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The Covenant	By : krypteria Category: S through Z > Vampire Diaries Views: 2113 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
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His hand curled into a fist but he made no other motion to reveal his surprise. He found his mind sluggish to respond, his body placing the voice before his brain could process it. He could tell in the way his dead heart sped up and the way his throat involuntarily clenched so that he couldn’t suck in the needed air for a scathing response. Not that he could think of one. He was still trying to place that soft, feminine voice.

But then a soft breeze picked up, sending his mind reeling in shock.

Cherry Blossoms.

How could he ever forget that scent? He remembered how it had wafted from those soft coppery ringlets as his fingers had run through her hair. How the scent had clung to him long after he’d been thrown from her embrace.

No, he knew who it was now. She’d found him, sought him out, and now, she was within his reach yet again.

Her shadowed eyes, so clear and bright in the night sky, still reminded him of iced violets, and the finely waved hair still fell to her shoulders, the color of copper and fire. She still tempted him, made him want to reach out a hand to brush the locks from her pale face.

It was the uncustomary frown upon her lips that kept him from moving forward to claim her as his own. Her eyes never left his as she continued toward him. Her power washed over him despite the shields he could feel in place. She looked even more haunted then when he’d seen her last. Something had happened, something terrible, he just knew it. And it had aged her.

He felt an answering dismay rise within him, cursing the fates for whatever had happened to her. And then cursed himself for such a weak reaction.

Her fingertips danced along the hood of his car, edging around his own outstretched fist. She didn’t touch him. He almost reached out to her, wanting so desperately to feel the warmth of her skin against his coldness. But no, he wouldn’t let himself appear so… needy. Not to her. Not to anyone.

His hand snapped back, and instead of giving in to his idealistic urges, he crossed his arms over his chest. With one eyebrow elegantly arched, he regarded her coolly.

Her gaze flared briefly, a spark of amusement shimmering within it’s depths. “Damon,” she murmured, as if on a sigh.

It was like a cool wind that stole over him, and he tensed momentarily. He’d forgotten how lovely her voice was. No. No. It didn’t matter to him. He didn’t give a damn about her voice, or her soft hair, or the delicate hands that were now sliding up his arms, begging for an embrace.

With a frustrated sigh, he backed away, keeping her a good arm’s length away. He refused to give in to her, not matter how hard that task may be.

At least he wasn’t shaking; he prided himself in that much. Not like she was… Wait. She was shaking? That was never a good sign. Well, at least not for her. He still wasn’t so sure of himself, caught between feeling victorious for the effect he had on her, or worry for her trembling.

But he was much too stubborn- pride was the surefire killer in all of his relationships- to give in to his desires to comfort the girl. No, that would be a tad too awkward for him.

Instead, he simply glared upon her, and waited.

Her eyes seemed to darken even more. Her head lowered, and her hair cascaded forward to block the soft planes of her face from view. And as she traced an intricate pattern across the hood of his Ferrari with her fingertips, she dropped the bomb.

“Constance is dead.”

Thankful that he was so skilled at shielding his emotions, Damon raised a questioning eyebrow. “Really, now?” he drawled. “What a shame.”

He could feel a sudden flare of power in her anger, and with seemingly little effort, it crashed into him, throwing him to the ground.

From his perch in the wet grass, he let out a snarl, “You foolish little girl!” He rose gracefully, fastidiously brushing a leaf from his sleeve before moving to tower over her. “You should know better than to trifle with a creature of-”

He cut off abruptly as her fist collided with the side of his face. His head whipped to the side with the force of it. He was astonished. So much so that all he could do was glare. Who’d have though such strength could come from someone so small.

“You,” she hissed, her voice practically dripping with ice, “are the one who is foolish, Damon. Too many have died for you to speak so ill of them. They were brave souls- especially my Guardian!- and they do not deserve to have their names desecrated by the likes of you!”

She reeled back from him, gracefully edging around his car toward the boarding house in the distance. “I had hoped that in coming her, you would have been some help.” Her voice traveled back to him on the breeze, as cold as he had ever heard it. “But I was wrong.”

He felt a twinge of… something. It wasn’t guilt. He’d never feel such an emotion. But his unknown feelings were replaced by indignation when she so rudely continued her tirade.

“Perhaps your brother will be more apt to help? I must admit, I do quite like him.”
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The Covenant