damon marcello

Everything had to be perfect. She was worthy of it and so much more. So much more than me. I remind myself of this every night when I wake up. I am not worthy of her. And so I set out to make up for it the only way I know how, by spoiling the only goddess in my eyes. Once everything is in place, I stop by the tavern, knowing exactly where she'll be. She loves that place like it's a part of her and I love her for it. She's so dedicated to everything she touches and works pure magic everywhere she walks. When I see her serving at the bar, I lean across the counter lazily, fingers reaching out to let a few strands of her fire red hair run aross their surface to get her attention. As she turns to me, I give her that lopsided grin. "I'm picking you up at eight. Dress comfortable but make sure it's okay to get wet." With a teasing wink, I then straighten up and leave, knowing it'll only make her that much more curious of what's to come. Against all urgency, I refuse to look back, knowing that to do so would only mean I'd end up staying and ruin the surprise.

By seven, I'm already fidgeting in the car, the fully restored 67 Mustang rumbling like a satisfied tiger beneath my capable hands. I run the roads and by seven thirty, I'm already impatiently tapping the steering wheel outside of her place. I don't expect her to be ready yet so I'm giving her time, enjoying the music on the radio while my mind is a million miles away. The moment the clock flashes eight, I'm at her door, raising my hand to knock softly. When she finally opens the door, I get a whiff that makes my nose twitch with distaste and concern but I quickly cover it up with a smile that glows only for her. Of course she's been around Tetris. I swear I can't get away from that panther if my undead life depends on it. I hate the bond that they share. I hate that I couldn't be her knight in shining armor. I hate that he was the only one there to see her pain and suffering. I hate that he's the one she goes to when she needs that particular comfort and more than anything, I hate that I feel even unworthy compared to him.

I try to stay in the moments that count most, the moments where I feel that she is mine and mine alone, the siren to my very soul, if it even still exists. I try to remind myself that she agreed to be with me and that means something, right? If she wanted him, she would have gone to him when she felt I abandoned her. She would have turned to him for comfort and maybe it would have turned to something more. He wouldn't be with someone else now instead of with her. I try to brush the dark thoughts away, not wanting them to plague me more than they already do. While I act nonchalant and equal to him in public, there's always that lingering doubt at the back of my mind. I've seen the way he looks at her and her at him. I always have this lingering fear that at the drop of a hat, if he decided to wake up one day and say he wanted her, she would drop me like a bad habit and run into his arms. Maybe in the end, that's where she truly belongs but like the stubborn fool I am, I refuse to let go. I refuse to quit fighting because it's all I've ever done.

I've fought to stay ethical even through the atrocities I saw in my teen years in the war. I fought to make my father proud, even though it never happened. I fought to forgive my brother, even after he forced me into this life. I fought to become the monster he expected me to be because I wanted him to know what it felt like to have something out of your control. Then I fought to be more the man someone could be proud of, the civilized vampire of modern times who can blend into society. When I found Isolt, all of that seemed somehow easier. It's like she is my light in the darkness, the catalyst that makes me want to be a better person. If she somehow decided that she never wants to see me again, I don't know what I would do. I don't know what my purpose would be. I toy with others, sure. I flirt and tease, but my emotions have never wavered. My heart has never reached for another the way it reaches for her. It's a desperation I don't think I can ever recover from.

And even as these thoughts cross my mind, I never lost that carefree smirk, steel gray gaze twinkling at her as I hold out my hand. "Shall we?" And so I keep fighting. It's all I've ever known to do.