I can't believe I'm actually starting another story so soon :p! I'd promised myself I'd take a break! But your comments were so nice and I actually started missing DELENA, so, I guess...here we go again!

This time, it's a whole new concept, though. The characters are still the same (at least their names/appearances), but aside from that, I'm making a total break from the TV show. Off course, the DELENA-love will still be...constantly, in many, many hot ways! I hope you guys like it! Let me know!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters and I hate it! L.J. Smith is still the ruler of the Vampire Diaries universe.

Prologue

Even though, not so long ago, he'd desperately tried to forget, in that moment, with the moon above him and with her in his arms; he couldn't help but remember the first time he'd seen her. He remembered thinking he'd never seen anything as beautiful, as mesmerizing as her. He remembered how thick curtains of long, chestnut hair fell around her shoulders and the way her big brown eyes were glazed over as she stared at her drink. Clearly, she'd been deep in thought and he recalled wishing he knew what was going on in that head. Now, if you knew anything about Damon Salvatore, you'd know how rare that was. He generally didn't care what humans thought or did. They were food, warm bodies to feast on in more ways than one and yet, when he saw her, the thought of hurting her repulsed him. Off course, back then, he didn't know why yet. He didn't know who she was or what she was going to mean to him. He didn't know that one day, he'd hold her, like he was holding her now: clutched against his chest, his fingers digging into her arms, begging for her to stay, to stay with him, to hold on, even though deep down, he knew it was already too late. She was gone and Damon… Damon just begged. For a do-over. For a second chance. For one more moment with her, so he could tell her how much he hated her. So he could tell her how desperately he loved her.

But like I said, back then, Damon was clueless. All he knew on that warm summer night in Venice, was that she was the most amazing thing in that bar and one way or another, she was going to be his.

Chapter one

"You're a fucking fool!"

Damon smiled, rolling his eyes as Stefan's insult boomed through his cell.

"Come back," his brother continued, his voice too threatening for Damon's taste. "Now!"

"Or what?" Damon hissed.

"Brother, don't be a stubborn ass! It's not safe! He knows we used to live there! He probably has men posted all over the place in case we show our faces!"

Damon grinned, pulling his hat further down. "Then I guess I'll have to keep my face hidden."

"Damon," Stefan hissed. "You come back now or I swear−"

Fuming, Damon snapped his cell shut and shoved it in his jeans. He didn't like being told what to do. Especially not by his brother. Technically, Stefan was still younger than him and if anyone was going to boss anyone around, it was Damon. Besides, Stefan should be glad he'd left. Yes, Klaus was still out there and finding the infamous Salvatores was probably still on his priority list, but this Klaus asshole was the reason he'd been locked up in a safe house in Paris for months now, a very crowded safe house where Damon was slowly but surely losing his mind. He had to get out of there before he ripped that house and everyone in it apart. So, as he saw it, Damon was doing them all a favor by leaving for a while.

Taking in the beauty that was Venice, Damon roamed through the many alleys, passed the soothing canals and breathed in the mouthwatering smells coming from the open kitchen doors until he felt himself calming down. He loved Venice. In fact, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing more beautiful than Venice by night.

He was about to find out how wrong he was.

"Get out of here, you bastard!"

Damon stopped in his tracks just in time to avoid the man who was being shoved out onto the street by a pissed off bartender. Damon knew he was a bartender, because the man reeked of alcohol and yet, it wasn't in his blood. And Damon could smell his blood clearly thanks to the cut in his hand. Judged by the degree of the bartender's rage, Damon guessed he had the intoxicated man on the pavement to thank for that, too. The man on the ground didn't put up a fight now, though. He just slurred something vaguely reminiscent of Italian and then wobbled off, leaving behind a pungent, gut wrenching scent.

"Sorry about that," the bartender said, only then noticing Damon.

He shrugged. "No worries." Not his usual responds, but hey, he was in a good mood. He was out, in the open and happy to be miles away from a certain French country.

"Let me buy you a drink," the bartender offered, gesturing for Damon to follow him inside.

Damon was already halfway through saying no, thanks when he glanced at the open door…and saw her. The place was packed, but she stood out, to say the least. It wasn't anything she was wearing. The simple jeans and black top weren't the reason he, and every other male in that bar, were drawn to her. It was just…her. There was something about her. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't seem interested in what most women in that bar were interested in, which was finding a man to take home. It was obvious that that was the furthest thing from her mind. She never even looked at any of the men who were looking at her. She just kept her eyes on her drink, a deep frown wrinkling her eyebrows.

"So, what'll you have?"

Damon hadn't even realized he'd followed the bartender in until he spoke to him, drawing his eyes away from the mysterious woman.

"Scotch," Damon boomed. "Neat."

"Coming right up."

As the man put a glass in front of him, pouring the liquor in, Damon lowered his voice and asked, "Who is that woman? At the end of the bar?"

The man smiled, shaking his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "It's just that you're not the first to ask me that tonight. And I'll tell you the same thing I told them: I don't know."

"She's not a regular?"

"Nope. I've never seen her here before," the man said, adding as he smiled, "I wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"She's not in the mood to be hit on. Trust me, many men have tried before you."

"I'm not your average man," he said, throwing his hat down on the counter. His raven hair was rummaged, but he knew that wouldn't matter. He knew he was dashing, irresistable. Centuries of experience had taught him that much.

Confident, Damon got up, drink in hand, and made his way towards her. The closer he got to her, the more details he noticed: the tiny freckles in her neck, the plumpness of her blood red lips, the way her sun kissed skin seemed to glow. She was truly amazing, unique and something told him that there was more to be discovered about her, that there was more to this woman than met the eye. She proved him right from the very beginning by sighing,

"Go away."

Damon closed the mouth that was about to greet her, his lips curling up in a little smile. Her voice sounded exactly as he'd imagined it. Soft, sweet and yet, feisty, determined.

"Seriously," the woman continued when he didn't move from behind her. "I'm not interested."

"Are you sure?" Damon asked, the amusement thick in his voice. "I mean, you haven't even looked at me."

"I don't have to," she said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. "I'm sure you're handsome, charming, but please, leave me alone."

Damon didn't listen, instead sitting down on the stool beside her. She didn't look at him, but he looked at her, studying every inch of her expressive face: her high cheekbones, her long lashes, her slim nose… But it wasn't anything he saw that mesmerized him most. What really took him by surprise, was her smell. Her extraordinary, rich smell. Not a trace of perfume diluted the natural scent that clung to her and invaded his senses. It was only her... and he'd never smelled anything quite like it.

"Who are you?" Damon asked, his voice lower, deeper than before.

"I'm just a woman who wants to finish her drink in peace."

He gazed at the glass she was clutching. "That would require you actually taking a sip."

That's when her eyes found his and even though they were angry, he couldn't help but drown in those warm, doe depths. Was there anything about her that wasn't breathtaking?

"I'm Damon," he said, tipping his head intrigued. "Damon Salvatore."

"I don't care."

That took him by surprise. How long had it been since a woman had refused him? Since he'd been forced to work for it, put in some effort? Usually, women just threw themselves at his feet, but not her. And for some reason, he liked even that about her.

"So, why are you not drinking?" he asked, trying to figure her out. "Addict?"

She sighed, pinching her nose. "If I tell you, will you go away?"

Damon just stared at her, watching her swallow, hearing her heart speed up just a bit. She was nervous. Maybe he had an effect on her after all.

"I don't want to get drunk," she finally admitted. "I need to keep a clear head."

"I don't think one scotch will intoxicate you."

"And you know this from our long history together?"

His smile widened. She was sassy. "If you're not going to drink it, why order it?"

"I like the smell," she snapped. "Is this usually how you hit on women? By interrogating them?"

"Only if they refuse to give me their name."

"I bet that doesn't happen too often."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Just an observation. Don't flatter yourself."

He laughed and even though he could tell she tried to hide it, a smile was pulling at her lips, too.

"Let me buy you another drink."

"No, I−"

Damon ignored her, already ordering a red wine.

"Seriously," the woman said when the glass was put in front of her. "I don't want this."

"Wine has less of a kick than a scotch."

"Still, I don't want it," she said determined, pushing the drink away. "I don't want to owe you."

"It's just a drink."

"That's how it starts out."

He shook his head, smiling. "You have some serious trust issues."

"No, I don't," she said, adding so softly under her breath most humans wouldn't have heard, "It's everyone else who has issues with trust."

Damon's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Letting out a deep breath, the woman turned so she faced the crowded dance floor. Her arm grazed his as she did so, leaving behind a trail of sparks. Damon couldn't even remember the last time he'd reacted to a mere touch that way, but he was sure it had been in his human days. Never as a vampire. Never as a monster.

"See the woman in the red dress?" she asked, making him focus back on the present.

Damon nodded, spotting her immediately.

"The man she's been dancing with all night, he's married. And not to her. The blond woman by the door is a prostitute, but she won't tell her date until he has used her services. Also, the couple at the other end of the bar that looks oh so happy," she said, looking over Damon's shoulder, giving him a delectable view on her slim neck. "He's beating her."

Damon followed her eyes and found that she was right. There were old bruises on her collarbone and fresh ones on her wrist. She tried to hide them, but they came peeping out from under her sleeves.

"And then off course, there's the man in the black shirt, sitting alone at the table in the corner," she continued. "He's gay, he just doesn't know it yet. And neither does the woman who's been eyeing him all night. She'll probably go over to him within the next half hour. He'll probably buy her a drink and try to put a stop to his own slumbering doubts. He'll marry her, have some kids with her, only to discover he can't hide who he is. He'll kill himself or leave her, either way, it'll hurt. Either way, she'll be broken. So," she said turning back around to her drink. "You say I have issues? Then fine, I have issues, but I'd rather have issues than be like them and fall blindly, believe without question, without reason, only to end up broken."

A long moment of silence passed, a moment during which Damon just looked at her, trying to see her, trying to figure her out, but her eyes gave nothing away. She was a closed book, a mystery and there weren't a lot of women like that left in the world. Damon should know. He'd been everywhere, seen everything, met every kind of person there was. Or so he'd though before she'd entered his world.

"Aren't you going to tell me I'm wrong?" she asked. "That I shouldn't judge them so harshly? That people are basically good?"

"No."

Her deep, brown eyes widened a little. "You're not?"

"Nope."

"Most people would."

"I guess I'm not most people."

She just frowned at that, her nose crinkling in a way that made something carnal rise inside Damon. Something that wanted her more than it had ever wanted anything. What was that about?

"Who are you?" Damon rumbled, intensifying his gaze. "Tell me your name."

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"No."

"Come on, tell me your name."

"What do you think will happen if I do? It won't change anything. I'm not leaving with you."

"You're just assuming I want to take you home?" Damon said, acting shocked. "You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?"

A half smile crept up her lips. "You have a sense of humor. I'll give you that."

"Now that was definitely a compliment," Damon rumbled.

"Yeah well, don't let it get to your head."

"Okay" he said, taking a sip from his own scotch. "If you won't tell me your name, at least tell me what you're doing here. You're clearly not on the prowl for men."

"Maybe I'm waiting for my boyfriend. Did you consider that?"

"I did."

"And yet you're here."

"I guess I don't care."

"Ah, so you're arrogant, too."

"Is it arrogance if you're really superior to everyone?"

And then, she smiled. Truly smiled. And as her brilliant white teeth flashed behind her blood red lips, something inside Damon told him he would do anything just to make her smile like that. When she smiled, she lid up and for the shortest second, he could see who she was underneath the toughness. He could see the woman within. And she was beautiful. Why was she trying to hide her?

Damon shook his head softly, leaning in closer. He knew all he had to do to get her name was compel her, but for some reason, he didn't want to. He wanted her to tell him her name voluntarily. That was new. Then again, pretty much everything he was experiencing with her was new.

"What's your name?" he whispered, his voice now void of every trace of humor.

Her smile dropped. She could tell he wasn't joking anymore, she could tell he was serious, but still she said, "No." Her voice was kinder, though. Almost apologetic.

"Just tell me," he growled, leaning closer to her, breathing in her warm scent. "Tell me your name."

She sighed, slowly shaking her head. "Trust me, you don't want to know me."

"Trust me," he whispered back. "I do."

"Why?" she sighed, clearly getting frustrated. "I mean, you do realize there are probably about a dozen women here who would love to give you their name. And more for that matter. Why go for the one woman you can't have?"

"Who says I can't have you?"

"I do."

"I love a challenge."

"You won't love this one."

"Are you always this difficult?"

"Are you always this annoying?"

"I've been told I am repeatedly, yes."

There was that smile again.

"You know, it's just a name," he rumbled, trying to convince her it was okay. "What's the worst that could−"

The piercing sound of his cellphone cut him off. When he saw the name on caller-ID, he turned his body away from the mystery girl and snapped, "What?"

"Salvatore, what are you doing?" Lexi shrieked. "Your brother says you're not in the safe house anymore? Tell me you're not that stupid!"

"I can't talk right now, Lexi," Damon snapped, eager to get back to the woman beside him.

"At least ease my mind and say you're on the first flight back to Paris."

"No can do."

"Seriously, Damon?!" she gnarled. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to make these safe houses? How much magic it takes? How many months I staked out locations to make sure no one connected to Klaus was anywhere near? If he finds you, he'll make you tell him where they are! You're endangering−"

"I would never tell him anything, Lexi!"

"Klaus can compel you, idiot, so you get your ass back to Paris or−"

He hung up and shoved his phone in his leather jacket, turning back around. "Sorry about−"

His stomach clenched as he stared at the seat beside him, the empty seat beside him.

His heart racing, Damon jumped up, looking for the exits. She couldn't have gone out the front door, because he'd been facing it during the phone call. He would've seen her leave. So that left the emergency exit. Without giving it a second thought, he busted out the door and found himself in a dark alley. Two dumpster made the night reek of garbage and yet, he could smell her in the middle of it. She was still close.

Moving faster than he should so early in the night, Damon followed the scent. It wasn't long before he saw her dooming up in the darkness. She was walking at a fast pace, her arms folded over her chest. He kept his distance, not wanting to startle her.

She turned the corner and he sped up a little, afraid he'd lose sight of her for too long. And then it all happened so fast, even Damon was surprised. He'd barely turned the corner or someone grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, slamming him face first into the wall. Off course, it was a very weak attempt to overpower him, but when he saw who was holding him down, he decided not to fight back.

"You're following me now?" The woman from the bar snapped, her grip tightening. He had to give it to her, she was strong. In fact, if he'd been a human man, there was a really good chance she could kick his ass. But he wasn't human. He could break free at any time. The thing was, though, he didn't want to. Not yet.

"Is this what you do?" she continued, her voice tight. "Smooth talk women and then stalk them if they turn you down?"

"You know I'm not not like that."

"And how would I know that?" she snapped. "I've met you five minutes ago."

"First impressions are generally correct. Did you get the sense I'm a danger to you?"

Her grip weakened just a bit. She probably didn't even notice herself, but he did.

"You are following me through a dark alleyway, so I think I'm going to go with the impression I have of you now!"

Damon sighed. He had preferred it if she'd let him go voluntarily, but since that wasn't in the cards−

With one twist, he was out of her grip and turned around, facing the stunned woman.

"How did you do that?"

"Guess I'm just stronger."

"Not possible."

"Who's arrogant now?"

"Enough with the charm! Why were you following me?"

His eyes fixed on hers, he took a step closer to the woman, leaving only a thin film of air between them. She didn't back away one inch, though. She just stood there, her chin raised defiantly. She was stubborn, fearless or at least pretending to be.

"I didn't get what I wanted before," he rumbled, his eyes dropping to her lips for a split second. He could hear her heart speeding up then, could smell her blood pumping faster underneath her skin. "Your name," he added, pushing down a self-satisfied smirk.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I don't kid."

"You're like a dog with a bone."

"So just throw me the bone."

She laughed and if Damon thought he was surprised by the beautiful sound that passed her lips, she seemed simply stunned. Frowning, she touched her lips, a move that stirred something inside Damon.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Her eyes narrowed into slithers as the wind caught her hair, gathering it behind her head. The chill off the surrounding water hit her face and he could see her cheeks turning red in responds. Or maybe it was her anger that made her flush.

"I'm going now!" she snarled, pushing past him. "Don't follow me!"

"At least let me walk you home," Damon insisted, catching up with her.

"Yeah, sure," she scoffed. "I'll just show the potential psychopath where I live. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"Not at all."

She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes, picking up her pace.

"It's night," Damon added. "You're a woman, alone−"

"You don't say."

"−and this isn't the best area in Venice."

"I can manage."

"God," Damon bellowed, frustrated. "Don't be so stubborn. Let me walk you home."

"You're the most persistent asshole I've ever−"

Before she could finish her insult, Damon curled an arm around her waist, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She opened her mouth to object, but then, she saw why he'd stopped her.

"When I tell you to run," Damon rumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the two vampires that had doomed up out of the darkness in front of them. "Run."

The woman's heart raced dangerously fast beside him, her breath growing shallow. He could smell the fear radiating of her, making her scent grow thicker and he was sure those two predators in front of them could smell it, too.

"Can I help you?" Damon growled, taking a step closer to the vampires, putting himself between them and her.

"You're not easy to find," the biggest of the two said, rolling up his sleeves, revealing the tattoo Damon already knew would be there. All of his men had the same infinity tattoo across their lower arm. "Klaus knew it was only a matter of time before you'd show up here, though."

"Well, he's always been an astute fellow."

The second vampire laughed, his pitch black eyes finding the woman behind Damon. "If you don't want your friend to get hurt, I suggest you come quietly."

Damon blocked her from their sight, an anger roaring inside of him he'd never felt before. And he'd felt a lot of anger in his immortal life. But it was her. The fact that that bastard was threatening to hurt her pushed him over some sort of edge.

"Whatever your name is," Damon snarled, keeping his eyes fixed on Klaus' minions. "Run."

The very second he felt her disappear from behind him, his every nerve screamed to follow her, to not lose her from his sight, to not lose her, period. And then, the vampires charged and his body screamed something else entirely: to protect her, to keep her safe, to kill anyone who came near her.

The biggest of the two reached him first, slamming him into the wall with a force that took him back for just a second. He could feel blood trickling down his hair, his neck, but he knew the wound would heal. With that in mind, Damon's fist slammed into the vampire's kidney before aiming for his ribs, breaking more than just a few. That took the vampire down long enough for Damon to snap his neck, leaving him immobilized.

But he didn't feel like celebrating. Not when he saw her...with the second vampire's arm around her neck, cutting of her air supply. She was clawing at his arm, but the vamp didn't budge.

"Okay," Damon growled, holding up his hands as a sign of defeat. "Okay."

"We're leaving now," the vamp announced. "Quietly."

"Fine," Damon gave in. "Just let her go. I'll come with−"

And then, the girl slammed her head back, crashing it into the vamps nose, gaining enough leeway to break free. Without hesitation, Damon shot forward and took advantage of the vampire's surprise, breaking his neck.

As the monster's body hit the ground, Damon turned back to the woman who was a mere shadow of her former self. Her cheeks and lips were no longer flushed, but pale, every trace of color erased from them; her big brown eyes had watered up, a few tears already trickling down her chin and wet strands of her brown hair were clinging to her now sweaty forehead.

He wanted to go to her, but when he took his first step, she backed away, her face distorted in horror. That's when he realized his fangs were out and his eyes were no doubt veiny and pitch black. No wonder she was scared of him.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, that she was safe, that he wouldn't hurt her, but before he could do any of that, the woman swayed on her feet, her eyelids fluttering shut. Anticipating her fall, he reacted, not thinking twice about it. It was instinct. His new, disturbing instinct to keep her safe. Damon moved rapidly, catching her just in time before her face made contact with the floor.

That was the first time Damon Salvatore held her in his arms. She was so soft. So warm. Damon could feel her heat radiating through him, enveloping his cold heart that hadn't stopped racing since he'd seen her. Who was this girl? And why did he feel so drawn to her?

Before he could figure it out, the vampire behind him stirred and he realized it wasn't the time or the place to examine the pull he felt towards her. It was the time to run. With her. Somehow, he already knew he would be in a world of trouble when she woke up. She wouldn't like him kidnapping her, but he would make her see it was for her own good. She would understand.

Even though he didn't actually know her yet, he already knew that was a load of crap.

So, what did you think? Please, let me know! Your comments keep me going and determine whether or not I continue a story (obviously, no comments=you guys don't like it and I'll have to start over). Thanks as always!

xxx LustAndLove