This place reminds me of home. The sky is bright, colored in a light shade of blue, decorated with shiny, silver path. From down here, it looks like a Milky Way. Like a river flowing across the sky. We're lying on a perfectly round hill covered by fresh grass of an unusual shade of green. It's high, reaching to our knees, so with us lying down, there's a shape of our bodies imprinted on it.
I don't even know how we got here, or where here is. We walked for days, weeks, in either stunned silence or thrilling bickering. Neither of us know nothing about the middle ground - we either love too hard, or hate too intensively, there's no in between.
We didn't come across anything. No cities, no people, no any other species. I started going crazy with thinking we got lost, even though we've been lost ever since we got here. We started going the wrong way and now we're walking towards oblivion. Maybe this place is designed to make people lose their mind. Damon had to shake me out of it every time; my mind became so fragile. He's not caring, and his touch is not kind. Sometimes I think he really does have claws. But I would be lying if I said there's no softness in his roughness.
He was the one to collapse in this place, and I didn't argue or mind. I was exhausted myself, and both of us fell asleep as soon as our bodies hit the ground.
Something woke me up, a buzzing sound inside of my mind, urging me to move, creating a pith in my stomach.
I rub my eyes like a sleepy toddler, like I'm trying to take out all the sand and dreams out of my eyes. I push myself up, my eyes combing our surroundings carefully, trying to find the source that woke me up. We're not hiding, we fell asleep in open space, so there's no room for anyone else to hide either.
I grab Damon by the shoulder and shake him roughly. "Wake up," I say in a commanding whisper.
He grunts, mumbling something in his chin, but I'm too busy with trying to see something through all this darkness. I have a feeling that someone is watching us.
"What?" he spits out and shakes my hand off of his shoulder. He pushes himself in a sitting position as well, his raging presence hovering right next to me.
"I thi - " I move my head to the side in order to face him, but when my eyes meet his, it's like something snaps inside of me. My mind becomes fuzzy, turning into mush. I don't know why, but I feel extra soft and sweet, like cotton candy, which is a weird feeling to have. A wave of warmth surges through me and fills my whole body until I'm neck deep in it.
Hunger fills every inch of my body, but I don't crave food.
Damon's eyes go wide, as if he can feel the same thing, until he finally touches his fangs with the tip of his tongue, making me wonder are his fangs his pleasure point as well.
Our eyes stay locked, the buzzing inside of my mind intensifying, my insides getting hotter with each passing second and, somehow, I know what could qualm my reaction.
My eyes fall quickly on his lips before crawling desperately back to his eyes. A satisfying smirk climbs up his lips. He knows what's going on inside of me, probably because the same thing is happening to him.
I move closer to him. We're already close enough to each other, so it doesn't take much movement to close the distance between us.
All of my senses are heightened - my nostrils are so full of his scent, and my skin is latching on to his as if it's more familiar to it than to my own body - and I wonder is this how it's like to be a vampire. Everyone are talking about it, but I've never quite understood it, until now. How it's like to have emotions so heavy that your body becomes too small for them.
Our lips meet, and I breathe into him. We kiss slowly, stretching that one little kiss into an eternity. He tastes like all of my favorite things combined into one. He kisses me playfully, careful to cover every inch, even the far corners of my lips. He is skillful, like kissing is a job that could save his life, his lips telling a story that's been running for almost two centuries.
His arms go around me and he lifts me from the ground, as if I weigh close to nothing, and places me in his lap. It feels familiar, like I finally found home in every sense of the word.
He kisses my jaw, and my eyelids flutter. I throw my head back, exposing my neck, so he takes an open invitation and moves his lips there. I can feel his breath on my skin, as well as his kisses. The skin of my neck is so thin that it feels like he's kissing the edges of my nerves. The longer he keeps his lips pressed against my neck, the more jittery I become, knowing that's such a sensitive place for him. Knowing that he could pierce my skin if he wanted and draw my blood until he empties me. It's a dangerous game, like playing with fire, which should mean something coming from someone who knows the sensation of holding a flame on the palm of her hand.
His hands travel down my body, settling on my waist, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt, and he starts pulling it up, up, up.
I shouldn't let him. There should be a voice in the back of my mind, telling me to make him stop. But all I can hear is a melody of pleasure as he continues exposing my skin.
I want him, I realize. I want him everywhere, covering every inch of my skin, from head to toe. I want to feel him in every inch of my body, even in all the hidden corners and secret passages, I want him to move into me and plant his roots around my ribcage. I want him to find a home within me, I want to hear his name in every beat of my heart. Damon, Damon, Damon, like no sweeter word ever existed before.
He takes his time with undressing me, teasing me with his drawn out kisses in the meantime. I let him play me however he wants, pull my strings in a pace that suits him.
Once my shirt is gone, I pull myself closer to him, pressing my chest against his, my heart beating fast and loud enough for both of us. My fingers fumble clumsily while trying to take his shirt off. I've never done this before, and it's not as easy or sexy as movies make it out to be.
His skin is silky and smooth, his muscles pulsating under my touch. I bury my face into his neck, pulling him in, moaning into his neck, the tips of my fingers playing with his hair.
His fingertips are feather dipped in ink, writing love letters alongside my spine.
There's not enough skin or time or space, there's not enough of him to hold on to.
He kisses my shoulder, his fangs scraping against the surface of my skin, and his kiss sends an echo through my hollow bones.
When his fingers meet my bra, I can hear someone snapping their fingers.
"Well, well, I didn't really think things would go this far," a voice buzzes outside of my head.
And just like that, everything falls apart. All of a sudden I realize how close I am to him, how I can feel him everywhere, how wrong it is.
I open my eyes and push myself away from him, falling on the ground. I look at him, and he looks as surprised and confused as I am, if not little hurt by my reaction.
I'm without my shirt, a realization hits me, and I snatch my shirt from the ground to cover myself with, as if we weren't just pressed skin to skin. As if I just didn't have these thoughts, this desire to..
It wasn't real.
"Oh," someone cheers, palms clapping against one another, "That was fun!"
I look up. There's a woman standing above us, grinning. Not a woman, a girl, about my age, with big brown locks and captivating blue eyes, almost too big for her face.
I pull my shirt over my head, and Damon does the same. He moves to his feet, but when he offers me his help to get up, I look away and do it by myself. I can't look him in the eye, and I can't touch him, not right now.
"And who the hell are you?" Damon asks once we're both on our feet.
"My name is Ilea," she says cheerfully, not paying attention to our angry faces or his snappy tone, "And who are you?"
"None of your business," Damon retorts.
"Rude," she says, her teeth chattering, producing mouse-like sounds, "You shouldn't be so rude, since you're standing in my home. Even though it's my fault you're here," she giggles.
I raise my eyebrow at her childlike behavior.
"Your fault?" Now she got Damon's attention.
"Mhm," she nods, "Let me guess. You have a feeling like you've been walking for days, you're tired and you have a feeling like your mind is slipping away?"
"How did you know?" I frown.
"Oh, that's just a little spell I've put to confuse my enemies," she says the words my enemies with her eyes wide and a dreamy look in them, like those people don't really exist, but she wishes they would so she wouldn't be alone in this game of hers. So she's a witch, I'm guessing. "The moment I saw you I knew you have no intention to harm me. Just go back in the same direction you came from, now that you know about the spell, you should see the crossroad about five minutes from here, so just go in the different direction. Where did you come from, anyway?" she wonders curiously.
"Veneficium Humus," out of some reason, Damon is willing to share that piece of information with her.
"Ha!" she bends over laughing, "That's rich! That's not even a day away from here!"
What? It's been only a day since we left? Possibly less?
But I don't have time to think about that, as my shock is replaced by other thoughts.
"What did you do to us?" I accuse her.
She looks confused for a moment, but then her eyes light up with realization. "Oh, you mean your smutty performance? A lust spell," she says proudly.
"But why?" I ask.
"Because I thought it would be fun!" she smiles, the skin around her lips stretching.
"What?" I ask angrily, venom running down my lips, "Why would anyone think what you did would be fun? It's demeaning. It's manipulative. It's not your choice to make!"
She huffs, her cheeks rounding up like in an angry child. She crosses her arms over her chest and stomps her foot down. "I don't see why you're so mad, it's not like I made you do anything you didn't want to do in the first place," she counters me, her heart shaped face getting more redder with every passing second.
"You think I wanted to do that?" I ask, taking offense in such an accusation.
I would never jump on him like that.
I would never.
But that still doesn't mean you didn't want it, a small voice in my head sings.
Didn't I want it? Him? I remember it clearly, how I would be his if he asked, even if he didn't use any words.
All of that was fake, I try to comfort myself. It's the spells' fault.
"The spell can't create emotion or desire. It doesn't work like that. The spell just works with what's already there. So no, I don't think you wanted to do that," there's thunder in her eyes, flashing right out of her pupils, "I know it."
My cheeks turn red. No, my whole body does. Out of shame, embarrassment, anger.
Even if the feelings are real, who gave her the right to manipulate them in the direction she wants?
"Maybe I was wrong," Ilea says, her voice distorted, "Maybe you are my enemy, because you're making me angry, and I don't get angry easily."
"Okay," Damon tries to be the voice of reason, and that's how I know things are about to get really messed up, "Let's slow it down here," he tries to calm me, as much as he tries to calm her.
"Your rudeness offends me. I just wanted to have a little fun, since you seemed harmless, and not a lot of harmless people come my way," she whimpers, like her life is such a burden to bare.
"Why do people want to harm you?" Damon asks sympathetically.
At first I'm angry at him for trying to converse with her, or I'm just angry at everything in general, but then I ask myself the same question. Why?
Why put such a strong spell around this place? What is she hiding that needs protecting?
Her mood seems to brighten up when Damon takes interest in her mission. "Well," she says, blushing lightly, "They don't want to harm me. Not exactly. It's my sister they want. I'm her Guardian."
"Why do they want to harm her?" he keeps asking questions with a warm voice.
I was right, her enemies aren't really her enemies. They're her sisters. She's just a barrier in between.
"My sister holds great power. She can provide you with any gift your heart desires. Well, she could have, at least," she looks down at her feet, her voice breaking. "You see this?" she spreads her arms, pointing everywhere around herself.
We nod our heads, awaiting for the rest of the story.
"This is what our kingdom used to look like. But my sister didn't know how to read people well, she didn't know how to tell what's really in their hearts, so she gave anyone who asked whatever they wished for. People with darkness in them got weapons they needed to take control, and when my sister saw what she had done, her heart started turning into stone. Everything around her started dying. Animals, plants.." she chokes a little, "Even people. Our father found a way to save her and end all this madness. He turned everything into ice. Our kingdom, alongside my sister. She's lying in her bed right now in the form of the ice sculpture, waiting for salvation."
"How did the ice help?" Damon asks curiously and, honestly, I'm curious as well.
"It stopped time. It didn't kill her. Instead of turning into stone, her heart turned into ice. And once it did, everything she created turned into ice as well. Good people lost her gifts, but so did the villains, and my father thought that's worth the risk. See, you can't undo stone, but ice can melt."
"So you're waiting for her to melt off?"
She releases a low laugh. "No," she shakes her head, a small smile decorating her tiny, pink lips, "Before my father died, he told me there will come a time when her salvation will come, something or someone that will be able to create life out of ice. That's when everything will blossom, and our kingdom will return to normal, and so will my sister. I have a kind of luck my sister didn't have - I know how to read people. Good ones I let pass in hope they're her salvation, bad ones.. well, that's what the spell is for."
While she was telling the story, my mind kept tingling, my memory rattling excitedly.
Until I finally realize why. And the last one you have to carve from ice that doesn't melt.
The last key.
I push my elbow into Damon's hip, trying to get his attention. He looks down at me and in his eyes I find realization as well. He knows.
"So why did you trap us if you know we're harmless?" Damon asks.
I'm unable to speak. Too excited, and too numb. I'm suddenly sorry for being rude to her, even if she did the wrong thing. God knows how much time she spent alone, waiting for salvation for her sister.
"I was confused about you two. There's so much goodness and love around you, but there's also a shadow following you," there's a small frown on the bridge of your nose. "But when I looked more closely at it, I realized that's just the shadow of the past you can't leave behind."
"So you'll let us go?" he asks, almost too excitedly.
"Yes," she nods, "You posses no threat."
The last key, we know where it is. We have found it. We're going home.
We say our goodbyes and just as we're about to leave I turn around. "My name is Bonnie," I tell her.
She smiles. "Nice to meet you, Bonnie."
"Are we really not going to talk about it?" Damon yells at me. I'm trying to make the distance between us as big as possible, but I know that he can easily catch up with me. He's so much faster than me.
"There is nothing to talk about," I tell him calmly.
"Are you kidding me?" he laughs, as if all of this is very amusing. "Bonnie," he says my name, begging me to stop.
I pretend I haven't heard him at all, so I keep walking.
"Bonnie!" he says my name again, this time with more urgency in his voice.
No, no, no. I don't want to talk about it, not now at least. Now is not the time to face it. We have other matters at hand, more important ones. We can talk about it when we get home.
Next time I blink, I close my eyes for less than a second, and he's standing in front of me, hard and determined expression on his face.
And I break. Words just start pouring out of me, out of the open crack in my body.
"What do you want me to say, Damon?" I ask desperately, half hoping he'll actually take my question seriously and answer me, "That it's true?"
"Yes," he's fast in his reaction, "If that's the truth, then yes."
"I don't know what the truth is anymore. I don't know what I feel."
He stays silent, looking at me, until his face finally adapts a soft note and he says, almost tiredly. "I'm kinda put up with hearing that, you know? I don't know what I feel. You very well know what you feel. You knew from the first time I kissed you, maybe even sooner. You know how I know? Because you kissed me back. Because you tied me to a tree with an excuse that you can't bare to see anything bad happening to me. Because in the moment of relief and victory, you kissed me. You're not a person who just goes around kissing people she doesn't have feelings for. You're just too afraid to admit it to yourself."
"I am not afraid," I say fiercely, my breath catching into my throat after the full stop.
"Yes, you are," his voice is annoyingly calm, "Because you see me as a monster, and there's no worse thing for you than loving a monster."
That sentence renders me speechless. Loving a monster.
"But I'll tell you something, Bonnie, you make me more of a man than I was back when I was human."
He steps around me and starts walking, and I finally release my breath.