Author's note: Thank you so much for your reviews and interest in this story! I hope this new installment does not disappoint. Enjoy!
Complications.
Chapter 2
As much as he is a bourbon man, he is a man of impulse. Notoriously and unapologetically.
Which is why he is very perturbed when his thoughts begin gradually taking on a more artful and calculative air...
He is downright disturbed when his musings begin to linger on the future, – because even more than his lack of strategy and procedure, he is not proactive. He is much too busy living it up in the here and now, to spare any pondering on the days ahead.
Lately it's all he can think about.
About her.
About a heretic biting her – kidnapping her... her getting into a car accident, – catching a common cold!
What medicine would he buy? What would he do? Who would he kill?! He has to plan it just right, because should his hasty actions harm their friends, she'll kill him...
Ironically enough, Damon's the one who ends up kidnapped and injured.
After weeks of worrying and meticulous devising, he's the one tossed and left in an alleyway like trash, after Lily and her BeBe kids pump him full of vervain, sifting his mind for the location of the Phoenix stone.
He's pissed off, dog tired, ego wounded, and of course she's the one who comes for him.
Bonnie Bennett, with her green eyes fierce with determination and worry. Stifling intense worry, for him. – And when did he become one of the people she would look at in such a way?!
"Damon! Oh my God! What did they do to you?!"
She's in front of him so quickly, in his weakened delirium he wonders if she's been turned.
She falls to her knees, one caramel hand caressing his cheek, while the other brands his forehead, before entering his chestnut hair.
He blinks rapidly and aimlessly through the drugged mess of his mind, struggling to focus on and memorize every aspect her potent glare. He abruptly wonders if he longed for it. Subconsciously, all those years ago when she hated him, and he posed dances, second chances, and truces, perhaps all for the yearning to have such passionate loyalty on his side...
Her gentle touches, new and slightly overwhelming, drown him delightfully with their tenderness and deliciously proximal scent of cherry blossom, coaxing his eyes to involuntary closing.
"Shit!"
The expletive skyrockets the vampire's attention back to mossy orbs that impossibly grow with despair, darting over him. He didn't think he looked so bad, but her reaction makes him feel like death warmed over...
His insecurities are but for a moment however, as his gaze widens, spontaneously concentrating almost obsessively on each striking feature of the woman – and was she always this magnificently beautiful?
Glassy ceruleans roll to the back of Damon's head, as he battles to keep pace with her sudden and hasty movements.
Bonnie grits her teeth, searching the alley for something she apparently comes short of, as she growls in aggravation, before swiftly thrusting her right arm before him.
"Bite me, Damon."
Time surely ceases to move.
A thousand warning bells sound off in the vampire's head, but adversely dual as musical accompaniment to the Hallelujah chorus.
"No."
He slowly shakes his head from side to side, somehow able to maintain reason through the hysteria.
All of his planning...
Here he's been fearing her catching a cold, getting into a car accident, getting kidnapped, getting bitten! And here she is asking him to bite her!
"Damon."
The air becomes sharply cogent... more severe.
The witch's mouth fixes into that stern line, he's seen way too many times to know there is no argument against.
"You are chalk full of so much vervain, you look like a roofy victim." her wrist presses earnestly against his dry lips, jade eyes burning into him with equal persistence. "Drink. Now."
Elongated fangs gently glide into the toffee joint.
Damon barely even registers what's going on. He's too weak to bicker. He's too hungry to care.
And he's notoriously impulsive...
Sweet honey, cinnamon, ambrosial euphoria slides effortlessly down his throat. – Slowly returning pallor and strength to his body - detonating outlandish and disturbing reveries to his mind - before finally... recovering reason.
When he swiftly breaks away from her, with one final lick to her skin, he is left sick to his stomach by what he's done. What he's taken from her... for the second time with his bite.
Something very distinct is changed between them. Or perhaps the burried is only unearthed from it's recesses...
"I am so sorry, Bon Bon."
She cuddles her arm, unusually avoiding his gaze, he knows, though he avoids her's with equal vehemence.
"Don't be. I offered, remember? …You get enough?"
Her soft words spark a deep and sudden guilt. He's ingested far more than needed.
"Yeah."
A long groan from the depths of the alley, abruptly ends the awkwardness between the duo, alerting and reminding them they are not alone.
"Oh no! Stefan!"
Moving purposefully to head for the other victim of the night, Bonnie is suddenly halted by a firm hand catching around her fingertips.
"I'll run and get him some blood bags from the hospital."
The witch frowns confused.
Damon's icy blues widen with electric robust intent and impatience.
"If you need an explanation, you have no idea how good you taste." he swiftly bites out, startlingly worked up, – far too much to notice the look of surprise his brazen confession inspires in his friend. "Don't offer yourself to just anyone."
Bonnie ducks her head at the order. Uncharacteristically bashful she chews into her bottom lip, before returning her gaze to her counterpart's with trademark tenacity and zest.
"It's Stefan -
"That's mine."
Hold readjusting around her wrist, Damon's warm fingers caress over his bite mark, before the index ventures meaningfully further down along the vein in her arm.
"C'mon. Let's get you both some blood bags." Bonnie chuckles slightly, unsure of what to make of the possessive words, and the cold sober glint in the vampire's eyes. She swallows deeply, rising from the ground, and waiting for him to follow. "I think all that vervain's still got you a little out of it..."
Lately it's all he can think about.
About her.
He's constantly concerned about her safety. Devising ways to keep her from harm...
Only how does he strategize protection from himself, when he suddenly yearns to harm her so delectably fervent?
Complications.
Author's note: Thank God for this! It's been on my mind for quite some time, but quite difficult to write, as I am rarely satisfied with anything I produce lately. :/ So by all means, if you weren't repulsed by this, PLEASE leave a review and let me know as much! They truly are more powerful and inspiring than you realize! Thanks again so much for reading, and God bless.