Bound By Fate, Burned By Love

DAMON 

“Turns out you’re not so tough without your teammates, are you?” The voice was laced with mockery, each word dripping like poison as my hands pressed against the grimy wall, blood smearing across it as I struggled to keep my balance. 

All I wished for right now was to disintegrate into the wall as regret hit me. I should’ve said no to this mission. Hell, I should’ve been curled up in my room right now, binge-watching some gay p**n movie and giving in to simpler urges while masturbating.

 Instead, I was here—broken, bleeding, and staring death in the face.  

“Hunter, I’m talking to you.”  

The punch came hard and fast, snapping my head to the side. Pain bloomed like fireworks behind my eyes, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. My jaw clenched, swallowing the groan that tried to escape.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I spat, tasting my defiance mingled with the blood on my tongue as I glared at them.

A slap followed—sharp, humiliating, and blinding. Stars exploded in my vision, but by now, my body was too numb to feel

Fucking vampires.  

I hated them. Hated this life. Hated the expectations weighing me down like chains. I wasn’t ready for this mission, wasn’t ready to face these monsters. But my family didn’t care. They sent me anyway, because that’s what hunters did. Sacrifice. Die young.  

“Well, looks like you still have a spine.” They chuckled at their stupid ass joke and I looked sideways catching sight of my saber.

Only if I could get to it, then perhaps I would have been able to defend myself. Can you imagine a vampire hunter that had only perfected saber training coming out for a field mission? 

My wrists were bound so tightly I could feel the rope biting into my skin, cutting off my blood circulation. They looked hungry as their fangs popped out just by the sight of my blood.

They dragged me outside the club, the stink of garbage and rot mixing with the coppery scent of my own blood. I screamed for help, but the night swallowed my cries. No one was coming.  

I was going to be drained of my blood but vampires and join my ancestors.

“Let him go.” The voice was calm but commanding, like the low growl of a predator.  

My head snapped up, and my stomach sank as my eyes locked onto the one face I never wanted to see again.  

Lucian Salvatore.  

The vampire holding me sneered, his grip tightening as he turned to face my very own worst nightmare.

“Why the hell would I do that, Salvatore?”  

I grimaced, frustration coiling in my chest like a viper ready to strike. Of all the creatures in the world, why did it have to be him?   

“You know my name, that means you're not a new born or recruit. You will let him go because I say so.” Salvatore’s voice was a low growl, laced with command and firmness.

 Before his words could fully register, he bolted like a flash of lightening and slammed into the other vampire, driving him into the brick wall with a sickening crunch and a loud thud.

The others scattered like rats, disappearing as they scurried away for their life.

 Their fear of him was understandable, he was one of the Originals, the first vampires, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of hope.

 This was my chance. My hands worked frantically at the ropes binding me, the coarse fibers cutting into my skin, but adrenaline fueled me. As soon as I was free, I bolted.  

I didn’t get far before I collided with something solid hard and cold, like a brick wall. No, not a wall. Him.  

Luciano Salvatore.  

He stood there, utterly calm, his eyes glinting with amusement as he blocked my escape.

 “Running off without saying hello to your ex-boyfriend? And your savior?” His smile was sharp, almost cruel, his fangs catching the faint light glinting with crimson and I shut my eyes while shaking my head as I tried not to determine the fate of the vampire he had stormed off with.

But it was obvious, Salvatore had killed him.

My breath hitched.

 “Thank you,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. He wasn’t going to kill me—that much I was sure of. But his presence alone sent a chill down my spine.  

“Just that?” he mocked, taking a deliberate step closer. His towering frame seemed to blot out the rest of the world.  

Luciano Salvatore. My ex-boyfriend. My mistake. The vampire who had shattered my world when I found out what he truly was—the very creature my family hunted.  

We had ended things, but he still haunted me. Every night, in my dreams, his face returned. Worse, those dreams always ended the same way: tangled sheets, whispered promises, and his touch on my skin. It was tormenting, and moving on felt impossible.  

How could I move on when each time I closed my eyes to sleep, we had sex in my dreams every night? It was like a fantasy I was holding on to.

“Thanks for tonight.” I said again, trying to sound firm as I walked away. I couldn’t let him see how rattled I was.  

He chuckled darkly, his gaze dragging over me like a predator sizing up prey.

 “Your training will be over soon,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “And then... we’ll finally get to play our little game of cat and mouse.”  

I froze, dread curling in my stomach like a serpent. His words were heavy with unspoken promises, none of which boded well for me.  

“What do you mean by that?” I demanded, forcing myself to turn back to him. But he was gone.  

The air where he’d stood was empty, save for the faintest whisper of his voice carried on the wind:  

“You’ll find out soon enough, little hunter.”