𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐞

...🌺...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝑀𝑌𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐶 𝐹𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑆

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬-𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲.

My fingertips brushed the edge of the stone, tracing the name etched into it like it might somehow tether me to her again.

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

The words were too small. Too neat. They didn't even come close.

The wind shifted, brushed curls across my face, and I tucked them behind my ear absently. I tucked my knees to my chest as my phone buzzed against my ear softly.

"How's your aunt?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hovering," Bonnie said. Her tone was hollow, her voice stretched thin with exhaustion. "She's worried."

A sad smile tugged at my lips, knowing Shelia would have hated the worrying. "Are you still not talking to Elena?"

There was a pause. Then, "I just can't right now. You almost died. Grams died. We saved Damon and Stefan, but at what cost?" Her voice cracked. "I just...need time and space. Away from vampires, even if that means I don't speak to Elena for a while or see you."

Elena might not understand Bonnie's distance, but I did.

There was already so much death since Stefan and Damon came to town. Death that followed where they went, and there really was no reason for Bonnie to put herself or anymore of her family in harm's way. And I would follow her tired off all the death but...

"Promise you'll watch over Bonnie."

I'm keeping Grams' promise the only way I know how by staying and putting myself in harm's way for Bonnie.

"I understand." I exhaled, staring at the grave until the letters blurred. "I wish she were here."

"Me too." Bonnie's voice trembled. "But don't blame yourself. I mean it. Grams wouldn't want that."

My chest tightened because she was right. However, grief and guilt had their hooks in me and weren't letting go.

"Okay," the lie fell from my lips.

I hung up, and I sat there in silence, the ache settling back in like it had been waiting for me.

The phone fell onto my lap, and I rested my cheek on my knee. A mockingbird called out in the distance. Somewhere nearby, a branch cracked under someone's footsteps.

I frowned and turned just as Elena stopped before me. She brushed her hair out of her face but didn't sit. She just stood there, grief in her eyes as she looked at Grams' grave.

"I didn't want to interrupt," she said.

"It's okay." I stood, brushing the dirt and leaves from my skirt.

There was a moment of awkward silence. We hadn't really spoken since Grams' funeral. I stayed in my room or went to school, and Elena was with...Stefan.

I couldn't be bothered to see the younger Salvatore. Not when everything that I did to save him and his brother resulted in me losing someone. The ache in my chest just at the thought wasn't going to go away, and I don't think it ever would.

So for now I kept my distance. I tried to do the same with the oldest Salvatore but it wasn't working. Damon snuck into my room every night and held me as I cried myself to sleep.

I think on a deeper level I needed him even if he was one of the reasons why I lost Grams. But the thought of pushing away and shutting him out for whatever reason hurt worse.

I needed him.

"I, uh, got a lead," she finally said cautiously. "On our birth mother."

I blinked. "How?"

"Jenna did some digging and found our birth mother's best friend. Her name is Trudie Peterson. She lives in Grove Hill."

"That's not far from here," I said.

Elena nodded. "It might be worth checking out."

I closed my eyes for a second, but I knew deep in my gut I had to go. I had to know who the woman that gave us up was.

My eyes fluttered open. "I'll go."

Elena gave me a hesitant look. "We can wait if you want to—"

"No." My voice was firmer than I expected. "I want to go. I need to."

She studied me like she wanted to say something else, but then just nodded. "Okay."

We started walking, the dead grass crunching beneath our boots.

"But you should know." Elena started.

I glanced at her as we left the cemetery. "What?"

"Jenna told me that Mr. Saltzman's wife was from around here and that her name was Isobel, like our birth mothers."

I grabbed her hand, pulling her to stop beside her car. "Was?"

"She died, Selene."

...🌺...

The tires crunched over the gravel as Elena pulled into the narrow driveway, the silence between us louder than the engine. We sat in the parked car for a moment, staring at the quaint one-story house with faded blue shutters and a crooked welcome mat. The air around it felt...still. Like the place had been holding its breath for years.

I pulled the crumbled Post-it from my pocket that Elena gave me, smoothing it with my fingers. The address matched.

"Ready?" I asked, not because I was, but because someone had to say something.

Elena inhaled. "Not really." Still, she squared her shoulders and climbed out.

I followed, pulling my jacket tighter as we approached the porch. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated—just long enough for doubt to creep in.

Then she knocked.

No one answered.

Elena turned to me, already stepping back. "Maybe she's not—"

Click.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and eyes with an edge to them.

"Trudie Peterson?" I asked.

"Yes?" The woman's eyes were wary but curious.

"My name is Elena Gilbert. This is Selene Hastings. We wanted to talk to you about Isobel Flemming."

Trudie's eyes widened. "Well, I haven't heard that name in years. How do you know her?"

Elena glanced at me, then back at Trudie. "We think that, um, well..."

"Do you know the babies that she gave up for adoption?" I interjected, feeling the need to cut to the chase.

Trudie's jaw dropped. "My god. You're her daughters." She laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I was just gonna make some tea. Would you like some?"

"Sure," Elena said, her voice trembling slightly.

I nodded, following Elena and Trudie into the house. Elena removed her jacket as Trudie led us into the kitchen. The place smelled of peppermint and old books. Photographs lined every shelf—pictures of high school games, picnics, friends frozen in time.

Trude gestured for us to sit at the kitchen table. I sank into the wooden chair, the edges worn smooth. Elena slid in beside me.

"We're sorry for barging in," I said, settling into chair along with Elena.

Trudie waved it off. "It's no problem. Just a surprise, though."

She moved around the kitchen. The tea kettle hissed as she poured water into three mismatched mugs. The room thick with unspoken questions.

"I haven't thought about Isobel in years," Trudie said, handing us each a cup.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Elena asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"About seventeen years ago, when she left, to go have you two. We kept in touch for a while, but, well, you know, people drift apart."

"You don't know where she might be?" I asked, my fingers tightening around the mug.

"She was in Florida for a while. She was on her own. I know it wasn't easy," Trudie explained.

"Do you have any idea who our father is?" Elena asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I could never get her to fess up. Anyway, she finally pulled it together, got into college on a scholarship."

"Do you know where?" I asked.

"Somewhere in North Carolina. Duke, I think. Smart girl, smart school."

The kettle squealed again, and Trudie got up to refill her cup. I glanced at Elena, who looked both hopeful and overwhelmed.

"This is crazy," Elena muttered.

"You think?" I replied, a weak smile tugging at my lips.

"I just..."

"You just want to know about our mom," I finished for her.

Elena nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah."

I glanced around the house, a bad feeling gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I have a bad feeling," I whispered, leaning closer to Elena.

Trudie returned with the tea and an old yearbook in hand. She placed the steaming cups on the table, their herbal scent filling the room. With a nostalgic smile, she handed the yearbook to Elena, who eagerly began flipping through its worn pages.

"They came to the games for us. The football team hadn't won in years. We were the stars. Well, Izzie was. But I was a damn good backup," Trudie reminisced.

Elena smiled. "This is great. Thank you."

Trudie looked at our untouched teacups. "You haven't touched your tea."

"Oh, yeah," Elena said, picking up her cup and taking a cautious sip. I followed suit, but the strong bitter taste made me furrow my brow.

"What is this?" Elena asked, sniffing her tea.

"Just some herbal mixture," Trudie replied nonchalantly.

"Vervain," I said, as placing the mug back down.

Trudie didn't respond.

"You know," Elena said, her voice hardening.

Trudie stood up, her chair scraped back. "I think that you both should probably leave."

"Wait," Elena pleaded, getting to her feet.

"Please leave. Now!" she demanded.

Elena grabbed her jacket, pulling me toward the door. We headed for Elena's car, but I froze as I spotted a man standing in the middle of the road.

"Elena?" I whispered, my heart pounding.

Elena followed my gaze, her eyes widening. She quickly unlocked the car, and we slipped inside. The engine roared to life, and Elena sped away, the man's figure growing smaller in the rearview mirror.

So much for answers.

...🌺...

I pushed the door open, the heat from inside the grill brushed over my skin as I stepped in. My heels clicked against the hardwood floor as I scanned the crowd.

The grill buzzed with life as the Founder's fundraiser was in full swing.

I spotted Alaric with his tousled dark hair near the stage, shoulders tense. His fingers twitched as he adjusted the microphone, preparing to go next.

"Isobel was my wife."

"I know," I said. "Elena told me."

His jaw clenched, but before he could say more, Mrs. Lockwood pulled him and Damon toward the stage with the other bachelors. Damon's eyes found mine. Eyes that were usually soft when they met mine were cold and guarded.

The pit of my stomach tightened as unease flowed through me.

What are you doing to do, Damon?

I weaved through the bodies until I found Elena with Stefan near the bar. My shoulders tense, waiting her smile up at him. She saw her boyfriend, whom she loved. All I saw was one reason that Grams was gone.

But could I really fault him for it when I told him and Damon I would open the tomb?

Damon's voice rolled through the crowd. "Well, I'm tough to fit on a card."

Mrs. Lockwood chuckled. "Do you have any hobbies? Like to travel?"

Damon's eyes flicked to me before answering. "Oh, yeah. L.A., New York. Couple of years ago, I was in North Carolina. Near the Duke campus, actually."

Stefan stiffened, and I frowned.

"I think—Alaric went to school there. Didn't you, Ric?"

"What's going on?" I whispered, my gaze on Stefan.

He didn't answer.

"Yeah, 'cause I—I know your wife did." I turned, and Damon's smile grew wicked. "I had a drink with her once. She was—she was a great girl. I ever tell you that? Cause she was—delicious. Mmm! Mmm mmm mmm."

The room spun.

My stomach twisted. My jaw locked as tears burned at the back of my throat. I glanced at Elena, who looked how I felt—like someone had dropped the floor from under her.

"Are you two okay?" Jenna's voice cut through the static in my ears.

Elena bolted. "I just need some air."

She pushed past Stefan, and he followed her, leaving me stand there, frozen.

I turned back to Damon. Still on stage. Still smiling.

The fundraiser wrapped up quickly after that. People filtered out with polite goodbyes and hollow laughter. I walked toward Damon slowly, every step heavier than the last.

"Sunshine—" he started.

"Did you do it?" My voice cracked with the weight of everything behind the question.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Did you kill Isobel?" I demanded.

He blinked. "Am I missing something here?"

"You killed my mother," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

Damon went still, his smirk fading.

"When I found out that Elena was my sister, we discovered who our birth mother was. Aren't you going to reminisce about how you killed her? How delicious she was?"

"Sunshine, I didn't—" he began, but I interrupted him.

"—know?" I snapped. "That's just perfect, Damon."

I turned on my heel and walked out, the door slamming behind me as chilly night air slapped me in the face.

I was halfway down the sidewalk when I felt him behind me.

"Selene, wait." His voice a plead.

I stopped but didn't face him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

I turned to him, rage simmering under my skin. "I thought you were different, Damon. I thought...I don't know what I thought. That maybe you were trying. That maybe there was something human left in you."

I saw the hurt in his eyes deepen.

"But I guess you really are just like the rest of them."

I stepped past him only to pause when I saw a man standing in the middle of the road.

"Selene?" the man said, his voice flat, emotionless.

Damon pulled me to him as he stared at the man wearily. "Do you know him?"

"No."

The man took one step forward. "I have a message for you."

"What message?" I asked.

"Stop looking," he said simply.

"Looking for what?" I pressed, confused.

"She doesn't want to know either of you. She doesn't want to talk."

Realization hit me like a truck. "Isobel?"

Damon stiffened beside me.

"You both need to stop looking. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I nodded, my voice barely audible.

"Good," the man said, stepping backward into the road.

A truck horn blared, a deafening sound that shattered the night. I barely had time to register the man stepping into the street before the truck slammed into him. It hit him so hard his body bounced before slamming into the pavement.

I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth. Damon pulled me into his chest, shielding me.

Cries echoed around us, a chorus of panic and disbelief. Damon pulled me back just as people rushed towards the scene, their faces masks of shock. He and I moved until Damon crouched beside the lifeless body.

"He's gone," Damon muttered, his voice grim. His eyes scanned the scene, calculating.

My eyes landed on a phone lying a few feet away, likely dropped during the accident. Without thinking, I scooped it up and slipped it into my pocket.

Damon's grip tightened around my arm as he pulled me to him. "We need to go. Now,"

I didn't argue. I let him lead me to my car, my mind spinning with everything that had just happened.

Is she alive?

...🌺...

Sitting on my bed, I stared at the dead man's phone, my fingers trembling as I clutched it.

Tonight replayed in my mind like a broken record. Damon snide remarks to Alaric about Isobel—our birth mother—to the man warning me before walking into incoming traffic.

I bit my lip, opening the phone and pulled up the last number he called.

My finger hovered and hesitated. Because there will be no going back. But the urge within me, the need to know, outweighs anything else.

I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear.

After a few rings, a woman's voice answered. "Was there a problem? Did you find them? What's going on?"

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. "Isobel?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the line went dead.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I shut the phone. I guess I had my answer. She didn't want to know us, and that ache of loss that I tried to bury for the last seventeen years consumed me. The lights in my room flickered, and I could feel my magic needed to be let out. But I shoved it down, and with a steadying breath, slipped the phone into my dresser.

"Sunshine?" Damon's voice broke the silence, and I turned to see him standing in my room, his expression unreadable.

"Get out, Damon," I said, my voice wavering.

"No," he replied firmly, stepping closer.

I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. "Please, I'm not in the mood to fight. Not tonight."

Damon closed the space between us in a few strides. "Then listen."

I nodded, signaling for him to continue.

"I turned her," he confessed, his voice low and filled with regret and defiance.

I blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"She came to me looking for vampires. She begged me to turn her, so I did."

"You turned her?"

"Yes, Sunshine. I don't know where she is, but she's alive. Well, as alive as a vampire can be."

He stepped closer, slowly and unrelenting, until only a sliver of space separated us. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I didn't move.

"You hurt me," I said, the words barely a whisper.

His jaw tensed, and his eyes darkened, filled with an intensity that made my heart race. "I know."

HIs hands tightened, fingers pressing into my sides like he needed the contact to stay grounded. A shiver crawled up my spine, spreading warmth and warning.

"You should go," I murmured, but even I didn't believe it. The words left my lips hollow.

He dipped his head, his breath brushing the shell of my ear. "You remember when you told me we wouldn't work?"

My chest ached, and all I could do was nod. I was so lost in his touch, his presence. The way he easily made everything else fade away.

"I'm willing to test that theory," he murmured.

"How—"

His mouth was on mine before I could even get the words out.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. Damon kissed me like a man who didn't know if he'd get the chance again. Like the taste of me might burn him—but he gladly get burned. His lips crushed against mine, urgent, angry, desperate. I should've shoved him away, remind him how wrong this was.

Instead, I kissed him back.

Fingertips dug into the leather of his jacket, tugging him closer, greedy for more. There was no control, no space to think. Just the heat of his mouth, the way his hands moved over my body like he was learning every inch.

He broke the kiss first. I gasped for air, breathless.

"This is a bad idea," I said, though I wasn't convincing either of us.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and unapologetic. "I don't care."

I turned away, biting down on the wave of emotion rising in my throat. Because this was Damon, a vampire and everything I should despise. But he was also the only one who made me feel...something. Something real.

"Sunshine," he said behind me, the nickname hitting harder than it should've.

I turned slowly, every nerve strung tight. Damon's eyes locked onto mine, and something in them was different. Not the usual arrogance, not that smug, knowing smirk. No, there was something unguarded in his expression—vulnerability. Like he was bracing for me to walk away. Like he thought, he went too far.

"Fuck it," I muttered under my breath.

I crossed the room in two quick steps. My fingers curled around the collar of his leather jacket, and I yanked him down to me and crushed my lips to his.

Damon didn't hesitate. He growled into the kiss, one hand sliding into my hair, the other gripping my thigh with bruising possession. In a blur, he lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed me against the dresser. The edge of the wooden surface dug into my thighs, but I didn't care.

His mouth moved against mine like he was starving for something only I could give. My hands roamed, desperate to anchor myself.

The surrounding lights flickered, and I felt my grip on my control over my magic slip. But at that moment I didn't care. Not when kissing Damon felt like breathing air for the first time. I pulled him closer, and everything faded away.

Then—

CRACK.

A lamp exploded across the room, glass shattering. I jerked back, gasping, heart pounding. My eyes snapped to the lamp, now in ruins on the floor.

A low, startled laugh rumbled from Damon's chest.

He rested his forehead against mine. "Sunshine."

"Uh huh," I managed, my eyes finding his.

"I think we work." He said, voice low, full of smug satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes at the smirk on his lips. He kissed me again, this time slower. His lips brushed mine like he were taking time to memorize how my lips moved against his. The tenderness of the kiss made my heart ache. I felt myself melting into him, every inch of me responding to him.

For the first time in a long while, I didn't think about the consequences or complications between me and Damon.

For tonight, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, a relationship between a witch and a vampire could work.

...🌺...

𝐀/𝐍: THEY FINALLY KISSED!!!

The chapter y'all have been waiting for is here. Selene and Damon kissed. I hope that it was worth the wait.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!!!

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: How are we feeling about the rewrite? How do you feel about Selene and Damon's first kiss? What are you looking forward to in the rest of this book (ONLY SEVEN MORE CHAPTERS)?

-𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘