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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ⋆☆⋆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Nathalie turned around, annoyed by the morning light and her terrible headache, and buried her face in her pillow. The pillow was soft and warm and breathing––Wait a second!
She opened her eyes and glared up at the smirking Damon, who seemed to really enjoy being used as a pillow. "Well, good morning, sweetheart." He purred, nipping her ear. Her back arched slightly.
"What happened?" The girl groaned, massaging her temples, as the vampire moved to her neck, pressing sloppy, lazy kisses to the sensitive skin. "Mmm, take a wild guess."
He flipped her on her back, her hands digging in his soft locks, and tilted her head slightly up to expose more of her delicious neck to himself. She breathed heavily, and quickly, as he painted kissed all the way down to her collarbone. Warmth radiated from each and every spot where his lips touched her neck, slowly spreading through her whole body.
"As much as I'd like to continue this," he whispered against her skin, "we have important shit on our plate."
Nathalie sighed as he slowly, reluctantly pulled away, as if to give her time to object, to drive him back down against her. She pushed the sheets, not bothering to hide her body. He had already seen it all. She stumbled around the room, picking up her discarded clothes and undergarments, and the vampire deigned to do the same, not just to stand and stare at her.
The Originals, her mother, the coffin Damon managed to sneak out just in time. The girl sighed again and tried to clear her head enough to remember what the vampire had told her yesterday. Oh, right, he had undaggered Elijah in hopes to help them bring down Klaus.
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, reading through the alerts, most of them occupied by her sister's messages from last night.
bonnie bennett where are you? nat, are you alright? you're getting drunk, aren't you? type 1 if you need company.
And then, another message that had arrived at three o'clock.
bonnie bennett hey, i know you're probably too drunk by now to read this, but we're gonna be alright, natty. you know that, right? that's what you always tell me––that you'll make sure we'll be alright. so suck it up, take an aspirin and come home to figure out a spell.
Nathalie smiled. She felt blessed, having such a great sister. Her phone beeped again and she looked down. 'Old Lockwood Cave. Stefan's pissing me. Abby's here, but can you run home and fetch your own grimoires? We should have missed something,' Bonnie had written.
The witch debated on it for a second. She meant it when she said she didn't want Abby anywhere near her sister, and going there and biting her head off would be pleasant but pointless. Besides, Bonnie could take care of herself and asked her to do something else––probably to avoid the bloodshed, but still. Nathalie peered down at her clothes and then at the vampire. "Would you mind dropping me home on your way to wherever? I'm not particularly fond of walking around town looking like a serial killer."
