A/N: In a world struggling to accept vampires into mainstream society, witch Bonnie falls for a rogue vampire who might have ulterior motives...

Bonnie's flesh came alive in Havana, pulse throbbing around her throat and sweat pooling inside the hollow between her gleaming collarbones. Her white t-shirt stuck to her back, soaked and heavy in the muggy heat. The wet turned her tingling skin to magnet, everything stuck from the unfortunate ripped jeans she had decided to wear to the loose curls of her dark hair.

She watched as a couple of kids wriggled their way through a forest of chairs stacked firmly into the recess of a corner café. They giggled and hooted worming their way through the rosewood legs, their white frilled dresses and little blue suits soiled from their vigorous play.

It was the fourth of July, Independence Day back in the states and her father had probably already piloted a private jet to Martha's Vineyard for the summer but her mother was undoubtedly staying in Washington to work on high profile cases while her clients spirited off to their private islands. It's a good thing they divorced, Bonnie thought as she slugged back her third glass of red wine mixed with coke. The only thing her parents had in common was their Greek college system and their love for Rembrandt. Their devotion to their art was so strong that they were still fighting over several pieces long after their divorce. Bonnie sagged against the bright pink tarnished walls of shops and cafes hugging the narrow cobblestone streets. She could see the cathedral's gable behind stacks and stacks of green and pink buildings packed tightly onto each other as the wedding party poured out of its tall wide doors up steep narrow steps into the crumbling courtyard.

"Ok, I think that guy just had a moment with your ass" Caroline laughed nudging Bonnie with her elbow and motioning toward the crook of a rowdy café. Bonnie screwed her green eyes toward the damp heat of the café with rattling fans hanging from its thatched ceilings and patrons cackling, drinking and clapping for the passing wedding party. Eyes narrowed, she exhaled a long sharp breath when she saw the man Caroline was referring to. He was a tangle of dirty blonde hair, streaked golden by a burning Cuban sun and skin so tanned that it made his white linen shirt gleam against it.

Bonnie stared at him from across the crowded plaza as he slouched in his seat, one arm slung around the back of his wicker chair, the other hand cradling a glass of stiff rum. He seemed oblivious to the animated conversations around him, indifferent to the waitresses' fussing around him and continuously wiping his table with their tartan napkins. He merely stared at Bonnie through silvery metallic sunglasses that echoed the movement around the cafe. Shaking her head and fighting the rapid pounding against her chest, Bonnie grabbed Caroline's hand and jerked her forward so that they could keep moving.

"He was wearing sunglasses Caroline, "Bonnie finally exclaimed rolling her eyes as they continued their long sluggish trail up some spiralling narrow steps "You could see him stalking my ass through all that?"

They were trying to get a better view of the bride, or at least Elena was trying to view the veiled bride. The other two girls were more interested in the rooftop bar perched up on top of the flying stairway like Oz after trekking the long yellow rode. Bonnie couldn't care less what the bride looked like and after narrowly escaping her own nuptials back in DC; she didn't care much for weddings.

"He was definitely hot!" Elena panted lunging onto another step as rocks fell off beneath her stride. She paused to examine the soles of her beaded sandals and brushed off shingles of limestone that had stuck into their undulated surface "you think he could be one of those vampires?"

"What would a vampire be doing in Cuba, the hottest place on the globe?"

"There are tons of them in Mexico now, I saw them on that MTV special for EL dia de los Muertos," Elena huffed, leaning against the corroded wall, "that's day of the dead for you guys" she said smiling broadly, reminding the other two about her linguistics major.

"Hey, how come Washington doesn't have a day of the dead?"

"Because evil walks DC streets every night" Bonnie chuckled glancing over her shoulder.

"Vampire or not, dude was insanely hot" Caroline bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes momentarily.

"Yeah, I bet you he's a selfish prick and a liar" Bonnie responded wiping her arm across her sopping face and rousing the matted hair that had stuck to her forehead.

"Bonnie!" Caroline cautioned behind Elena's slight frame, huffing and struggling in her Jimmy Choo wedge sandals as she pulled back her flaxen hair into a sloppy ponytail.

"Being a douchebag transcends all languages," Bonnie continued, her heartbeat hastening dangerously with each laboured step "and races or whatever the heck vampires are if in fact he happens to be one but since we've established the fact that vampires do not exist in hot climates then-"she trailed off with a shrug of her sweaty shoulders.

"Admit it, he's cute and you felt something" Caroline insisted, cocking her head and shielding her eyes with both hands. Bonnie opened her mouth to retort, to lay out a winning argument and then her mobile phone droned inside her leather satchel. Pulling out the silver device from her packed bag, she groaned as it whirled and hissed in her hand before she finally padded across the touch-screen with her clammy fingers.

I MISS YOU; PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME…ON US

She read the text message then shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Marcel?" Elena asked peering over Bonnie's right shoulder nearly bumping her off the narrow stairs.

"Come on, forget Marcel," Caroline laughed dragging them both up the steep, crumbling treads to the bar" The day is still young and we have too many tequila bottles to tackle!"

The three of them took a moment to stand there and marvel at the beauty of the place. With the sun high over the red-roof stippled horizon, Havana shimmered like yellow nutmeg and Bonnie recalled their first night in Cuba drinking copious amounts of nutmeg sprinkled pina coladas. Her eyes drifted to the ocean hemming in the jagged yellow of everything and she grinned taking it all in.

Old Havana was nothing like the glass front tapas bars in Washington DC where one could watch a jungle of neon lights peeking through lanky, bony rooftops while sipping a vintage red as old and illustrious as one's last name. Havana didn't care if the wine was rough on your tongue and the sun searing on your sunburnt back, she was not pretentious. She was as carefree as her cheap kalimotxos.

"To a reckless summer!" Caroline cheered slapping both girls on their bronzed backs.

..

Later that evening, guided by a bone-white moonlight and sputtering gas lanterns along the cobblestone streets, the girls hunted and found a sultry salsa club a mile from their hotel. They danced underneath human sized birdcages dangling from the ceiling, their stilettos beating a marble floor spangled with fallen feathers and glittering stars from showgirls' costumes. The club was congested, hot and swathed with the mist of cigar smoke.

"Feliz dia de la independencia"

Bonnie whirled around to the warm voice tickling the back of her moist neck. Shards of flickering blue strobe lights fell on his muddy blonde hair and his face making his eyes appear deep violet under the blinking lights.

"Gracias" she yelled over the music, drumbeats mingled with the bloating of saxophones.

"You're an American." he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah."

"Here, "he smiled handing her a rolled up joint, the sharp smell clogging her senses.

"What's that?"

"What does it look like?" he asked leaning closer to her ear, his scent taking over her head and weakening her knees.

"Trouble" she arched an eyebrow as she searched his face. Bonnie still couldn't tell what colour his eyes were as they were now striking her as puce, a colour that defied natural science.

"Everything is legal in Havana" he said placing a hand on her hip, it felt heavy like he had suddenly set the whole world there.

"Let me guess, you have an appetite for destruction?" she asked shrinking back against his heated touch.

"I have an appetite for adventure" he persisted, his eyes stalking her moving lips.

Gingerly, Bonnie took the rolled up piece between her thumb and index finger and examined the unbroken seams of its white wrapping. Glancing up at him, she slipped the joint between her lips and sucked like her life depended on it. Her eyes sprang open, the cough strangling her throat.

"How about a drink?" he chuckled over her deep coughs, snaking his arm around her waist as Bonnie pushed him back with a gentle pat on his chest.

"I already have one."

"I was proposing that you buy me a drink."

"Are you a local?" Bonnie asked tracing the rim of her champagne glass and observing the reflections cast by the orgy of gaslights and strobe lights inside the club.

"What, you only buy drinks for Cubans?" he grinned cocking his head and his eyes seemed to turn into black pools like the Dead Sea. She shook her head laughing.

"You speak very good Spanish." she mused, suddenly intrigued by the prospect of what he was, a vampire.

"Todo suena major en espanol"

"Huh?"

"I said everything sounds better in Spanish" he explained playing with the Tiffany charm bracelet draped around her left wrist. His eyes were fixed on her face, drawn to the slack mouth that pulled him unconsciously with its ripe red colour.

"I know what you are." she said slowly studying the curious tint of his now tan eyes.

"I should hope so" he sighed beckoning the barman with his finger.

"I don't think I'm allowed to talk to vampires."

"And I'm not allowed to play with my food but here we are, having a delightful conversation."

"I'm certainly going to enjoy you." he said hastily rushing for her hand and drawing it to his lips. Before they could brush her skin, Bonnie snatched her hand back from his grasp and turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?" he cried reaching out for her hand again.

"To find my friends." she replied hoarsely trying to pull away from him but he simply took both her hands in his, wrapping his warm fingers around them. He was surprisingly warm for a vampire, she thought as the heat mounted up her cheeks.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked playing with her long delicate fingers.

"Dancing with you would be like playing with knives" she said yanking her hands free from his grip.

"Dangerous?"

"Suicidal."

"You strike me as a risk taker."

"Is that code for people pleaser?"

"Curious little witches like you don't need to be people pleasers" he said capturing her hand and spiriting her off to the crowded dance floor. It was Bonnie's turned to be shocked, he knew what she was but of course he would have known-didn't vampires know everything? Before she could react or even utter a word she was in his arms on the dance floor and the liquor and smoke had begun to play wild and sultry tricks with her mind.

..

Bonnie swayed her hips like a punch drunk pendulum, drum beats hammering inside her chest. He tangled his hand in her tousled hair, the other hand sliding down her gyrating hips to drive their rhythm. She arched her sweltering back, her sleek thighs tangling with his strong legs. The thick steamy Havana heat intoxicated her, broke her out of her shell as she laughed into his ear.

She couldn't remember his name and she didn't care. Maybe it was the rum fuelled binge or the strong scent of tobacco snaking around the club but she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted this nameless creature with muddy blond hair and eyes that played filthy tricks with her mind to kiss her. Reliable, upright and uptight Bonnie Bennett wanted this swarthy agile man with the most tantalizing smile she had ever seen to take her home with him.

What had Caroline called it, living in the moment?

Stop being so careful Bonbon, stop playing it safe, Caroline had yelled at her hoping the yelling and the shaking would do her some good.

What had safe gotten her?

Sage had gotten her a Georgetown law scholarship in Washington DC. Safe had gotten her prestigious governor's son Marcel Gerard, the same Marcel who had cheated on her four days before their wedding.

Playing safe was a pain.

He was pulling her up when it happened, drawing her close to his searing heat.

"Your place or mine?" Bonnie breathed into his ear, taking the bull by the horns. Her voice was still husky from the afternoon's tequila binge with the girls. He spun her around, his arm snaking around her waist then she came full circle slamming against his hard chest. Bonnie gasped at the sheer force, her eyes meeting his for what seemed like the first time. They were brown, as clear as day or freshly distilled whiskey.

"No objectivar me encanta" he grinned winking at her.

"I didn't catch that," Bonnie slurred back, the vibrating hum of his voice titillating every single nook in her body.

"So you find me handsome?"

Cocky shit.

He could be as arrogant as he chose to be, she thought gripping her bottom lip in-between her teeth. She wouldn't need for conversation anyway. This would be physical, strictly physical. She could do that couldn't she? She could let go and just be a writhing, heated beast in sultry Havana. She could be as scandalous as she wanted to be, sprawled on a vampire's bed in Havana. It didn't get better than that as far as stick-it-to-you-ex-revenge-sex went. This would be the omega of paybacks.

"Relax darling, of course I'll give you what you need" He said cupping her face in his face. Bonnie groaned, her eyes falling to his succulent lips. He twirled her around again before the dirty thoughts in her head could take form and ravage his mouth. He moved behind her, rolling his hips in line with hers then he grabbed her throat from behind steering her face back to his before kissing her hard and deep. Somewhere in the back of her head, Bonnie knew she had to find Elena and Caroline in the bustling smoky club but she couldn't think straight. He swept his tongue over the curved contours of her lush lips, teasing the inside of her mouth. Bonnie groaned into his mouth tasting the sweet rum he'd consumed earlier and rolling her tongue over its fiery cinnamon spice.

Ye, it must be the rum. She couldn't think straight because of his hot rum soaked mouth.

"My place "he whispered, his teeth grazing the heated shell of her ear.

Bonnie grinned gathering the chiffon folds of her flimsy white dress and followed him down the narrow trails, the lantern lit archways into the sultry Havana streets.

..

"So, how does this usually work?" Bonnie asked, her trembling hands cupping his tight sweet ass. He pulled back, brown eyes dancing in the moonlight as his lips crooked into an amused grin.

"Well, "he began, his dimpled grin broadening "we usually undress first, kiss a few times before I put my-"

"I meant the whole no strings attached thing."

"How does it work?" he asked studying her long and hard as her fingers crawled back u to the back of his neck. She had absolutely no clue what do to with them.

"Yes, uhm….what're the rules?"

"Is this your first time darling?"

"No!" she cried, heat flaring up to her cheeks "I just thought that the rules might be different for uhm…different countries, you know" she stammered watching him undo the straps of her chiffon dress. Whatever little there was to it slid to the floor in a cloud of lust and the realization hit her, she was alone with a man he didn't know from a bar of soap. Her heart fluttered again, heat climbing up her stiff neck.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you darling but sex is a universal language"

"My body, " he whispered, his thick voice husky as his finger traced its way up her quivering inner thigh "and your body, they all speak the same language"

"Amor"

"Amor?" Bonnie repeated as if to test the authenticity of his practised line. She wondered how many girls he had used it on.

"Si, amor" he reiterated burying his fingers into her hair and catching her bottom lip between his teeth as she moaned into his ravenous mouth. She forgot, she forgot her argument again.

Dammit.

"What are the rules?" she exhaled pressing her hands against his hard, heaving, sweltering chest. She was desperate for a response, a way forward and some sort of contract detailing the consequences of her actions. Bonnie needed to know the rules so that she could figure out how to play them.

"Tell me to stop and I will "he said softly tracing her heated cheek with his thumb. His other hand was less chivalrous in its over-zealous seduction between the quivering things.

"I-uh-uhmm…just uh…" she stuttered trying to recall any and everything about how to control her body, how to regulate her emotions. She bit her lower lip and clenched her hips around him feeling everything that he was giving her. Bonnie had not known pleasure like this before, had no idea that it could be possible for a man to make her feel this way. Sense told her that her mind was playing tricks on her, logic told her it was the foreign air toying with her mind. Whatever it was, had her jumping in her bones, tweaking like a crazed addict and wanting whatever it was he was selling.

"Rule number one, "he said as he wrapped his lips around the stem of her right nipple, sliding it in and out of his hot mouth "there are no rules"

"Rule number two, "he murmured, his tongue whirling around her left nipple and fogging Bonnie's brain as she snaked her right leg around his lean hips "there are no rules"

"Rule number three," he drew back, "say it with me" he purred, his gaze washing over her as he slid inside her.

"There are no rules" Bonnie sighed dragging his head down until his lips brushed over hers, tongue chasing tongue.

..

Bonnie woke up alone.

Alone in his grimy, slanting apartment with moulted floors and shedding chili-red wallpaper. Her mouth tasted like ripe piss and her head hammered viciously. She had not been this hung-over since Spring-break freshman year.

Put your big girl panties on Bonnie. Slip them on and suck it up, she thought tumbling out of his small rumpled bed. She made a quick body inspection for any teeth marks, missing lungs, kidneys, and discovered that she was wearing his shirt. It was old denim and frayed at the hem. Panic set in as she feverishly looked for her dress around his room. She dug through his dirty clothes strewn across the floor and stacks of newspapers methodically placed in the corners of the room. Eventually, she found it slung across a rotting sofa in a lounge scattered with black candle stubs. She didn't remember him lighting the candles for her but then again she didn't remember much from last night.

"Pretty girl! Pretty girl!"

Her muscles sprang as he turned to find his parrot inside a white birdcage hanging by an open window.

"Shit" Bonnie muttered crawling back into her bruised skin.

"Shit! Shit!" the parrot squawked flapping its azure wings. Bonnie bound for the door, her nag and heels in hand as his parrot continued its wild screeching calls.

"Kol got laid! Kol got laid!"

The narrow streets were swarming with a bustling morning crowd as she tied his denim shirt tighter around her waist in a feeble attempt to hide last night's dress. She ambled her way through the crumbling courtyard, stepping over party decorations sprinkled across the dusty yellow streets, kids playing glass marbles and shiny pink Cadillac's filled with keen tourists.

She scrimmaged through her purse for her phone; she had no idea what part of town she was in or how to get back to the hotel. What was clear to her though was that she was no longer in Old Havana and that this part of town was a different beast all together. She chastised Caroline for confiscating her trusted map of the city because it made her look lame. Lame was getting lost in a foreign country, lame was having her father teach her about responsibility again and lame was returning Marcel's countless phone calls and forgiving him.

She didn't like the trembling fear snaking up her spine. She was tired, hungry and her feet felt like pulverized meat in her six inch sandals. Terror set in when she saw the battery flashing, the dull red light of impending doom. She prayed for Caroline to pick up in two rings before she became another statistic in Cuba.

"If you're not dead yet, "Caroline yelled "I'm going to kill you myself!"

"I don't know where I am"

"What do you mean? "The blonde cried, a clamour of voices and honking traffic horns rising behind her "where's the guy you-?"

The sudden stifling silence told Bonnie that her battery was dead. She wouldn't panic; she told herself, she wouldn't scream in the middle of some dark street in the creepiest part of town. She'd hold it together.

The honking reminded her that Havana was crawling with taxis. Bonnie gave chase, yelling at an old red dodge depositing a customer outside a cafe crawling with sweaty domino players and a live salsa band.

"Hotel Saratoga, por favor "she commanded not waiting for him to respond just in case he decided to speed off and leave her in that desolate part of town.