My Damon Salvatore - Behind Blue Eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Lauren never expected the drastic changes that would come into her life as she is visited by a mysterious, gorgeous guy in a leather jacket. Who else would this be but the one and only Damon Salvatore, evil, twisted brother of Stefan? Beneath the hard exterior Lauren uncovers his deadly secrets untold over five centuries, as gradually neither of them can deny their crazy, whirldwind love.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - My Damon Salvatore - Behind Blue Eyes

Submitted: April 26, 2011

Reads: 337

Comments: 9

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Submitted: April 26, 2011

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Chapter 1;

It seemed like any other ordinary night, the night that changed my life as I knew it. Earthy green leaves from the oak tree outside my bedroom window fell and blew in the late July breeze; such a pretty, English summer evening. Gosh, I make it sound like this happened in the 19th Century or something. Let's start again, shall we? It was around eleven that I went upstairs. My parents threw this huge outdoor party for all our close friends and neighbours, not to celebrate anything as such, just for the hell of it, I guess. That's what I love about living here - it may be remote, and sometimes a little boring, in this place with miles and miles of the colour green, with a few villages here and there (that's about all there is), but despite that, it's also kind of... fun. There are endless events for random purposes, and same goes for parties. That's just life for the people here, the kind of people who jet off to the Maldives for a day or two 'just for fun', leaving their children in the care of countless over-paid nannies whilst doing so. The kind of people who bid millions on original Picasso's without any interest in art, at all, but just the sheer ownership of it. Three-quarters of the people at the party that night were the people I'm describing, all of those besides my parents. We moved here from New York, yes, New York City, two years previously. Why my parents went through with it in the first place, I will never understand. Bearing in mind my father grew up here and got a call about his dad, my grandfather, becoming ill, but besides that, it was stupid. At first it was just supposed to be a temporary thing whilst my dad got Grandpops settled in a care home and took care of all things financial. By then the cancer had already spread, so poor Grandpops died after a couple of weeks of getting to see him again. Hey-ho, he left my dad 3 million. So instead of migrating to 5th or Park Avenue, or even Hollywood Hills, we got stuck here. In some place called 'Buckhinghamshire'. We left our Upper West Side apartment, me, my Mom, Dad, brother and I, and took a one-way 8-hour flight to Heathrow. I make it sound like we took a flight to our deaths, but I guess I should remember the point where I mentioned it's not so bad here, and appreciate what my Grandpops did for the four of us. If it wasn't for this big old English house, I wouldn't be telling this story, anyway.
"G'night!" I called back to the group I'd sat with at the party, a herd of English boys sitting around a table drinking lager from the bottle. I ignored their chants to 'cam back, it's owny 11!', and gave them a smug smirk and a wink, just to be more of a spoil sport. I rolled my eyes and branded them losers under my breath. The party got boring, anyway. I missed my brother's dirty NYU parties in random apartments drinking Jack, waking up at 5am in a filthy bathtub next to a stranger. At just fifteen. As I flash backed, walking up the spiral staircase to my room in the attic, I giggled. I still hadn't grown up - to me, life was just one big party, whether you got in trouble or not. I didn't know the meaning of love, not really. By 11:15 I was sprawled out like a starfish in my ivory velvet queen bed, the summer breeze and music from downstairs blasting into my open window. Intoxicated with alcohol, it wasn't long before I'd drifted off. I remember that first dream so well.
I saw his jacket first. Black, leather, the expensive type. And his hair - his hair matched his clothes. All black. Beautiful before I'd even seen his face. I looked around. We were in a crowded street, it looked like New York. Yellow cab. Yeah, it was definitely NYC. The crowd around us carried handbags, expensive-looking shopping bags, briefcases, all hurriedly jostling past to reach their destinations. He stood still in the midst of everything. So did I. Nobody seemed to notice him, almost as if he wasn't there. They saw me, I felt their shoulders brush mine. "DAAAMOOON!" a desperate scream escaped my lips. I must know this guy. My heart thudded in my chest as he began to walk away from me, without glancing back. I ran to catch up with him, falling ever so slightly in my heels. I wore a short, flowing summer dress - the heat of the city was almost unbearable. How could he wear a jacket? He sauntered through the crowd, a cocky type of walk, like he didn't care who he crashed into. "Damon, do NOT walk away from me!" I pleaded, almost begging. I'd almost caught up with him now, and he came to a halt abruptly. He turned, and my breath caught in my throat. I was overwhelmed - I've seen many in my time, but this guy was by far the most beautiful guy I had ever seen. He wore a boyish smile on those rosebud red lips, on an inhumanly pale, but beautiful all the same, face. It was hard to speak, let alone breathe. Like he had some sort of... Power over me. I had to avert my eyes away from his beauty to find the strength inside of me to calm down. When I did look back at that face, he had taken off his RayBans, and into my eyes he stared. A cold, icy stare with those pale blue eyes. I inhaled deeply as he smirked, lifting his hand to meet my cheek. The world disappeared around us. "Damon." I whispered, closing my eyes and pressing my hand on to his, hard. He entwined his long fingers through mine and I felt his cold, hard lips press against mine and he held me tight in those strong arms, to stop me losing my balance and falling. The feeling I felt was... to say the least, indescribable. Such longing, but such taboo to love such a... creature. "Lauren." he murmured against my lips. I couldn't judge his accent. He was American - but not Yankee, or Southern. And then he smiled. That intimidating, patronizing but gorgeous smile. "I found you." he almost chanted, slowly, boyishly, still with his lips against mine. Like this was all some kind of game to him. Well, it was Damon, everything was a game. I was the only one who could control him. Reality kicked in and I realized I didn't even know this guy. And then it registered that I knew his name, because I'd called it out, and there was definitely... something there, inside of me. I loved this man. Something inside my head, and my heart, told me that. Like I'd known him a long, long time. Or was about to know him. And then I awoke. I stretched, sluggishly, the morning breeze awakening me as my mind pondered over the strange dream with the hot guy in leather. I rolled my eyes; stupid dreams. They get to their peak, their most exciting point, and you wake up. I sighed and turned my head. My heart stopped beating in my chest. Laid neatly, perfectly, on my ivory down pillow, was a pair of RayBan sunglasses.
With one trembling hand, I picked up this sick gift, sitting up and throwing the covers off of me, the fresh breeze hitting my bare skin. The rim of the glasses had been engraved. "Oh, fuck." I murmured slowly to myself. The engraving read 'Damon G. Stefano'. What the hell was going on? My eyes drifted from the engraving to my open window to the left of my bed, and with that, I fainted.
"Lauren, honey?" my Mom's words came to me in a dreamlike state, snapping me out of my trance. I glanced around sleepily, just like I had done however long before. Nothing had changed. "Mm?" I murmured, scrunching my eyes shut and opening them again. My surroundings were fuzzy. "I think somebody's a little hungover." she stated with realization, a little disapproval, but a tone of amusement in her voice. Maybe she doesn't realize I fainted, I thought, and this was a good thing. I was freaked out, to say the least. "Yeah, must cut down on the Cosmo's." I muttered sheepishly, smirking. My Mom gave a little laugh and told me she'd be in her studio all day. Good, that gave me time to figure out who this Salvatore guy was, I noted. My Mom left. I searched. Google, Bing (yeah, Google failed me), Facebook, MySpace, I searched everything. I even had a root around my father's Study, in his offhand sheets of paper stacked around, in his books, but still I found nothing. Didn't dreams only consist of people you knew? What if I'd seen this guy before, in the street, on the Subway back in New York? That would explain our surroundings. And what if I'd just read his name somewhere without my mind fully processing it? There had to be some logical explanation. Everything would be fine. And then I stopped in my tracks as I left my father's Study. A logical explanation? The sunglasses - I'd forgotten about those after fainting. I paced back to my room, which was directly above the Study. My bed was exactly how I left it, and the window was still wide open. I tossed my sheets around, I even glanced under the mattress, but the damn glasses weren't anywhere to be found. Maybe the whole fainting episode was just part of the dream, I thought. But even then, after the very first dream, I knew something wasn't right.
A full week passed without anything out of the ordinary, no dreams, no unexplained apparitions of strange objects out of the blue. I did everything as normal, I slept in till 1, I sunbathed with my friends on the grounds of my house, occasionally studying like I was supposed to, I attended charity events in the day and partied it out at night, everything was back to how it had been before. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, though. Deep down a part of me longed to know who 'Damon' was, how he had found me, what he wanted from me. That night I saw him again, almost as if he could read my thoughts.
We weren't in the city this time. I walked slowly, dreamlike, barefoot in a lacy nightgown, to where my Damon perched under a tree. I glanced behind me - my house loomed over us, we were in the grounds. Miles and miles of open, pretty, grassy space. It was a full-mooned night; even a few feet away the moonlight reflected his Godlike features, and an urge swelled inside of me. What was this guy doing to me? I approached closer, and he yanked off his leather jacket and held it out to me, greeting me with his usual mischevious smirk. His black hair was ruffled, his muscles were visible through the tight dark-grey tee he wore. "I thought you wouldn't come." he pondered aloud, placing the jacket atop my bare shoulders. "No?" I stated, my eyebrows raising. I was different this time. Confident. Before, I was desperate, longing, pleading, maybe even a little frightened. I encircled the tree, my fingers brushing against the bark. I reached him eventually, taking my time to enjoy being the tease. "No. But then I remembered you can't resist me." he answered me back, taking me swiftly into his strong, muscular arms. He smelled of a musky sort of aftershave, something that swelled my desire even more. I kissed him, fiercely, passionately, with no plans to let go. And then, just like last time, I came back to reality. Nothing had changed, in terms of the way I felt, the way I seemed to know him - I just had to know why, how. "Why do I feel like I've known you forever?" I asked, my tone still pondering, relaxed, pulling away from his embrace, but never letting go of his hands. He smiled that cocky smile, and placed one of my fingers against his beautiful lips. "You'll find out soon enough." he took his time replying, and I couldn't decide whether his tone was serious, or mocking. I raised an eyebrow, and playfully ran my fingers along his muscular arms that held me so tight against him. "But there has to be a logical reason. You knew my name, you knew where to find me. You came to me, Damon." I whispered. I placed my bare, earthy feet on to his Converse trainers and challenged him with my statement. His icy blue eyes gazed into mine, then, and he smirked. I felt his hands wrap around my waist, so close to my bare skin, just the lacy fabric separating us. I wanted him. "Sometimes fate brings certain people together," His hands were like icicles, but I didn't care. The soft breeze blew his jacket off of my shoulders, and I gasped. "Or maybe I like to properly get to know those who are lucky enough to wind up meeting me." His mouth opened abruptly, fangs the size of bullets appearing right in front of my eyes. Funny thing is, I wasn't afraid. I smiled. "Damon Giovanni Stefano, man of many mysteries. Bite me." and then I woke up.
Sweat beads clung to my skin, and I gazed around my room wildly. In real life, I was afraid. I was terrified. It was almost dawn, I think, not as late as I'd awoken the week previously. I threw off my covers, and laid back once again, trying to catch my breath. No souvenir this time - just pure, outright fear. It took me a while to calm down, and gather my thoughts. There had to be a logical solution to all of this. In my dreams I was barely logical, everything just came naturally, as if there was nothing to be afraid of. What was it he had said? 'I like to properly get to know those who are lucky enough to wind up meeting me'? So this could be some kind of... premonition. Maybe I would meet Damon, God, I hoped I wouldn't - the guy scared the life out of me. But something inside me shared the feelings of the person I was in these dreams. This... this longing, this desire. I must be going crazy, there's the logical solution, I thought, summing up inside my head. I'd end up like Grandpops. At least I was being logical, now. That, or, Damon was just playing with my head before I met him realistically. He seemed like the type of heartless idiot who'd do something like that. In my dreams, I was like his voodoo doll. He could control my emotions - but if that was the case, why wasn't I afraid when I saw those fangs? With my jumbled-up thoughts it wasn't long before I drifted off helplessly once again into an exhausted sleep, and, naturally, he was there. It was one of many of our parties for the neighbours and friends; I stood in my large, exquisitely decorated dining room with its French doors leading out to the grounds. Guests helped themselves to Martini's from the Bar, children swam in the lake as their Nannies took advantage to soak up the rays. A few guests stood inside, the older ones, each in their small groups chatting politely. Nobody noticed me. I stood beside the French doors, and the mirror on the far side of the room told me I wore my blonde hair loose in curls cascading just past my shoulders, almost reaching my LBD. It seemed almost natural to head over to the bar in the far corner of the room and pour myself a Jack & Coke; I was invisible, anyway. I knew I was dreaming. I was expecting to see Damon at any second, I waited to sense him, and confront him about who the heck he was, and what he wanted from me. I wasn't his voodoo doll this time. I sipped my beverage with trembling fingers, my nails clinking against the glass. It wasn't long before I'd downed the sucker; I was nervous, on edge. I knew how I felt about the guy, but it was stupid, impossible. I didn't know him. And then I smelt him before anything else. My heart stopped beating, I gasped. Musky, exotic, expensive. He had come from outside, it seemed, as he moved past me to stand on my right. "Hello, you." he murmured slowly, his skin brushing my bare back as I leaned forwards against the bar. I turned around abruptly, ignoring his patronizing gaze into my eyes, on my face, on my bare skin, on my cleavage. "I'm asking this now because it seems this is the only dream I have a little sense in. I might not have much time. Who are you?" I demanded, daring to stare back into those eyes. Those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes... I was losing myself again. I would not be bedazzled by his inhuman, unnatural beauty. I pushed him away a little, and stepped forward, challenging him. "Well?" I demanded for the second time. With this he smiled, clearly amused by my questioning. "Why, I'm Damon, you know that, darling." he eventually responded, seeming bored, brushing nothing off of his tee and inspecting his palms. "Yes, I know that, you idiot! I know your name, that's it. Not once have you cared to explain to me why you randomly appeared in my dreams, and took up my thoughts. And took control of my mind. And infected me with your inhuman charm. I want my old life back, Damon Giovanni Stefano, whoever the hell you may be!" I totally lost it, and snapped. Angry tears plucked at my eyes, but at least I'd seemed to catch his attention from the nothingness on his T-shirt. He raised his eyebrows, and folded his muscular arms over his chest. He seemed unable to answer, and I swear it must of been at least a minute we stood there silently before he took hold of my arm. Outside we went, sunlight and heat hitting my skin, past all the formally-dressed guests, talking, playing cards, dancing - nobody noticed us. Damon had hold of my arm and no matter how hard I tried I could not free of his grip. This guy was strong. He seemed angry, really angry, but I wasn't scared. I'd given up being afraid of him; what point was there? It seemed he would not go away, and truth be told, I almost didn't want him to. He was all I thought about. We walked not once without stopping at least to the end of the grounds until he let me go. The sun had started to set, and my house loomed in the distance. The guests were like ants, the music a distant melody. Everything was quiet. Damon faced me, his eyebrows furrowed in hostility. Almost as if he was trying to see into my mind, to uncover my thoughts. He probably already knew how gorgeous he was, though. I daudled away from him then, breathing in the clear air, trying to calm myself down. He stayed exactly where he was. "I play games, Lauren. You should be afraid. If you're not scared of me, I'll betray your trust, in the end. I will. Happens every time. It happened last time, remember. Best to be warned." Damon spoke abruptly, carelessly, all 'it is how it is'. But at the same time he was pained, all I wanted was to throw my arms around his neck and comfort him. But I knew better. I waited for the rest of what he had to say. What did he mean by 'last time'? "I thought maybe if I came to you in your dreams you'd remember me when we do meet. I thought that the first two times. You knew me, you did. I know there's something inside of you that remembers me, Lauren! Stop kidding yourself! Did you think if you played hard to get I'd stand for it this time? Things changed." Damon was angry. He strided over to me, only stopping when our bodies had not one inch of air between us. He stared down into my face, pleading, helpless, almost as if he tried to familiarize himself to me. "Damon... I've never seen you before. The first time I saw you was in my dreams, a week ago." I took my time replying; I felt so bad for letting him down. But of course it wasn't my fault. It was true, I'd never seen him before. "I'm sorry." His body stiffened against mine, but desperately I held on to him. I didn't want him to leave. Damon brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face, behind my ear. His touch made my skin tingle. "If you don't remember me, dear Laurena... then why do you feel the way you do?" he whispered, his cool breath brushing over my face. I closed my eyes, and sighed. I didn't plan on answering that question, for I didn't know the answer to it myself. Everything was so screwed up. "And why, my beauty, did you behave the way you did in the first two dreams? Like nothing had changed, like years hadn't passed." Desperately I shrugged my shoulders. I wanted to cry. I don't think he expected an answer, for he stopped protesting after that, and instead seemed to relax as the minutes grew longer between us. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't of behaved the way I did. It's not your fault you don't remember, but I'm not mentioning it again. You're Lauren. You're not... her. Start again?" he challenged, his eyebrows raising cockily as he took my hand in his. I didn't know what this was all about, but I didn't even want to know. Damon sensed this. "Whatever." I muttered, letting go of his hand. I missed my old life, my simple, uncomplicated life without a beautiful but evil guy who was so hard not to fall for. Together we walked in my dream, the dream that felt so real. It was almost dusk now, and every so often I had to stop my eyes drifting towards Damon, who kept a safe distance away from me now. He knew I was overwhelmed by this whole thing. And then he laughed. A guttural, whole-hearted laugh; I raised my eyebrows, annoyed, and watched Damon as he doubled over, giggling like an idiot. "What the hell?" I strided over and shoved him. What could he possibly find funny after he'd already given me enough to deal with in one night? Or one 'dream', should I say. I watched him in hopeless bewilderment, hardly believing my eyes and ears as he couldn't even put a sentence together. And so I waited, rolling my eyes and tutting. Idiot, I thought. "I-I-" he began, straightening up and taking a deep breath, letting out the final remainders of his laughing fit. "What, Damon? I'm tired of your games, now. Just spit it out." I said flatly, emotionless. And then his face went blank. "Oh, no, you're going to hate me now." he said, registering my expression and giggling like some little boy who'd just broken his Mom's best vase. "Okay, so, maybe, just maybe... the whole, 'why don't you remember me' fiasco may of been a little... joke, of mine?" he finalized, picking up his pace again and swinging an imaginary leather jacket behind his shoulder. He let out an amused sigh, clearly relishing his little private joke. "Alright, truth is, I'm here to protect you. I entered your mind of my own free will and messed around with your head, your judgement, but whatever you felt was down to you. I know most females find me irrrresistible." He dragged the last word out with such pride. I struggled to catch up with his confident stride, and tripped every now and then in my heels as I did. My blood boiled inside of me as I heard the words. I let him carry on. "Personally I thought the RayBan situation was one of my best yet. Top marks, D." Any feelings I had felt for this guy I now decided I would deny completely, to him, to myself; he was a monster! I was so angry I couldn't even speak. My feet hurt from walking so much, my makeup was smudged from more tears brimming in my eyes, I had a painful lump in my throat, and my arm ached from his inhuman grip. This was so wrong. "See, I'm a hunter, Miss Laurenaaa." he said my name with an elaborate Italian accent, and I noted he must orginate from there, or something. What did it matter, anyway?! "I lure girls purely for a rich, delightful, tasty substance running through their veins. It's how I live. And I've lived this way for years, and years, and years (I could go on, but I won't) - so I know no different. Some people of my... kind, take my little brother for example, choose not to live the way I do. Silly, if you ask me. I have it all. Sex, money, girls, blood, of course, and last, most important of all, blood being the source - Power. Without this Power, I wouldn't be able to protect you. Something called me here. I'm in the process of figuring out who or what this unknown Power is, but all you need to know is that my duty, at the same time, is to ward off this Evil - the one after you." He said all this in a rush, almost as if he'd waited to get it over and done with. A hunter, Power, Evil. Three words, and probably the only words I managed to grasp on to in that sentence, it was that much of a blur to me. Three words that seemed to describe Damon, too. "After me? But why?" I whispered. I felt faint. My head was spinning; the guests a little bigger than ants now were rocking left and right in my vision. "I'm afraid I can't answer that. Only because I don't know. I'm telling you all of this now just so you know, and there may be things you pick up about me along the way, but those're the basics. I'm not pretending I'm some angelic, heroic knight in shining armour, because I may be heroic, but I'm definitely not an angel. Some may describe me as 'evil'. Gives me quite the thrill. But, to conclude, a vamp's gotta do what a vamp's gotta do." Damon flashed a wicked grin. He was evil, he liked to think, anyway, but at the same time came across as so boyish; sarcasm, cockiness, and all. "I didn't ask your life story, Damon. I just want to know why something would be after me, of all people. I grew up in Manhattan." Damon chuckled lightly under his breath, and shrugged as he considered this. I glanced over at the house; it was a large, old, 17th Century English mansion. Rumour has it that Henry VIII even stayed here once, on his 'travels'. It was of ivory colour, with moss covering almost one full wall. And that was a lot. The house might have something to do with it, then, I thought. "I don't like to admit it, for it doesn't happen often, but I don't know. I'm in the process of figuring everything out, but something called me here, and out of boredom, I guess, I thought I'd have a snoop around to see what the issue was. Then I came across you. Quite the beauty. So when I saw you sleeping through the window, last week, I figured I'd stick around."
"Oh, you mean the night you decided to invade my mind and take over my dreams?" I questioned sarcastically.
"That's the one." Clearly none of this seemed to phase Damon at all, I figured as I watched him stroll around in circles, dragging his feet like a schoolboy, a few feet from where I stood. I'd had it right all along - everything really was a game to him.
"So, just to conclude, do you really take me for some dumb girl you can feed off of, and have me never notice? Use me as your ragdoll and toss me back in the trash when you're done? Is that what 'protection' involves, or did you wake up one day and decide you should do a good deed for karma's sake after years of however it is you live?" I demanded. I would not be treated like his string of other girls, his dolls, his toys.

He stopped daudling and looked at me then. Really looked at me, his eyes into mine, almost as if he was looking into my soul from a few feet away. He probably can do that, I thought. And then he made his way slowly over to me, never taking his eyes from mine as he did so, not once. Within a few seconds our bodies were touching, mine freezing from the cold. Damon's eyes had changed - cold, icy blue to sheer, utter pools of black. I wasn't scared. I just longed to have him hold me, to warm my cold skin up in his, so wrong yet so right. And then he opened his mouth. A warm smile to a display of sharp white fangs. And then he lowered his mouth to the base of my throat. I felt his cool breath brush against my neck, and unwillingly this made my body tingle with pleasure. "If I wanted to kill you, dear Laurena, do you not think I would of been able to resist the sweet scent of your blood, the scent that makes me so delirious, by now? Do you not think I'd be able to do this-" And then he brushed one of his fangs against my skin, but not enough to pierce. His voice all along was a slow murmur, almost a moan filled with longing. "-without resisting the urge to pierce your skin, and drink?" he challenged. He was right, I guess. My heart beat in my chest, but not because I was afraid. "Mmm." I breathed, caressing the back of his head with my fingers, playing with strands of his dark hair. "But why? Why not just kill me like everybody else?" I came back to my senses, and asked the logical question. Yet he still challenged himself to brush his fang against my skin without pressing down as I asked this, almost as if he never believed he could really do it, and this snapped him out of it. He stood up straight, his eyes returning to their normal colour, almost as if by magic. The cocky grin was back, without fangs. "Because whatever it is here, it's evil. And it's my job to get rid of it. Evil fighting another evil, I suppose you could call it." I rolled my eyes. Pfft, he overestimates himself and his abilities, I thought. But I let him continue. "And besides, not every fine young maiden I meet winds up as my snack, you know." Damon stepped away from me then, and winked. I could feel myself waking up, it was ending, this was it for now. As I took one last look at his unbearably gorgeous face (and body), as he turned to walk away to wherever he was headed, I could swear I heard him mutter, "...just the majority of them do. No more."

Chapter 2;

Damon stopped visiting, but not once did my mind drift from thinking of him. I was completely, utterly transfixed by this monster. He was foreign, an alien to me and my kind. But so charming, and unforgettably gorgeous. I pondered over this as I soaked up the sun on our large patio by the pool, accompanied by my older brother, James. I hid it all well, never letting my family guess once that I was infatuated. Only because then they'd want to know who with, and how could I even think of letting anyone know about the creature that was Damon? I didn't want to eat, but I forced myself to. Every bite, I wanted to barf. And I hid my ever-drifting eyes behind a pair of expensive RayBans (a lot like D's, actually) as my brother chatted away. We lay side by side on our towels, feet dangling in the pool. Couldn't of guessed it was England, but in early August it's almost like California here. "...and I couldn't stop laughing, like, literally! It was so funny! Don't you agree?" James really was one of those people who could not just shut up. I giggled a little, even though I hadn't listened to his entire speech, and nodded. "Oh, yeah. Totally." I humoured him, a glint in my hidden-away eyes.
"What's the deal with you lately, anyway? You seem different." he observed, and I saw his eyes fill with brotherly concern and protection as he glanced over at me. I shrugged. "I don't know what you mean, J." I muttered, and I knew my voice was pretty much expressionless. He was right. I was so pre-occupied with my thoughts, and I guess it wasn't healthy at all. Maybe I should try and come out of this... trance, I thought. My attempt to act normal was obviously failing. "Hmmm. I think you do, really. But alright." he finalized, standing abruptly to dive into the pool. I sat up, switching on my iPod and applying more sunblock. And so day eight of no Damon went like this; woke up, showered, ate breakfast, sunbathed with my brother (so cool), and then I spent the evening in my dad's Study, well, studying. This has to stop, I thought. I was usually so outgoing. And so I found Zoey's name in my iPhone and hit Dial. It was probably around 2 in the afternoon in New York, so I'd be safe. "Zoey Carmichael speaking!" she picked up in her cheerful high-pitched voice; I rolled my eyes. She knew it was me. I hated to spoil her clear cheerful mood by my sulking over a... well, I couldn't really say boy, so, whatever the hell Damon was. But I'd always turned to Zoey and it was an emergency. "Oh, Zoey. I'm so lost. I don't know what to do with myself." I murmured, leaning back into the chair that was way too big for me, and pressing my hand over my eyes, breathing deeply. There was a rush of loud noises, and I figured she was going somewhere she could talk properly. "Tell me everything." she rushed, breathless. "I can't, Zo. It's so complicated. I need you here." I broke down, every emotion I'd been holding in for the past week came out. "I know, I know. I feel the same way." she shushed me in soothing tones; all the times I'd been upset and I turned to my best friend, everything got better. She had a way of calming me like no-one else did, since I was too melodramatic for my own good. "Dad says I can visit soon, anyway. In like a month or something, seriously. You can wait to tell me everything then, if it's that big a deal, or you can tell me here." I thought about it; it was way too complicated, and with Zoey being the most logical person I knew, I don't think she'd ever believe me unless she actually met Damon. And so I told her to wait, that I'd be fine, I was sure, and to get in touch with flight details when she could. And then I went downstairs, to my Mom and Dad's liquor cabinet. Damon would approve, I thought with a smirk. It's not like I never did it, anyway. Drowned my sorrows in alcohol when things didn't go my way. My Mom and Dad were at some art fair out of town, my brother had gone off to a party I'd refused to join him at (this really was not like me at all) and it was the maid's day off. And so I turned up the speakers and cranked on Katy Perry, curled my blonde hair, put on my best pair of Jimmy Choo's and danced around the house with a liquor bottle like a crazy person. Day eight, was, well, weird.
Day eleven was interesting. School was less than a month away, and in the English countryside when all your Brit friends are holidaying in the Caribbean, Scotland, or in some cases random places like China and Russia - life gets pretty boring. Especially when your artsy parents suddenly become all responsible and insist you spend the summer at home to get to know the place a little better, and to study for my upcoming 'important' exams. So even though I was reluctant, I rolled my eyes and let him drag me when James insisted we go up to the unexplored attic. I was that bored, seriously. The attic was huge, obviously - filled to the brim with junk. Old, dusty furniture that must be worth a fortune, trunks full of old English Victorian clothes, corsets and all. I considered trying one on, just for fun, but I decided against it when I saw James' facial expression. "How much history do you think's up here?" I asked my older, wiser brother who probably knew more about the house than I did. "Well, the house was built in, like, the 15 or 1600's. Pretty old." James answered as he flicked through an old photo album. This was a scary place. It made my blood run cold; I was glad I wore my hard, protective Converse, to protect me from spiders scuttling in. J handed me a stack of old photos and headed off to the other side of the room to explore further. I sighed with boredom and having being left alone in this big, scary place, so I sat on an old trunk and began to flick through the photographs to rid of any freakish thoughts. At least it took my mind off Damon... a little. But it worsened the freakish thoughts as I gazed at the large families dressed in petticoats, suits, all with blank, flat, morbid expressions. Most of the photos were taken by the tree outside, the old, colossal oak tree - a lot smaller in the pictures. "Weird." I muttered, stuffing the photographs into the trunk I'd been sat on. I was such a pussy - I'd gotten through not even half of the photos. "Found anything?" I called over to James who sat intently reading something, clearly unaware of his surroundings as he pored over whatever it was. "Nothing of interest to you, little sis." he said absently, and so I figured that was my cue to leave him be. He'd probably found an old history book, or whatever. My brother was cool, and all, had a lot of friends, always out at parties and events, but jeez, was he intelligent. I wished I'd inherited that gene, but, as always, it had been James.
I was tucked up in bed by ten, accompanied by a large glass of Chardonnay and Friends re-runs. My life could be so much better than this, I thought miserably. I switched off the TV and sulked on my side, eyes wide open. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, I could feel it in my bones. I downed the remainder of the wine and closed my eyes. "Your life could be better, with a little help, of course." Damon's matter-of-fact, sarcastic tone of voice interrupted my thoughts. His breath brushed over my face and I could sense his closeness to me in the darkness. My eyes shot open, heart suddenly hammering inside my chest. But he had moved, in a matter of two seconds, to the opposite end of my dark bedroom. He sauntered around, his stride confident, cocky. I sat up, shielding my bare skin with my thick, silk duvet. He stopped now and then to pick up a few picture frames, examining the photographs (clearly had night vision, too) with a bemused expression on that beautiful face. "Popular girl." And then he was perched on the end of my bed, looking at me thoughtfully, eyelashes batting.
"What do you want, after eleven days, Damon?" I made my voice sound flat, emotionless, like I didn't give a damn.
"You counted the days? That's sweet." He slowly removed his trademark leather jacket, flinging it on the carpet carelessly. He always had a way of making himself at home, I realized, as he leaned back on his elbows, taking in the interior of my room. And then it clicked that this was the first time I'd actually seen him, properly, actually been in his presence away from my dreams. But it all felt the same to me.
"Only 'cuz I was glad I got rid of you." I muttered. I couldn't believe I was still behaving this way, playing hard to get, when he was the guy I'd been sulking over not seeing for over a week.
"I'm sure, dear Laurena. Missed me?" Damon's biceps stood out, his tee hitched up his arms as he leaned back further, glancing backwards at my face with a grin. Yes, yes, yes! I thought, hoping to God he wouldn't hear, as I checked out those muscles with hungry eyes. "Do you really want me to answer that? Wouldn't want you being disappointed." I answered again in that flat tone. I didn't like the fact that he had to see me like this, of all times, when I was practically naked aside from a few... garments, and completely makeup-free. I tried to hitch the sheets up tighter around me, but his weight on the bed prevented me from doing so. I drew my knees up to my chin self-consciously, and messed around with my hair. Damon kept grinning, his usually cold blue eyes glinting. I raised my eyebrows and scowled. We stayed like that for a while, and I was surprised I hadn't made him angry yet. Then the guilt set in - I had this gorgeous guy, 'evil' and all, perched on my bed at a crazy hour. He'd come to visit me, and I was making it hard for not only him, but myself, too. "Okay, Damon. I'm sorry for being such a sulk. It's just hard for me, and I don't know if you understand that. I don't even know what you are."
"Of course you do. Fangs and invasion of your mind not a giveaway?" he stated matter-of-factly, his grin dazzling, and voice so silky and charming. I sighed, and averted my eyes from his face, shaking my head. "But it's just not possible. I feel like an idiot for believing it. This isn't Twilight, Damon." He laughed, obviously amused.
"Oh, come on. Please, at least try and understand that this is gonna be hard for me." I added, hasty. "I mean, I believe it, as hard as that is to admit. How can I not? You have fangs, for crying out loud. And you move from one place to the other in a blink of an eye. I don't even know how you got here to begin with." I voiced my thoughts, watching his amused expression the whole time. I didn't even want to know how he got here, actually, I thought with an eye-roll. "Well, I'm glad you believe. That means less games for me. Actually, in that case, I don't know about being glad..." Damon considered, and I fought the urge to giggle. He straightened up on the bed and faced me now. "About the danger I came here to take care of in the first place, well, I'm taking care of it." His tone became serious as he addressed the issue. My eyebrows furrowed, and I sighed, averting my gaze to the night outside the open window. "And when do I get to know what this issue is?" I met his eyes.
"It's complicated. I don't like to get down to business, I just enjoy the messing around and game-playing that comes along with it. Only if I really needed to, I'd tell you. Trust me with this, but trust me with nothing else." were his exact words. Whatever, I thought. I would never see past this front, this brick wall.
"Trust you with absolutely nothing else?" I pondered, and sat there for a moment as I thought about this. I wondered if he was trustworthy to keep his hands to himself, despite the fact that he denied himself being capable of any sort of trust. I hid my smirk from him, suddenly confident, as I decided life was too short to put up a front to someone I was quite clearly in to. Even though he had his own front, I'd still have mine, but not be so... harsh about it. And then I pulled away the covers, revealing my typical summer nightwear. I wore a flimsy, okay, see-through, pale pink vest top, secured with a few buttons and a little bow, and underwear made of the same flimsy material. I regretted it when I grew insecure that my whole body was on display to this guy who was way more gorgeous than I, and so out of my league. For a while I just sat there. The colour had rushed to my face, but I forced my eyes to meet his. He looked completely awestruck; his cocky confidence seemed to disappear for that moment, just for a brief moment, right in front of my eyes. I'd never seen him look at me the way he did then, even in my dreams. His eyes burned through mine, like a sudden hunger, a desire, had materialized between us in my dark, stuffy bedroom. He scared the life out of me, but I wanted him, so badly it hurt. And then I stood up, taking my time as I made my way around the bed, heading for the window. "It's just so hot in here." I mumbled, suddenly shy, as I fumbled with the latch on the window. I struggled, and I realized Damon must have a very clear view of my rear end. "Here, let me do that." He was close, standing right behind me. This must look so inappropriate, I thought, so came away from the window and stood up straight, his body pressing against mine. And then, without even a touch, the window swung open. I blinked in awe. I was sweating now, not just because the room was stuffy, but because I was... well, nervous. Everything suddenly seemed intense. It was the longest Damon had gone without some sort of sarcastic humour remark, or a cocky comment. I dared myself to turn around, and not even to flinch away from our close proximity. His toned, muscular body was pressing against mine, hard. His long, pale finger brushed over my cheek, and I let out a breath. It was so much better in reality than in my dreams. To actually experience it firsthand, even though I was afraid. I gazed up into those usually cold, glazed over eyes that were so hard to read. Now they were hungry, intense. Just the way I felt at that moment. I forgot what he was, the fact that there was some unknown danger that had brought him here, and focused on the moment.
"I know you feel something." I held his hand in mine, moving his finger which was wandering along my cheek, towards my mouth. I kissed it, and then entwined his fingers through mine. Damon let out a breath, denial and disapproval in his eyes. He'd said it before - he played around with girls without ever feeling a thing. I was breaking into his front, his hard, bitter exterior. He hated it. His fingers broke free of mine, and he laid a cold finger on my lips. "No time for words." Damon had this look in his eyes, I don't even know if I can put words together to explain it. Almost bewildered, mad at himself for letting himself feel something other than hatred, greed, anger. He hadn't admitted it. But even then I knew. I read him like a book. He picked me up in his arms and flung me on to the bed. I could feel the thud of my heartbeat in my chest as he was suddenly on top of me, holding himself to keep from crushing me. It was literally a milisecond from throwing me on to the bed until he lay on top of me; the guy had the speed of light. I couldn't help myself; I undid the buttons of his black shirt until his body was visible, the moonlight from the open window showing me everything I longed to see. He was beautiful. He traced sweet kisses from the nape of my neck to my shoulderblades, his hot breath tingling my skin as he did so. And then he ripped my clothes off, the little I had of them, anyway. Literally. With inhuman strength. Our eyes met as he took in what he saw underneath him. I wasn't insecure, self-conscious; it felt so right. He smirked and raised his eyebrows, and I giggled. Damon was back. I tugged at the rest of his shirt, and fumbled with his belt. "My suspicions were correct. Your body is sexy as hell." he murmured, glancing down at me and caressing my hair playfully. "Mmm, shut up." I breathed as he pressed his lips against mine, hard. I never wanted it to end.


© Copyright 2017 Lozikinz. All rights reserved.

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