Katherine turned Bianca's face toward Damon, both girls gazing at him with wide, untroubled eyes. "Do you want some?" Katherine asked. "I'm the one who's compelled her, so it won't violate your precious agreement with the Guardians."
Damon flinched involuntarily, then covered his reaction with a smile. Taking a sip from his bubbling glass of prosecco, he shook his head. "I don't want her," he said coolly, and watched, his face carefully blank and bored, as Katherine angled the girl's head and sank her fangs smoothly into Bianca's neck while Roberto continued to suck steadily at her wrist.
He could, technically, have drunk from the girl. Katherine was right: His deal with the Guardians was that Damon could not compel people to let him feed on them, not without hurting Elena. He could have spent eternity following Katherine, or any other vampire, around the world, feeding on humans they'd compelled for him, like a parasite. But the very notion disgusted him. He was Damon Salvatore, and he was no one's parasite.
Besides, he was doing just fine on his own.
Damon looked up to see Vittoria coming toward him, skirting around the fountain, where the dancing water reflected the lights of the piazza and made soft shadows across her skin. She was young, a university student, and still lived with her parents; she would have had to lie to them about where she was going. Her dark curls were knotted in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she held herself very straight, walking with the grace of a dancer. He got to his feet to meet her.
Vittoria glanced at Katherine and Roberto, drinking steadily from Bianca, then walked around them gingerly, averting her gaze. She stopped to stand before Damon.
"It doesn't hurt her," he said. "She'll be all right; she won't even remember."
"I know," Vittoria said solemnly, her eyes wide and disconcertingly trusting. Damon held out his hand, and Vittoria took it. Hand in hand, they crossed the piazza and sat on the edge of the fountain together.
"Are you sure about this?" Damon said, tracing the shape of Vittoria's fingers with his own. "I don't love you; you know that."
"I-I don't mind," Vittoria said, her cheeks flushing. "What you do to me. I like it," she added in a hushed, half-embarrassed voice.
"As long as you're sure," he told her, and she nodded, swallowing hard. Damon stroked a stray strand of hair back behind Vittoria's ear and pulled her closer. His sensitive canines extended and sharpened, and, as gently as he knew how, Damon slid them into the vein at the side of Vittoria's neck.
She stiffened in pain and then relaxed against him, her blood bursting into his mouth like the juice of a ripe plum. It wasn't as rich as Elena's, but it was sweet, filling Damon's mind with the images of young, soft-featured girls from his distant past, looking up at him with love and desire.
He remembered how nervous he'd been when he'd left Elena, how worried that, if he couldn't compel humans to let him feed, he would go hungry, or be reduced to stalking squirrels and foxes like his little brother. But it had turned out to be surprisingly easy.
He couldn't use his Power to compel human girls, but he could charm them. He could talk to them, flirt with them, smile into their eyes just as he had in Florence five hundred years ago, back when he was human and angling for nothing more than a kiss or two. It surprised him, how easily it came back to him. And he liked the girls he charmed, even loved each of them a little in his own way. Though he forgot them as soon as he and Katherine moved on.
It was very late by the time he'd finished and released Vittoria. She brushed a shy kiss against his lips and hurried away with a murmured good-bye, twisting a silk scarf around her neck to hide the mark of his bite.
Damon leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the stars. He felt someone sit down beside him, and shifted over to make room for Katherine.
"It's a nice night," she said, and Damon nodded.
"Clear, too." He pointed. "Polaris, the North Star," he said. "Leda, the Swan. They don't change, any more than we do."
Katherine laughed, a high, silvery sound like the ringing of a bell. "Oh, we change," she said. "Just look at us."
It was true, Damon thought, smiling despite himself at the challenge in her eyes. He'd known quite a few Katherines: the shy, clinging girl he'd met back home when he was human and she was newly made; the madwoman who'd pursued him to Fell's Church; and then this harder, brighter Katherine who had become, strangely, a friend. And he wasn't the angry young vampire who had woken on a cold stone slab beside his brother all those centuries ago, not anymore.
"Perhaps you're right," he admitted.
"Of course I'm right. Now, I'm thinking we should stay here for a while," Katherine said. "Roberto says the palazzo's owner wants to sell. We could settle in."
Damon sighed. "Everyone here knows who we are already," he said. "You feed on anyone who catches your fancy. It'll all end in pitchforks and torches, like a horror movie."
Katherine laughed again and patted his knee. "Nonsense," she said firmly. "They love us here. We haven't killed anyone at all, thanks to your newfound morals. To them, we're just the beautiful rich people in the palazzo who sleep all day."
Damon looked back up at the stars. Katherine was probably right; they were in no danger. He imagined staying here for a few years: eating figs, tossing coins in the fountain, drinking from sweet Vittoria and eventually her replacement.
But sooner or later, they would leave and continue their wanderings across the globe: Beijing next, maybe, or Sydney. He'd never been to Australia. He would charm another girl into loving him, taste the richness of her blood, be irritated by Katherine's latest toy, gaze up at the stars. They were all the same after a while, Damon thought, all the places of the world.
"It doesn't matter," he said finally, closing his eyes and reaching again for the faint thrum of Elena inside him. "Whatever you want."
Chapter 4
"Bonnie liked her present, don't you think?" Meredith asked, straightening the pillows on the couch. She cast her eye over the rest of the living room: her law books lined up neatly; the coffee table dusted and cleared of Alaric's research; the carpet vacuumed. She'd been gone for three days tracking Celine with Stefan, and she'd had some tidying to do when she returned. Alaric wasn't a slob, but he didn't keep things exactly the way Meredith did.
As she walked over to twitch the curtains straight, she caught Alaric's eye. He was leaning against the doorframe and looking amused, a mug in one hand.