Corazon.

“My Spanish rose...”

“I am not your rose,” Sophia replied, though a delicious tingle ran down her spine at the possessiveness in his voice. Secretly, she was pleased.

Her back stiffed, and her face went blank as she steadily regarded the young man in front of her. She could recall his handsome features perfectly if she were to close her eyes, the smooth, paleness of his skin, the soft contours of his lips, the true inky black of his wavy hair which matched his eyes, that seemed, to her, darker than the night. Those same features would never change, not because she’d always remember him as he was tonight (and certainly every night they would meet), perfect and youthful, but because he would always remain so. Young, he was not.

He was a predator, a vampire, and she was a beautiful girl. Somehow, she had become more than that to him, more than a vessel of warm blood conveniently wrapped in good looks. Somehow, things for Sophia had become more than a game of cat and mouse. She was not stupid, that she made abundantly clear when she refused him entry into her apartment, though at times she would wonder how her stupidity had gotten her to where she was – flirting with a powerful vampire.

She was just asking for it. What it was, she wasn’t quite sure, but she definitely knew the consequences would be grave. She frowned at the thought of it, for it was always on her mind.

Seeing her composed expression take on character made the corner of his lip quirk into a hint of a smirk. That smirk deepened as he added, “A thorny one at that, but all the more beautiful for it.”

“Why don’t you leave me alone, Damon?” She sighed, as she ran a hand through her hair. She shivered in her night gown, which was what she was wearing in bed when he happened to appear at her window hovering in thin air, that wicked smile of his plastered across his face.

Her eyes rose toward the sky, which she could barely see through the dark grey clouds Damon had brought with him. It was unnecessary, a little parlour trick powerful vampires used during the day to lessen the harshness of the sun. But it was night time now, and instead of seeing the stars, Sophia was glancing up at the thick blanket of clouds hanging over her head. She never pointed out she knew of the connection between the weather and Damon; it would reveal too much, and she could never have him know her secret. Thinking about that, too, brought deeper lines into her frown.

“Are you cold?” Damon was already shrugging out of his leather jacket before she could open her mouth to insist he keep it on. He gingerly put it on her shoulders, careful not to touch her, then went back to lounging against the trunk of the large oak tree that sat in the middle of the courtyard, which she could see from her window in her apartment above. A little furrow in his brow appeared, and soon enough, the clouds had disappeared and the blue light of the moon was dancing through the holes in the oak’s foliage. Sophia could see more of his face now.

‘Why don’t you get it over and done with? Suck me dry and leave me to rot, here, under the oak tree in the courtyard,’she thought to herself, a crease appearing in her own brow. Though he could read minds, this thought she kept to herself. She made absolutely sure of that. Instead, she asked, “And will I be expecting you again tomorrow night, Mr. Salvatore? Or will you disappear for any length of time, and leave me alone, finally forget me?”

“I’ll never forget you,” He quietly answered, his posture straightening. Under the soft hush of his voice was a fierceness she could barely detect, whether it was to convince her, or himself, Sophia could not figure. “I just get... occupied with... other endeavours.”

‘...with Elena,’ Sophia finished, herself. She tried to keep that thought from slipping through her mental cracks, but knew he had heard it. While his face coloured, Sophia’s lost all expression once more. She looked directly into the endless black of his eyes, which she knew were slowly filling with fire. A fire that her thought had stoked.

“I made a promise to her.” He bit back the bile that was rising in his throat. How dare she!

Sophia waved her hand through the air, back and forth. ‘I know, I know,’ she told him wordlessly, with eyes that had narrowed with weariness. Her arrogance was fighting to the surface, arrogance she had absently absorbed when she was a child, all those years she had grown up. Damon would understand - he himself was of noble blood. His arrogance poured out of every fibre of his body, was there in the curve of his smile, the nonchalant way he held himself, as if nothing could possibly interest the great Damon Salvatore. He did not seem at all amused by her. Electricity seemed to threaten to come shooting out of the tips of his slender fingers.

“Well?” She asked aloud.

“Well what?” He snapped.

“Will I be losing more sleep in the days to come?” ‘Will you finally bleed me?’ she finished silently, safe once more behind the steely mental wall in her mind.

He couldn’t hear her mentally, she knew that. But, he spoke as if he were answering the question on her mind. “Oh, one day Sophia, I will taste your sweet blood.” He sent her a smile that would make any functioning woman swoon, but the fire was still blazing in his eyes, if not a little more dully.

“And why is today not the day? Why wasn’t last week, or the month before?” She could think of the endless opportunities he had when he could have easily fed from her.

“Because, my dear, beautiful rose,” He answered, “I do love a challenge.”

Sophia shook her head, her dark ringlets scattering around her bare shoulders. “You are a stubborn man.”

Damon grinned at that, at her calling him a man. A man – he was so far from his humanity, yet this girl, a baby compared to him, reminded him of what he once was. “As you are a stubborn little girl,” He replied, making the words short and clipped, just as a cloud slipped in front of the moon, drenching them in absolute darkness.

Sophia squinted into the dark. When the moon appeared again, he was gone.