Ian Somerhalder as Damon Salvatore.
Edited (twice)
Word count- 1740 (with the A/N)
Chapter edit date- 05/02/2017
Old readers- Hey guys, my editor is in flash mode so it might get done by this month end i.e. jan end.
Also, I want to make this book Watty worthy in 2017 for sure and maybe complete it too, so I'm making major changes.
So I need you to help me widen my reach. All of you give me your twitter ID's right here, I'll follow you and you follow back. And tweet me book to your friends and persuade then to read it.
Also if at any place, you feel like the book is just now dragging. Please tell me in the comment. It won't offend me, but only help me. Please.
New as well as old readers- If you read this A/N, tell me your favourite wattpad PG-13 book.
Layla's POV
I felt a stinging pain in my head, and I closed my eyes tighter. My head hurt so damn much. It was like someone bashed a hundred ton dumbbell on it. Wait a second...
Where was I? Sh*t.
I started panicking. My breathing got rigged, and my headache only seemed to grow.
Why did I feel this way? Why couldn't I remember anything? I racked my brain for any information. Where was I last? Oh right, so I was just leaving the diner and...
Suddenly, a wave of memories came flooding over me, coming back one by one.
The escalade. The hunks. Mister. Oh, f*ck. F*ckity, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.
I was going to kill that b*stard. How dare he kidnap me? How dare he have the audacity to tell me I was being kidnapped so calmly whilst I was freaking out? How f*cking dare he?
I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn't budge from their shut position. I was so going to have his head on a platter once I could get my eyes to open.
Gradually, with admittedly quite a lot of effort, they fluttered open and light seeped into my irises. I squinted, trying to adjust to the bright light.
The first thing I noticed was that I was lying on a bed, and a very comfortable one at that. A net curtain was hanging from the top, flowing all the way down to the mattress. The mattress itself was soft, allowing my entire weight to sink in. I felt like I was resting on a cloud. It was the best bed ever.
After a few minutes of lying on the heavenly bed, the realisation that I was probably in someone else's bed dawned on me. Shit. It was probably Mister's... hopefully. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to be in someone else's bed, but hey, if I had to pick a random stranger, it would be him.
I didn't even want to think of the possibility of being sold and placed in a brothel. Let's hope he didn't kidnap me for that. Though, he didn't really look like a brothel dealer; more like a corporate person. But, you know, you can never be too sure.
Stretching a little, I shifted to sit up on the bed. Or, attempted to anyways. For some reason, my body felt so weak. But I'm pretty sure whatever he injected me with was what was making me feel so drained.
Finally, after a few struggling attempts, I managed to come into a sitting position, leaning on the pillow I placed against the headrest. Quickly glancing a little around my surroundings,I noticed that I was currently lying on a four-poster-king-sized bed with white sheets and a black comforter.
But there was another problem: my throat felt was on fire, like someone had rubbed it's inside with sandpaper. I needed water. Desperately.
My eyes wandered around the room more, taking in each and every little detail, whilst also looking out for any sign of water. The interior of the room, I quickly observed, matched with the comforter and the sheets.
There was a study table with a Dell laptop in the corner of the room along with a few novels. A T.V. stand stood to the far right of the desk accompanied with a black finishing on white plywood.
On the other side of the room was the largest bookshelf I've seen, for a room, that is. There were around 100 books in total - it was like a mini library.
They each had thick leather binders and the colour was a little faint. The pages were a light yellow and the front covers of the novels were of paintings and drawings. They were obviously old, maybe they were even classics.
I didn't peg Mister to be a collector of classic novels.
To the right of it was a door, which was most likely the entrance to an en-suite bathroom. To its left was a bigger door. Maybe it was the exit! I made a mental note for future reference.
Overall, though, the room looked elegant, royal.. This was way too much change for a day. (At least, I hoped it was only a day.)
I closed my eyes once more, and decided to take a mini-nap. So I dozed off again, in the position I was with my head against the headrest.
I didn't know how long I was asleep. My eyes flicked to the clock located above the T.V. stand. 11pm. I didn't see the time when I fell asleep, but I think it may have been 7. Wow, did I really sleep for that long?
I heard the doorknob turn and Mister strolled in casually - probably a force of habit.
My face lit up, a smile blooming across my face - I had never been more happy to see him. And just before you start judging me, I wasn't happy to see him exactly, I was just happy that I didn't end up in some high-ass brothel.
Mister was a sight to see though.
He had a 4-piece grey suit on. A white button-up shirt was underneath the grey vest. He was wearing a black tie around his neck, which he was loosening as he walked in. The thumping sound of his (probably very expensive) shoes echoed against the marble tiles.
His face clear of any stubble, but he still had a slight frown on his handsome little face. I sighed quietly.
That man had great sense of fashion, I'd say. But why was I drooling again?
Bad Layla! This bast*rd kidnapped you. You are not supposed to drool over him.
Bad, bad Layla.
He must have heard my muttering, as he looked up, staring straight at me. He jumped a little, realising that I was awake, but he quickly replaced it with a bored look.
What the hell?
"Finally," he said in a slightly exasperated and annoyed tone. "God, the dose wasn't that strong. It shouldn't have kept you unconscious for 2 days. Weak humans."
I swear if I wasn't this fucking tired, I would have bashed his head on the T.V.
Wait, 2 days? I hadn't eaten for 2 days?
My stomach growled loudly, confirming my assumption.
Upon hearing this, he instantly turned towards me, and gave me a sly smirk.
He walked out the room, all the while loosening his cuffs.
What was with this man? One minute he is here, and another he is not. God why was I being so clingy?
Hopefully, he went to get me something to eat. Man, I was thirsty too. I groaned. My muscles ached, so I got up to stretch properly, climbing out of the bed. Well, I tried to.
It was definitely a struggle to get up, considering one of my wrists were useless. Remember I twisted my wrist in the car? Yes, that.
Seems like he forgot about it too.
But when something bad happens once, it never happens just once.
So as soon as I stood up, my knees wobbled and I fell down onto the ground.
And let me tell you, I fell hard.
Somehow, upon falling face first, I had cut my lip.
I was already dehydrated due to lack of water, so losing blood, no matter how little, was not helping me.
Not even after 5 seconds after I fell to the floor, the door burst open and Mister strolled in. Or should I say, ran in.
As soon as he saw me on the floor, he growled. Okay...
He walked up to me, and yanked me by my arm, half-carrying half-holding me so I could stand before he started yelling at me.
"I leave for 5 minutes and this is what you do? How the hell can you be so clumsy? I swear you're the most annoying person I know."
His grip on my arm tightened, and I flinched at the pressure. It was like he was crushing my bones.
He saw my grimace and instantly dropped my arm. But, of course, with no support, I stumbled to the ground again.
But this time, I stopped my fall by holding the poster of the bed. And yes, with my bad wrist. Pain shot up through my arm, and I all but glared up at him.
"It's not my fault that you kidnapped me and decided to keep me dehydrated and starving. I was just trying to stretch my muscles a bit. It's not like I asked for your help, I was doing just fine," I replied in a clipped tone
If looks could kill, I would be 6-feet underneath the ground. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, but the fire in his eyes didn't help the situation.
"You do not have the right to talk to me like that, human," he said, sneering a little.
"You speak as if you aren't one," I said looking him dead in the eye.
The fire in his eyes increased, becoming hot and wild flames. His jaw tightened, but he decided not to speak.
He turned to leave and didn't even stop to glance at me again.
"I should have just rejected her..." he muttered.
Now, what the hell was that supposed to mean?
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A/N
Hello there wolfies!
This chapter is edited. No new dialogues just extra description.
Vote. Comment. Enjoy.
Till then bye bye.