FOURTEEN ◦ Fine, Delicate, China

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A COUPLE DAYS AFTER OUR CONVERSATION, the evening of the mayor's honorary dinner had arrived. Stefan, dressed in a sharp suit, arrived at my family's farmhouse promptly. I greeted him with a warm smile at the door, and he returned the gesture, though there was a hint of unease in his eyes. "Welcome, Stefan," I said, "please, come in." We made our way to the dining room where a table adorned with fine China and flickering candlelight awaited us. The atmosphere was elegant and serene, a stark contrast to Stefan's demeanor.

"Fine China set you've acquired, Mrs. Rhoads," he beams as he gestures to the table. My mother nods and pats him on the shoulder. "So... delicate." His fingers now cradled the porcelain plate decorated in blue.

"Take a seat, relax. Go talk with Dominik if you need, son," my mother smiled as if it were normal for Stefan to be so uptight, and... sweaty. Stefan nodded and went on his way toward his spot at the table.

Throughout the evening, I couldn't help but notice that Stefan seemed increasingly uneasy. He struggled to engage in the conversations with the other guests, and his smiles appeared forced. As the dinner progressed, I realized that something was deeply troubling him. When an opportunity arose, I gently guided him away from the party and into a quieter corner of the house. I could see the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

"Stefan," I said softly, concerned in my voice, "you seem troubled. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

His eyes, filled with a mixture of sadness and despair, met mine, and then he suddenly broke down. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he cried out in a voice filled with hopelessness. "I can't do it, Lana," Stefan confessed, his shoulders shaking with emotion. "I can't continue living like this. There's something you need to know, something I've been keeping from you."

I was taken aback by his sudden vulnerability and the intensity of his emotions. Whatever Stefan was about to reveal was clearly weighing heavily on his soul. "You can tell me, Stefan." As I reached out to touch Stefan's face, hoping to offer comfort and solace, his desperation became overwhelming. His eyes, filled with a primal hunger, locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. At that moment, I realized that something was terribly wrong.

Before I could react, Stefan pushed me away with a force that sent me stumbling backward. I fell to the floor, my vision swimming with confusion. As I tried to regain my bearings, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked down to see that I had landed on a pair of crochet needles, one of them piercing my skin. Blood began to seep from the wound, staining my dress and the wooden floor beneath me. Stefan, his eyes now filled with a frenzied hunger, turned towards the source of the scent. The scent of blood. My blood.

Fear coursed through me as I realized the truth. Stefan was not just a regular man; he was something else entirely, something that craved blood to survive. In that moment, I was trapped, bleeding and vulnerable, with no way to escape the danger that lurked within the man I had come to know as Stefan Salvatore. As Stefan leaned over me, his fangs bared and his eyes filled with an insatiable hunger, I felt a paralyzing fear grip me. I knew that I was in grave danger, that he might not be able to stop himself from completely killing me. The pain from the crochet needle was nothing compared to the terror of the moment.

Suddenly, just as I was feeling lightheaded, the door to the dining room swung open, and Damon Salvatore rushed in. With a swift and powerful motion, he grabbed Stefan and pulled him away from me. "Damon!" Stefan growled, his voice a mixture of anger and frustration.

Damon, with a sardonic smile on his face, quipped, "Stefan, my dear brother, you really need to learn a thing or two about moderation." Stefan's expression shifted from hunger to confusion as he was momentarily distracted by Damon's presence. It was the opening I needed.

"No, no no," Stefan repeated through tears. "I care about you, Lana-Beth, please don't leave me," he begged. Before he could spiral any further, Damon reached up behind his brother, and snapped his neck. A scream of terror escaped my lips as I watched the life drain from his eyes. Was he really dead...?

Damon released his hold on Stefan, and as he did, his eyes met mine with a mix of amusement and concern. "Don't worry, Lana. You're in good hands now." With a swift, graceful movement, Damon placed his wrist over my mouth, and I felt a strange, soothing liquid wash over my tastebuds. The pain vanished, and the bleeding stopped as if it had never happened.

He then turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes boring straight into mine in such a captivating way I couldn't look away. "You should go upstairs and change into a different outfit. We wouldn't want anyone to notice the mess. If anybody asks, tell them you slipped."  Still in shock from the ordeal, I nodded and complied with his suggestion, grateful to be alive and free from harm.

I returned to the party, my heart still racing from the harrowing encounter with the Salvatores. To my surprise, I found that they had disappeared, leaving behind an empty space where they once stood, as well as a broken window. I approached my father, who was engaged in a conversation with some of the other guests. "Father," I began, "do you know where the  Salvatore boys went?"

My father, his brow furrowed in thought, glanced around the room, then back at me. "I'm not sure, sweetheart. They were here just a moment ago, but it seems they've left. Did something happen?" I hesitated for a moment, torn between revealing the truth about the encounter and protecting the mysterious secrets of the Salvatores.

"No, Father, nothing happened," I replied with a forced smile. "I just slipped, that's all."

My father nodded; his attention drawn back to the conversation with the other guests. "Well, they are rather mysterious individuals, aren't they? It's not surprising that they come and go like shadows." He paused, glancing over at my face that was scrunched. "Lana-Beth," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "you won't ever understand the minds of those two Salvatore boys. They're not like the people in our town. You should stop trying to unravel their mysteries and find a normal boy your age to settle with. Like what about the other council families? I'm sure there's a Gilbert boy ready to marry-"

"Father," I warned as I bore through his green eyes with my brown ones. "This isn't about just getting married off, I want to love," I explained, using my hands as I talked. "I... I care about Stefan."

He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I know you're curious, sweetheart, and that's a wonderful trait. Just promise me that you'll be cautious and not get too entangled in their world. Your safety and happiness are what matter most to me." I nodded, grateful for my father's guidance and understanding. I knew that I had a lot to learn about life, love, and the complexities of the world, but for now, I would heed his advice and tread carefully in the world of the Salvatore brothers.

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