“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”
“Ah, but I promised I wouldn’t, remember?” Summer touched his face, and the fire didn’t leap from her fingers. It burned there, flaring and flickering, on her fingertips, sheathing her whole hand, and didn’t devour the new fuel. “Answer the question, Damon. You sought me out, and now you shove me away. Why?”
Damon sighed, flinching at the touch and grimacing. “Then I’ll bite you and you’ll have all the permission you need to kill me,” he said, smirking before rolling his eyes. “Things have changed. I made enemies with the wrong werewolf. A very vengeful one at that. I killed one of theirs, and now I’m afraid he may come after you,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So take it from me and stay safe. Forget everything you ever had to do with me, and you should be fine. I’ve kept you a pretty decent secret, so you should be fine.”
She stared at him for a long moment before starting to laugh. “All of this. All of this,” she lifted her fingers and splayed them before his eyes, and the fire went out, leaving pristine skin, “and you still don’t believe I can protect myself. You think I’m /fragile/,” spitting the word out, “helpless. It that because of my mortality? Because I can die, I must be protected?” The hand clenched into a fist. “You utter, chauvinistic, brainless, pig of a man!”
Then she hit him.