Hey guys, I am so touched by all of the amazing reviews I received for chapter 8. I haven't blushed this much in a while! Chapter 9 is a bit long, but from what I've read in the reviews, you seem to enjoy that a lot! ;)
I've got a big list of thank yous, so here goes:
KOF, UrbanWitch, RockerChick08, Vampire Lover26, CGandJaz, Impress, cherry9021, TriGemini, Lily (Haha, you can get to know Fiona a little better in this chapter ;)), FekinLOVEtea, doodlechick12, babyshan211, saderia, DiorNicole, -'.SmxiiWolfyRosie.'-, Wateva, Raqual88, Periodic Brilliance, etgoddess, fanficfan84, Tiffany
So last week I forgot to include a list of songs for my ongoing soundtrack for "Something Supernatural." Here are my picks for this chapter. Also, thank you to Periodic Brilliance for the Flogging Molly suggestion. I love the song! Look out for it in chapter 11. ;) Enjoy the music and the story!
"True Love Way" by Kings of Leon
"Stand Inside Your Love" by Smashing Pumpkins
"Cosmic Love" by Florence and the Machine
Chapter 9: Burn For You
Daylight streamed through the open windows of the cottage kitchen. The walls had been painted the loveliest lemon curd hue and the cabinets were a rich green.
Bonnie clutched the earthenware mug close to her chest with both hands. The pleasant mist of heat that rose from it gently warmed her face.
So many questions. So many unexpected answers. That was the only way she could think to summarize the events of the previous evening.
Fiona Reid was anything but who she had claimed to be back in Dublin. For starters, she was a well-trained witch with a history tied to The Prophecy.
The Revelation
Bonnie and the Salvatore brothers stood shell-shocked by the words that had just escaped from her lips. "Welcome to Bellwain Cottage. I'm Tabitha's last remaining descendant."
The petite copper skinned witch watched with great amusement as three distinct expressions began to form on their faces.
Stefan, ever the determined detective, was busy connecting the dots in his head. Bonnie was absolutely flabbergasted, but waiting to hear more.
Damon, on the other hand, looked about as enraged as a bull after having a red flag waved before his eyes. Right now his were clouded by a deep desire to punish the woman who had deceived them.
Deciding to break the uneasy silence, she smiled warmly. "Anyone got any questions?"
"You lied to us," Bonnie began softly. "Why?"
"Well why not?" she replied, placing a hand on her hip. "I go out for breakfast and suddenly three mysterious Americans are yappin' away about a cottage with my address and I'm not supposed to be curious?"
Bonnie supposed she had a point. "So you had no idea we'd be in Dublin?"
"I'm a witch, not a psychic," she replied. "I was in Dublin visiting an old friend. Then by the grace of Elora, you three turned up."
"The Witch Goddess?" Bonnie queried, moving closer to where the woman sat.
"Ay," she nodded. "We witches have a very close bond with nature. Elora is everywhere. She's in the trees. The gentle stream of water that runs through these woods. The very soil beneath our feet."
Bonnie's eyes moved from one element of the landscape to the next in wonderment. Then her eyes came to rest upon Damon. He seemed to have calmed down considerably since the unforeseen twist in their little journey.
Still, he looked incredibly skeptical of every word that fell from Fiona's lips.
Then another thought dawned on her. "Wait a second. I shook your hand. I didn't get any strange vibes from you."
"I didn't get any strange vibes from you either," the dark-haired witch returned with a chuckle.
"But I can sense things," the pretty teenager insisted.
"And I can keep you from sensing things whenever I want," the woman answered.
Glancing over at a still fuming Damon Salvatore, she sighed. "You might want to turn your anger down a few hundred notches there, lad. I'm on your side."
Sensing his brother's growing irritation, Stefan took a step between the two. "You owe us an explanation, Fiona."
"If that's even her real name," Damon bitterly chucked in through gritted teeth.
"It is," she nodded. "Fiona Bridget Reid, to be more precise. I come from one of the oldest witching families in the western world."
Resting against the chocolate brown wooden fence, she stared up at the faces before her. "For centuries, we've been devoted followers of Elora."
"Of course spiritual worship is not our only purpose in life," the witch continued. "For over 145 years, we Bellwains, have been Guardians of the Prophecy. Your identity has remained a closely guarded secret for quite some time, my dear."
"You knew it would be me?" Bonnie's eyes bulged from their sockets.
How could these supposed "guardians" keep something so life-altering from her? Shouldn't they have spent the last few years preparing her for battle instead? Her magic still wasn't up to par.
Having heard each one of her thoughts, Fiona moved forward and placed a reassuring hand on the teenager's shoulder. "The rest of your life is going to be dramatic enough. How could we not grant you at least a little bit of normalcy for your first seventeen years?"
"I'm not even close to my magical peak yet," Bonnie insisted.
"You'll get there soon enough," the Irish witch replied confidently. "Just think of me as your own personal Glinda. Good witch, little less pale though," she winked.
"So what happens if we follow the yellow brick road?" Damon questioned her, quirking an eyebrow curiously.
"Your friend Elena gets saved and you two," she continued, pointing at the vampire and little witch. "Become proud parents."
Damon glanced over at Bonnie and found her shyly watching her feet. A rosy hue lit up her cheeks like two Chinese lanterns in a New Years parade.
"How do you know about Elena?" Stefan inserted.
"She's all that's been racing through your mind since we met," Fiona smiled sympathetically at the younger vampire. "I'll do whatever I can to help."
"So how exactly do you propose a witch and a vampire procreate, Glinda?" Damon queried, arching a brow inquisitively at her.
Taking another step closer to him, she looked him squarely in the eyes. "The old fashioned way."
Bonnie could feel her face grow warm instantly. Talk of reproduction was one thing; but sex with Damon Salvatore was in a whole different league of things that make you go hmmm...
A smirk spread across the vampire's handsome face. "Last time I checked, dead men shot nothin' but blanks."
"What can I say," she began to reply. "Sometimes all it takes is meeting the right person."
Damon locked eyes with Bonnie and almost immediately tapped into her thoughts. He could see every delicious, carnal image that swam through her imagination.
Her legs were tightly wound around his waist, as he carried her naked to his bed. Raven locks were fanned around her head like a halo, while her cinnamon skin was slicked with sweat.
Intoxicating pheromones filled his nostrils. He took her right there and a powerful wave of pleasure rippled through her body as she trembled beneath him.
Shaking his head from side to side, he knocked the image from his mind. Snap out of it, Salvatore!
"We really should be getting inside now," Fiona chimed in. "There are those who wonder in the night."
"The Fior?" Stefan asked.
"Their henchmen," she exclaimed. "Not all members of the witching world worship Elora. They turn to darkness for light. And they seek The Witch."
"Did Grams know?" Bonnie asked suddenly. "That it was supposed to be me?"
"No," Fiona replied. "She only knew that one day a Bennett woman would bear The Child. The pieces started to come together the night you were so viciously attacked in the woods."
An expression of utter remorse and embarrassment formed on the older vampire's face. He couldn't take back what he had attempted to do that night.
Of course, Emily had been his target. But it was Bonnie who felt the agonizing pain of his canines as they pierced through the delicate skin of her neck and plunged into her veins.
Taking a step closer to him, the little witch slid her tiny hand into his. She could feel the shame circulating through his undead body. "Let's go inside," she softly exclaimed, her angelic gaze fixed on him.
In The Morn
Fiona had revealed a great deal to them the night before. For one thing, the Bellwains were a dedicated and courageous lot.
Trying to keep a lid on one of the biggest secrets in the supernatural underworld was an arduous task not designated to the faint of heart. Each member of the family had sworn an oath and laid down their lives, prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice so that The Child may live.
Pure blood supernaturals came from far and wide in search of The Witch's identity. From Asian witching clans to American werewolves and Indian fairies, magical combat had become an all too frequent occurrence.
Fiona's own mother had perished in battle against one of the elusive Three. Her heart had been savagely ripped from her chest and a coin was placed strategically in its place.
'Lord Everett' was etched into the silver round - a name that continues to haunt her 'til this day.
Bonnie shuddered at the grotesque thought. She would need to concentrate all of her energy on becoming entirely proficient in The Craft if they were going to be able to save Elena and battle The Three.
Their dwelling had been well guarded by an invisible force field for hundreds of years. No amount of skilled, persistent scribing could reveal it.
Since their late night arrival, Fiona had placed a protection spell on the home and the land surrounding it. No one would be able to sense Bonnie's presence here. To them, it would continue to appear like any other cottage in the woods.
"My dreams led us here," Bonnie mentioned to the older woman the previous night. "I saw Murphy's, this house...and The Three."
It was an encouraging sign, Fiona concluded. Her powers were becoming amplified and had begun to manifest themselves in a deeper, more meaningful way than just having a flare for pyrotechnics.
Slicing a warm raisin scone in half, the petite American witch slathered a dollop of rich clotted cream on one side. Then she spooned a generous serving of sweet, sticky strawberry jam on top.
"Mmm," a familiar male voice slithered smoothly into her right ear. "Looks good."
Chomping down on the buttery pastry, she smirked as he sat beside her. "It tastes even better than it looks."
"I bet," he replied with a devilishly handsome grin.
Flirting with Damon Salvatore definitely hadn't been on her agenda a couple of weeks ago. If anything, the words 'stake, fire and imminent demise' were penciled into her planner with a little fanged stick figure drawing of him beside them.
"How was breakfast in the woods?" she inquired, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a white napkin.
"Here. Let me," he offered, removing the cloth from her grasp and gently wiping away the few traces of jam.
Then taking his chin between his thumb and index finger, he watched her reflectively. "Well it wasn't my usual breakfast," the vampire began, lounging against the wooden chair. "But it was a star-studded affair. Thumper and Bambi were there. And Piglet was just as delectable," he replied in a mock Irish accent.
Smacking him hard on the shoulder, she shook her head in horror. "There go all of my happy childhood memories."
Grimacing in pretend pain, Damon yelped. "Ouch! You know, that really hurt."
Dipping her finger into the mound of clotted cream on her plate, Bonnie held her index finger up between them. The blue-eyed vampire licked his lips in anticipation.
Instead of allowing him to lap the rich topping off of her, she placed it into her own mouth and winked. "Did not."
"So where's Stefan?" she continued, feeling a tinge of satisfaction at making him squirm momentarily.
"Finishing off Bambi," he casually replied, giving her a gentle pinch on the arm.
She didn't know whether to slap him for his insensitivity or lay one on him for being so damn sexy in the process. Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment and let out a content sigh. His cool fingertips grazed the bare naked expanse of her butterscotch-hued shoulders.
The little witch opened her eyes and found his azure gaze fixed intently on her mouth. Damon licked his lips hungrily and began to close the distance between them. Then it happened.
Bonnie was there in a place so dank and depressing, you could feel your pores become saturated by ill will and gloom. There was very little light, save for a few scattered candles. The moss-covered walls were dark and damp.
"Help me," a feminine voice cried weakly.
Her head whipped to the left and stumbled upon a horrifying sight. Elena had been chained to the wall. Her arms and legs had been badly bruised by the friction of her skin rubbing persistently against the ice cold steel restraints.
Blood dripped from a cut on her lower lip onto the emerald dress she had worn to the dance. Tattered and turning a shade of brown, the strip of cloth had begun to hang from her starving form.
Sensing she wasn't alone, Bonnie slowly, reluctantly turned around. The three foreboding shadowy figures stood before her. "Is é an deireadh nigh!" the cloaked man in the center bellowed.
She could feel the ground beneath her feet begin to quake. Rocks crumbled and fell around her, narrowly missing her slender form. Turning back to her best friend, Bonnie could see the girl begin to lose consciousness.
The witch grabbed her red amulet and began to chant, while moving closer to the captive brunette. "Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc!"
Suddenly she felt her back pressed up against the wall of the cave. Elena was tugging at her shirt. "Find me Bonnie. I'm still alive. You're the only one who can save me."
Turning back to The Three, she found herself being engulfed by darkness. "No!"
Bonnie tried desperately to remove the restraints from Elena's hands and legs, but they were quickly advancing on them both. The brunette's bloodcurdling scream pierced her ears. "No! Go away! Go away! Go away!"
Reality began to sink in again, as she felt his frigid fingertips gently massaging her temples. Bonnie's eyelids flew open and a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her.
She could feel her head falling uncontrollably forward. Damon placed his palms on the sides of her face for support and looked deeply into her eyes.
"What did you see?" he asked softly.
"E-Elena," she stammered. "She's alive, Damon."
***
"It was a gross miscalculation, my Lords." Rudyard Duke stood before The Three, desperately pleading his case.
His sinister violet gaze was now flooded with fear. The Three were not renowned for their merciful ways and his little "miscalculation" had certainly stirred the fury within.
"Gross indeed," Lord Everett began. "Tell us, Rudyard, how should we punish you?"
The salt and pepper haired man gulped. "But my Lords, the Intuitive Waters told us she would be in Mystic Falls. They led me to that dreadful institution they dare to call a 'school.' She is with a vampire," he began, pointing at the mortal girl whimpering behind him. "I felt it when I shook hands with the creature, himself. He is a Salvatore!"
"Evidently not the right one," Lord Atwater quickly chimed in, his voice slicked with annoyance.
"Such an amateur mistake," Lord Davies threw in coldly. "And here we thought you had...real potential."
"You said they would be in love," the warlock clumsily replied. "I assumed-"
A rod of lightening shot forth from Atwater's fingertips. "That was your mistake! Never assume, you idiot!" Rudyard narrowly dodged the scorching blade and now looked more like a little boy who had just been brutally scolded by his Catholic school teacher.
Elena groaned against the hard, damp wall of rock. Her wrists and ankles had been chained in place. No food. No water. No light.
All she had to comfort her were thoughts of Stefan, Bonnie, Jeremy and Jenna. She needed to get through this for them.
Upon her arrival in their lair, The Three had scrutinized her closely. Lord Everett seized her hand and concentrated hard. Quickly, he fetched a cup of water from the stone cauldron.
They forced her to drink and waited. Her eyes began to burn and her whole body felt feverish. Then they chanted. "Taispeáin dúinn an fhírinne. Tabhair dúinn solas. Do eagna. An radharc! Taispeáin dúinn an fhírinne. Tabhair dúinn solas. Do eagna. An radharc!"
Intense heat and agonizing pain gathered at her forehead. They watched for a symbol, a mark of some kind to denote the presence of The Witch.
Gathering the few remaining ounces of strength she had, Elena grabbed hold of the cauldron for support and caught sight of her reflection in the water. The word 'Duine' had been etched into her skin.
"Human," she heard one of the cloaked men hiss. That's when the chains came out.
Now the same shadowy figure who had coerced her into drinking from the cauldron stood before her. "Do you know The Witch?" he asked.
Shaking her head from side to side, she replied weakly, "I don't know...w-what you're t-talking about."
Lord Everett tilted his head questioningly to the side. "You know, it would be most unwise of you to lie."
She could feel her breath grow more and more ragged with his increasing closeness. "W-what witch?"
Placing the palm of his hand against her forehead, he closed his eyes. "Tabhair dúinn comhartha supernatural fola. Cailleach feasa nó mortal in ár midst?"
Elena began to feel the most excruciating pain she had ever felt in her life. It was as though someone had taken a drill to her brain. The roughness of his voice grating against her eardrums as he continued to chant certainly didn't help matters.
She could feel her body growing weaker by the second. The Lord removed his hand after a minute. "Best friends?" he smiled maniacally.
Turning from her, he whipped his hand in Rudyard's direction. Instantly, the man was thrust against the wall across from Elena.
"Please, my Lords!" he yelped. "Give me one more chance. I promise you, I will bring you The Witch."
Davies and Atwater looked more than ready to pounce on their prey. He was held in place by an invisible rope, sweating like he had just journeyed for hours on end through the desert.
"They have a close bond," Lord Everett began suddenly. "The girl and The Witch are almost like...sisters. No doubt, it will only be a matter of time before she washes up on our shores seeking her friend."
"What are you saying?" Lord Davies questioned him.
"Let us seek counsel from the Intuitive Waters again," he suggested calmly. "They were not wrong about Mystic Falls."
"Perhaps they can tell us where she is now," Rudyard offered in desperation. "Then I can set out to find her."
The three gathered around the cauldron and began their incantation. "Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett. Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett. Taispeáin dúinn an cailleach feasa, Bonnie Bennett."
Elena looked on helplessly as the cauldron bubbled and squelched. Plumes of smoke rose from the murky waters to the ceiling of the cave and a foul stench wafted through the air.
A vision began to appear in the fluid. It was Bonnie stepping off a plane in Dublin. She walked beside two leather-clad figures.
Instantly she knew, Stefan and Damon were with her. Of course they would each move Heaven and Earth to find her.
A bright light flashed from the cauldron, causing her to flinch. Another image appeared. This time Bonnie and the Salvatore brothers were boarding a train. The destination board read 'Killarney.'
Another flash and the waters went murky again. Lord Everett turned to face the violet-eyed warlock.
"It seems The Witch has reached our blessed shores," he began with a devious grin. "Do not fail us, Rudyard...or I'll have your head on a platter for supper. Is that quite understood?"
He nodded vigorously and accepted his new assignment. Find the witch. Kill The Prophecy.
***
Explaining her sudden vision of Elena to Stefan had been difficult. She wanted to offer him even the smallest shred of hope, but who knew what The Three had in store for her?
The brown-eyed vampire flinched at the mention of his girlfriend's body, chained and bruised. Her bloody lip sent a surge of repressed rage coursing right through is veins.
It made the darkness inside of him fight for release, just so he could wreak havoc on those who would dare to touch her.
Standing beside his brother in a circular formation of trees, he watched as Bonnie and Fiona lit a fire at the center. Magic lesson number one: manipulating the elements using magic.
"I can control fire, water, wind and earth - all with my mind," Fiona began to explain. "A witch's connection to the Earth is like a mere mortal's need for oxygen; it is absolutely vital. Remember that."
Bonnie nodded, sopping up every detail like a sponge. This was the first time she had attempted any magic since the night in the woods with Grams, Stefan and Elena.
Considering how badly the experience had gone, she was a little reticent to delve into the mystical tonight. Then again, what choice did she have? She needed to do this for Elena, for herself and try as she might to avoid thinking about it, for the unborn child she had been hearing so much about.
"I sense a great connection between you and the flames," Fiona continued. "Every witch has her forte."
Gesturing for Bonnie to take a step back, she stretched her arms out before her and cried out into the night. "Incendia!"
Flames sprung up from the ground and encircled her. They spread fast and furiously. Seconds later, her eyelids flew open and she smirked confidently. "Stad!"
Almost instantly, they disappeared.
"Now you try," she exclaimed, ushering Bonnie forward.
Casting a weary expression at both of the Salvatore brothers, Bonnie voiced her reluctance. "M-maybe we should start with another spell. The last time I tried this one, it didn't turn out so well."
"Nonsense," the older witch flatly replied. "I can sense the fire within you, my dear. This is your forte. And besides, you've got me standing right here along with the lads. Nothing will go wrong."
Fiona extended her right arm and offered her hand to Bonnie. Cautiously, the young girl took it.
She stood at the center of the circle and looked up at Damon. Instinctively, he knew what she needed most right now. Staring deeply into her eyes, he flashed her the most brilliant smile he could muster.
Bonnie beamed back at him and threw her arms into the air. Inhale 1, 2, 3. Exhale 1, 2, 3.
She gathered all of her strength and readied her vocal chords to issue a fierce command. "Incendia!"
Orange, red and yellow shot out from the earth and formed a band around her. Between the flames, she could still see the blue eyed vampire watching her intently...protectively.
Heat continued to radiate from the supernatural blaze. Bonnie could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on the back of her neck and forehead.
She closed her eyes and lifted her arms toward the sky again. "Stad!"
Apprehensively, she opened one eye at a time. The fire was gone. She had really done it.
An overwhelming sense of relief and victory washed over her. Boldness and ferocity had begun to set in as well. The little witch flashed them all her very own devil-may-care grin.
"I knew it!" Fiona chimed in, raising her arms triumphantly into the air. "You are a natural, my dear and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."
She could feel her cheeks flush at the slew of compliments being thrown her way. "So what's next?" she asked enthusiastically.
"How 'bout you bring the rain?" the Irish woman suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"How?" she questioned her.
Keeping Bonnie beside her, Fiona placed her palms together before her in a prayer pose. "'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn," she casually muttered to Bonnie. "In English it means 'Water from the sky, to the earth where we lie.'"
The young witch stared up at the night sky and marveled at the new knowledge that she could control what came from so far away. If Elena were here right now, she'd freak!
"There is one thing about this spell that makes it very different from the last one," Fiona continued to explain. "You will need to pour every ounce of emotion you can spare into it. You must draw on the moments that scared and saddened you most. The ones where you felt the most intense rush of feelings that you've ever felt in your life. To bring the rain is to make the skies cry. They need ample motivation, my dear, so dig deep when I ask."
Waiting to be prompted, the witch began to scan through the movie reel of her life. First grade being nearly attacked by a neighbor's rottweiler. Yup, that was definitely frightening.
Finding out she was the descendant of a powerful witching family with ties to Salem. Another pretty unnerving revelation.
Almost dying at 17. That one definitely takes the cake. Bonnie flinched in remembrance of the night in the woods. The night she first found out vampires existed.
She grasped her neck and recalled the way it felt to have his fangs so deeply plunged into her flesh, suckling ravenously until she could feel her life slipping away. A searing pain shot right through her body. This was the memory.
Damon observed her present demeanor and knew instantly where her mind had drifted off to. Something inside of him began to crumble at the sight of her so terrified.
No doubt, Stefan and Fiona could hear her thoughs, but he could see them as well. The vision of her laying lifeless at his feet made him cringe with disgust.
Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked to his younger brother. As expected, Stefan's knowing eyes were already fixed on him.
Damon could hear her heartbeat escalating beneath her ribcage. Regaining his composure, he looked into her emerald orbs and waited for her.
"Do you have a particular memory in mind?" Fiona asked, watching the girl.
"I do," she replied, placing her palms together as if to pray.
"Then by all means," the older witch said, gesturing for her to proceed with the spell.
Bonnie closed her eyes and began to chant. "'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."
The sky began to grumble low. Distress contorted her usually delicate features. Eyebrows scrunched together, she continued with the incantation. "'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."
Tiny specks of water began to descend from the skies. Bonnie could feel the cool wetness on the tip of her nose at first. Then it turned into a steady stream of droplets. "Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn. 'Uisce ón spéir, chun an domhain nuair a bheidh againn..."
Finally, bucket loads of water came crashing down on them. A loud growl came from the heavens, as the rain soaked them to the bones. Bonnie's greatest moment of fear had evoked a raging storm.
Her eyes may have been shut, but her other senses had become amplified by the rush of empowerment that swept through her. She reluctantly opened one eye at a time and stared straight ahead.
Her gaze was met by the ocean blue orbs belonging to Damon Salvatore. He watched her with a fiery intensity that couldn't even be extinguished by the pouring rain. Her lips began to quiver from the cold and her teeth began to chatter.
"Well I think that's enough magic for one night," Fiona yelled, water dropping down her face. "Perhaps we'd better head back to the house and warm up by the fire."
Too distracted by one another, her suggestion had gone completely unnoticed by Bonnie and Damon. Instead, Stefan was forced to reply for the both of them. "I think that's a great idea. But what about the storm?"
Glancing up again, Fiona shook her head casually. "Oh, it'll last for a few more minutes. Besides, the plants in my garden could use a bit more hydration. Leave it."
Sighing, she glanced suggestively at Stefan. "You know, it is a bit of a trek back to the house and you are pretty fast on your feet..."
Understanding her perfectly, Stefan scooped up the Irish woman and began to run. Finally realizing they were alone together, Damon quickly gathered the petite witch in his arms and moved with such extraordinary speed that she felt as though she might fall right out of his embrace.
He wouldn't let her go though, that much she knew.
***
Bonnie left her drenched clothing on a side chair to continue drying. She was alone in her quarters wearing nothing but a pair of black cotton shorts tiny enough to be labeled 'underwear' and a thin strapped tank top in the same shade.
Her oak wood four poster bed with maroon drapes looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a Julie Garwood romance novel where an innocent young maiden falls for a strong, temperamental baron.
Casting spells certainly could take a lot out of a person, she thought, towel drying her silky raven locks as best as she could. Tonight had certainly done a number on her, so it was a good thing they were about to sit down for a hearty supper of beef stew.
At least she and Fiona would benefit from it. Damon and Stefan had already dined on enough forest creatures today to evoke shock and awe among animal rights activists from coast to coast.
Chuckling at the thought, Bonnie heard a knock at her door. A sudden tingling sensation went down her spine. "Yes? Who is it?"
"It's me," the familiar male voice traveled beyond the wooden barrier. "Can we talk?"
Normally that might seem like such a simple question, but with Damon, it was fully loaded. Being so close to him had always conjured up certain emotions she just wasn't ready to deal with yet. Having him in her sleeping quarters could be dangerous.
Then again, he had already slept in her bed once before.
Grabbing a knee-length black cotton robe off her bed, she threw it on and fastened the belt tightly around her waist. "I'm coming. J-Just a sec."
Okay Bonnie. Get it together.
Cracking the door open, she looked up at the dark-haired vampire whose present demeanor seemed to reflect complete seriousness. Stepping aside, she allowed him to step inside the cozy room.
"So..." she began, sounding a tad more nervous than she would have preferred. "What's up?"
Damon wondered whether or not he was being absolutely ridiculous for initiating this late night conversation with the witch. He didn't usually do things like this; it just wasn't his style.
He broke the rules, did the rebel yell and let you know about it at every turn. So why the hell did he care if he was responsible for her greatest moment of fear? It's not like he had a conscience...or much of one anyway.
Close proximity was probably to blame for the unexpected batch of emotions his cold, black heart had recently become filled with. He wanted to protect her, care for her, make sure anyone who was out to get her got what was coming to them.
It was slightly reminiscent of the way he had felt about only one other woman. For over 145 years, he had devoted his existence to resurrecting the privileged young woman who had bewitched both him and his brother.
Yet now he had begun to yearn for something entirely different. Her skin. Her lips. Her blood. All of her.
The sound of her rapidly beating heart was like a symphony for his sensitive eardrums. Dammit man, restraint!
"Damon?" he heard her ask softly. Wide-eyed and curious, she stared up at him and waited for a reply.
He shook his head until reality began to set in again.
"Where were you just now?" she questioned him. "You looked like you were a million miles away?
"I just wanted to talk to you...about tonight," he answered.
Chuckling, she began to walk toward the window sill. "Oh, you mean the part where you didn't have to rush into a ring of fire to save me? Yeah, I was pretty thrilled about that too."
No. I meant the part about me being all the inspiration you needed to provoke a massive rainstorm.
"Are you still scared of me, Bonnie?" The words escaped from his lips before he had intended them to.
The little witch sat comfortably against a maroon pillow by the casement windows. "Do I look scared of you right now?" she inquired, curving her lips into a teasing smirk.
Advancing at light speed to where she rested, Damon sat across from her. "Looks can be deceiving," he replied coolly.
"Well they're not in this case," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
"When Fiona asked you to dredge up the most frightening moment of your life, what did you see?" he asked smoothly.
Instantly she remembered the way her hands shot up to protect her neck in the woods. Of course he knew. How could he not?
"You thought of me," he said firmly.
"I nearly died that night," she reminded him painfully. "I didn't even know that vampires even existed, much less that they lived in Mystic Falls and my best friend just happened to be dating one. Then you showed up and..."
"And what?"
Fiddling nervously with the bow she had tied on her robe, Bonnie scanned the recesses of her mind to find a way to ditch the sore subject of her near demise. "Do we really have to discuss this tonight?"
"I'd prefer it if we did," he insisted, leaning forward slightly.
"Well I'd prefer it if we didn't," she responded, getting up to move.
By the time she was on her feet again, Damon was already standing right in front of her. "Let me pass," she exclaimed.
She was now being blocked by the one person she secretly wanted in spite of everything that had transpired. It was sick, twisted and made her yearn for things so lascivious that you might call her lack of sexual know-how into question.
Bonnie could feel his breath on her forehead like a cool breeze in the night. "We need to talk," he smoothly insisted. "Please?"
"I'm sorry, did I just hear you say 'please?'" she asked, blinking twice at his sudden display of manners.
Casting her a seductive grin, he tilted his head to the side. "Side effect of being around you, I guess."
"I see," she smiled nervously. "So what other side effects have you been experiencing?"
Erotic dreams, Sears Tower syndrome, raging blood lust...
He inhaled the sweet, floral fragrance of her skin and was overwhelmed by a sudden need to turn away. Damon could feel himself beginning to transform. Loss of control. That was the other side effect.
It was all symptomatic of something he just couldn't bring himself to admit openly. He felt for her.
"Just the one," he fibbed. Momentary silence. "Bonnie, you have no reason to fear me. I need you to know that."
She watched as he turned around and began to walk away. "Is that all?" her voice rang out.
"Is what all?"
"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" she questioned him. Stop asking questions, Bennett. Let him leave. Just...stay calm.
Not really. "Yup," he replied simply, mustering up a smile for her sake. With that, Damon continued to proceed in the direction of the door.
She chided herself inwardly for wanting to stop him. He should go. Her eyes shifted from his retreating form to full-length mirror at her side.
"Don't go."
He stopped in his tracks. I should go. "Dinner's almost ready. We should be heading downstairs soon."
"Dinner can wait," she firmly offered. Taking a deep breath, Bonnie strode toward him until she was finally standing directly behind him. "Why is it that every time I need you, you're always here for me?"
Because I couldn't stand it if anything ever happened to you. "Good timing, I guess."
"I don't believe you, Damon."
He liked the way his name sounded as it rolled off her tongue. "You should believe it...it's the truth." Fucking liar.
"No it's not," she maintained, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Will you just look at me?"
He slowly did as he was asked. Her hair had dried into a loose, tousled mass. Her cheeks had become deliciously flushed crimson and her eyes were wide with purpose.
"What now?" Damon asked uncharacteristically relaxed.
"You hold my hand. You kiss me. You reassure me that everything's gonna be okay. What's going on?"
Something I never expected. "I don't know," he sighed.
"You don't believe in The Prophecy, yet you're with me every step of the way," she continued. "I just want to know why?"
Bonnie flinched at the touch of his hand, as he tried to tuck a lock of shiny, dark hair behind her ear. "So now I can't touch you?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"It's the way you touch me, Damon." She continued to penetrate his gaze with her own emerald orbs. "I woke up in the middle of the night in Dublin only to find your arms around me."
Shit. She remembered. "What do you want me to say, Bonnie?"
"I want you to be honest with me," the witch replied more forcefully. "Do you...is this...what..."
"Do you want me to tell you that I'm attracted to you?" he asked bluntly, taking a step toward her. His eyes slowly raked over the length of her body. "Yeah. I am."
He continued. "Do I crave you? Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out." Damon's eyes became shadowy.
He continued to advance on her. She followed her first inclination and took a step back. "Damon, I-"
His eyes lingered in on her lips. He could still taste the rich berry blend of her gloss from the night of their first kiss.
"You're beautiful," he admitted, his voice softening. "And I want you. That's the truth."
The little witch blushed profusely and felt a surge of heat rush through her body. She was suddenly all nerves and heart palpitations in his presence.
Damon's hand cupped her cheek and her breath hitched slightly as the back of her knees made contact with the bed.
"You want me too, Bonnie," he hissed into her left ear. "I can hear your heart pounding inside your chest."
She tried to look away, but he persisted. "Say it, Bonnie. Say you want me."
Pressing her hands against his chest, she felt their walls crumbling around them. "I want you," she whispered. "In spite of everything that's happened, I just want you."
The vampire tilted his head to the side and began to close the distance between their lips. Bonnie relished the tender, languid movements of his mouth while his hands came to rest on the small of her back.
She wrapped her svelte arms around his neck and felt him begin to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip with deliberate slowness. Damon heard her sharp intake of breath and slid inside of her mouth.
She tasted like wild strawberries and sweet cream. Her fragrance captivated him, the warmth of her skin tempered his normally cool disposition and her mouth wreaked havoc on his senses.
Damon couldn't stand it any longer.
Bonnie felt his hands begin to work on the knotted belt of her robe. It came loose within seconds and instantly, his mouth began to roam from her lips to her neck.
He made quick work of dismissing the flimsy fabric and lifted her into his arms. Blue eyes bore into her soul as he watched her silently.
Damon's cool silky lips came crashing down on hers. Their tongues mated with one another in a movement so sensual and ritualistic, that her body felt like it would go up in flames.
The vampire placed her on the mattress and continued to probe each delectable inch of exposed flesh with his lips, tongue and teeth. She felt enraptured and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist.
He suckled on the delicate skin of her throat and allowed his canines to graze the surface. She trembled beneath him as their hips began to oscillate in unison.
Bonnie's fingers became tangled in his mess of raven hair. She felt his lips and hands glide over her still sheathed breasts and gasped. Instantly she arched her back and felt his arousal against her thigh.
He claimed her lips with a ravenous grunt and began to snake his curious, eager hands up underneath her tank top. They kneaded and explored and drove her wild with want.
Exquisitely salty and sweat-slicked. Her skin moved against his in the most erotic rhythm. Bonnie's lips were now pleasantly swollen and her cheeks were stained a bright crimson.
She allowed her hands to roam beneath his dark henley and felt the muscular contours of his back. Her fingertips were on sensory overload and so were her lips.
The little witch trailed kisses along his jaw and shuddered when his hand began to travel below her navel. Bonnie moaned aloud and felt herself losing any semblance of control. "Damon," she breathed.
"I know," he whispered raggedly.
Did he know? Did he have any idea how new this feeling inside was to her? My first time.
He wanted - no, needed - to be inside of her. Damon kept his lips on her skin, as he tugged the straps of her shirt lower.
Desire coursed through his veins like some wild, unrestrained beast. He could feel the veins begin to emerge beneath his eyes.
She gasped suddenly. He looked down at her neck and found a small indentation in her skin. A tiny drop of blood emerged from the minute puncture wound.
"Bonnie," he breathed, horrified by his actions. "I didn't mean to. I swear. I didn't."
Her chest continued to rise and fall quickly, as her frightened expression began to dissipate. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she nodded. "I believe you."
The witch tried to soothe his shock with the warmth of her lips, but he was off of her and standing by the door in seconds. Eyebrows furrowed, he watched her from afar.
"It's okay, Damon," she called out to him. Bonnie began to whip her legs over the side of the bed, but his voice stopped her.
"No. Don't do that!" Damon placed a hand on the door knob.
"It was an accident," she insisted. "I know that." Her shoulders fell and she watched him impassioned, eyes glistening. "Don't you..." ...want me anymore?
He cringed as the tail end of her thoughts entered his mind. The truth was, he wanted more than anything else in the world to take her in his arms and show her the true extent of his desires.
"You have no idea how much I want to be inside of you right now," he declared fiercely. "I just can't."
Bonnie ignored his demand to stay where she sat and let her feet touch the floor. "Then what are we supposed to do?" she asked him, visibly frustrated.
"Stay away from me." He placed his palm up, hoping she would keep her distance. The fever for her still burned inside of him.
She stopped when his eyes became dark again and took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid, Damon."
"You should be," he replied with greater force than he intended.
"Well I'm not," she maintained, hands braced defiantly on her hips.
She offered him her most determined, challenging gaze and he simply drank in the image of her standing there like an intoxicating liquor.
"We can't, Bonnie." Seeing her so bold and daring made his teeth ache. "I'll lose control. I can't do that with you. I won't put you in danger."
Determined to reach him somehow, the little witch proceeded in his direction. His voice became even more agitated. "Stay the hell away from me!"
He exited the room in lightspeed, slamming the door violently behind him. Bonnie stood alone again.
Her heart stopped pounding. It fell. And crumbled. And something inside began to hurt more than ever before.
