The Road to a Petrol Station & A Little Bit Crimson

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 hey guys! Beth here! It's been so long since I last updated - so many apologies for that! I just hope you haven't lost interest in the time that I've been in majorca! I've mapped out the rest of the chapters, and I can tell you now that this FanFic will be coming to a close within a few chapters. Who knows, maybe I'll do a sequel; but I want to see what Season 3 of TVD brings to my expansive plot collection... so wait and see, I'll keep you posted! The next few chapters will be coming over today and the next few days, I just need to write them first! Bear with me though, as I'm writing this on someone else's computer, as my laptops broken. Nevertheless, I hope you're not dissapointed; and that you're enjoying watching Delena grow with one another, as much as I am! Much love, Beth :D  xoxox

We drove for another hour or so, exchanging anecdotes and generally having smiles plastered across both our faces, at these newfound mutual feelings. I was still ecstatic; the feelings of love coursing through my veins and making me feel like I was going to fly out of this car and above the clouds at any moment. By the lopsided grin on Damon’s face, I imagined he felt the same.

After all, how long had he harboured these feelings for me? He had said Isobel had been right when she’d replied “He‘s in love with you, Elena,” when I had asked her how she was so sure Damon would help me. Then there was the time that he’d compelled me to forget the admission of his feelings for me, before giving me back my vervain necklace; a memory that had only resurfaced because Damon had nearly died, and technically, I had too, except Uncle John had sacrificed himself for me, in order to save my life. A sad smile crossed my face, because although Uncle John had undoubtedly been a crap father, he’d redeemed himself for everything by what he did for me. It’s your final hours that count the most, I thought.

Damon broke my train of thought, and I turned to face the handsome face that I’d grown so fond of lately. “Hungry, Elena?” Damon asked, his trademark smirk causing him to curl his lip, in a way that was so attractive, I just wanted to jump on him and slather him in kisses. A pink tinge came to my cheeks, and I silently thanked God that vampires couldn’t read minds. I nodded, my stomach gurgling to emphasise my answer. Damon chuckled. “Good, because we need petrol, anyway. How about we stop at the next town, get a bite to eat – if you pardon the pun – and more fuel?”

            “Sounds good to me,” I smiled, “But can you lay off the drunken grad students for once?” Damon chuckled – perhaps the tone of jealousy in my voice was more detectable than I had intended. Then I remembered; Damon was a vampire and he had increased senses.

            “Is that a tone of jealousy, I detect, Miss Gilbert? There’s no need to worry, princess, there’s only one person’s blood I hope to be drinking any time soon.” He winked and I chuckled. As unromantic as it sounded, I couldn’t wait to let Damon taste the liquid that coursed through my veins and was my life fuel; sharing blood was the ultimate act of love on a vampiric level. So much more elevated than sex; the act of sharing blood said so much more than two sweaty bodies pressed up against one another.

“Soon,” I murmured, and Damon beamed as we pulled into a petrol station.

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