“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.”
“There’s a foreclosed sign on the door! Stop /lying/ to me!” She clenched her fists. “If you want me to just leave you alone, fine, just say so. But don’t dress it up in concern for me — and since you are concerned for me, give me a little fucking agency!”
It took her a second to realise she’d said ‘since’ instead of ‘if’, and then she bared her teeth in deeper rage.
Damon sat up and glared at her for a moment before flashing in front of her, gripping her waist and pulling her against him before crashing their lips together. It was probably a bad idea and she was probably going to brutally murder him but it was the only thing he could think to do.
It was literally a blink — he was stretched out on the bed, and then she was pressed up against his half-naked body and his mouth was on hers. She bit his lip and clawed her fingernails into his shirt and something in the back of her mind, fueled by anger, declared that if he was going to be that way then she would show him who was in charge here. So she burned his shirt off.