PAST:
Davina’s POV
The bass from the club’s grand speakers throbbed in my chest, mingling with the effects of the alcohol swirling in my bloodstream. I was tipsy— more than tipsy — and fast losing my patience.
I couldn’t make sense of anything they were saying. Bran’s incessant voice grated against my ears, each syllable sounding like nails on a chalkboard. The more he talked about “Damon” or “Demon”— whoever the hell he was— the more irritated I became. Yet a part of me has always loved that name.
I mean, could anyone ever resist Damon Salvatore. I would love to talk about and listen more about that Damon, but not the one Bran was blabbering about.
To divert the topic, I even insisted Eva to come with me to the dance floor. I wanted to dance and let loose, but she wasn’t interested a
