angled so they could cover most of the room.
They discretely searched the crowd. Elena was the first to speak. "There – I think that's – yes – that's him."
Her hesitancy turned to surety as a dancing couple twirled. Damon slowly turned, careful to attract no attention. He stood behind Elena looking over her shoulder.
That was definitely his brother, dashing in an immaculately tailored tuxedo, his hair carefully brushed, his green eyes flashing. He was squiring a large woman, her heels making her tower a couple of inches over him, around the floor. She was a deep bosomed woman, built on queenly lines. Her skin was stark white and her midnight black hair was so dark it shone with blue highlights under the lights on the dance floor. This was no girl trembling on the brink of womanhood, but a woman of experience. She was beautiful, but at least thirty years old. Her dress was constructed to show off her curves and prominently displayed a deep décolletage. Her blood red lips were lush and full, and she kept her dark eyes fastened hungrily on her dance partner. He gazed deep into hers as they danced, oblivious to everything and everyone around them.
Despite her size, he easily maneuvered her around the floor avoiding other dancing couples.
Elena gazed at her in fascination. She nudged Damon, leaning back against him to whisper, "She looks just like I've always imagined the wicked queen in Snow White would look."
Damon nodded a silent agreement without taking his eyes off the couple. He closely watched them and then as Stefan twirled her around he caught a really good view of her face.
His face showed alarm as something finally clicked in his mind, and he mumbled mostly to himself, "Oh no. Tara – Tara – of course! How could I be so stupid?" He made a face and his knees partially buckled. "And the big guy. Oh no!" If they hadn't been in such a public place he would have slapped his forehead in frustration at his own obtuseness.
Elena's head spun back around towards Damon as she picked up on his alarm. "What? What's wrong?"
Damon put his lips next to her ear. "We have to get out of here now. That's Atarah. We do NOT want to confront her directly."
He linked his arm with hers and leaned his head towards her, smiling and faking a light laugh, pretending amusement. "Move with me now," he urged.
Unfortunately, Stefan chose that moment to look over, and he froze as he spotted the two of them. His abrupt halt startled his partner, and if she hadn't been following his body so closely she would have fallen over. One quick look at his white face and pinched nostrils, and then her head swiveled in the direction of his angry gaze.
Damon hustled Elena along as quickly as possible without making a scene. As they passed a waiter, he put both their glasses on the man's tray, and they moved in a beeline towards an exit door. They made it to the outside hall when there was a whoosh of air, and they were both pinned up against the wall, feet dangling off the floor, by a big strong hand clamped around their necks.
Elena's feet flailed helplessly as the harsh grip on her neck cut off all air. One of her heels slipped off while the other hung on by a toe. Damon, experienced enough to know that fighting was useless, instead studied the man holding him up.
It was the large man that had been standing next to the painting greeting guests. His long muscular arms were straight out and showed no strain even though he was holding up a person in each.
The thin lips smiled as he watched Elena's struggles. "Newborn, stop struggling. Your body instinctively remembers that it once required air, but your vampire body does not need it. Relax and you will realize that you do not need to breathe."
As his voice penetrated her consciousness she ceased her panicked struggles and calmed herself. Once she comprehended that she was not really suffocating, she relaxed in his grip.
Seeing she had herself under control the large man turned his attention to Damon. "So young vampire, do you care to explain yourself?"
Damon could not get enough air through the vice like grip to speak, so he could only make strangled noises.
The large man was clearly toying with him. "Oh, right. I am choking you."
Suddenly his eyes shifted focus as he appeared to be listening to something or someone. He spoke in a guttural language that Damon not only didn't understand, but had never heard before. He appeared to get a response because he gave a little nod. "It appears your brother has had a temper tantrum and fled. So come in and explain yourselves."
Damon's eyebrows rose as he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Elena stumbled, rubbing her throat, and he quickly helped her regain her balance. After supporting her as she slipped into her shoes, he asked. "How did you kn—"
The big man interrupted. "How did I know who you were? You and the current doppelganger are in your brother's nightmares constantly."
Elena and Damon exchanged quick guilty glances, and then she moved closer to Damon instinctively seeking protection. The large vampire made her nervous. She searched her feelings and realized it was the sheer physical size of him that intimidated her. She had certainly felt less threatened around some of the Originals.
He motioned them to precede him. As they came near the entrance three humans, obviously bouncers slash bodyguards, sternly asked, "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, these are friends of mine." The big man smiled easily. "We were just having a private talk. It's time to go back in and join the festivities."