Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. It's not worth it; don't be a thief :)
This is for everyone who reviewed this story from the first chapter and encouraged me to continue it, and for those who would have preferred a different outcome of events in our mid-season finale.
Restless Nights Part V
The Final Restless Night
She sent him away without a pang of regret, giving him nothing more than a parting hug goodbye; they were still friends, after all. How long that would remain the case once she confessed, however, she didn't know. She hoped that eventually he would forgive her, but she knew she couldn't count on that. It might help the situation that she made her choice after she'd already broken things off with him, and it wasn't like she just hopped into bed with his brother while he was stuck in the tomb; though she knows it's only because he hadn't given in last night, not technically anyway.
She can still feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her in a lover's embrace; can still smell his spicy cologne and that scent that is uniquely Damon. His breathy words echo in her ears, and she can think of nothing she wants more than to continue what they started last night. She's ready for him now; Stefan is officially in her past, and he is her future.
She's staring out at the night sky from her bay window, wondering where he is right now. She can't go to him thanks to that little spell he had Bonnie cast to keep her under house arrest; he'll be happy to know he doesn't have to worry anymore. She'll keep her word, just as Elijah has shown he'll keep his; her loved ones are safe and she doesn't have to sacrifice herself. Yes, he'll be happy to hear that, and everything else she's going to tell him. She hopes he'll show up tonight, even if it's just to taunt her again about this latest little stunt he's pulled to keep her safe. She debates with herself whether or not to pretend she's still angry with him for that, though really she was just annoyed earlier that he would side with everyone else against her; love could certainly be inconvenient sometimes.
She looks over at the clock impatiently; it's now after midnight and she sighs in disappointment because clearly he's not coming. She stretches her legs and sets her feet onto the floor, her muscles protesting as she stands up. She's resigned to the fact that she might be spending the night alone; it's at the moment she's stripping out of her clothes, moving toward her dresser to slip on a pair of shorts and camisole when he pops his head in the window, smirking, naturally.
"You really shouldn't leave your window open," he scolds with a teasing lilt to his voice. "Some men see that as an invitation, you know."
She crosses her arms over her chest, deliberately pushing up her breasts provocatively. His eyes immediately darken with lust and she feels a sense of sheer feminine pride that she can turn him on so easily.
"How do you know I wasn't waiting for someone?" she asks, moving casually toward the bed and lying on her side, facing him; she makes no move to get under the covers or even grab a pillow to cover her naked body from him. He's seen it before, and she doesn't see the point of hiding from him now when she's finally willing to reveal much more than that tonight.
Of course he takes her words a different way, and she can see the hurt reflecting in those beautiful blue eyes.
"So you managed to get him out of the tomb." It wasn't a question, merely a statement.
She nods. "Elijah paid me a visit earlier," she says emotionlessly. "We sort of made a deal."
His eyes immediately search hers, concern written all over his face. He never should have left her alone; he should have realized that somehow the conniving bastard would have found a way to get to her. His stupid attempt to keep her safe had left her trapped instead. He wonders how much time he has left with her, and how he can prevent Elijah from leading her to her death; he also thinks about killing himself should he fail.
"So you traded your life to free Stefan from the tomb and his psycho ex-girlfriend," Damon spits out. "How noble; truly a sacrificial love worthy of Shakespearean sonnets." He rolls his eyes at her stupidity. "So what next," he continues, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Elijah frees my brother and he climbs through your window for one last night, and you leave in the morning to meet your death?"
"No," she tells him, eyes full of fire. How dare he mock her like this, when everything she's done lately has been to protect everyone she cares about! "Actually, the reason Elijah came to visit me was to stop me from sacrificing myself!" she explains.
Damon is in shock, unable to believe what she's saying. "You honestly believe that?" he asks skeptically.
She nods. "Yes, I do. His exact words were "do nothing, live your life, stop fighting." So that's exactly what I'm going to do," she says simply. "I'm not going to worry about Klaus or the Moonstone, or any other threat that comes our way because Elijah has assured me that he will keep everyone I love safe, and as further proof that he means us no harm he even got Stefan out of the tomb earlier tonight."
"Of course he did," Damon sighs, trying to hide the bitter resentment. "And I suppose the first thing he did as a free man was come see you? Did you already have your bittersweet reunion?"
She shakes her head. "No," she tells him, and her eyes pierce his with so much heat that it burns. "He came by, but I sent him home."
Damon scoffs. "What, no whispering sweet nothings in the dark? Not even a few little kisses or some hand-holding?"
"No," she says again, this time with more finality. "Nothing happened."
"Come on," he rolls his eyes. "You're telling me that the love of your life was here a few hours ago, a free man practically starving for your attention, and you didn't drag him straight to bed?"
"If he was the love of my life, I wouldn't have broken up with him," she says, growing impatient with him now. He's clearly not realizing the significance of her turning Stefan away, when she could have very easily taken him back.
Damon's brow furrows in confusion. "Okay, so then what was all that talk earlier about saving the people you love, if you didn't mean Stefan?" He has his suspicions, based on everything she's said to him, but he hates setting himself up for disappointment.
She bites her lip, suddenly wishing that she was dressed because she knows that once she tells him, there won't be anything between them. There's no going back from this moment; but then again, she doesn't want to go back.
"I wasn't talking about your brother," she mutters, but he hears her.
"What did you say?" he asks, unable to believe it.
"You heard me," she tells him, eyes burning into his with such intensity that the room could catch fire and neither would notice. "It's real," she whispers, smiling softly.
He's still staring at her, a million different emotions rushing to the surface; all reflected in those ice blue eyes. He can't seem to form the words he wants to say; so he shows her instead.
In an instant his lips are crashing down on hers; it's their first real kiss, and it sends fire through his veins. Her lips are so soft, so welcoming; it feels like he's come home. He cups her face in his hands, his tender actions in complete contrast with his passionate kisses. He can feel her pulling him closer, and if he were human she would have already sent him tumbling back onto the bed with her.
She clings to him, fingers digging into the sinewy muscles of his back and her nails possibly leaving deep scratches in his leather jacket as she fights to keep herself upright. Her body is trembling, so consumed with her desire for him. She's not so sure she wants to draw this out anymore; his lips are wreaking utter havoc on her senses. One hand slides down the back of her neck; he presses gently into the small of her back to hold her steady. She moans softly, feeling his tongue brush over her lips as he sucks the lower one into his mouth. She opens her mouth, lets him in without hesitation, and nearly comes undone at the taste of him. Her only regret is that they didn't reach this point sooner; that she hadn't pushed him away. She's not pushing him away anymore; she's pulling him as close as she possibly can, and it's not enough. She's writhing against him, pushing her breasts shamelessly into his hard chest as she tilts her head to the side to allow him to deepen their kiss. His fingers are trailing softly over her back in a lover's caress, his lips slowing against hers; his passionate kiss becomes one of languorous exploration. She shivers in his arms, whimpering softly as the heat builds between her thighs.
The sweet scent of her arousal perfumes the air around them; it's intoxicating and he can almost taste it. He wants nothing more than to do just that; to throw her legs over his shoulders and bury his tongue deep inside her, just as he's dreamed about for so long. He fights the temptation; there's something he needs to know first, and he'll be damned if he's about to allow yet another woman to use him simply for her pleasure and discard him once she's had her fill. If she wants this, wants him, then she has to tell him; tonight. He pulls away from her, smirking slightly at the way her lips are still moving.
She's kissing and nipping at the air, and she frowns when she realizes he's not just teasing her; he's stopped kissing her and touching her altogether. Her eyes flutter open, hazy with lust, and she realizes what he wants without him having to say a word.
"Damon," she whispers, brushing her fingertips over his cheek. He takes her hand in his, presses his lips to her palm; his eyes are intense as they search hers.
"Elena," he rasps. "I…" He hesitates, not sure he can say it again and not have her say it back; he never gave her the chance before, had been so afraid of her response that he'd wiped her memory of it. He realizes now what a mistake that had been.
"I know," she sighs, leaning in to place the softest kiss against his lips. "It's okay, I promise I'll say it back…but I need to hear it again."
He furrows his brow, confused by her admission. "How?" he asks.
She would roll her eyes if this moment wasn't so important for the both of them. "Do you really think I wouldn't go to sleep without having vervain in my system, after everything that happened?" she asks pointedly.
He frowns. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Why did you let me go?" she counters.
He sighs; his voice breaking like it did that night. "Because I don't deserve you," he explains, turning his head away slightly to avoid the look she's giving him. "My brother does," he mumbles the next part.
She's still resisting the urge to roll her eyes or slap some sense into him. "Damon," she sighs, frustrated with his martyr act. "This whole "Stefan is the better brother" thing has to stop! Neither one of you is better than the other, neither one of you deserves to have me in your life any less than the other, and neither one of you gets to decide who is better for me; that's my decision," she says firmly.
"You've made your decision?" he asks, suddenly hopeful.
"I made it a long time ago," she confirms. "You were just too busy trying to erase my memory to notice." She's a little bitter that he tried to make her forget something so important, but then after the way she pushed him away she can't really blame him for it; he felt he was being selfish to tell her, thinking she was still in love with his brother.
"I'm not a saint, Elena. And I can't change who I am, not even for you," Damon warns, giving her one last out. As much as he wants her, he can't let her think he'll ever be anything other than what he is now; and he's terrified that he'll hurt her again, though he'll do his damndest not to. But he realizes now that it has to be her choice; he just hopes she won't regret it.
"I don't want you to," she says vehemently. "I just don't want you snacking on the town or throwing those little sorority sex parties again, and Rose would have to find a new place to crash because the idea of you and her together is probably even more revolting than your flings with Caroline, Matt's mom, Katherine and Isobel combined."
He smirks at that; she's so obviously jealous, it's adorable. "Is there a woman on this planet who you wouldn't object to me sleeping with?" he teases. He can't help it, it's just how they are; they could be having a moment and then the next minute they're back to the playful banter.
She licks her lips nervously. "Me," she whispers almost quiet enough that he wouldn't be able to hear her.
He stares at her, at a loss for words again; they're back in the moment, ice blue eyes meeting chocolate brown. Her lips are slightly parted, she's looking up at him in silent anticipation; he can hear her heart beating hard against her chest. "Say it again," she whispers, her eyes pleading with him.
He's nervous; saying it the first time, when he thought she wouldn't remember, had been hard enough. Never in his life have three simple words meant so much and he knows this is it; the point of no return. Once he says them, he won't be able to take them back and pretend nothing has changed between them; and he doesn't think he has the strength to try to compel her again, nor does he want to. Because even though he is beyond terrified of his feelings for her and what it means for them, he's so tired of being alone. He's tired of spending every night dreaming of her, wondering what could be, waking up in disappointment when he realizes she's not lying next to him (other than last night, when he allowed himself that small luxury), he's tired of hiding how he feels about her, and most of all he's tired of trying to numb those feelings with alcohol and meaningless sex. He could have her, he knows this; all he has to do is say those three simple words and she'll say them back. He could finally get the girl.
"Damon?" she whispers, snapping him out of his thoughts. She's vulnerable; he can tell by the way she's biting her lower lip. She doesn't think he's going to tell her, he can see it in her hurt expression. He can't stand seeing her like this; he hates himself for hurting her again, cursing himself for his cowardice. Honestly, what is he so afraid of anyway? She already told him that she feels the same way, after all, she's made her choice; she's already his. What does he have to lose?
"I love you, Elena," he whispers.
She shocks them both with her response; her arms wrap around him in a tight embrace and she lets out a choked sound, as if she's crying. Oh hell, he hadn't meant to make her cry! But no, these aren't tears of sadness or regret; he can feel her lips against his neck and they're curved in a smile. She places a soft kiss just below his ear, a whispered "thank you," her only verbal response to his confession. He's about to voice his disappointment that she didn't say it back, but then her lips are on his again and she's kissing him so passionately, practically trying to climb right into his lap. He can't help but react to her; he's very aware of her naked body pressing against him, and of the trail of wetness she's leaving on the front of his dark jeans. He's both thankful and annoyed that he's still fully clothed while she's completely naked; he's not sure if he'd be able to take his time with her, otherwise.
Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, that sweet smile still on her kiss-swollen lips, and then she whispers back the words he's waited over a century to hear. "I love you too."
If asked later, he wouldn't be able to recall which one of them initiated their next kiss, only that it was the most intense one they'd shared thus far; the result of months of pent up sexual frustration, longing, denied emotions and, most importantly, love. Nothing else matters to either of them right now; the roof could cave in, a battle could rage outside her window, Hell itself could open up beneath the bed and they would neither notice, nor care.
His hands are in her hair; stroking her back; pulling her closer, it feels as if the heart beating rapidly against his chest is his as well as hers. She's pushing his jacket off his shoulders, wanting to feel more of him; he helps her remove it, but as soon as those little hands move down to the button of his jeans, he pulls it back up, placing it safely by his neck so she can't tempt him.
"Don't rush it," he rasps against her lips. He lowers her down to the bed, finding their current position with her straddling him a little too distracting; he wants to savor every sensation, every little sound he's determined she'll make. Nobody else will hear her; he already checked. Jenna is off with Ric and Jeremy has his headphones on with the music blaring, so he won't have to listen to his sister screaming in pleasure all night; and Damon's going to do everything in his power to make her scream.
She whines softly, mourning the loss of his lips against hers as he pulls back from the kiss. He nuzzles into her neck, sending shivers up her spine as he finds that one sensitive spot and traces over it with little swirls of his tongue. She gasps as his fingers trail down one side of her neck, over her collar bone, then down the side of her chest and waist to rest at her hip before sliding back up again teasingly; he's not touching her where she wants him, and it's frustrating the hell out of her. Her body is practically humming with the sensations he's evoking in her, and he hasn't even begun his exploration of her yet.
His lips are brushing softly against her throat as she arches up against him, her nipples rubbing over his shirt with delicious friction; she can feel the heat of his skin through the thin material and she whines with her need. She wants it off him; it's not fair that she's naked and he's fully clothed. Her fingers are practically tearing at the fabric; she doesn't care if this happens to be one of his favorite shirts or not. He sits up and her gaze falls to the rippling muscles of his chest and stomach; and he lifts his shirt and slips it off with such practiced skill that she has to wonder if he was ever a stripper, or if he would mind doing a little strip-tease for her sometime. Then she stops thinking; his lips are on hers again, his hands are in her hair, and he's lowering her back down to the mattress. He slips one leg between hers and she cries out as he presses into the apex of her thighs.
Her scent is so strong, her soft cries are ringing in his ears, and she's grinding against his thigh to the point that his jeans are soaked through with her juices. He could take her right now, and she would be more than ready for him, but he won't; she deserves so much more than that. He's going to give her as much pleasure as he can before he sates his own lust; it's the least he can do for the woman he loves.
He slides his hand down her thigh, stroking the soft, silky skin; he can feel it quivering slightly with each soft brush of his fingertips. She wiggles her hips as he traces the crease of her thigh, moving slowly inward. She moans against his mouth, spreading her legs further apart as he finally strokes between her soft folds. He finds her sweet spot and circles it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure. He can hear her heart racing as she begins to come undone; her head thrashes on the pillow and she's biting into his lip as the tremors hit her full force. He refuses to pull his hand away from her, even as her nails claw at his arm; he won't be satisfied that she's had enough until she's screaming.
A few more strokes against her sensitive flesh and she's writhing beneath him, tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes as the pressure keeps building; she's not sure she can take anymore, but he's not giving her a choice. She tries to pull away; it's too much, too fast, but impossibly she's climbing higher. Her whole body is vibrating and she's screaming his name so loud that she's afraid everyone within a five-block radius can hear her.
She's gasping for air and he regrettably pulls away from her lips so she can breathe; he's placing soft open-mouthed kisses over her chest, gently tugging one of her pebbled nipples between his lips. Her hands instantly tangle in his hair as she arches into him, holding him to her. Having effectively distracted her, he moves his hand between her thighs again, this time slipping one finger inside, curling it to tickle against her G-spot.
"Damon," she cries, her thighs trembling, her back arching off the bed as his thumb finds her little bundle of nerves once more; she's still so sensitive that the slightest brush of his fingertips is her undoing.
He draws back, licking her sweet nectar off his fingers; the taste is exquisite, better than he ever imagined. His lips trail down to her taut stomach; he can feel the soft little tremors as his tongue traces over the creases of her thighs. He hooks her legs over his shoulders, opening her up to his hungry mouth. He lets out a low moan, closing his eyes in pleasure as he takes his first real taste of her; she's sweeter than anything he's ever tasted, and he can't seem to get enough of her. She's writhing beneath him, her thighs gripping and convulsing around him, and yet he can't bring himself to pull away from her just yet. She cries out, shouting his name repeatedly, each time the pitch is a little higher; it's a song she's singing just for him.
She reaches the high note as his lips close around that tight little bud and he flicks his tongue over it like the flickering of a flame; and she's definitely feeling hot right now, practically scorching. Her nails have become claws as she digs her fingers into his scalp in an effort to both push him away from her sensitive flesh and pull him closer; she can't decide what she wants more at the moment. She's spiraling; it's getting harder to breathe and the coil inside her has been wound so tight. The fire is licking up her thighs, spreading quickly through her veins until she's covered in a thin sheen of sweat; little beads of moisture trickle down her thighs. She can't stand it anymore; she needs to feel him inside her. Somehow she manages to get the words out between choked sobs of pleasure.
"No more…need you…" she whines, pulling at him with the little bit of strength she has left. Her legs feel heavy again as he slowly brings them down to rest on the bed. She can hear the popping of the metal button, the scraping of his zipper as he pulls it down. Through heavy lashes, she catches a glimpse of him as he removes his jeans; she's not surprised that he's not wearing anything else. He's hovering over her again; she reaches out to grip his hard length, marveling at how perfect it feels in her hand. He closes his eyes and lets out a small growl of pleasure as she strokes him up and down; she grips him firmly in her hand as she teases his swollen head against her slick entrance. She gasps as he pushes his hips slowly forward; he's stretching her now, the tip of him is pressing inside her and she's arching up against his chest, wanting to feel more of him.
He sinks into her warm embrace; inch by tantalizing inch. He holds her hips steady, slides back, pushes forward, going a little deeper with each thrust of his hips; the pace is agonizingly slow and he can feel her walls clenching around him as he pulls back again. Her thighs are vibrating against his hips as she wraps her legs around his waist; her entire body is quivering. He captures her lips in another passionate kiss; his tongue slips into her mouth at the same moment that he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself completely inside her.
She's in awe of how perfectly he fills her; as if he was molded for her alone. Every stroke, every thrust, every soft touch of his lips sends an electric current of pleasure through her. She shivers as his hands come up to tangle in her hair, his lips are trailing down her neck, and his movements inside her are becoming sharper, faster; she bucks her hips to meet his, slamming against him to hit that spot deep inside her. She lets out a sharp cry as a strong jolt of pleasure shoots up her spine and does it again; she's lost in the sensations, going wild beneath him as she pursues that sensation with reckless abandon.
Damon sits up slightly, letting her control the pace now. He grabs a pillow and lifts her up just enough to slide it under her hips; she's still slamming against him, her body trembling in her efforts. She's close; he can already feel her clenching around him. His fingers slide down to rub her hot button, sending her crashing over the edge.
She's still seeing stars as he thrusts into her at a maddening pace; her body is on fire and she can barely speak a coherent sentence.
"Mo…ahhh…fast…faaaassstt…soooo g…g…god…yessss…" she cries out in sharp yelps each time he slams into her. "Hard….er…fas…sss…ter…more," she gasps.
She's clawing at the sheets again, and though he's doing his best to give her everything he has, she's insatiable in her need for him; she may be the first woman who has ever tested his control, and he's not sure he'll be able to draw this out much longer. He presses his thumb against her sweet spot, determined to bring her with him because he's reached the limit of his control.
"Elena, look at me," he rasps. Her eyes flutter open to meet his; they're almost black with her passion as he continues to stroke her, bringing her higher.
"I love you," he whispers.
It's too much; the combination of his words and the delicious pleasure he's giving her finally send her crashing over the edge. She reaches for him, needing to feel every inch of his body pressing down on her. He's lying fully against her, driving his hips forward and rubbing against her clit with each deep thrust; she can feel him beginning to shake with the effort and knows he's close. He's nuzzling into her neck, whispering words of love; the words spill from her lips without her realizing that she's voicing her deepest, most secret thoughts.
"Bite…" she whispers.
Damon pulls back from her neck to stare at her in awe; he never expected her to ask such a thing. He thinks he may have imagined her saying it, having dreamt of this for so long.
"Do it…" she moans softly, tilting her head to the side. There's no mistaking her request.
"You're sure?" he asks. If his heart still beat, it would be pounding at this moment.
"I love you," she whispers. "I'm yours."
He gathers her into his arms; his lips trail down her neck, he can already feel her pulse racing as his tongue traces over her veins in preparation.
"I love you," he sighs, purring softly as he nuzzles her neck. His hips are moving faster again, bringing them both back up to the heights of pleasure. She barely feels the pinpricks of his fangs as they sink into her skin; she's falling off the cliff, drowning in a haze of pure ecstasy.
The taste of her blood is as exquisite as the rest of her body; he can feel her every emotion as he drinks in her essence. If he had any doubts about the sincerity of her love, they're gone now; he can feel her love in the very deepest parts of his soul (he's finally convinced he does have one; it was simply hiding, waiting for her to find it).
"Damon…" she screams. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard; his name on her lips as he brings her to a spectacular climax. He's not far behind; he held out as long as he could, but now it's becoming too much. Her perfect warmth, her sweet blood, her cries of his name all pull him toward Nirvana.
He drives into her harder, faster; she's gasping for breath, she's crying out in rapture as he sends her spiraling one last time before pouring everything he has into her. She's still tingling, feeling the slight pressure of his mouth on her neck. His movements inside her have stilled, but the shocks of pleasure are still coming full-force. She's dimly aware of his fangs withdrawing from her; he's licking the tiny puncture marks softly now, causing more shivers to run up the back of her neck.
For a few minutes it feels as if time has stopped; they simply hold each other, stroking and kissing each other lazily. Her fingers are tracing the perfect contours of his back and shoulders as he nuzzles her; eventually their lips meet again for a tender kiss. She can feel him shifting inside her and she squeezes her muscles around him; she doesn't want him to leave her just yet. She knows that once he does, the spell will be broken and they'll have to face the reality of what's happened between them; saying "I love you" doesn't magically fix everything, no matter how bad she wishes it could. At some point, they will have to decide what that means, and where to go from here. She can't help but laugh in her mind over the irony of the situation; by finally giving in to her desire, she's plagued by yet another series of thoughts that promise to give her no rest and keep her up all night. She can't help but wonder how their relationship will survive when the odds are against them; she's not ready to turn for him, since the last thing she would ever want would to remain a teenager for all eternity. Perhaps in a few years, when she's older…if she survives…if he still wants her…
His hand strokes the side of her face as he places a soft kiss to her lips before withdrawing from her. She mourns the loss of him inside her, but then he gathers her into his arms and draws the blankets up over them both.
"I love you, Elena," he whispers against her hair, kissing the top of her head.
She snuggles into him, her back is against his chest and she can feel him nuzzling into her neck again, placing soft kisses over it. "I love you too, Damon," she sighs as his arms envelop her.
It's in this moment as she's drifting off to sleep in his loving embrace that her mind echoes one last thought; regardless of whether she has anymore restless nights, she won't be spending them alone.
Author's Note: Whew! I'm finally finished. Sorry it took so long, but today sort of went a little differently than I'd originally planned. You see, instead of working on the rest of my fic during a decent time of day, I spent pretty much the entire day in bed with my husband—and not in the way I would have liked to have spent it either. While the sheets were scorching, it was only due to my poor honey's ridiculously high fever, and the poor darling was shivering so much that I had no choice but to just lay there in bed with him in an attempt to keep him warm. Consequently, I spent the whole day and most of the evening taking care of him and that left very little time for myself. By the time he finally went back to bed (after having only been out of it long enough to eat a bowl of chicken soup and ¾ of a grilled cheese sandwich) it was 10 at night and I was wide awake. I still am, but I figure since it's almost 6am I should post this and get to bed in case my honey gets cold again.
Okay, be good and review now! I'll be checking my BlackBerry when I wake up again, and I'll be really sad if I only have one or two reviews when I know I have a ton of readers who've put this on their alerts and favorites lists ;) If you're one of them, please be nice and feed the musie, b/c my honey goes back to school this week and that means I'll have more time to write again…