The Vampire Diaries: Making Amends: Damon’s First Bite (Kindle Worlds Short Story) Read online

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

  * * *

  MAKING AMENDS: DAMON’S FIRST BITE

  THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

  * * *

  MAKING AMENDS: DAMON’S FIRST BITE

  Delilah Devlin

  Kindle Worlds

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Delilah Devlin.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program. All characters, scenes, events, themes, plots, and related elements of The Vampire Diaries remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Alloy Entertainment LLC / Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., its affiliates, or licensors.

  For more information on the Kindle Worlds publishing program: www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Kindle Worlds

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  Digital ISBN: 9781477859308

  CONTENTS

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  Damon knew something was afoot the moment the door closed behind him. The usual soft snick of the lock was replaced by a dull, echoing thud. Instantly all senses went on alert.

  Tilting his head, he concentrated, listening to the sounds of the old boarding house, dismissing the usual creaks and groans, and then narrowing his focus to anything living—anything with a heartbeat. No sounds alerted him. He raised his head and sniffed, but beyond dust and the odor from an open whiskey decanter, he detected nothing. And yet, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

  Never one to ignore his instincts, he let the change come over him, his fangs descending from his gums, and his face and body tightening as he allowed his bloodlust to overtake him, giving him added strength to greet whatever might be lurking in the evening shadows.

  An amused snort sounded beside him, and he shot a glance toward the sound. Nothing.

  Although he’d relish a fight, the speed at which this mysterious creature apparently moved removed that option. Better to know his foe before engaging in a battle …

  He shook his head, retracting his teeth, his thoughts racing, but only in anticipation of a challenge. Not from fear. For him to fear, he had to give a damn about his un-life. He stepped deeper into the house. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang softly and narrowed his eyes.

  A soft caress, lighter than a stir of air, touched his shoulder. A thin giggle sounded, high-pitched, young, moving from behind him, then retreating toward the large open living room. Logs shifted on the fireplace, then burst into flames, and for the first time, Damon saw the outline of something, a translucent echo of an image, as it shimmered in front of the fire and then moved fluidly and quickly away, disappearing against the gloomy paneled walls and heavy furnishings. Legs, a torso, but beyond that it had moved too quickly, and oddly meltingly, for him to discern more of its shape.

  “You are female,” he drawled, pretending unconcern, when he knew whatever had joined him in the house wasn’t benevolent. Just a hunch, but he knew.

  “Am I?” came a voice, hoarse and deep, whispering into his ear.

  Damon held still. He hadn’t felt a gust of breath, so whatever was here in this room wasn’t living, wasn’t breathing. Since he’d felt no glint of recognition—not a vampire using some sort of glamour to mask his or her presence. Also unlike any ghosts he had encountered, which tended to appear as their former selves. What the hell was it? “You are … male, then?”

  “What would be the point of that?” came a breathier whisper.

  Damon quirked up one side of his mouth. “Do I know you?”

  “Wrong question.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Did I know you?”

  Breathless laughter rang around him, from just in front of him and then to the fireplace where flames licked outwardly before bouncing back as the tinkling laughter faded, nearing him again.

  Damon felt almost dizzy from the frenetic movements of the entity. “Maybe I should leave you to your amusements, since I’m tired of this game.”

  “Not a game, not a game,” came a singsong voice, still androgynously husky.

  But decidedly female since he was intrigued. Damon drew a deep breath and strode toward the sideboard to pour a drink. No movements or sounds intruded, so he took a seat on a leather couch and drank, breathing in the sublime scent of 50-year-old whiskey while he pondered this latest mystery.

  “Female, maybe,” he said softly. “Not human. Not vampire.…” He raised his voice slightly. “Not ghost.”

  “Clever, clever.” The seat beside him sank, the indentation pointed rather than a smooth curve like a round bottom sitting.

  He stared at that point. “Won’t you introduce yourself?”

  The point slid toward him, a faint groove marking the dark leather, until it skipped to his thigh. Damon felt the sharpness, like the dull side of a knife’s blade as it skimmed one thigh, then trailed upward, jumping to the arm holding the drink, up to his shoulder, then across his face to his mouth. There was sizzling heat in the scrape.

  Instinctively, he gasped, then quickly pressed his lips together to keep whatever was touching him from entering. He arched a brow, not wanting the creature to see his unease.

  The point scratched his bottom lip, drawing blood, and then left. The shimmer touched the fire in the hearth and crouched there, holding still for the first time while its form continued to glint red, orange, white, and blue, until it slowly solidified, colors dulling, but its form revealing its true nature.

  Damon held perfectly still, his drink dangling from frozen fingers as he tried to gather his scattered wits. Cold spilled down his spine.

  Although her appearance was strangely altered, he recognized her. How could he not? He’d killed hundreds of women, maybe thousands, but who was counting? Too many to remember all their faces. But he’d never forgotten his first meal. The one who’d made him a vampire.

  Her hair was dark, spilling past her shoulders. Her skin, even covered with muted flame, was pallid. Alive, she’d been delectable, led to him in vacant-eyed bliss. A willing first meal, presented to him by his ebullient, newly fanged brother, Stefan.

  Damon canted his head and studied her as she crouched, her chest expanding and contracting in quick huffs as her face screwed up in a frightening scowl.

  “I take it you aren’t here to thank me,” he murmured.

  “Thank you?” she said, her lips snarling. “Do you see what I’ve become?”

  “I see, but you’ll have to fill me in on the specifics. Not a ghost—seems that wasn’t too off-base.”

  Her lips lifted, baring her teeth. “I died a virgin.”

  Damon frowned and shook his head. “Not how I remember it.”

  Her eyes narrowed to a flickering red glare. “I died the moment you climbed on top of me. I had bled out, and you didn’t even notice.”

  He drew a deep breath and nodded. “Virgin.” He shrugged. “And that’s a problem, why? Dead is dead.”

  Her muscles bunched, and she leap
t from a crouch to slam into his body. His whiskey flew, glass tinkling as it splintered on the floor. Her body was heavy, heavier than a human’s, and settling down, all nude bits mashed against him. Forcing himself to remain calm, he glared at the creature peering down at him with searing red eyes. “Were you hoping for a repeat performance, seeing as you weren’t awake to enjoy it the last time?”

  Her eyes widened, and her head drew back. A frown wrinkled her smooth brow. “No, I do not want to lie with you.”

  “It wouldn’t technically be lying since you’re straddling me …” Observing her ferocious scowl, he sensed she didn’t have a sense of humor and decided to keep any further sarcasm to himself.

  Her eyes glazed as she stared beyond him. “I awaken, every now and then,” she said, her raspy voice thinning, becoming more decidedly feminine. “Under a full moon. Standing outside a circle of light from a campfire. Always there is a man in the woods. He sees me. I dance. I draw him closer to me. We kiss.” Her eyes closed and her chest rose as she inhaled. “And it’s exquisite … He moans. I grow hot. And then I draw his life through his mouth into mine and burst into flame.” She blinked her eyes and aimed a hard glare downward. “Again. I sleep.”

  Damon lifted his hands and lightly caressed her sides, hoping to soothe away a little of her ferocity. “Doesn’t sound entirely dreary. Except for the part where you can’t walk away afterward to smoke a cigarette.” So he couldn’t manage to practice a little self-preservation, but so far she’d only postured menacingly. She hadn’t actually hurt him. “You want something from me. Don’t you?”

  “I want to die.”

  Damon lifted his eyebrows. Then quicker than a blink, he grabbed her head and turned it sharply.

  Her head lolled limply backward at an odd angle, but then rolled on the back of her shoulders, bumping over the top of one, then raising, straightening. Her glare when she peered down at him met his worried stare. “Think I haven’t tried that?”

  “Have you tried chopping off your head?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Drowning like a witch? Silver bullet to the heart?”

  Her mouth opened as she feigned a yawn.

  Damon’s lips twitched. “I rather like you. If you could manage to stick around, we could have oodles of fun.”

  “Your lap is warming. That’s what you like.”

  “It’s a full moon,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows in a not so subtle invitation. “Plenty of time to find a hapless camper.”

  She tapped his nose, then mashed her finger against it, flattening it. “I don’t want you. You don’t have what warms my body.”

  As she slid her finger away, he wrinkled his nose. “Life force? That’s what you want?”

  She nodded, her expression crumpling. “I am a monster.”

  “Now, now. No crying,” he said, gliding his hands on her arms. “We monsters don’t shed tears. It’s part of the code.”

  “There’s a code?”

  “Of course there’s a code,” he said, pushing her hair behind her ears and feeling more fond of her by the moment. Was it because she was his first? Or because he could kill her all day and night and never grow bored of trying?

  “You’re making that up,” she said, glancing at him from beneath the fringe of her eyelashes.

  “Haven’t you met any others, like you or me?”

  “Never. I have only a short time to accomplish my task, and even now, I am drawn.” Her gaze went to the tall windows. “I must go.”

  He clutched her hips to hold her there. “But we haven’t solved your problem.”

  “It’s too late. The moon is at its highest in the night sky.”

  “Will you come back to me?” he asked, surprised by his earnest tone. Strangely, her answer mattered to him.

  She shrugged. “What is the point?”

  “I’ll ask friends if they have any idea how to help you.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You have those? I’m surprised.”

  He gave her a baleful glare. “Don’t be a bitch.” At her continued stare, he sighed loudly. “Okay, so I know some people who will be willing to put a demon to rest.”

  She snorted. “Now that I can believe. Next time I awaken, I will seek you.”

  Before he had a chance to tell her he looked forward to it, she melted away, her body lightening as she slowly disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  Damon sat, elbows on his knees as he stared into the fire.

  “This is the fourth full moon.” Stefan glanced to Bonnie, the current Bennett witch, whose head was bent as she studied her nails.

  Bonnie’s mouth pressed into a straight line, but then she raised her gaze, letting it slam into Damon’s. She was here under duress, Damon knew. He wasn’t one of her besties.

  The fact she was here at all was because Elena talked her into it shortly after his first meal had appeared. They’d all poured over the books, Googled their fingers to nubs. But it wasn’t until Bonnie consulted another of her Gramm’s witchy-books that they’d discovered exactly what Damon’s creature was.

  “A vili?” he’d asked, trying out the name for size, but finding it too soft for the fierce creature that hadn’t strayed far from his thoughts since they’d met.

  “A kind of succubus,” Bonnie had said, her finger tracing the scribble line in the grimoire. “A girl child or young woman who dies a virgin can be cursed forever to lure young men to their deaths.”

  Damon had waved a hand at the tattered leather-bound book Bonnie held close to her chest. “That’s it?”

  Oh, how her dark eyes had glared. Her full lips curving into a snarl she seemed to always wear whenever he was around. “You expected more? It’s not like my Gramm’s ever actually met one. She just noted it, from a conversation with another family member who heard it from a—”

  Damon had rolled his eyes. “I get it. No mention of how you can kill one?”

  She’d huffed a breath. “That whole ‘cursed forever’ bit pass you right by?”

  Elena, who now sat close enough to Stefan that they could have shared a single lap, glanced up with her chocolate puppy-dog eyes. “Why is this so important to you, Damon?”

  The little girl with the husky bedroom voice always managed to get him to glance inward. Something that annoyed and delighted him at the same time. Proved she cared about him. Something he didn’t take for granted. Not when his own brother’s dark, broody frowns followed him everywhere. “It’s not important,” he lied, even knowing he was completely transparent, but why change now? Part of his charm was his irreverence.

  Elena’s gaze narrowed, and she waited. His brother took his cue from her and lifted a brow as he stared steadily back.

  Damon pushed off the couch and threw out his hands. “All right. So maybe I feel a little responsible.” He swung his head to nail Stefan with a glance. “Not that I was the one who led her to her demise, but I took the bite.” He wrinkled his nose. “Then I tore off her clothes and took another bite, before—”

  “I think I threw up a little in my mouth,” Bonnie said, her fingertips touching her lips.

  “Was she beautiful?” Elena asked, all solemn-eyed and sympathetic.

  “She was plain. Pale and lifeless. Like a doll. Revolting to me when I first saw her, but a second look …” Damon swallowed, remembering the moment. “All I noted was the sound of her heart, beating like a drum. And her eyes … I don’t know what color they were, but when she came here four months ago, they were glowing and red, fierce, when she pinned me to the couch.”

  Stefan grunted and his head nodded. “So that’s the appeal.”

  Elena frowned and gave Stefan a questioning stare.

  Stefan’s lips pursed and he glanced away.

  Little brother understood exactly what he’d meant. Fierceness was a quality they both prized in a woman.

  Bonnie rose, her arms crossing her chest. “It’s nearly ten. She’s not coming.”

  “She coul
d come any time before the moon reaches its zenith.”

  “Which is when, Carl Sagan?”

  Damon raked a hand through his unruly hair. “Midnight-ish.”

  And then the door slammed, and the flames shot out of the fireplace. Damon turned a full circle where he stood, looking for clues of where she was. A gust of laughter in his ear. A soft whoosh of air circling his body. Damon’s lips curved into a small smile. “It’s about time.”

  “I just woke,” came the disembodied voice. “Have you found my answer?”

  “Not to how to kill you, but we know what you are.”

  She moved, a shimmer melting toward the fire, where she stopped, her body filling, her eyes opening to glow red as she stared at him.

  “Holy shit.” Elena’s mouth pursed as she stared at the naked, flame-colored girl.

  Damon’s mouth twitched at the uncharacteristic curse, but he turned and held out his hand, palm up, enjoying the fact that her nudity made the two young human women uncomfortable. And now Stefan really understood the appeal.

  The vili approached him, laying her palm over his, warmth engulfing his whole body at a single touch.

  She tilted her head toward his, the muted, changing colors of her skin making her beautiful. “How does knowing what I am help me?”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t. But at least we know you aren’t the first, unless you met a Bennett witch somewhere along the line.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I like witches.”

  Damon felt a smile stretch his mouth, and he waggled his eyebrows as he darted a glance at Bonnie, who glared daggers at them both. “They don’t have much of a sense of humor.”

  The vili dropped her hand. Her shoulders slumped. “Thank you for trying.”

  Damon stepped closer, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. This close, he could hide his expression from the group behind him. He dropped his mask, let her read his earnest concern. “We’re not done here,” he whispered.