"It's hard to believe that Richard Lockwood is the one who set up the hedge fund," Elena said. "He used the hedge fund to get rid of Logan Fell so that he could be the mayor."

"But Logan started asking questions once he had control of his drinking problem," Damon said. "Richard had to get rid of him permanently. He arranged the accident so that it looked like Logan was drinking again."

"Luckily Damon got there in time," Stefan said. "He could have killed you, Elena."

"How is Richard?" she asked.

"He is receiving medical attention in a private room," Damon answered. His fists flexed at his sides. "He should consider himself lucky that I didn't kill him with my bare hands."

They were gathered in Elena's hospital room at Mystic Falls Hospital. Elena was sent straight to the operating room on arrival and Damon had conferred with the deputies guarding Richard. Stefan had arrived just as Elena was coming out of surgery. Neither brothers had left her bedside during the night.

The surgeon had assured everyone that the wound would heal well and leave an interesting scar.

"Sage helped Richard to set up the hedge fund. They were having affair. Sage was a star broker at that time and Logan trusted her," Damon said. "He would have never guessed it was a set up."

"Sage and Richard continue their affairs for years. Richard didn't want his wife to find out about Sage, so she left the country," Damon continued. "According to the information from immigration, Richard visits Mexico at least once every two months."

"But he was worried Sage would tell his secret, so he tried to kill her as well," Elena said. She pushed herself higher on the pillow stack, sucking in a sharp little breath when fresh pain lanced her thigh. Damon frowned and started to lunge for the call button. She shook her head. "I'm okay."

Damon did not look convinced, but he subsided back into his chair.

"It was lucky that Sage survived. Otherwise we would have never known the truth," Stefan said. "And now we know who murdered Katherine."

"Katherine overheard Sage's conversation with Richard." Klaus stepped into the room. "She tried to blackmail Sage."

"But Katherine was greedy. She asked for more money," Damon said. "Sage confided the blackmail to Richard."

"Richard had to get rid of Katherine to keep his secret safe," Klaus said flatly.

Hot tears filled her eyes. It was the first time since the incident that she had felt weepy. Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off and exposing her to other emotions. "Damon, Richard admitted to killing my sister." Shakily, she wiped her eyes. "After he told me that, I don't know what came over me. I wanted to kill him for killing her. I can't believe I picked up that vase and hit him with it."

Gently, Damon said, "Elena, we are all capable of defending ourselves. And that's what you did. And anyone would be angry toward the person who killed their loved one."

"Damon is right," Stefan said. "Don't feel guilty over how you responded."

Klaus's mouth turned down. "Elena, I'm sorry." Hoarsely, he whispered, "I should have protected Katherine and I didn't…"

"Don't go there, Klaus. It's not your fault," Elena protested, her voice stronger with conviction. "You didn't know about the blackmail."

Klaus nodded but he did not speak.

"Don't do that to yourself, Klaus," Damon said fiercely. ""None of it was your fault. Nobody guessed Katherine would blackmail Richard and Sage."

"I guess none of us really knew Katherine," Stefan said. "Just like seasons, people change."

"People never change," Damon said. "They just become more of who they really are."

Elena sighed. "I'm just glad it's over."

"I have to get back to work," Stefan said. "I will drop by once I have finished my shift."

She smiled. "Thanks Stefan."

"I'm going as well," Klaus said. "Take care, Elena."

They left the room, leaving Elena alone with Damon. He got up and moved to stand beside the bed. He loomed over her and took one of her hands in his. The strength in his fingers felt good, she thought. It was the kind of strength you could rely on for a lifetime.

"You are sure you are okay?" he asked.

"I'm okay." She smiled. "As soon as the doctor is happy, I want you to take me home."

He nodded. "Okay, home it is."

"I can hardly wait, Damon. That's all I want right now – home and you."

x x x

Damon stood at the kitchen window a week later. It was almost end of autumn. Sipping his coffee, he turned and waited for Elena. It was only 8.00 am. Elena was still sleeping soundly in his bed.

A new sense of contentment blanketed him. He had asked for two weeks of vacation after the incident. As he drank his coffee, he felt a deep satisfaction that Richard Lockwood was in prison. And Damon was sure he would stay in jail for a very long time. The bastard deserved it. He had killed two human beings. And he nearly killed Sage and Elena. He was a bad seed and had made choices that took him down this particular path. At some point, Richard would permanently out of Elena's life. Nobody would hurt her again.

Damon wanted to be there for her. He loved her. He couldn't imagine his life without her in it.

One evening he had brought her a bowl of popcorn while she was lounging in the large leather chair in front of the fireplace, mindlessly watching a detective show on television.

Within minutes there was popcorn all over the place, and he and Elena were tangled up in the chair recovering their breath.

Both had remained dressed. Damon had thought that finding her erogenous zones inside her clothing was about the sexiest time he had ever had. Until a few mornings later when they had showered together. Propped against the tile walls, they had made love, as slippery, sleek, and playful as otters.

But whether he was ducking his head beneath her sweater to take her breasts into his mouth or squeezing a soapy sponge down the centre of her body and tracking the foamy trail with his eyes, he always had one hell of a good time.

So did she. She never demurred from openly expressing her enjoyment of all they did together.

Elena padded softly out into the kitchen in barefoot. She saw Damon standing at the kitchen sink leaning his hips against, cup of coffee in hand. He wore a grey long-sleeved shirt and jeans along with his well-worn leather boots. His hair was still damp, so she knew he had recently taken a shower. Giving him a soft smile, she said, "Coffee's ready?"

Damon nodded, poured her a cup and handed it to her. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept like a log. I had a good dream."

"Oh?"

Settling her hips against the counter, Elena sipped her coffee. "I dreamed I was taken out on a date. I was in a nice, cosy restaurant where there were champagnes and red roses." Looking up at Damon she said," You were there, too. Dressed in a black tuxedo. Looking sexy and gorgeous."

"A date with me, uh?" Damon asked, heartened by the dream.

Nodding, Elena took another drink of the coffee, eased away from the counter and set the mug down next to the sink. Moving in front of Damon, she placed her hand on his arm. "Damon, you have been wonderful. I can't imagine my life without you in it." Her hand tightened briefly on his upper arm where she felt his muscles respond beneath her fingers. "I will just go on loving you for as long as I live."

Her words were like sunlight flooding into his entire being. Damon set his mug down and brought Elena into his arms. She was soft and willowy, her lower body pressed against his. "I love you, too, Elena. You are a pain in the ass but I still love you." He smiled gently and cupped her face. "Nothing can stop me from loving you."

"Damon," she sighed. "You mean this?"

"From the bottom of my heart."

Leaning up, she kissed his recently shaven cheek. And then, her lips near his ear, she whispered, "You still owe me a date, Sergeant Salvatore." She pulled away to look into his eyes.

"I do remember, sweetheart," Damon told her. "But the date has to wait."

"Why?"

"Because we have far more important things to do now."

"Like what?"

"Throwing you back into my bed and never let you leave."

She laughed. "I just can't wait," she whispered against his lips as she undid his pants and slid her hand inside.

"Be my guest."

She released him and raised both hands to his head, sinking her fingers into his hair and cupping his scalp. "Kiss me. Kiss me right now."

Stretching up so that her lips were just beneath his, she added in a seductive whisper,

"I dare you."

The sound that issued from his throat was feral. The manner in which his lips swooped down on hers was savage. So brutal was his kiss that at first her lips were benumbed by it. Gradually, however, she was able to separate them. Then she felt the swift and sure thrust of his tongue. Madly, rampantly, rapaciously, it swept her mouth.

Like her, he buried his fingers in her abundance of hair and held her head in place for the plundering mastery of his kiss. He drew on her like a man starved, as though he wanted to suck her entire mouth into his. He pulled away to catch his breath. Even then, his tongue was flicking over her lips, tasting her.

Unappeased, he came back for more. And more.

And more.

Elena revelled in the carnality of his kiss.

She loved the texture of his tongue, the taste of his saliva, the firmness of his lips. Her senses wallowed in the pleasure of smelling his skin and feeling his hair—Damon's skin, Damon's hair. Damon's hardness gouging her middle.

As one, they dropped to their knees on the tile floors of the kitchen. Their mouths went on feeding frenzies over each other's face, indiscriminately moving their lips over cheeks, chins, eyelids.

When their mouths fused again, he sent his tongue deep, penetrating her mouth and saturating her with desire. His hands smoothed over her back, moved to her sides, rubbed the crescents of her breasts with the heels of them. Then, exercising no subtlety, he covered her derriere and pulled her against him.

Elena didn't even consider being coy. She allowed him to push suggestively against her cleft. She even gloried in the obvious strength of his desire and ground her middle against it.

Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her so tightly she could no longer move and whispered fiercely, "Stop or it'll be all over."

"Not yet. Not yet."

She put enough space between them to peel his T-shirt over his head. When it had been cast aside, her fingertips roved over him in an orgy of discovery, like a blind person who was seeing for the first time.

With a hungry whimper she leaned into his chest and pressed her open mouth upon it. He cupped her head, but allowed it to move freely from spot to spot. Her lips found his nipple in a spiral of dark, crinkly hair. Shyly at first, then more aggressively, she caressed it with her tongue.

Swearing in whispered agony, he set her away from him. "Take off your clothes."

"You take them off," she challenged huskily.

They stared at each other a moment. Elena held her breath until he took the hem of her shirt in his hands. He removed it over her head. His eyes became fixated on her breasts.

Reaching behind her, Elena unhooked her bra and let it fall. Damon's chest rose and fell in one quick, tortured gasp. She saw his stomach muscles contract, but he didn't touch her.

At least not intimately.

Pressing her shoulders, he guided her down to lie on her back on the floor. Without ceremony he unfastened her jeans and pushed it down her legs. Then he removed her panties.

Once they were removed, he slid his hand between her thighs. They groaned in unison.

The fingers that probed her were thorough, yet gentle. His thumb nimbly separated the folds and found that supersensitive tissue.

He only had to stroke it a few times before her blood began to bubble inside her veins and she saw lightning sparks in her peripheral vision.

"Damon!"

That was all the invitation he needed. He unfastened his fly and shoved his jeans past his hips. Elena boldly assessed him, but for only a second before he mated their bodies.

She gave one sharp, glad cry. Damon murmured either a profanity or a prayer. They remained like that for several tense moments.

Then, bracing himself above her, he withdrew partially and looked down into her face.

Eyes locked with hers, he slowly penetrated her again. She felt him deep, so deep that the immensity of his possession swept over, stealing her breath, seizing control of her senses.

His dark hair hung over his forehead, mussed and wild. His eyes glowed with the firelight, adding to his animalistic attractiveness. The muscles of his arms and chest bulged with masculine power.

She wanted to concentrate on how gorgeous he was, but he withdrew and sank into her again. He held her breast in one hand, circled the stiff nipple with his thumb. She shuddered.

Her eyes closed involuntarily. Her thighs gripped his hips. He slid his hand between their bodies, stroking her externally even as he pressed ever deeper inside.

And her love for him, which had remained unfulfilled for decades, finally culminated in a splintering, brilliant climax.

He let her savour it, experience all of it, even the shimmering afterglow, before he began moving inside her again. But Elena surprised herself and Damon by clutching him and raising her hips to meet his thrusts.

By the time his crisis seized him, she had reached another. They clung to each other, gasping, grasping, dying together.