Happy Thanksgiving, friends (if you celebrate). Next update will be soon. We are hurdling toward some more spice. Keep up to date with me on Twitter/X RosabelReed :)

To Bonnie's surprise, she had only had to endure one night alone before Damon was asking to come over, repay them for skipping out on breakfast. It could've just been guilt, but his sentiment had been enough to give her hope.

Maybe he hadn't turned his feelings off after all.

Damon had shown up to a quick pasta dish Mary had whipped up for dinner, eating and conversating between them like he'd enjoyed every overly cheesy bite he'd taken.

Damon had convinced Mary he loved cheese. Bonnie knew it was one of the human foods he hated most. He'd called it "vile", no better than animal feed to his sensitive palette. But by the way he'd gulped down the pasta with nothing but praise and hums of approval, Mary would never know.

It would be Bonnie who would see Damon throw it up when it was just them left to conquer the night. His stomach would finally hit a peak, and he'd spend a few minutes in the bathroom tossing the dairy-soaked meal.

And that had been exactly what'd happened. Except, after she'd offered him the wet rag for his mouth like always, Damon hadn't sat back down on the couch or laid his head in her lap. He'd checked his phone for the time, said it was getting late, and told her he needed to go.

It'd only been 10.

But no matter how Bonnie had tried to convince him otherwise, or how she'd flat out asked him to stay, he'd declined with a politeness she wanted to slap from his tone.

He wasn't polite. Not to her. He was crass and flirty and rude. These formalities didn't suit who he was with her.

But with another quick kiss to her cheek, Damon had sped off, leaving her to turn off the movie they were only halfway through by herself.

That night, she couldn't sleep, trepidation weighing like iron bars over her heart.

Goodnight, she'd texted.

Goodnight, my redbird, he'd replied.

She'd screamed into her pillow.

Two nights later, he'd stopped by to finish their movie. Because he'd felt guilty again. Maybe other things? Regardless, it was a feeling, and it'd been eating at him.

There was hope. He still hadn't shut it off.

With a big silver bowl of popcorn situated firmly between them on the couch, Bonnie had convinced him to restart the movie with her, just to keep him there for longer. They'd talked, made jokes like usual, but Damon had refused to look at her, refused to let her get too close. She'd tried multiple times, attempted to be subtle each time she got up and sat back down a bit closer, but it'd only resulted in him at the far end of the couch while she sat in the middle. Alone. Chilled under a thin fleece blanket.

So she'd tried something different, watching the TV's light illuminate the slight rings under his eyes. His sensitive palette still preferred her blood. That hadn't changed, as far as she knew. And there'd been nowhere else for him to go.

Bonnie had scooted closer, taking short glances at him, stoic as he focused on the TV. They'd both known it wasn't that interesting.

Before the doubts could creep in, she'd asked, "Hungry?"

His eyes had flicked to hers like she was a stranger who had sat next to him by mistake. His head shook.

Was she beneath receiving words?

Bonnie had waited a few minutes before trying again. That time, without words. She'd flung her wrist out in his direction and shaken it. His eyes had widened as he looked at her. Not a glance but a real, hard stare that'd been filled with some sort of battle.

But no matter how she'd waved free access to his favorite tap in front of him, he'd declined her offer and patted her arm like she'd been offering him a lollipop.

She'd felt embarrassed, hated him in that moment for the way he'd made her lip tremble. She tried to hold it, to hide it, but tears had dripped down to her chin, and she'd burst right along with them. Begging, pleading with him to feed, to stay longer than 11, to just treat her like normal again.

And then he'd held her, taken her in his lap and wrapped her up with him. He'd wiped her tears, kissed others away, and it was enough then. But Bonnie knew it wouldn't last.

"Don't cry, Redbird. Please. You know this isn't easy."

In place of yelling, she'd only cried harder, letting all the things she wanted to say run down the back of her throat with her tears. She'd swallowed around the lump in her throat and nuzzled into his chest. It had been a little cooler than human, slowly losing the heat she'd provided him only a few days ago.

He wouldn't be able to fight it forever, but would he try to find something equivalent?

Friday, he'd come by again. Bonnie assumed she wouldn't be seeing him over the weekend, and her patience was running thin. She was a ball of rage at the table while Mary talked Damon's ear off about her last shift.

Bonnie's foot bounced under the table as she finished up her takeout.

"I couldn't believe they hadn't cleaned him up. It was awful. I had a long talk with the manager, who was just as incompetent. Honestly, it's a miracle that floor hasn't killed anyone." Mary's hand slapped flat on the table. "I didn't even tell you about the patient with the glass in his elbow!"

"What happened there?" Damon asked, amusement twitching his lips.

Those lips that had run down her neck one too many times. She could still feel them there, on her mouth, sucking in her breaths as she released them onto his tongue.

Her mouth watered at the thought, suddenly inundated with the flavor of him instead of the salt of her spring roll. She'd known his taste for years, but never quite so deeply as that night. Bitter notes of iron and something unnaturally spiced that was just him. She'd tried to wipe it from memory, smacking on gum, chewing taffy, biting into chips of ice.

Nothing would wash it away. Not completely.

Her tongue clicked, annoyed with its own mundane process of shoveling food instead of tangling with something that would sate her.

Mary's story droned in the background as Bonnie stood, trying not to let her thoughts run away like they had every time she wasn't occupied.

Flipping the water on, she ignored the steady pulse between her legs, forcing the fade of forbidden images, forbidden sounds. It was a memory she tried her best not to access, or else she'd remember how perfect his body was beneath his clothes. Or how heavy he hung between his legs.

The wet plate almost slipped from her hands. Never in her life had she admitted something so wanton to herself. Not once in her whole life had she felt so … feral.

Damn it. She needed him inside her.

Shaking the droplets from her hands, she reached for the towel on the counter, startled at the unexpected gaze that caught in her peripherals. Damon's soulless eyes weren't attached to the talkative McCullough unaware of his feigned-interest hums, but boring straight past her sister and right into her.

Bonnie gulped, dabbing up the wetness on her hands. She couldn't read him. Was he mad? What had she done? His eyes screamed a thousand telling words, but she couldn't decipher a single one.

Did you just project to me?

She got those, loud and clear on their telepathic channel.

What was he talking about? Project? She hadn't projected anything to …

Holy. Christmas.

The panic threatening to gauge her eyes from her head must've been quite visible, because Damon stood. When had Mary finished her story? Didn't she have a longer one to tell? She'd been talking their ears off for an hour straight. She'd chosen now to shut up?

"I'll let you rest, Mary. I need to head home myself. Have a long day tomorrow. Board meetings." He stretched, forcing a very convincing yawn as he raised both arms overhead. His shirt lifted just above his waistband as he did, giving both McCulloughs a peak at the V Bonnie was, unfortunately, quite familiar with.

Damon's indecipherable gaze returned to her over Mary's head as her sister stood to hug him goodbye. Those black voids locked her in place, glued her feet to the floor. She'd never felt smaller as she clutched the sink's lip at her back.

What had he heard?

Damon's boots clacked in time with her thundering heart as he stalked closer.

Bonnie almost flinched as he stalled beside her, bending down to her ear.

"Follow me out." The breathy command wafted that flavor she'd been seeking so desperately.

And like a rat to a piper, she trailed after him.

"Be right back." Bonnie tossed her eyes to the ceiling as Mary winked.