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Mystic Grills was housed in a high Victorian building that had long been part of Mystic Falls since he had last been in town.
Now, as Damon Salvatore made his way inside the crowded restaurant-café-bar, synthesized trance and techno music rang in the rafters, blasting out of enormous speakers above the bar.
Strobe lights flashed against a trio of arched stained-glass windows and made his sensitive eyes burn. The pulsing beams cut through the thin cloud of smoke in the air, pounding to the frenetic beat of a seemingly endless song. In nearly every square foot of The Grill, people moved against one another, going on about their business and looking for something he could gladly offer.
“Over your shoulder,” a spunky brunette whispered to her friend. “God, he’s gorgeous.”
The other girl blinked twice, hiding a gaze that was unmistakably fixed on him through the crowd behind oversized glasses. She couldn’t hide the blush that went to the roots of her hair, though. Ah…the smell of fresh, innocent blood. She was a pretty, little morsel, but not good enough to tempt him.
He smirked when a quick flash of the strobes cast his features half in shadow, half in light. It wasn’t vanity but he knew he looked good. Dark brown hair fell loosely around a broad, intelligent brow and lean angular cheeks. A strong, stern jaw. And generous, sensual lips, even when he quirked them in that cynical, almost cruel line. No girl could resist his looks, style and charm—and unflinching ability to listen to Taylor Swift.
His grin widened when the redhead looked away, unnerved, a rush of warmth skittering along her neck. She put her glass down with a shaking hand and braved another quick glance at where he stood. However, he was already moving away. He had lost interest.
He couldn’t just stand there and wait for food to come to him. He had to go and get it. But then, it wasn’t that hard to devise elaborate and risky plans—as Stefan would say—to trick and drag his prey to his lair. Why? There was no such thing as a bad idea when it came to food, only poorly executed awesome ones and after years of exercise, he became a master of his craft. It had been decades since he’d turned off his humanity to suppress all feelings of pain and guilt. The sole purpose of his existence was revenge. There was no place for mercy or love in his life.
An old memory of a torture session at the hands of the Whithmores leapt out at him from the dark, locked corner of his past. Damon felt its sharp bite, heard the screams that had shattered the night—and his life—forever.
No. He didn’t want to relive that pain. He didn’t want to think about that dark past, least of all now. He wasn’t that weak, helpless fledging anymore. He was the hunter and he made sure that the last descendant of the Whithmores was killed. By his hands.
He wasn’t a pathetic romantic like Stefan. He didn’t believe in fairytales and Happily ever afters. There would not be one for a sinner like him. No Bride, no Bloodbond. Nothing. So why not seize the moment and behave like a real Vampire was supposed to until he found a clue to how to resurrect Katherine?
He sat down on a stool and motioned for the bartender—Ben McKittrick or something—to bring him the usual. Leisurely, he sipped his Bourbon, enjoying the burn and watched the crowd.
All of a sudden, a shiver danced down his spine. He put his glass down slowly and drew a long breath. His gaze was drawn away from his food-hunting by a pair of glittering green eyes that studied him unblinkingly.
She was staring at him from where she sat alone, nursing a Coke. Even through the crowd, he scented the notes of an alluring perfume on her skin—something exotic, rare. His nostrils flared. It was a delicate note that clung to the air, teasing his senses and calling to something primitive within him. His gums ached with the sudden stretching of his fangs, a physical reaction to need—carnal, or otherwise—that he was powerless to curb.
He tilted his head to the side and dragged another whiff of her essence deeper into his lungs. Her blood smelled divine. Hunger knotted in his gut. His vision sharpened as lust for blood and release slung its seductive coils around him, and his eyes burned. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he became too powerless and undertook a full transformation.
Move it, urged a part of him that was inhuman, unearthly, all Vampire.
Her mouth turned up in amusement when he strolled toward her booth but she didn’t take her eyes off him. Good. The dark-haired beauty had no idea what she was signing up for.
She was of medium height but lean. The light shown on her dark, wild hair gilded it with blue streaks. She looked incredibly gorgeous in her burgundy mini-dress. Red. His favourite colour. The colour of blood and forbidden desires. It wouldn’t take much to make her melt into the floor with his charm.
A well-defined brow shot up when he took a seat next to her and flashed her a sexy smirk.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, Miss…” He mused, stroking his chin in teasing contemplation. “And believe me when I say, it’s quite hard to forget a face like yours.”
Looking back at him, she ignored his slow, heated perusal of her body and snorted.
His eyes eventually crawled their way back to her face. “Something funny, sweetheart?”
“Do those lines actually work on girls?” She raised a mocking brow.
So he had a feisty one on his hands? All the better.
“It works.” He gave her a wide grin, being mindful of his fangs. “If it doesn’t, I do always have a diabolical backup plan.”
“And what’s that?” Something in her voice told him it wasn’t a casual question.
“Well if I told you, it would not be very diabolical now would it?” he tried not to smile when she rolled her eyes. “But I can be tempted to share some of my secrets with you.”
No woman could resist a guy who wasn’t afraid to voice what he really wanted.
She tsked and heat flushed his right side when she pressed up against him as she leaned to put her Coke down. His nose tingled at the smell of blood and the ravenous need was back with a vengeance.
Her eyebrows quirked a little as though she hadn’t expected that to be his answer. “I thought you were interested in getting to know me.”
Grinning, his eyes blazed with heat. The faster he worked on this seduction, the faster he could get her out of here and drag her to where he wanted her most. The idea of draining her dry didn’t settle well with him. Something about her brought on a tidal wave of protectiveness in his so fierce that it made him wonder if someone had tampered with his drink. But he was Immortal and no drugs worked on him.
He slid an arm around the back of the booth and casually bent his head until his nose grazed her soft cheek. She remained still as he tenderly swept aside the riot of wild waves concealing her neck. His heart hammered in his chest, urging him to slake his burning thirst and steal a taste of her sweet blood. “I may reconsider if you give me your name, gorgeous.”
Instead of pushing him away, she whirled around and clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her expression was hidden behind the curtain of her hair. His senses were swamped with her intoxicating scent.
What was happening to him? He had never been so thirsty, so ravenous for a woman’s blood.
His lips pressed down against her skin, settling over the delicate pulse that beat against his tongue. His fangs helplessly grazed the velvet softness of her throat, throbbing now with need.
“Alexia,” she exhaled.
His fangs stretched long. “Alexia. Alex…Sweet Alex.” And in the next instant, uncaring about the crowd, he plunged his extended fangs into the flesh of her throat. She shivered under his bite, but again, didn’t try to push him away as he pulled the first long draught from her vein. He sucked hard with no desire to stop. Her blood surged into his mouth, warm and thick and something snapped inside his chest as it coursed down the back of his throat and into his body.
Impossible…
Every muscle in his body tensed, tightened and pulsed. Head reeling, heart practically exploding.
One word reverberated in his mind. Mine. Bride.
After decades of living in hell, he was finally tasting heaven.
“Damon…” Through the haze, he heard her voice. She was stroking his hair, holding him close as he drank from her. With every tug of his mouth, her scent grew darker.
His chest heaving, he lifted his head and through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked at her. “It’s you. But how—”
Vampire Brides were thought a myth. It had been centuries since there had been a Bloodbond. It was no surprise that his kind was sterile and turned to siring humans to fill the void inside them for no Pureblood Vampire could be born out of a Bloodbond.
He swallowed hard. For the first time since he could remember, he felt hesitant to take something. The Bloodbond was absolute and he had foolishly taken her blood inside him.
The most horrifying part of all of it was that there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t claim this sweet creature as his. He was a murderer, a monster. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe...
His eyes widened when her expression hardened. “I can read your thoughts and unless you want me to curse you seven ways to hell, you better stop,” she growled roughly. “I didn’t travel all this distance to be stuck with a wimp.”
He couldn’t help the grin that lifted his mouth as he leaned down to brush a soft kiss on her lips. “So you are my little Witch?”
A witch? Karma was somewhere out there laughing at him.
She brushed her lips across his and glanced up to meet his eyes, smirking at him. “I’m anything but little. I can give you a demonstration. In private.”
His hands tightened around her and his pale eyes darkened, and he knew… he knew he wanted an eternity with her.
“By the way, how did you know my name? Were you looking for me?” He felt smug. The idea of someone looking for him—wanting him, filled him with wonder and sick satisfaction.
She smiled with a little twinkle of devilment in her eyes that reminded him of himself. “My Godfather was reluctant to let me leave home and search for you. But stubborn as he is, he can't keep a Bride from her Vampire.”
Damon liked the man already. He might as well send him a Christmas gift. “I’d like to meet him.”
Her laugh was almost a purr. “Of course. It’s time to bury old grudges and start working together. For the greater good.”
“Old grudges? Do I know him?” he wished like hell that he hadn’t unintentionally stabbed him in the back or worse yet, killed one of his relatives.
“Oh, silly me.” Her eyes flickered wide. “I didn't tell you my full name. I'm Alexia Potter Mikaelson. Klaus had raised me since my parents were murdered.”