Chapitre 49: Blood of my blood
A few things before you all read this chapter. This chapter is basically a bridge to the new chapter that'll come out tomorrow. And of that said chapter I'm tryin to do something a bit new to it. It'll be a bit of an experiment and lastly. I'm trying to be more consistent with my writing so, I have decided to bring back the live sessions on my discord. For those who didn't know, I have a discord, and when I used to write before I would announce it on the discord and during that time you guys can come and give your inputs and ideas. Or can ask me anything about the story. So if you guys are interested, the link to my discord is in my profile. Come and check it out.
And thanks for hearing me rant for this long, I hope you all enjoy the chapter and please let me know if you do.
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After a long night of troubles over nothing, they all left Georgia behind, heading back home. After last night, they needed some comfort.
Tom trailed Damon's car, watching the faint red glow of his taillights disappearing down the empty highway. Damon had Elena with him, and it was clear from the tense silence in his own car that Vicki was still reeling from everything that had gone down.
Tom glanced over at Vicki. She was finally asleep, her face pale and drawn. She hadn't said much after last night. He wasn't surprised—what had happened weighed on all of them in different ways. Even Damon had looked quieter than usual, though he'd never admit it.
Ahead, Damon's car slowed, pulling off the road and stopping in front of the Salvatore Manor. Elena climbed out without a word, slamming the door shut before stalking into the house. Damon didn't linger; his car roared back to life and sped off into the distance. Tom sighed again. Of course Damon wouldn't stick around for the fallout.
When Tom finally pulled up, he killed the engine and turned his attention to Vicki. She hadn't stirred, still curled up like a child in the passenger seat. Her vulnerability tugged at him in a way that was both familiar and unsettling. Carefully, he grabbed the blanket he kept in the back seat, draped it over her, and scooped her up in his arms.
"You've been through enough," he murmured, carrying her inside.
The manor was unusually quiet, save for the faint hum of an argument brewing in the distance. Tom could hear Elena's sharp voice echoing down the hall, her words heated but indistinct. He didn't need to hear the details to know what it was about. With a soft sigh, he took Vicki upstairs, tucking her into one of the guest rooms. He lingered for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
"Rest now," he said quietly.
The voices downstairs grew louder, and Tom quickly slipped away. He had no desire to get involved in anyone else's relationship drama tonight. He'd done enough damage already.
Like Damon, Tom found his way to the bar. After last night, the bottle seemed like the only solution, even if he'd downed more than his fair share already. The Mystic Grill was nearly empty when he arrived, the faint smell of whiskey and fried food lingering in the air. Damon was easy to spot, seated at the bar with a drink already in hand.
Tom slid onto the stool next to him. "Whiskey neat," he said to the bartender.
"You ran as well?" Damon asked without looking at him.
Tom smirked faintly, taking the glass as it was served and savoring the first sip. "You did too. Besides, I have no interest in being caught between other people's relationship problems."
Damon snorted. "Wise choice."
A quiet chuckle sounded from their left. Both brothers turned to find a man seated a few stools away. He looked rough—sunken eyes, heavy bags under them, and a scruffy stubble that suggested sleep had been a stranger to him for a while.
"Something funny?" Damon asked, his tone sharp.
The man blinked as if he hadn't realized he was laughing aloud. "No, no," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "Just something one of my students wrote." Sensing the tension, he slid off his stool and muttered, "I'll get out of your way."
Tom raised a brow but said nothing. Damon drained the rest of his glass, then looked over. "So, what did you do with Bree?"
Tom took another sip before answering. "What you were going to do."
Damon frowned but didn't press further. Instead, he signaled for another drink. "What do we do next?"
Tom shrugged. "What we've planned."
"You think it'll be easy to get that little witch to help us?"
A slow, smug smile spread across Tom's face. "Never said it'd be easy. But then, easy's no fun."
After staying out and drowning their worries in whiskey, Tom and Damon finally made their way back to the manor. The drive was quiet, the weight of their respective thoughts filling the space. When they arrived, Tom parked behind Damon, who was already striding toward the house.
Both brothers stepped inside to find Stefan waiting for them on the stairs, his arms crossed and an unmistakable scowl on his face.
"Oh, oh," Damon said, smirking. "He looks angry."
Tom gave him a light shove, rolling his eyes. "Not helping."
Stefan's glare turned on Tom. "Why didn't you call me?"
Tom scratched the back of his neck, avoiding his brother's gaze. "Because of what happened with her."
Stefan's confusion deepened. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Tom sighed. "After your fight and everything… I was alone with her for a moment. She wasn't happy, Stefan. Not with you, not with how you hid the fact that she's an exact copy of your ex."
Stefan stiffened, his jaw clenching. "And that has what to do with you?"
Tom's patience frayed, his voice sharpening. "Oh, I'm sorry for trying to save your 'relationship.' Maybe I should've shoved her onto a bus headed out of Mystic Falls and left her to some stray vampire. Would that have been better?"
Damon snickered. "Yeah, I'm going to bed," he said, heading upstairs and leaving the two younger brothers alone.
Tom rubbed his temples. "Look, Stefan, I genuinely thought I was helping. Sometimes you need to take a step back and see the bigger picture. If you still think I was wrong, fine. But I had my reasons."
Stefan shook his head, his frustration evident but softening. "You could've called."
Tom offered a lopsided grin, clapping Stefan on the shoulder. "It was for your own good." Then, with a teasing tone, he added, "So, how'd it go with her? You two back together or…?"
Stefan sighed but nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
Tom clapped him on the back. "What's this? At least look a little happy!"
With that, Tom headed to his room. The exhaustion from the long drive and the events of the night before weighed heavily on him. He stripped off his dirty clothes, relishing the hot water from the shower as it washed away the grime and tension. Afterward, he put his boxer on and, collapsing onto the bed and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Tom awoke to the faint sensation of movement. Rolling over, he caught a glimpse of a figure at the edge of his bed and jolted awake.
"Vicki?" he asked, blinking.
She turned to him, her expression apologetic. "The sun's been down for a while now. I was waiting for you to wake up, but you looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb you." She stood, smoothing her shirt. "I'll let you rest. I'll come back later."
Before she could leave, Tom reached out and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back making her sit on the bed's side. "Wait."
Vicki hesitated, her eyes searching his. "What is it?"
Tom sat up, studying her carefully. "You do know I'm older than I look, right?"
She gave him a small, nervous smile but didn't respond. Instead, she drew her knees up to her chest, her body folding inward protectively. Tom frowned, his concern deepening. He reached out, tilting her face toward him.
"Let's practice, hmm?" he said softly.
Before she could protest, he cut his palm with a swift motion. Blood dripped onto the bedsheet, and Tom chuckled faintly. "You want to ruin my bedsheet?"
Reluctantly, Vicki took his hand, bringing it to her mouth. She drank slowly, cautiously, the tension in her shoulders easing as she did.
Tom's voice was gentle, almost fatherly. "I remember my first time."
She paused, looking up at him, but he lightly tapped her head. "Did I tell you to stop?"
A soft laugh escaped him as she resumed. His voice dropped, his tone distant as he began to speak.
"I was just outside Mystic Falls, off the beaten path. I stumbled onto a farm late at night, starving. A woman opened the door—brown hair, dark eyes. She thought I was a deserter, bloodied and covered in dirt as I was. She didn't know the war was over."
He paused, his eyes darkening with the memory. "I remeber that hunger, it was nothing like I felt before. She offered me bread to satiate it, but I couldn't keep it down. She remembered that starved people can't eat dry food so she started making some oats as she was making it, she nicked her hand while cutting sugar. The scent of her blood… it drove me wild. I didn't know what came over me."
Tom's voice grew softer, tinged with regret. "I stood behind her, my fingers brushing against hers as I gently brought her hand to my face. She turned, fear, guilt, and shame written all over her eyes and lips. I traced the bloodied tip of her finger with my tongue, and a gasp escaped her trembling form as she struggled to regain control. But it was too late for either of us. We had given in to the desire that had consumed us.
My hands slid around her waist, and she clung to me desperately. Her blood called to me, pulling me closer. I leaned in, my teeth sinking into the delicate curve of her neck. She fought against me, her body thrashing in an attempt to escape, but it was futile. She clawed, desperate to break free from this nightmare, but I refused to let go. The blood flowed, filling my throat, and I reveled in the sweet, intoxicating warmth. It was my slave, and I was its.
But then it stopped.
I pulled away, gazing down at the fragile woman in my arms. Her hands were broken, her nails stained with blood, her eyes devoid of life. She was gone.
I had killed her. For my hunger. She was the first sacrifice on this path of slaughter."
Vicki had stopped drinking, her wide eyes fixed on him. "How do you live with it? The fear? The guilt?"
Tom smiled faintly, but his eyes told a different story, brushing a hand through her hair. "You just do. Because you have to. There are people who need you."
He pulled her closer, his tone firm but kind. "You don't have to drink from a person. Not unless you want to. But I want you to be prepared if you ever have to."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't know if I can be what you want me to be."
Tom wiped a tear from her cheek, his voice soft. "I don't want you to be anything but yourself."
She hugged him tightly, and Tom wrapped his arms around her, his hand gently brushing her hair. "You'll never need to worry about anything. I'm here."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone