#zalrb

Indeed, this was partly because the North did not take to her as immediately as Jon had hoped and assured her they would, but she had expected resistance. She had expected skepticism and resentment at his decision, it would have been naïve not to. What she had not expected was the silence between Jon and his sister, Sansa. Or perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. From what she had been told of Lady Stark, from the way Jon’s eyes brightened with a fire so different from his tired dejection when he spoke of her, Daenerys knew before meeting her that Sansa Stark was a strong-willed young woman, clever and wary --- she would not welcome her brother’s decision so easily. It was the type of silence between Jon and Sansa that struck Daenerys. It wasn’t huffy and petulant, a squabble between two siblings. No, this silence was alive with a tension that made Daenerys feel like an interloper. There was a charge in their non-communication that was almost electric; a seething quality that if Daenerys hadn’t known any better, she would think she was intruding upon a lover’s quarrel. It was hard not to feel indignant. However, she could tell that where Bran was Jon’s softness and Arya was Jon’s heart, Sansa was his world: no one meant to him what she did and she was the one who needed to be swayed above all others.

           “Lady Stark,” said Daenerys looking past Jon to Sansa sitting next to him. “I must express again what an honour it is to meet you.”

           Sansa smiled although her eyes remained as icy as they did when they had greeted each other in the courtyard. “Thank you, your Grace.”

           When she didn’t continue speaking and only put a piece of chicken in her mouth, Daenerys bit back her affront and swallowed her desire to rise to Sansa’s strategically snide “your Graces”.

           She continued. “Jon has told me quite a lot about you on our journey here.”

           At this, Sansa stopped eating and turned to Daenerys without so much as a glance to Jon. “You must forgive me, your Grace, for you have me at a disadvantage. Jon has not told me a single thing about you.”

           Jon gagged on his wine and glared at Sansa who refused to look at him, which only inflamed his anger. His agitation was peculiar, a hangover from the argument they’d had in the afternoon and that surprised him. Surely, he should be angry at Sansa for insulting their guest, for disguising contempt as civility. After all he did care for Daenerys and had wanted her to feel welcome. But Sansa’s contempt wasn’t what bothered him, it was the accusation beneath her contempt. The accusation that Jon had acted without thinking about the North, without thinking about her; the charge that he had chosen Daenerys above his people and not for his people; Sansa’s wordless allegation that he forgot her. As if he ever could. As if he ever wanted to. They had already gone one round over the subject but inside, Jon was screaming for a second.  

“So then you have not heard anything about me?” said Daenerys.

“There are stories, of course,” said Sansa. “Daenerys Stormborn, the Conqueror.”

She picked up her goblet and a dozen lords stood up from their seats and rose their glasses to her. When Sansa raised hers as well and took a sip of wine, the lords drank afterwards and sat back down.

           Daenerys was impressed despite herself.  “You sound as if you disapprove.”

Sansa looked at her pointedly. “I trust in all decisions my brother makes and he trusted in a conqueror, which means that I must trust in you too. Forgive me if I gave off an air of disapproval,” she said.  

Jon felt a sense of gratitude and appreciation that Sansa hadn’t challenged or undercut his authority in front of Daenerys and the lords like she might have done not too long ago. He even felt somewhat … flattered at the protectiveness, the slight defensiveness in her tone, at the implication that she and him shared everything together and the idea of discord was absurd. However, he knew it was all for appearance, that she didn’t trust his decision, that she didn’t trust him at all right now and that only deepened his fury.

Sansa didn’t care about his fury. She could feel it, his sense of betrayed anger. But his anger was no match for her own rage at him bringing the Targaryen woman to the North, pledging himself to her, putting her above all others. Putting her above … Sansa took another sip of wine, her eyes remaining on the room at large before her.  

Daenerys glanced at Jon and Sansa. They sat next to each other and yet made no contact, they may as well have been sitting by themselves and yet. And yet Daenerys could sense the wordless conversation between them. She would be truly shocked if the entire room couldn’t sense it as well, their passion was loud. Although, she thought to herself, they would never qualify this as passion, they would see it as anger. But what they were silently exchanging was anything but anger. It was love masked as outrage.

“Are there any dances at these feasts?” she asked.

Jon raised his eyebrows. “Dances? Er, well …. perhaps, but we don’t usually---”

“I’m sure we can make an exception for Her Grace,” said Sansa, finally looking at Jon. “This is a feast in her honour after all. We should adhere to her requests.”

Daenerys smiled and bowed her head courteously and Sansa bowed her head in return before looking to the musicians to signal a change.

There was a flurry of footsteps as servants rearranged certain tables to make space for dancing and once the floor was cleared, the music picked up to a tempo for a dance. Applause erupted from the other guests and Jon smiled in response.

Cley Cerwyn suddenly approached the table. He bowed in front of Jon. “Your Grace.”

Jon nodded. “Lord Cerywn.”

He turned to Daenerys who raised her head slightly. Cley lowered his head in response but turned to Sansa before waiting for a response from Daenerys.

“Lady Sansa,” he said.

She regarded him.

“Would you do me the honour?”

Sansa smiled and moved to push out her chair. A servant stepped behind her and pulled it out for her.

“Most certainly, my Lord,” she said, as she stood up.

The other guests clapped once again as Sansa made her way to Cley but Jon couldn’t bring himself to join the applause. There was a faint ringing in his ears and he somehow felt as if he couldn’t breathe, like his chest tightened.

“They make an attractive pair,” said Daenerys to Jon.

           He didn’t respond.

           Cley bowed and Sansa curtsied and they began to dance to the music, twirling around each other, while the guests watched, enraptured. It was odd to Jon that his first reaction to seeing Sansa’s hand in Lord Cerwyn’s was … it wasn’t exactly protectiveness, it was something baser. Something he couldn’t pinpoint. 

He picked up his goblet and gulped down the wine.

Sansa looked beautiful out there. Then again she had always been a graceful dancer; poised and dignified but still looked as if she were genuinely having fun. It had been that ways since they were children. For a brief moment, Jon imagined himself as her partner and wondered if she would look nearly as happy dancing with him. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, he cast it out, puzzled as to what it was doing in his head in the first place.

For the next few moments, Jon wasn’t lulled into that bizarre vision again but now that he had pictured it, he couldn’t watch Sansa smile and move with Cley without that baser emotion grabbing hold of him. He could hardly sit still. His heart pounded, the room was too hot, he felt faintly nauseous as if he had eaten his food too quickly. He needed to leave, he couldn’t stand to stay seated for another second.

           “Forgive me, my Queen,” he said, turning to Daenerys. “I must step out for a few moments. Only a few.” He kissed Daenerys’s hand and after the servant pulled out his chair, left the table.

In her periphery, Sansa saw Jon leave his seat and felt a rush of vindication but now that he had left the room, she no longer felt the need to dance. Truth be told, she wasn’t all that sure why she had insisted on Daenerys’s request, why she took up Lord Cerywn’s offer at all. She just knew she had wanted Jon to see her and was pleased when he could no longer watch --- if that was the reason he chose to leave. Her reactions and emotions had been confusing her all day and as if to intensify her confusion, she now felt the urge to stop the dance midway to fulfill the need she felt to find Jon and confront him. But she knew she couldn’t do that and continued to smile and move with Lord Cerwyn.

Finally, the melody ended and Sansa curtsied once more as Cley bowed to a loud applause. A few lords and their ladies started walking to the open space and Sansa took the opportunity to follow Jon to what she assumed would be his room.  

When she walked in, it was to find Jon pacing, his face taught, his hands clenched into fists. She shut the door but spoke without any preamble.

           “You cannot leave your guest in the middle of a feast, it is rude,” she said, her voice hard.

           He continued to pace. “Our guest,” he corrected sharply. “And don’t act like you care about being rude to her.”

           “I care about appearances.”

           “Your actions would prove otherwise,” he muttered.

           Sansa’s eyes widened. “And what does that mean?”

           Jon shook his head dismissively. “Nothing.”

           “No, Jon,” she said, walking father into the room. “What does that mean?”

           Jon stopped pacing and whirled on her. “You are the Lady of Winterfell---”

           “Am I?” she said, cutting him off. “I thought you had given that title to Daenerys Stormborn.”

           “Is that what this is about then?” said Jon. “Are you trying to - to upset me because of her?”

           “And how would a dance with Lord Cerwyn upset you, Jon?”

           He was wrong-footed by the question but quickly rallied. “It is not that you danced with him, it is the manner with which you did!”

           She laughed harshly. “It can’t be any worse than the lovesick way you look at her.”

           “Sansa, I do not---”

           “Oh you are not stupid, Jon, you know exactly what I mean. I’ve watched you and her and---”

           Jon blinked. “You’ve watched us?”

           “I---” Panic swelled in Sansa’s chest.

“I am only saying that you have made it plain that you forfeited our freedom because you find her beautiful!”

           “Do not start that again,” said Jon dangerously, closing the gap between them. “I did not forfeit our freedom, I solidified it and diminishing my efforts to keep our people safe, reducing the decisions I have made to whether or not I find a woman beautiful is insulting to me as a king and as a Northerner.”  

           “It is insulting to me as a Northerner to see the way you look at a foreigner.”

           Jon stared at her incredulously. “Your mother was foreigner.”

           “Is that your excuse? Father did not bend the knee to my mother!”

           “You are changing the issue!”

           Sansa cocked her head. “The issue?”

           “Yes! The issue of the manner in which you danced---”

“Jon, I smiled---”

“I did not like it!”

           There was a pause.

“My dancing with Lord Cley was merely a gesture of good faith,” said Sansa, trying to ignore the curious flutter in her chest. “If you do not remember, the Cerwyns needed a bit of persuasion to pledge fealty to us, I simply want to maintain the relationships we have.”

           “Oh is that what were you doing?” said Jon bitterly. “You weren’t preening, trying to get yourself a husband?”

           The air shifted dramatically and Sansa stilled at Jon’s words. A rush of guilt took over him and he suddenly hated himself.  

“Sansa, I---”

“Do you---” she clenched her jaw.  “Do you truly believe that I am anywhere near ready to be married again?”

He shook his head frantically. “I’m sorry.”

Sansa didn’t look fragile, she looked hardened, like she walled herself in, the coldness that only seemed to dissipate in his presence cocooned her again and Jon knew he would stab himself in the gut if it would make any difference to her.

“Sansa.”  

He rushed up to her and took her hands in his. “I am sorry. I spoke without thinking,” he said desperately. He held onto her tighter. “Sansa, please forgive me.” He pressed his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please forgive me.”

Sansa sighed and after a few seconds closed her eyes too, her thumb stroking his as they clenched each other’s hands. It was surprisingly easy to forgive him, to feel safe even when they argued like this, to … to … to drink him in …

The door wrenched open and Sansa and Jon sprang apart. Arya was too busy nagging to see them. “Do you know we can hear you yelling all the way down the---”

She stared at Jon and Sansa, feet away from each other, breathing heavily, faces red. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing,” said Jon.

“Arguing,” said Sansa. “You said you heard us.”

Arya kept her eyes narrowed.

“I should get back,” said Jon.

“Of course, can’t keep our guest waiting,” said Sansa sardonically.  

Jon glanced back at her, jaw clenched like he was gaining a third wind but he shook his head and walked out of the room. Arya was here now and --- and Sansa knew that having an audience meant they couldn’t let their passions take ahold of them like they did in private. She exhaled deeply and then looked at Arya who still regarded her with a shrewd look.

“What are you looking at,” she mumbled.

           “I suppose there was never anywhere to notice before now,” said Arya. “But no one quite nettles you like him. Not even me.”

“This was a last resort,” he wheezed.

“BULLSHIT!”

“You forced my hand.”

“This is what you wanted from the beginning! To ruin me! You’ve wanted to do that since the sixteenth century!” She slammed his head onto the tile, the impact causing the ceramic to crack and blood to splatter. Kai groaned in pain.

“YOU PLANNED THIS.”

“No,” he said tearfully. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Are you crying?” The sight agitated Bonnie’s rage to a fury she couldn’t have imagined until this moment. “YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO CRY. I SHOUD TEAR OUT YOUR FUCKING EYES. HOW DARE YOU.”

“I didn’t like doing this, Bonnie! This kind of pain … it’s not something I wanted to put you through, I NEVER WANTED THIS. I just … I knew we were going to end up here.”

“SO YOU DID PLAN THIS.”

“I planned on being by your side forever! You’d never be free of me and I’d never let you die.” His face suddenly contorted with rage. “You should’ve never tried to die!”

Bonnie clamped her hand harder around Kai’s throat.

“Stop,” he wheezed.

She squeezed with even more force and then bashed his head against the floor before letting go. She stood up in a speed that felt natural and foreign all at once and started to pace. The bird chirping outside made her wince, the spaghetti sauce her neighbours were cooking made her nose wrinkle, and she was consumed with a hunger that was intrusive, that she felt with her entire body. Each time she glanced at the blood bags, her gums itched, her veins darkened. No. No! Bonnie focused in on Kai. He was cradling his head with a slight grin on his face and the grin infuriated her even more than his tears did, which incited her hunger and pushed her to move. She sped over to the cabinet unit and pried the cupboards off the wall, throwing them through the sliding doors of the kitchen, screaming loudly.

“I HATE YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME.”

“You’re hungry.”

“I’m PISSED.”

“I have more blood bags—”

“I DON’T WANT—”

“No, what you want is something else isn’t it?” says Kai. “I know you already feel that craving.”

She did feel it. Suffer it. The urge to move, to run, to hunt… to kill. It didn’t feel like she’d expected it to, it wasn’t a mantra in her head that shrieked KILL KILL KILL, it was a buzzing, an energy in her limbs, an ache in her mouth, an itch on her tongue, it was everything. Everything in her body wanted her to feed. It was a part of her now. Inescapable. She’d been a vampire for what only felt like thirty seconds and the urge to kill was already in her being. Bonnie screamed with a force that made Kai wince.

“I didn’t believe in the devil until I met you,” she spat.

“That’s fitting, I didn’t believe in redemption until I met you,” said Kai.

Bonnie glared at him. “You think what you did to me makes you redemptive?”

“I think that I saved your life.”

“YOU DESTROYED MY LIFE. COMPLETELY.”

               “AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN,” Kai roared. He sped up to her so they were only inches a part and started yelling. “You don’t get to die, Bonnie. You don’t get to punish me like that.”

           Bonnie gritted her teeth and seized Kai by his shirt, driving him through what was left of the sliding doors, the glass shattering as she pushed him against the wooden fence in the backyard. Rapidly, she broke off a peg and pointed the edge to his chest, shrieking in rage. Kai stared at her as she screamed into his face but kept his arms to the side.

           “WHY AREN’T YOU FIGHTING ME DAMMIT?”

           “Because you can kill me if it makes you feel better,” he said. “But you can’t undo what you are. You can’t die at all, I won’t let you, you have to live at any and all costs.”

           “Then you shouldn’t have turned me into a fucking vampire!”

           She threw the peg to the ground and then sped off into the night. Kai slumped slightly against the fence and exhaled heavily, wincing slightly as he felt himself heal. He looked after the space Bonnie had just left.

           “You’re going to need me,” he said aloud to the darkness. “Or you’ll tear yourself apart.”

 She was sure she was going crazy.

           Bonnie avoided the main sidewalks, stuck to speeding through the woods or walking on the side streets, but she could hear it all no matter where she was --- hearts beating and blood pumping, tempting her to feed, to drink her fill and revel in the frenzy.        

I will not kill. I will NOT kill. I WILL not kill. I will not KILL. She muttered it under her breath but each time she told herself to refrain, she felt the desire swell twofold within her. Her inner turmoil had even become physical: she would hear a human --- something she’d constantly re-realize she was no longer --- and her body would simply react, speed toward the sound, her fangs bared, blind with lust and hunger. She would be only a few yards away from her prey, every atom in her body screaming at her to go in for the kill until she’d somehow remember herself, remember that only an hour ago she was human too. It was a distant memory, almost like it belonged to a past life, but it was enough to force herself to speed as far away from the human as she could until she encountered the next noise and rush toward that, so that the simple act of walking was a never-ending struggle in which she zigzagged along the street, going towards a kill and forcing herself away from one. With each denial of human blood, her body became more and more agitated, her hunger becoming an ever-widening hole that consumed her body. Whenever she saw an animal --- a squirrel or a pigeon --- she couldn’t contain that agitation and she’d launch at it, her teeth chewing off tails and wings, ripping through flesh to blood, horrible, vomit-inducing blood that made her retch and heave and cry and curse. She cursed herself, cursed vampirism, cursed God and above all, she cursed Kai. It all started with Kai. Even her past life was entwined with him and the damage he caused --- Bonnie closed her eyes and corrected herself, they caused together --- it had torn apart a kingdom, it had killed and it had spread suffering. Now it sought to transfigure her into an agent of a destruction, something terrible and dark and ---

A racoon skittered through the shadows, attempting to slip by undetected, by Bonnie could sense it, hear it, see it. In one motion, she sped over to the animal and sunk her fangs into it, warm blood gushed into her mouth, its shrieking loud and strangled, as she tore through it. She threw the dead body to the side and doubled over to try and vomit, her gag reflex jumping, fresh tears wetting her tear-stained cheeks. She ran her fingers through her hair.

She knew what she had to do.

There were dead animals everywhere, ripped open and disfigured, droplets of blood trailing away from the carcasses. Kai tracked the sinister breadcrumbs through the woods and along the side streets, his expression a wealth of emotion.

He’d felt remorse but no regret and therefore no shame or guilt. It pained him to see Bonnie’s obvious struggle, to see her starve herself, torment herself, to see her fight the darkness to such an extreme degree, but he’d rather that, rather this constant battle than her death. And if he was being honest, her struggle only meant her hatred of him would deepen and if her hatred of him deepened then so would their bond; with each curse she uttered at him, she was binding herself to him and he wanted her bound to him so tightly that leaving was an impossibility.

He remembered when she’d nearly died at his hand. Emotions were still new to him, the way he needed her, the way he craved her, it still frustrated him beyond reason, it still angered him and maddened him, to be so beholden to someone else.

           But.

           The panic he felt the night he’d almost killed her, that overwhelming sorrow, that painful anger … he was reminded of it when he’d saw her death during their past life. He’d felt a hint of it when she’d resolutely told him she was ending things. And he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to ensure he would never feel that way again. At any cost. Whatever cost. He understood that it was Bonnie’s intention to make him suffer that pain forever but that wasn’t something he was willing to do, there was no way he would ever let Bonnie win. Not if it meant that. Not if it meant his life without her.

           Kai glanced at the innards of a recently killed racoon. He was getting closer. He sped forward.

 Bonnie pounded frantically on the door, slamming her fists so hard onto the wood, she was sure she was going to a punch a hole in the centre. She could hear everyone inside, talking about the mess, the scorch marks, the broken glass, the broken friendships. There were so many people inside, more than she anticipated, she should leave. No she couldn’t leave, she needed his over, she needed ---

           The door opened and Elena stood in the entryway. In an instant, her face lit up. She stepped outside.

           “Bonnie!”

           But then after a few seconds Bonnie could see Elena take it all in, take in the blood dribbling from her mouth, the dirt and guts and blood on her clothes, her feverish shaking. It was like day turned to night. Elena’s face dropped, her eyes widened in worry then fear, her nostrils flared in alarm. Bonnie heard Elena’s frantic heartbeat and her eyes reddened gluttonously.  

           “STEFAN!” Elena screamed.

           “ELENA, GET BACK IN THE HOUSE,” said Bonnie.

           Quickly, she stepped inside. “DAMON! COME OUT HERE NOW.”

           Fangs descended and veins etched her face and without thinking, she moved forward to reach for Elena, making Elena step even further back in the house. Bonnie screamed in frustration. Shame and guilt and fear overcame her with a force that knocked her over and she doubled over, holding her stomach.

           She heard the footsteps and Elena’s voice. At first low, “Stefan, I don’t know how, I don’t know what happened, but she’s … she’s … she’s turned, she’s a vampire, I don’t, I ---” and then higher with impatience. “Matt, I didn’t call you. I need you to go back to the living room and keep Jeremy away from here.”

           “What’s wrong with her?”

           “Matt, please.”

           “Bonnie?”

           It was a different voice. A calmer voice. Stefan’s voice. Bonnie hesitated and then looked up at him, terror-stricken.

           “It’s OK,” he said.

           His face was unworried but his eyes were alert. He stood where was, completely still, and Elena watched him, anxious.

           “It’s OK,” he repeated. “It’s all going to be fine.” He took a small step forward. “Why don’t you come in?”

           “No.” Bonnie moved backward so that she jumped a yard away. “No, I can’t.”  She looked at Elena, at her neck, the desire to tear into it and drain the life out of her, made her veins darken. “I can’t!” she repeated.

           Stefan nodded. “OK, that’s OK, you don’t have to come inside.” He raised his hands. “We can just talk out here.”  

           “Bonnie---” Elena made to walk outside but Stefan held her by the wrist and Bonnie yelled.

           “STAY INSIDE THE DAMN HOUSE!”

           “You won’t hurt me, Bonnie!”

           “She’s not Bonnie right now,” said Stefan.

           “No, she’s not,” said Damon. He joined Stefan and Elena in the doorway. “She’s starving and she’s scared and knowing Bonnie, she’s sickened with herself, there’s no telling what she’ll do right now.”

           He looked at Bonnie, his eyes blazing with rage, his jaw clenched.

           “He did this to you,” he said. “I know he did.”  

           Elena looked at him. “Who?”

           “WHO DO YOU THINK, ELENA?”

“Kai?” Elena looked back at Bonnie. “DID KAI DO THIS TO YOU?”

           Damon took a step outside. “I’m going to find that little bastard and rip him limb from LIMB.”

           “NO!” said Bonnie.

           “BONNIE---”

           “That’s not what I want, what I want is ---”

           A bird landed on the roof of Stefan’s car. Bonnie couldn’t help herself. She sped forward, hopping on the hood and then the roof, and fed from the bird, snorting and heaving as she did, spitting out its body onto the gravel.  

           “Oh my God.”

           Caroline was in the doorway now, her eyebrows furrowed. Elena’s hand was covering her mouth, Stefan eyes were shining, Damon’s eyes were wide and then --- Bonnie felt her entire world fall apart.

           “Bonnie?” Jeremy.  

           “Jeremy?”

           “Jeremy, get back in the living room,” said Damon.

“No, what’s going on? What happened to her, what---?”

           “Jeremy, you shouldn’t be here,” said Elena. “You should---”        

“NO. Not until someone tells me why she did that. She can’t be a vampire, it’s not possible!”

           He tried to walk outside and go to her but Stefan kept a firm grip on his shoulder. “Jeremy, it’s not safe to go out there right now.”

           “HOW CAN IT BE UNSAFE WHEN IT’S BONNIE?”            Bonnie shook her head frantically. She’d already hurt him when he saw her with Kai, she’d felt his anguish when he realized she was no longer the girl he’d fallen in love with, she couldn’t handle his horror now, the dumbfounded torment on his face at seeing her hunched and monstrous and blood-splattered on a car. The scream that escaped her was more like a howl and Elena gasped.

           “Jeremy, PLEASE go back to the living room!”

           “Jer,” said Matt, staring at Bonnie. “Let’s just, let’s go.”      

Bonnie cradled her head in her hands. “I can’t do this.” It’s all she could say, she had no coherent thoughts. She sped off the car, back onto the driveway, staggering around haphazardly, her emotions swirling in her head, rising in her throat, churning in her gut, inciting her hunger.

“I can’t do this. I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T DO THIS.”

“Bonnie, it’s OK, we’ll figure it out.”

           “I DON’T WANT TO FIGURE THIS OUT. I WANT THIS TO BE OVER. THIS ISN’T ME. THIS ISN’T ME. IT’S NOT.”  

           “Bonnie---”

           “NO! I WANT YOU TO ---”

           Something was wrong. She couldn’t speak.

           “I WANT YOU TO---”

           No, she could speak, she just couldn’t say that word. That word that was so clear in her mind, that she thought since the moment she woke up, but that now she couldn’t utter, like her mouth forgot how to form the letters to create the word, like her tongue refused to acknowledge the request.

           “I WANT YOU TO --- I WANT TO --- I WANT YOU TO---”

           She was getting more and more frenzied and panicked with each attempt at a sentence. She started to hyperventilate with frustration, her palms balled into fists. WHY COULDN’T SHE SAY IT?                  

Elena started. “Bonnie…”

           “NO I---”  

           And then she remembered. She remembered what he’d told her.

           “But you can’t undo what you are. You can’t die at all, I won’t let you, you have to live at any and all costs.”

           Kai told her that she had to live and now she couldn’t say the word “kill”. Bonnie’s gut dropped with realization.

           “No,” she said. “No, no, I refuse… Kill that bird,” she said. “Kill the engine. Kill the project. Kill…”

           Caroline and Elena exchanged worried glances and Damon and Stefan glanced at her, confused and at a loss.

           “Kill the fire,” she continued. She knew she sounded crazy, completely out of hr mind, but she had to make sure. “Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL. KILL. I want you to---”

           The word ceased to exist.

           “NO!” She fell to her knees and started pounding the driveway, bashing her knuckles into the gravel so that they were raw and bloodied. “NO!” she screamed it with every blow.

She was Sired.

To Kai.

She was Sired to Kai.

The fucking bastard.

           “He said I had to live,” she wheezed. “He said I have to live and now I have to. I can’t even ask you to try and end my --- I can’t even finish the sentence. He made me live at ALL costs. I HAVE to do what he says!”

           Her knuckles healed and she growled in frustration and started to grab at her hair, pulling it out by the strands.

           “Bonnie, STOP,” said Stefan.  

           Caroline sped over to Bonnie and held her hands away from her hair. Bonnie struggled but Caroline remained fixed.

           “I’m older than you,” she said.

           “You can’t be Sired to Kai,” said Damon. “You hate him. You loathe him, you despise him, that’s all you tell me.” There was a desperate bent to his tone. “You weren’t lying, right? The sex … it doesn’t mean anything, you said it meant nothing.”

           Stefan shook his head slightly. “You only need human feelings, genuine human feelings for a sire bond to take effect, remember?”

           “But I hated Damon,” said Caroline, still keeping a grip on Bonnie. “I was scared of Damon, I resented Damon, those are all human emotions, and I died with his blood in my system but I wasn’t Sired to him. So I don’t, I don’t…”  

           “That was different,” said Elena quietly. She stared sadly at Bonnie. “Bonnie told me once what it is she feels for Kai and it’s powerful. Unshakeable. I’ve seen it, it’s dark and … undeniable and…” Elena swallowed hard. “Scary.”

           “Thank you for the introduction.”

           Everyone turned toward the woods and saw Kai standing at the edge of the driveway.

           “YOU!”  Damon sped over to Kai but Kai gesticulated, muttering an incantation so that a line of fire separated them.

           “COWARD.”

           Kai looked at Bonnie. “Think really hard about whether or not you really want to be here,” he said.

           The sentence caused something in Bonnie to snap and she wrenched out of Caroline’s grasp.

           “BONNIE!”

           Kai lowered the flames so Bonnie could speed toward him. She grabbed him by the throat and yelled in his face. “I’M SIRED TO YOU. YOU CAN MAKE ME WANT THINGS I DON’T REALLY WANT.”

           “The only thing I’ve made you do is live,” he said. “You can do anything else you want, you can decapitate me right here, but I’m never letting you die, Bonnie.”

           Bonnie glared at him, at the furious sincerity in his gaze and she gritted her teeth, letting him go. Elena and Damon rushed forward but Kai opened his hand, making the flames burn brighter and higher.  

“GIVE HER BACK,” she said.

“You’re really going to fight me?” said Damon. “You deserve to burn in hell for what you did to her!”

“Coming from the guy who force-fed that one---” Kai nodded toward Elena “--- his blood not one but two times?”

“Don’t turn this around, Kai!” said Elena. “You destroyed her!”

“A little convenient that me saving her life is what destroyed her but not the amount of times all of you used her for your own benefit.”

“You really believe you have the moral high ground in this situation?” said Stefan.

“No, I just believe that none of you have the right to kill me, the only person who has that right is Bonnie,” he says. “I’m hers and hers alone so back off.”

“Like hell we’re going to back off,” said Caroline. “LOOK AT HER! YOU’VE TURNED HER INTO SOMETHING SHE HATES.”

“She doesn’t need your rescuing,” said Kai.

Bonnie whirled on him. “DON’T SPEAK FOR ME.”

He thrust his face into hers. “But you’ll allow them to speak for you?”

           “They would never do this to me!”

           “No, they would just let you die!”

           “I chose to die!”

           “You chose to die to save them! AGAIN.”

“I chose to die because it was the only way I would ever be free of you! You wouldn’t just let me go!”

“How many times, how many ways do I have to show you that I will NEVER let you go? I choose you even when you don’t chose yourself. I choose you even when you hate me for it, especially when you hate me for it! I choose you and I don’t care if you’re cursed for it!”

Damon saw it, saw the fury in Bonnie’s face, the fury that only surfaced when she glared at Kai, the fury that preceded an even more passionate, more violent emotion. He ran even closer to the fire.

           “Bonnie don’t!”

           But it was too late. Bonnie grabbed Kai by the shirt again, pushing him into the woods, slamming him against a tree and she started punching him. Hitting him again and again so that she could feel his bones break beneath her knuckles, feel his teeth shatter beneath her force, hear his grunts of pain. It was viciously satisfying. Her anger thrust out of her with each blow, anger at her sixteenth century death, her sixteenth century insanity, resentment at her vampirism, at the complete annihilation of Jeremy. This wasn’t what she wanted. He wasn’t what she chose. EVERYTHING WAS FUCKED and she couldn’t die to escape it!

But the more she hit him, the more confused her emotions became. The hatred was there. The resentment, the rage, the desire to punish him, to kill him, to rip him limb for limb but none of that drowned out his words. I’m hers and hers alone. None of that drowned out his intent, him and her forever, her forever, her alive. It enlivened her with a power, the knowledge of the lengths he’d go to keep her, the things he’d betray, the things he’d break to have her, the fact that he would risk harm and accept death to just get one more night with her --- it excited her in a way she’d never experienced before now, a way that made every inch of her tingle, every part of her ache, that overcame her with a lust so that she couldn’t breathe without wanting. And that lust only exacerbated her hunger, only added desperation to her thirst, it intensified her cravings, deepened her longing for blood, her yearning for the bite, her hankering for satiation that all Bonnie could think to do was throw Kai to the ground, tear open his shirt and sink her fangs into him.

He called out in surprise and hardened immediately beneath her. His cry turned into a long drawn-out moan as she sucked from his neck. His blood sang through her veins and made her throb between her thighs, she grunted as she gorged and he grunted as she drank, making her suck from his bite harder.

           “Fuck,” he gasped.

           Kai moved his hands to her waist but the instant Bonnie felt his fingers on her, she took a hold of both of his wrists and pinned his arms to the ground and redoubled her efforts as she fed.

           “Jesus Christ,” he swore. “Bonnie, please.”

           She heard his desperation. She didn’t care. She wanted him desperate. She wanted him panting and begging and frustrated and hers. He deserved it. He deserved worse. Bonnie started to writhe on top of his bulge, gyrating her hips, the friction making her moan so that he swore, his hands straining against her iron-clad grip.  

She withdrew from his neck to look at him, to look at his veined face and drawn fangs, to look at his neediness, his readiness. Every trace of his human expression was gone, he’d crossed over into total viscera now, complete and utter need. For her. Bonnie bit her wrist and then held it over Kai’s face, her blood dribbling onto his mouth. He licked his lips greedily, closing his eyes, groaning, sighing and then begging, his head rolling from side to side on the ground.

“Please. PLEASE.” It was all he could say. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anywhere close to enough.

“Please?” whispered Bonnie. “Please what?”  

“More,” he panted.

Bonnie pressed herself on him so more so that he squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head on the ground.

“More,” he said again.

“Of what?”

“Of everything,” he sighed. “Of you.”

           “No,” she said coldly.

           “Bonnie.”

           She glared at him. She touched her wound with her finger and then put it to his mouth. Instantly, he enclosed her fingertip with his lips, the tip of his tongue itching the blood off the pad of her finger. She withdrew her finger and his eyes flashed. He tried to rise up but Bonnie slammed him back on the ground, rubbing her wound on his lips, before wriggling on him. His hands dug into the grass and dirt as his readiness grew harder beneath her motions. Bonnie bent down and pressed her lips against his and he responded enthusiastically, kissing her in an attempt to drown in her, in her essence. She bit his bottom lip and sucked on the blood, twirling her tongue around his so that he could taste what she tasted but nothing else, nothing of her own. The more she tasted of him, the faster she swayed on his lap, tightening her thighs, his readiness bringing her closer and closer to the edge. When she felt her insides writhing and rising, coiling and tightening, she dug her fangs into the other side of Kai’s neck, the blood pushing her over into euphoria that made her throw her head back and convulse, repeatedly, arching her back, Kai’s blood dripping onto her chest.

           Kai gazed at her open-mouthed, awed and desirous, his lips furled over his fangs, his chest heaving up and down with anticipatory pants, his erection throbbing, his entire body aching with need, his tongue itching for its next fix, his eyes dark and red and desperate with want. Bonnie looked down at him, a vicious smirk on her face and then disentangled from him, standing up.

He furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief and then his eyes flashed. He sat up quickly.  

           “If I don’t have you now!” Bonnie looked at him, the words were a threat. “If I don’t drink from you now…” Kai gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together. “I’m going out of my fucking mind, Bonnie. If you deny me, I’m only going to try and satiate my appetite,” he said. “Dozens of people will be dead by the morning. Are you going to be able to live with that?”

           Bonnie looked at him. “You’re making me live with a lot of things, Kai.” She turned to walk away but Kai grabbed her by the wrist.

           “I’m getting you back for this,” he said. “This is only the beginning, Bonnie.”

           Bonnie knelt in front of him and kissed him again. He crushed her to him, gripping the arch of her back as she ran her fingers through his hair, clutching on the strands. His lips moved to her neck, the tip of his tongue skating down her throat and she felt his fangs pierce her skin and she mewled at the bite, moistening at his grunt as he sucked. She wanted to press his head to her wound, wanted to wrap herself around him, urge him to lap harder but instead she pulled away from him so that he yelled a strangled yell.

           “BONNIE.”