Sorry this took so long. The holidays are catching up with me. If you are a sensitive reader, please mind the trigger warnings, which can be found on my author website in Chapter 1. I don't want to spoil anything going in for those who don't care about the triggers, but if you are a sensitive reader, know that the content warnings are findable on my site. :)
You can find a link to it on my Twitter/X RosabelReed.
Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy, and don't be afraid to let me know what you think. :D
Adrenaline rushed to every limb, preparing her muscles to run, but her feet refused, drawing her back toward the wall instead.
"What are you doing?" The plastic wrap around the tampon crunched in her fist.
Damon didn't turn. He chuckled, dark and unrecognizable like the aura surrounding him.
Her stomach flipped. Thrilling, fearing.
"I must admit, you're very clever." That gravel scratching his voice hadn't gone but manifested into something stronger, something that had scored his throat.
All her questions dissolved on her tongue as she watched his fingers tap one by one along the door. From pointer to pinky elongated nails rapped into the wood.
But his nails didn't typically come out unless he was hunting.
Was he hunting?
Damon closed his claws into a fist, the scraping sound grating along her spine.
"I should've known when I smelled it earlier."
Bonnie shivered at the growl rumbling beneath his tone, like a caged animal just waiting to break free, wreak its havoc.
"Y-You smelled it?" This had gotten so much worse than she'd intended.
"You're such a fucking—" Bonnie jumped as his fist rammed the door, rattling it against its hinges.
"Just g-go into the hall while I clean up, and I'll come out in a—in a s-second ..." The tightening of her chest was making it hard to breathe, even harder to speak.
His head was already shaking, lolling side to side against the door. "It's too late for regrets, Miss McCullough."
Her heart pounded against her ribs like his fist had against the door.
"I didn't know you were this hungry," she rushed, hoping he'd listen. "It hasn't even been two weeks."
He tutted something of a laugh, an arrhythmic bass on the verge of madness. "You think it matters?"
Slowly, he turned to face her, and she gasped.
His eyes were sunken, somehow deeper in their sockets, and shadowed by heavy circles. Thick, red veins crawled out from their depths to zigzag like lightning toward his cheekbones.
She'd seen him like this before. Many times. His creature always found its way to the surface when he drank. But what she faced now was no creature. This was a predator, and she was no better than a mouse waiting for the elongated jaw of the snake.
The broken vessels coloring the whites of his eyes held intent. The tongue peeking out to wet his lips demonstrated motive.
"I always want your blood, little witch." Razor-sharp canines gleamed in the beige bathroom light, already fully descended, already poised to feed.
Bonnie's breath alluded her, all thoughts of his blissful bite replaced with horrors of torn flesh and blood squirting from broken arteries.
Wasn't this what she wanted?
Her hands found the wall, and she plastered her back to it as he stalked forward one step, then another. The last eliminated the space he'd coveted so much.
Bonnie tensed at the brush of his clothes, but they were nothing compared to the scathe of his blood-filled eyes drilling into her soul.
Her fingertips clawed into the wall, in search of some semblance of grounding.
His head tilted, cocked to one side. All signs of Damon were lost to the ravenous vampire he'd tried so hard to suppress.
Directing her fear into her fingertips, she let them shake against the wall offering little comfort. She could take it. Whatever he was about to do. She could handle it. He wouldn't hurt her. He couldn't.
Bonnie lifted her chin, staring into the obsidian stones drowning in crimson lakes. "Take it then."
His gaze flicked to her mouth, then lower to her neck, creeping across its unmarred column.
Warmth crept out from between her legs, spilling through the paper onto her fingers, her thigh. Damon's hunter gaze darted below her waist, and hers followed, watching the thick stream trickle down.
A desperate grunt dragged from Damon's lips, and he dropped to his knees.
Bonnie froze, lost to seconds that had seemed to stop ticking as his fingers curled around the back of her thigh.
"Damon, don't." She caught his shoulder, pushing against it.
But it was too late.
Wet and warm, his tongue ran up the inside of her leg. She watched, stomach churning as her womb's cherry spillage gathered on his tastebuds.
"Damon …" Her plea was weak, breathless.
She pushed again, but he didn't even shift.
The nodule in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips closing around leftover smears, suckling at little bits of her thigh.
Flutters devastated her core. Goosebumps peaked across her skin.
As he neared the apex of her thighs, Bonnie found herself moving her paper coverings, wanting him to do it. Damon was faster, pinning her bloodied hand to the wall.
"Damon, y-you can't. You can't ..." Her words faded into a moan as his tongue reached her slickened folds, swiping from the back all the way to the tip where her clit swelled.
The soiled toilet paper fell from her hand as languid laps of his tongue livened her body to its own desire.
Damon swiped once more, a long lick that ended at her sensitive bead before he traded her wrist for her thighs. Digging his fingers into her flesh, he yanked her legs apart, burying his face in between.
Shame mixed with pleasure. This was wrong. So wrong. She should've been fighting harder to stop him, but instead she was winding her fingers through his hair, gripping onto his roots for leverage.
Damon's tongue slid into her tight entrance, diving deep to curl along her walls, lick them clean. In and out, the wet muscle dove, pausing to swirl around her opening. Bonnie's head thumped against the wall.
"Damon, Damon …" She struggled to catch her breath as he drank the life from her core.
Her pelvic floor contracted under his attention, pushing more blood onto his tongue. It was strange, seeing him feast on her this way. His mouth smeared with her red arousal. It should've been revolting, repulsing to feel him take her menstruation into his mouth. But with each gush he pulled from her center, she found she preferred him this way. Kneeling. Sloppy. Ravenous for her taste.
Damon took her leg over his shoulder, and she fumbled for the empty towel rack, knuckles bleaching around the cold metal rod as she cried out for sanity, for relief from his persistence.
"D-Damon …" Bonnie tried once more, her legs shaking as they adopted the consistency of jelly.
Carnal eyes shot open, bathed in bloodlust as they bore into hers.
Bonnie felt her world combust.
"Please, please." She lurched off the wall in search of friction.
Damon's tongue flicked up, gifting her clit with the attention it sought.
Her core spasmed, rushing pleasure through her veins and onto Damon's tastebuds.
"So fucking sweet," he muttered, greedy lips mopping her up like she was a goddess, a fountain harboring the purest source of nutrients. And he'd been famished, deprived of such enchanting nectar.
Her body sang in its bliss, her nerves dancing with endorphins when something sharp sliced into her. She hissed as the sting phased into her pleasure.
And then there was another, a burn that blurred into an amplifier.
Bonnie's heavy eyes fluttered open to Damon's fangs buried in her thigh. Not feeding, just biting, marking her with puncture wounds over and over.
On his final bite, he swiped a quick lick up her leg. Enough to seal the wounds but not heal them.
Bonnie bit into her smile. Was this some kind of vampire claim?
She didn't get a chance to ask as Damon shot up from his knees and spun her.
Her hands smacked flat against the wall, her lungs groping for the oxygen they needed to rescue her brain from its fog.
The sound of a zipper cut through it all.
Jeans shifted, and then Damon was pressed to her back, shoving his length between her legs.
Her cheek smooshed to the drywall as he began thrusting, dragging himself through her slickness but never entering her. Long fingers slid into her curls, and he fisted in them, pulling her scalp taut.
Bonnie couldn't help but moan against the pain, its sharp prickles offering a thrilling juxtaposition to her harmony.
Rocking back into Damon's pelvis as it pushed against her ass, she gave him what pleasure she could, earning a quiet grunt from his mouth.
The harder he got, the more he curved up. With each thrust, his head swiped over her clit, still sensitive and pulsing. Familiar coils twisted up her core when a faraway door creaked open.
Bonnie's eyes shot open to the jingling of keys and the clunky footsteps of her sister's chunky hospital shoes.
"Damon," she whisper-yelled, reaching back to tap him. "Damon, Mary's home."
He grabbed the hand tapping him and pinned it beside her head.
"Shh!" Damon's hiss was harsh in her ear.
The hand in her hair fell to her lips, holding them closed as he continued his movements. She was about to protest when the hand around her wrist dropped to her matted tuft. Damon caged her to him while he played.
As if his tongue hadn't done enough of that.
His middle finger circled her, gently, pressing just right into her overwhelmed button. Like he knew her body so well, like he'd been pleasuring her all his life. Maybe he had. She'd dreamed of him enough times.
"Be a good girl. Come for me. I wanna feel it." His voice was not his own, but a concoction of desperate aggression.
Bonnie couldn't have fought it if she wanted to. Damon was the one in control, and he'd told her to come. Who was she to disobey?
Pleasure ripped through her for the second time that night, thrusting her body into a rhythm of strong contractions. Damon plunged into her, stretching her out, heightening the remnants of her orgasm.
Liquid heat flooded her, filled her until it dripped like the cries he was burying in her throat.
"Hello? Bonnie? Where are you?" Mary called.
Damon's fingers slipped from her mouth, and Bonnie fought to break through their haze.
"I-In the bathroom. Be out in a second," she replied, hearing the waver of her voice as Damon thrust one last time.
"I brought you a cookie."
Her body was limp, no better than a ragdoll as Damon turned her around to face him.
"W-What kind?" she called, trying to respond like normal, but it was hard with his cum trickling onto her thighs.
The eyes that met hers were normal, human. Dark irises contrasting white and set perfectly in full sockets.
He was her Damon again, the one that infuriated her.
"Macadamia, of course! What kind of sister do you think I am?"
"Sounds good." Bonnie watched all the panic and regret flash across Damon's reflection as he pushed off the wall to face himself in the mirror.
His mouth was covered in her menstrual blood, his cheeks smeared with it, streaks running down his neck from when his swallows hadn't been fast enough.
Switching the faucet on, Damon splashed the stains away, rubbed at them while he swooshed water around in his teeth.
Bonnie took cautious steps to his side, wetting folded squares of toilet paper. "What do we do about Mary?"
"It's not like she doesn't know." Damon mirrored her, wiping the excess from his dick with wetted paper sheets before shoving his limp length back into his jeans.
At least she would still be there when he inevitably left. It would be her blood, her desire coating his dick when he returned to Gemma.
How would he explain that?
"Know what?" Bonnie tested. There were so many options to fill in the blank. Mary knew that they were … screwing? Lovers? She refused to be the one to choose the wrong term.
Damon's gaze landed on hers in the mirror, his fingers taming the strands she'd made wild. "That we fucked."
He was careful of his words, even of the tense he used. She hated that about him.
"Mary doesn't even know you're here right now. I forgot to text her."
Turning herself away from him to insert her tampon felt silly at this point. But his demeanor had changed. He was no longer the man who'd attacked her, nor was he the one who'd licked her dry. He was the shell. The one that allowed her to see only a panel of his soul, a controlled portion torn from all the sinful desires running his body rampant.
Damon squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then I'll do the talking."