AN: I don't own these characters. One shot. No spoilers. Reviews are appreciated.
In Secret
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I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Pablo Neruda - Sonnet XVII
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You know it's him the moment you hear the rustling of wings and feel the ghost of a breath tickle your neck.
"Sssh," he whispers and you shiver when he scoots in behind you; his added weight dipping the mattress. There's something almost desperate in the way he sighs when you move neither closer to nor away from his body.
You don't speak, hardly even breathe. You know why he's here and any of your actions or a single look in his preternatural eyes could set events in motion you are not ready to face; never will be.
The tips of his fingers softly brush through your hair and you involuntarily tense when they caress the vein in your neck, the spot where the increased speed of your heartbeat is so undeniably showing your conflicted emotions.
His cool lips follow the trail of his fingers and your breathing hitches when you shiver under their touch. He should not be here, you should not allow him to come this close, but the only thing you do is lean into him until you feel that damned smirk against your skin.
"Give in to it, Elena," he demands as his hand follows the curve of your neck over to your shoulder and down your bare arm. You shake your head in an attempt to both tell him 'no', and to clear the fog that is forming in your mind, making it almost impossible to think.
His hand has reached your thigh and is now drawing lazy circles on your too sensitive flesh. His lips ghost over your skin again and your body flushes when his murmured "give in to me" vibrates through you.
Still you don't speak.
You wish so desperately that things could be different, but they can't. You know in the end that your love for being alive is going to make you lose him, make him lose you. And he has seen enough pain in his time. You would never want to put him through that again. Losing you should not be the reason that the monster that is living somewhere inside of him comes to the surface again.
Glad that he is not able to look into your eyes, you firmly shake your head a second time and softly entwine your fingers with his to lift his hand from your hip. You don't want to fight him, don't want to fight your feelings, but you have to remind yourself who this is, why this cannot be, why you can never give yourself over to these feelings.
He breathes in sharply and you can hear the sad anger in his voice when he kisses your cheek quick and almost hurtful. "Liar," he says so quietly that you almost think you imagined it; but you know you haven't.
And then he's gone.
You know he's right, but you also know without a doubt that some feelings are meant to be kept a secret. There is love that is not safe to be shared with the world because it will destroy yours. Your love is something he should never know about. Lying to yourself is hard, though, and lying to him breaks your heart every time.
Your voice sounds foreign in the darkness of the night when you finally speak.
"I'm sorry."
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The End