Shea Butter Baby// D.S

7

Chapter 7: Into the Rabbit Hole

"What makes you think I'd want to help you?"

"Because if you do, I'll reward you nicely."

The sing-song tone in Damon's voice was irresistible, the smile creeping itself on her face a dead giveaway of her intrigue. "What if I don't want it anymore?"

Damon laughed, hard, like head thrown back to show off the perfect stubble lining his sharp jaw. His adam's apple bobbed as the beautiful symphony of his melancholy flowed through the richly decorated home.

After being invited inside of Nala's quaint place of residence, all Damon could see was wall hangings of woman who looked similar to her, a old broom was hung just above the front door, lavender and sage plants placed sporadically everywhere.

Clearly she was witchy, but that didn't bother him—some of his best times came from witches. "If you didn't want me anymore you wouldn't have let me walk through your front door."

Walking around snooping, Damon felt Nala's eyes on him as he occasionally picked up a picture or tickled his fingers through an array of hanging beads. Two fingers touching together to pluck a crows feather from a gold jar. "You have a thing for feathers?"

"Not exactly," He put it back where it belonged. "—when I'm at peak blood consumption I can control the fog and a crow."

"Just one crow?" Teasing raising a brow, she prodded at his ego.

           He smirked, eyes locking on hers like magnets. "I like to focus my attention on one thing at a time."

           His words held a double-meaning, Nala's palms grew a little sweaty with nerves, her bed head and night clothes—or lack thereof were still covering her figure. "Don't focus your attention too hard," Self-conscious around the pristine picture of handsome standing before her, she untangled her curly bun, pulling the unruly strands into something more appealing to the eye.

           Damon watched how her grey t-shirt raised to the middle of her thigh when she reached her arms up. With her hair out of her face he could really see her strong cheekbones and soft jawline. Bouncy curls hung carefree at the nape of her long neck, a single gold necklace adorning it.

            "Tell me again," She broke his concentration, blue eyes dragging themselves away from her legs—legs he actually enjoyed having over his shoulders. "Why are you here asking for my help?"

            "Bonnie needs some help opening the casket that holds an Original," He blurted out, the works spoken quickly and yet somehow still elegantly as he chased his words with a glass and the small bar table Nala had in her kitchen.

            Shaking her head in disagreement, Nala pushed him away from her good stash of alcohol, she didn't want him going through the bottle the way she knew he would. "I already told Caroline, Bonnie and I don't practice the same witchcraft. I'm not all love and light, my magic is drawn from sacrifices and blood oaths."

"That's works too," Not even for a second deterred at the thought of her killing something for her benefit. "—bring your cauldron if necessary but I really need you to help me."

"You know, you're kind of cute when you beg," Boldly prancing across the room, her bottom taking a seat in Damon's lap, legs thrown over his left leg. "—but my answer is still no. I don't do coffins but if you ever need to curse generations of families or commit a mass arson; I'm your girl."

A dark, thick Italian brow perked up, interest evident on his features, the pleasant crease of his smile lines coming into sight as his fingers traced letters onto the skin of her thigh. "My girl, huh? I like the sound of that."

"Do you have any other reason to be here?"

"I can," Azure irises pierced into her own amber pair. "But as much as I'd like to see you undressed and bending under my will, I have a casket to open."

Sliding off his lap with a look if distain, Nala watched him straighten out his pants, his half-hard erection pressing against the front of his dark wash jeans. Clearly he wanted her, but his self-control was better than he was ever given credit for. "When you finish up with that, how about you take me out."

"Like a date?"

"If you want to put a title on it, sure. I was thinking we could just hang out."

Damon's shoulders relaxed, unfamiliar with the change of pace. Just a few months ago with Elena he was forced to not only figure out his feelings but also figure out what he was going to do about them because that's what she wanted. As the summer days passed, that love started to fade—the pressure of being like his mortar of a brother creating a rift in the connection he thought he shared with the doppelgänger.

This, however, felt free and full of opportunity. The nerves didn't settle this time and Damon Salvatore wrote them off as something good—is this what butterflies felt like? Under the scrutiny of her watchful stare, he felt like the cosmos were shifting in his benefit; providing him with a gift that he never thought would be attainable to him.

After one night and the promise of a thrilling adventure, Damon was utterly entranced by the cocoa-scented female draped out before him, willing and ready for the taking. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"Hopefully you."

"Only me," He annunciated clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding. "—be ready by one. I'll be here to pick you up."

A faint blush fanned across her cheeks, a tongue darting out to wet her lips and Damon caught every move. "What do you want me to wear?"

"Keep it casual," Scanning her up and down like a thanksgiving meal, he pondered. "—leave the legs out though."

"How come?"

A cheeky smile painted itself on him, one hand that adorned a large oval ring held onto her front door, head half turned to send one last glance before his tall figure retreated out of her grasp. "Easy access."

He shut the door before the champagne plush pillow hit him in the head, the jubilant sound of him whistling away being heard as a parting gift.