Alrighty lovely readers, chapter 5 is here. Expect the next update soon. And, if you want, you can follow me on Twitter for updates. RosabelReed :)
Muffled laughter roused her. Mary's voice was faint as it talked up a storm to someone soundless.
Bonnie groaned, rolling over as sleep drifted farther and farther away. She reached for it, unable to keep its slippery unconscious in her hold. Taking her phone from under her pillow, she clicked on the screen.
6 a.m.
She rubbed her eyes. It wasn't even bright yet. Her sister had always been an early riser, but this was getting out of hand.
A shift on the floor alerted her consciousness to the night before, and she flooded with all the emotions she'd let sleep fade. His words played on repeat, all the places he touched zinged to life. She shimmied her hips at the ache that had bloomed between them.
Soreness? Desire? Could it be both?
With careful movements, Bonnie shed her coverings and knelt onto the floor. The cold felt like spikes in her toes, and she curled them against the floorboards. Sinking to all fours, she slithered her way around the bed, slowing to a snail's pace as raven hair came into view.
She smiled. He had kept his promise.
Army-crawling closer, Bonnie listened to his soft breaths. They were deep, slow, and telltales of his consciousness.
Holding her lip still between her teeth, Bonnie took two fingers and moved them through his hair. He didn't budge as she combed the fine hairs back from his face.
Inklings of dawn peaked through the blinds to illuminate the side of his face. It was cream, like the moon. His cheeks were firm, sunken only around the bones carving out the statuesque shape of his face. With her middle finger, she traced the flush running just under his eye and all the way back to his ear. It was the only mark she was ever able to leave. Her life flowing through his veins, tingling his skin pink, pumping his dead heart just a little bit stronger.
He stirred at the tickle of her fingertip running along the shell of his ear, rustling the long hairs that kept it hidden.
But she didn't stop. She wanted him to feel it.
Before full consciousness could send her courage fleeing, or the daylight could spotlight her fears, Bonnie bent her head to his and pressed moistened lips to his temple. It was quick, and he didn't move, so she dragged her kiss lower. To his cheekbone, his cheek, the corner of his jaw, and then just below it.
Damon's moan hung deep in his throat, a groggy hum of approval.
She kept on, opening her mouth just a little to catch bits of his skin as she made her way down his neck.
Halfway down, she heard his breathing shift. It came heavier, harsher from his nose. His head tipped back in a moan that caught at the edges, like it had wiggled its way free of his cage.
Her tongue swirled into his skin, smooth and faintly salty from their tryst.
"Some people consider this assault." His voice was all breath and raspy notes that added to the ache in her core.
Against her better judgement, she sank her teeth in to hold him still while she sucked.
"You know I can turn it off, right?" he threatened, but every word rolled off his tongue like a siren song coaxing her to continue.
"Then do it." Her tongue dragged a path down to the bend of his neck.
Undecided fingers slid up her arm, whether to stop her or pull her closer, she wasn't sure. But his hand made a nice cuff around her humorous.
"What if I already did?" His intent was clear, to scare her away. But his warning hung on fragments of moans that had slipped through his barriers. They spurred her on, made her bold.
Shaking off his weak hold, Bonnie dove under the collar of his shirt and slid all the way down until her arm was sheathed to the shoulder. Her fingers drew spirals across his abs, tickling them, slipping into the line that divided them.
He shivered.
"You didn't," she said.
Expecting some pushback, some attempt to carve doubt in her mind, Bonnie startled when Damon's head turned, and his mouth clamped around her throat.
It was her turn to shudder as waves of fire scathed her system. Her hand fisted against his stomach as he brandished her skin with his teeth, laving his tongue along the reddened flesh to subside the sting.
She fought against the urge to curl into him, to let him use her as he pleased. But right now, he could suck her dry, and she'd be happy to live in his veins until his body was done with her.
Hard kisses pressed a line up to her ear, and her mouth fell open at the feel of his teeth around the lobe.
"Damon," she moaned, unrelenting pleasure plucking her skin into goosebumps.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
They wrenched apart.
"Are you guys up?"
"Y-Yeah," Bonnie answered, brushing the curls back from her face.
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"Um …" She looked to Damon, the heel of his palm pressed into his creasing forehead.
His hand slid down his face, rolling his mask on. Just like that, all traces of emotion were gone.
Damon stood, walking to the door with his charming facade in place.
He cracked it open just enough to see Mary in full. "You have eggs, flour, and butter?"
Bonnie peaked around from the corner of the bed she clung to, seeing Mary look over Damon, her sharp brows beginning to cinch. Mary wouldn't see all the love bites she'd marked him with. They'd likely already healed. Only the disheveled state of his hair and a light flush to his skin remained. He could attribute it to sleep all he wanted; Bonnie knew that look.
"Yeah, but you don't have to cook, Damon." Suspicion hung in Mary's tone.
It only grew as her sister's eyes flicked past Damon to take in her undone state.
Damn her clairsentience.
Damon shifted his weight, redirecting Mary's stare back to him. "It's no problem. I'll make waffles since Frank is coming over."
"Ok. If you're su— Wait. How'd you know that? I just got off the phone with him."
Bonnie could see it from his back, how his cheeks stretched out to accommodate that perfect, dazzling smile. Mary couldn't help herself. She was transfixed like a bug to a lightbulb.
Damon patted the wall. "And that beautiful voice of yours carries right through."
"Really?" Mary chirped. She'd already taken the bait.
Damon didn't placate her further. "We'll be right down."
"O-Ok …"
Damon shut the door, and his mask fell away.
Bonnie shrunk at the rage underneath. It was in his jaw, held taut, and in his eyes, blazing like coal pits. She braced, ready to get her lashings.
He marched over to her, but his hands were gentle as they curled around her upper arms, lifting her from the floor.
Stunned, Bonnie let him pull her to her feet and guide her to her vanity. He sat her down on the stool and squatted at her knees. Then she realized, his rage wasn't for her but himself.
"Do you have anything to cover this?" Damon brushed her hair back from her neck like it was made of glass.
She searched through her small collection of makeup, pulling out a black tube. "All I have is this concealer."
Damon took it from her without question and twisted the lid off. Bonnie watched, waiting for him to screw it up, to squeeze too much out or not enough. Something. But he dolloped a pin-point amount and began to dab it on the side of her neck he'd marred.
"I didn't mean to lose control this morning. I should've stopped you sooner. I shouldn't have—"
Bonnie caught his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "You don't need to do that. I started it."
"You're only human." He shook his head. "I should've been more responsible."
"Stop that." His gaze settled on hers. "Stop acting like you don't feel anything."
Damon's smirk flickered to life. "I have a choice, though."
Bonnie felt like her hair actually was fire spiraling from her skull. Her hands balled.
"Really?" She shot forward into his face. "Because you sucked at it this morning."
His smirk grew, eyes darkening to obsidian shards. "Are you challenging me, little witch?"
Bonnie gulped, regretting her decision as he stood, caging her to her vanity. "I'm saying you're more human than you think."
Damon tutted, closing the space between them, ghosting his lips along hers. Not once, but twice. She moaned, jerking forward to take them.
He inched back like it was nothing, an amused smirk creeping across his face. "Never."
The vanity shook as he pushed off it. "Get dressed and come downstairs so I can feed you. Frank just got here."
The door shut a little harder than necessary, the sound racketing off the walls he'd given her too many memories in, too many moments to ponder in her head until she lost it.
Bonnie huffed, turning herself back to the mirror and sweeping the curls from her neck. On the right side, a long splotch of red and purple bruises. She checked the other side, faint with two puncture marks anyone would have to squint to see.
Evidence of their night together faded on the surface, imprinted in permanent ink underneath. A "that time" story she'd never be able to retell.
Soreness made itself known between her legs, and she clung to it. To know it was real, to remember he'd given in to her too.
She patted the concealer down the trail of broken blood vessels and pulled a pair of shorts up her slender legs. Tying her oversized shirt in a knot and two ropes of curls back from her face, she braved the kitchen.