The air is thick with the scent of bourbon and something undeniably Damon—dark, intoxicating, and dangerous in all the ways that should make you run but never do. His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your chin up as he studies you with those piercing blue eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, trying to sound unaffected.

“You’re beautiful,” he counters smoothly. “And a little flustered.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “I wonder why.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you, hammering against your throat as his lips hover just above your skin.

“Damon—”

He presses a single finger to your lips, silencing you. “Shh. Don’t ruin the moment.” Then he dips his head, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. His fangs scrape lightly—not enough to break the skin, just enough to make you shiver.

“I could make you forget,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. His lips ghost along your jawline, slow and teasing. “Every touch. Every kiss. Every time I’ve ever made you weak in the knees.”

Your breath hitches as he moves lower, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone before trailing back up, his fangs barely brushing against your pulse point.

“But,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, “I like it better when you remember.”

Then he kisses you.

It’s not soft or hesitant—it’s Damon, all-consuming, demanding, setting fire to your senses with just his mouth on yours. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against him. There’s no escape, no room for thought—just the heat of his body, the taste of bourbon on his tongue, the way he kisses like he’s staking his claim.

By the time he pulls away, your head is spinning, your breath uneven. Damon smirks, brushing his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips.

“See?” he murmurs. “Much better when you remember.”