Chapter 25
So fragile.
The giant bedroom was pitch black, but he could see every detail.
The way her eyelids fluttered.
The way her lips parted every now and then.
A lock of her hair had trickled across her face during the night and Damon wanted so badly to reach out and tuck that curl behind her ear, twirl it around his finger, kiss the cheekbone it touched.
But he didn't.
He never did.
For over a week now, he'd snuck into her room every night, lying beside her, watching her sleep. But he never touched her. His hand always lingered beside hers, close enough to feel her warmth, but never more. He couldn't bring himself to actually touch her. He didn't deserve that privilege. He didn't deserve her. And yet, he knew he would never be able to let her go. She was his and, God help him, he would hold on to her until the day he truly died. In the past, he'd offered her so many times to leave her alone, to let her live a normal life, with a normal man, but as he laid there, watching the love of his life breath softly, he wondered if he'd ever truly meant it. Would he have been able to let her be? To live a life without her by his side? To let another man have her, taste her when even the mere idea of it made his fangs push against his gums painfully?
The anger that flared in his chest at the image of someone else's hands on her wasn't new. The rage was now a constant, throbbing presence within him, reminding him of what he'd done to her, of what a piece of unworthy shit he was. Mind you though, he wanted to get over it. He wanted to hold her and kiss the past away, but how could he hold that beautiful, forgiving creature after what he'd done? Whenever she looked at him with those big brown eyes, whenever she reached out to him with those little fingers, an anger took hold of him he'd never felt before.
"Damon."
His heart stopped for a moment−fearing she'd woken and he hadn't left fast enough−but her eyes were still closed and her breathing was still shallow. She was fast asleep. And dreaming. Of him. After everything he'd done, she still dreamt of him…
"Damon," she murmured again, turning on her back, her eyes moving frantically behind her lids. "Please, help me."
His stomach clenched, the guilt inside of him wreaking havoc on his heart. She was clearly dreaming of that dungeon, calling out for him to help her…but he wasn't there. Like he hadn't been there before. She'd been alone. All alone. Suffering.
He was so lost in self-hatred that he hadn't noticed her tiny fingers closing the distance between them as she'd dreamt. Softly, her fingertips brushed against his skin, leaving behind a trail of sparks that warmed his cold heart. He marveled in the feel of it for just a second, allowing himself one brief moment of peace…but the rage wouldn't let him enjoy it for long. As soon as he'd closed his eyes to revel in her touch, the memories of how he'd failed Elena bombarded his senses, accompanied by images his own mind had created, images of what had probably happened to her in that dungeon. Terrible, stomach-turning, fangs extending images…
A rumbling growl built in his chest as his fingers curled into the mattress. Every muscle in his body was tense, on edge and when she whispered in that soft voice of hers "Damon?" and he saw her eyes starting to open, he was out of that room, out of that house, before she could breathe another word.
Elena woke, his scent clinging to the very air around her. She knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her and yet, her body melted as it imagined breathing him in. How powerful a mind was…She could've even sworn the space beside her was warm, as if he'd lain there.
Wishful thinking. I've been confined to this bed for over a week now and he hasn't been up once to visit me, to check on me, to see how I'm doing.
He doesn't care about me anymore. He hates me.
And I'm stuck here, still loving him with all that I am…
Sighing, Elena sat up, feeling cold sweat run down her spine, curtesy of her nightmare. It had felt so real when Klaus had stabbed Damon in her dream. She'd held him close and begged for anyone to help her, but no one came, no one saved him. He'd died, right there in her arms, as Niklaus looked down mockingly. Once again, she made a silent vow to do everything in her power to prevent that from happening. Damon would not suffer because of her. She would give her life before she'd let that happen, no matter how much he avoided her, how much he hated her.
When she got out of the bed, she could feel her ribs were still healing, but other than that, she was out of the woods. No more fever. No more pain. Relieved, she opened the window and leaned out, watching the sun come up, breathing in the morning air. Usually, Elena loved watching the sun rise, loved watching the world wake up−especially since she hadn't been able to do so in centuries…and most likely wouldn't be able to do so for much longer−but lately it hadn't been the same. Not without him. What joy held the break of another day when he wouldn't be there? What was the point?
Shaking her head, she forced her mind away from that dark path, about to head back to bed. But before she could lay back down, irritation made her feet halt. Was she really going to disappear under the covers again? Was she really going to continue hiding up in this room like some coward, with nothing to do but think and drive herself crazy?
No.
Screw that.
In a blur, she disappeared in the bathroom, taking a long, hot shower. As she soaped up her body, she was once again surprised at how quickly she'd healed. Her skin was still red and fragile where Niklaus's knives and whips had cut into her, but the wounds had closed. There was no doubt in her mind that she had the herbal remedies Bonnie kept cooking up to thank for that. It had helped the progress along significantly.
As Elena got dressed and tied her hair in a messy bun, she stared at herself in the mirror, whispering, "You can do this," and then finally, headed downstairs.
She started out confident, walking in large strides, but the closer she got to the room where a wave of voices drifted out of, the more it felt like lead lined her shoes. This would be the first time she'd face anyone besides Stefan since they'd found out what she was. They'd defended her in the moment, sure, but they'd had over a week now to think about their decision, to reconsider. And why wouldn't they? If they'd done their research, which they no doubt had, they would know by now the extent of what it means to be the Crescător. Of what it means to protect the Crescător.
At least she knew with certainty that one person in the house had her back.
Stefan.
He'd been examining her every day, bringing her food, giving her someone to talk to, although he never told her anything she wanted to hear. She'd pressed about Damon, about how he was doing, if he'd mentioned her, but apparently, Damon hadn't exactly been around. According to his brother, Damon left before the sun came up and came home after everyone was asleep already. Sometimes, they crossed paths right before dawn, in the hallway, but Stefan said he never got a chance to start a conversation. Damon always stared straight ahead and busted out the door before Stefan could get a word in, his face hard, angry.
Because of me.
"-nothing in here we can use." Elena recognized Adam's voice as she got closer to the living room.
"This is about his finances," Lexi said, fatigue in her words. "He's still a rich bastard, but it's nothing we didn't know already."
"Okay, well, there are a few more files Frederik brought in, so maybe−" Rose stopped abruptly as Elena moved into the doorway.
Vampires and humans occupied every inch of the room, sitting on the carpet, the sofa, leaning against the wall, all of them holding files or loose papers. The humans were fresh faced, clearly well-rested, but the vampires…not so much. Their hair was messy, their eyes tired. It took a lot for vampires to display that much exhaustion. They'd probably been up for days already.
Her heart thundering in her chest, Elena felt her hands starting to wring, felt her face flush under their gazes, but somehow, she forced herself not to turn and run. Instead, she stayed put and waited for the rejection she knew was coming. The rejection that always came, in one form or another.
"You shouldn't be up."
Elena's eyes flew to Stefan, glad someone was breaking the loaded silence. "I know, but−"
"No buts. You've been through a lot, Elena. You should be−"
"Oh come on Salvatore," Adam cut him off. "The woman is clearly fine. She's a tough cookie." He winked at her and Elena felt her nerves ease just a little.
"I second that," Lexi jumped in. "You left that poor girl in that room for days now, not allowing us to visit. She's probably bored out of her mind."
They'd wanted to visit?
"Okay, okay, fine," Stefan said, smiling. "You win, but as soon as she feels even a twinge of pain or fever−"
"-we will lock Rapunzel back up in her tower," Alaric said, making a few people laugh. "Come in, Elena. Sit."
A human slid down from the couch onto the floor, making room for her. But Elena couldn't move an inch. She was frozen in shock. None of them, not one single person, human or vampire, looked at her sideways. Okay, maybe Caroline did, but she'd always hated her. Nothing from the others, though. There was no judgment, no resentment. They all welcomed her with open arms, despite her nature, despite what she was.
"Are you okay?" Stefan asked, worried by her silence. "See, you should stay in bed and−"
"No, I'm fine," she smiled, pulling herself together. "It's just…usually after people find out what I am, they either try to kill me or use me. This is…new."
"This is what friends do," Lee said, offering her a kind smile. Elena didn't notice his lips pulling up, though. Her eyes were glued to Lee's and Lexi's entwined hands . God, she missed Damon's touch, so much. She hadn't known it was even possible to miss something as simple as a touch, but nevertheless she did. She did every single moment of the day.
"Besides," Lee continued. "Damon would've ripped our heads off if we'd even considered selling you out to Carlo."
I doubt that, she thought, sadness overwhelming her. He might've stood up for me to Carlo, but afterwards, it was clear he didn't do it out of love. He's so mad at me, for all the lies, for all the problems I've caused. That's why he's not here. He can't even stand to be in the same house as me.
"Come sit, Elena," Rose said, patting the space beside her. "You can help us go through these files a few of our sources in Klaus' inner circle managed to steal, see if there's anything there that can help us."
"All these files are stolen from Niklaus?"She asked, finding a path through the stacks of paper.
"Yup."
Elena frowned, sitting down on the sofa. "How? Niklaus isn't exactly one to leave things laying around."
"You would know."
"Caroline," Stefan hissed. "Behave."
"We pulled back every man we had on the inside," Alaric answered, ignoring Caroline's interruption. "It seemed the safest thing to do under the circumstances."
Meaning me.
"We had quite a few," he continued. "And every one of them took as much stuff with them as they could on their way out. It wasn't as difficult as it would've been a week ago. Security isn't as tight. Niklaus's men have other things on their mind right now."
"Like procuring his Breeder wife."
"Last warning, Forbes!" Stefan barked.
The blond jumped up from where she'd been sitting on the floor, shooting Stefan a defying look. Everyone could see she had more to say, but instead of getting it of her chest like Elena had expected her to, she just sniffed loudly and then stormed out of the room.
"Don't mind Barbie," Adam said, handing her a folder. "She gets grumpy when she doesn't get her beauty sleep."
"I'm getting you something to eat," Stefan added. "And you better eat the whole thing, Elena."
Her lips twitched as Stefan disappeared in the kitchen behind them. Sometimes, it was so obvious Stefan and Damon were brothers. Both stubborn. Both high-handed. Both used to getting their way.
But she only loved one with all her heart.
And it just had to be the one that couldn't stand to be around her anymore.
Six hours later, the vampires had all gone to bed, leaving only the humans to sort through the files. Elena tried to keep her attention on the task at hand, but after a while, she found herself rereading the same sentence, her mind drifting to Damon. Where was he right now? What was he doing? Was he safe?
"Okay, I'm going bonkers," Adrianna, a redhead said, throwing a file next to her on the floor. "I can't spend one more moment reading. Can we please do something else?"
"Like what?" Michael, a male Mate said, rubbing his eyes. "We're stuck in this house."
"Not necessarily," a blonde chimed. "It's not like the door is locked."
"Helena, no."
"Oh come on," she sang, wiggling her eyebrows. "It's right around the corner."
"What is?" Elena asked, dropping her own file.
"A club," Adam whispereed, sitting down on the edge of the couch. "Helena has been whining about it all week now."
"A club? I don't think going out is a smart idea."
Helena sighed. "Come on, guys. We've been stuck inside Safe Houses for months now. Don't you want to let your hair down for just a moment? We've never been this close to an actual fun place!"
"We've also never gone out without our Mates," Cindy, another blond said. "They would not be pleased."
"Pleased?" Another woman snapped. "I didn't realize we were here to please them."
"Exactly," Helena hurried, jumping on any support. "We've been following them blindly, because we love them, but don't we deserve one night? Not even that! Just a few hours! We'd only be down the street! We'll leave them a note and when they wake up, they can join us−"
"−and drag us home." Adrianna tried to look stern, but Elena could see she was considering it.
"Guys, you know this is dangerous, right?" She tried to reason. "Klaus−"
"−is nowhere near this place. Come on, Elena. It's just a club. We'll dance. We'll drink. We'll be fine."
"I don't know. This isn't smart. I think−"
"I'm in," Adrianna suddenly cut her off.
The very second the redhead agreed, the other humans followed, as if they'd all been waiting for one person to crack so they could do the same. The room started buzzing with excitement, but Elena didn't join in. This was a bad idea. She could feel it in her bones. And she wasn't the only one.
"I agree," Adam said, apparently reading her mind as he slid down next to her on the sofa. "But as I see it, we have two choices here. We could let them leave without us, but we both know that if something goes wrong they'd be better off with us there. Or we could just go with them, enjoy ourselves, but keep an eye out for trouble. At least until the vampires wake and catch up with us."
"There's a third option," Elena whispered, shooting him a piercing look.
Adam smiled, softly shaking his head. "If we warn the vampires, we'll lose the trust and friendship of every person in this room and believe me, that's not something you want to lose. Especially since it seems we won't be rid of Klaus just yet and we're short on Safe Houses. We'll be living with these people for quite some time."
"So, basically, we only have one choice, right?"
Adam shrugged, patting her leg. "Time to get your groove on, Stella."
"This wasn't the deal."
Elena giggled uncontrollably, putting another Cosmo to her lips. The sweet liquor was going down smoothly. A little too smoothly probably, but the second she'd entered the club, her mind had turned rebellious on her. The couples dancing, kissing, touching had sparked something inside of her, unlocked an anger she knew was irrational. She had no right to be angry at Damon. So he hated her now. Fine. She understood. But did that mean he had to disappear on her? Did that mean he had to cut her out completely? Why wouldn't he talk to her? Scream at her even? She would prefer fighting over nothing at all… How could it be so easy for him to just vanish like that? To walk away?
"You realize that's number six, right?" Adam said.
"You realize it's bad form to count a lady's drinks, right?"
He rolled his eyes as Elena took another sip and then headed for their table. The other women were about as many drinks in as her and it felt good to join them in letting go. Well, maybe letting go wasn't exactly what she was doing. Maybe escaping was a better word. For a few hours, she could be something other than Elena Gilbert, the Crescător. Tonight, she was just Elena Gilbert, a scorned woman acting completely out of character.
"So, Elena," Adrianna sang when she sat down next to her. "Help us understand something."
"What?" she smiled, fishing a cranberry out of her drink and popping it into her mouth.
"How did you get Damon Salvatore to finally settle down with a Mate?"
Elena's heart clenched, but the alcohol and rebellion inside of her kept the tears at bay, leaving only defiance to take the reins. "Obviously I didn't."
"Oh, please," Helena snickered. "We all know what he was like before you. We heard the stories. A man doesn't change from evil to good for anything but love."
"He was never evil," she snapped, taking a large gulp of her Cosmo. "And even if he did love me, that's clearly done now."
"Vampires don't love and then change their minds. It doesn't work like that. Not between Mates."
"Then clearly, I'm not a Mate," she sighed, putting her glass down a little too roughly. "Could we change the subject, please?"
"Okay," Helena whispered, smiling. "How about we talk about how amazing sex with a vampire is."
Not exactly the change in subject I was hoping for.
The table exploded in giggles as Elena pressed her thighs together. Amazing wasn't even the right word to describe sex with Damon. Before he'd come along, she hadn't had a sex drive to speak off−no doubt thanks to Caine−but now… Damon had awakened something inside of her, something carnal and as much as her heart was missing him, her body was craving him. The lust building up inside of her had her hot and flushed non-stop. And the alcohol wasn't helping either. It made the warmth between her legs spread to her belly where it settled and set her ablaze.
"Do you ever let him bite you?" Adrianna asked a petite brunette who started blushing immediately. "It's amazing, isn't it? Knowing he's taking you inside of him while he is inside of you. Heaven. And all you have to do is drink a little of his blood afterwards and voila, instant flawless neck."
Elena splayed her curls over her shoulder self-consciously, making sure her scars were hidden. Damon would never bite her again, not even if she'd asked him to. And she would ask him if there was even a small chance he'd listen. Because she'd liked it. She'd never told Damon this, but when he'd bitten her, before he'd lost control, she'd enjoyed it. There was something about Damon drinking from her that set her body ablaze. Then again, Damon set her ablaze no matter what he did. Even ignoring her didn't make her hormones calm down.
Elena felt her face heat as memories of Damon making love to her flooded her senses. And now he was gone, leaving her aching.
Hello and welcome, irrational anger.
"Hey!" she yelled over the suddenly louder music. "Can I borrow your cellphone for a second?"
Adam nodded, handing her the phone.
"Thanks!"
Her fingers trembling, she dialed the number she knew by heart, retreating to a corner of the club.
"What?"
Elena hated herself for smiling the second she heard his voice. It had been so long since she'd heard that warm, rumbling sound.
"Who the fuck is this?"
"The mouth on you."
Silence followed. Complete and utter silence. Elena knew there was loud, deafening music all around her, but somehow, she heard only the loaded silence that came through the line.
"What?" Elena said after a long minute. "Nothing to say?"
Silence.
"Then hang up."
Silence.
She sighed, her fingers clutching the phone tighter. "Why won't you talk to me? Why−"
"Where the fuck are you, Elena? Why aren't you in the Safe House? Is Stefan with you?"
She felt tears well up in her eyes when her name rolled off his tongue. No one could say her name like him.
"Elena?" he barked, the anger dripping off his voice. "Where. Are. You?"
She sniffed, irritated. "You care now?"
"Elena, I'm warning you−"
"No, Salvatore, I don't think so," she snapped, her tongue not moving as fast as she'd hoped. "I'm warning you!"
"Gilbert, are you drunk?"
"I pardon your beg, Sir!"
"You pardon my beg?" She could hear muffled curses on the other end of the line. "Dammit, woman! Tell me where you are!"
"Hey Elena," Cindy sang, grabbing her arm. "Let's dance!"
"Who the fuck is that? Elena, you tell me right now−"
She hung up before he could finish, shaking her head, throwing the phone back at Adam before she followed the others onto the dancefloor. Who did that vampire think he was, ordering her around? Nothing for more than a week and now he had the audacity to give her orders?
Hell.
No.
Moving to the music, she disappeared in the noise, in the crowd, in the dance. Her body moved to the rhythm, to the notes, her temperature rising, her adrenaline spiking. Under normal circumstances, Elena would've felt a little self-conscious dancing the way she was in a lace, tight burgundy dress, but the alcohol did more than warm her blood. It made her inhibitions go a little wonky, to say the least.
As the lights beamed down on her, she felt sweat trickle down her neck, a few locks of her hear sticking to her skin, but she didn't take a break. Most women had already gone back to the table, but not Elena. This was what she needed. Getting her mind off a certain vampire, releasing some of this pressure building inside before she spontaneously combusted. Elena bopped her hips left and right, her head thrown back, her hands running through her curls, letting go of reality…until reality came crashing back with a pair of hands on her waist. For a short moment, she wondered if it was Damon standing behind her, but whenever Damon touched her, whenever he was near her, her body was set on fire and now, her body just crawled. Twirling around, she'd intended to tell whoever was touching her to back off, but she was drunker than she'd thought and twirling had not been a good idea. Instead of pushing the man away, she found herself grabbing his shirt to regain her balance. He saw this as encouragement though and pressed her closer to his chest. As she struggled against him, she started regretting that ninth Cosmo. Without booze, she would've broken free from his hold in mere seconds, but now, this guy had the upper hand.
"Stop," she whimpered, her voice barely carrying. "Let go."
He had to feel her struggling, but he didn't stop, grinding his hips into hers, his hands groping her ass, his breath on her cheek.
"Stop," she said again, attempting to push his chest. She was starting to feel sick, dizzy, the heat and emotions finally catching up with her. What was she doing? Why was she here, drunk and vulnerable, getting felt up by some random man when she just wanted to be at home, curled up in Damon's arms?
"Let go of me."
"Come on," he growled, his fingers tightening on her ass. "I can make you feel real good."
"I doubt that," she snapped. "Let go."
"You can't give me a hard on and then walk away, baby," he said, pulling back a little so he could shoot her a slimy grin. The man wasn't unattractive with his blond hair, blue eyes and muscles, but he did nothing for Elena. There was only one man who interested her, one man who was allowed to touch her like he was.
"No," she hissed, pushing him again to no avail. "Find someone else."
"I don't want someone else," he snapped, anger starting to crawl into his voice. "I wanna fuck that sweet ass of yours and−"
Elena would never know what other filth was going to come out of his mouth, because the next thing she knew, the man was lying on the floor, clutching his jaw, screaming as a figure towered over him, his hands balled up in fists by his side, trembling.
"Damon?"
"You seem to have trouble understanding the word no," Damon spit at the man on the floor in such a vicious way it made even Elena flinch. "Let me illustrate what it means, especially when she says it."
Damon took a step towards the cowering man and Elena knew what was about to happen. If she didn't stop him, he would kill him.
"Damon, don't!" she yelled over the music, panic in her voice. "Please!"
The vampire froze, his back still turned to her, his body visibly trembling in rage. She could tell he was fighting the urge to murder the man and she wanted to believe he was fighting that urge because she'd asked, but he was probably only now realizing he had a whole club full of witnesses. It wasn't about her.
After a long minute, Damon turned around and even though Elena could tell by his expression that she was in serious trouble, she couldn't stop her heart from jumping. He was really here. Standing right in front of her. After being without him for a week, this felt wonderful…Until he charged for her, grabbed a handful of her dress and dragged her off the dancefloor. She could see how tight his fingers were clutching the lace and yet, she couldn't help but wish he'd grabbed her arm or her hand, anything to feel his touch. Even if it would hurt.
She was so messed up.
Damon kicked a door open in the back of the club and then she was tugged into a dark room. He let go of her at once, slamming the door shut with a loud bang and locking it. She couldn't see a thing, but she could hear him breathing heavily. He was furious.
"Damon−"
Suddenly, a dim light was flipped on and as her eyes adjusted, she could tell she was in an office. Behind her there was an oak desk, next to her a large couch and in front of her a seething vampire.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing outside of the Safe House?" His voice was absolutely menacing.
She swallowed hard, her eyes dropping. "The others wanted to go out−"
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT THE OTHERS WANT!" He yelled, angrier than she'd ever heard him. "YOU DO NOT LEAVE THE SAFE HOUSE! EVER!"
"Why not?" she snapped. "You do!"
He growled, taking an intimidating step towards her, his eyes hard and black. "I am a vampire! I can take care of myself!"
"So can I!"
"Not if you're drunk off your ass! That boy had his hands all over you and you couldn't even defend yourself! If I didn't know how smart you were, I'd call you a fucking idiot right now!"
Glaring, she crossed her hands over her chest. "Maybe I wanted that boy's hands on me!"
If she'd thought he was angry before…
I'm so messed up, a little voice scorned inside her head, feeling herself get wet as he slid closer to her, his entire body screaming danger. She should be scared, not turned on.
"Listen to me very carefully−" he snarled, his lips pulling back over his teeth. "−you will never let another man touch you like that again!"
"If I want to dance with someone, I will!"
"Dance? You were practically fucking him on the spot!"
"So?"
"So?" In a second, he was right in front of her, only a sliver of hot air left between them. That familiar electricity crackled, setting her nerves on edge, making her panties soak. She'd never wanted anything as desperately as she wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her, feel him inside of her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her breathing became frantic.
"I should take you over my knee for what you did out there."
Her body trembled as a vivid image came to mind. She could practically feel his hand on her bottom, spanking her. Rubbing her thighs together, she wetted her lips again. "So do it."
He growled promisingly…and then he was on the other side of the room again, slamming his fist into the concrete wall.
Elena jumped, shocked, watching his bloody hand drop casually back by his side like he hadn't just punched a hole through solid brick. Her eyes fixed on his injury, she took a step forward, wanting to help him.
"Don't touch me!"
She froze. Hearing the man she loved saying those words to her was like a knife to the heart. At least she knew for sure now. He was disgusted with her. With the Crescător. There was no mending this, no going back to what they used to be. There was nothing more to say, except maybe, "I'm sorry."
"Don't. Apologize. To. Me," he bit out, his eyes on the floor, his hands clutching.
She felt more tears trickle down as her heart broke further. She knew what she had to do now. She didn't want to do it, but it was what's best for him. Maybe without her, he'd get rid of that anger. She knew how destructive that particular emotion could be. She'd walked around with it in her chest for centuries, let it control her, let it destroy who she was one piece at a time. She wouldn't let that happen to her Damon. He was too…beautiful.
"I'll talk to Stefan," she whispered. "I'll ask him to help me relocate."
His eyes flew back up to hers. "Relocate?"
"There are other Safe Houses−"
"You want to leave me?"
His whispered question made her take in a sharp, quavering breath. Off course she didn't want to leave him. But she would, if that's what he wanted. What he needed.
"I don't know what else to do, Damon," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "My very existence seems to piss you off. I can't change my past. I can't go back and tell you what I am before you found out the way you did. All I can do, is apologize, but that's clearly not what you want either, so tell me what else to do and I'll do it."
Damon just stared at her, his nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing into slits. She didn't know what else to say, so she just stood there, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Her heart thundered. Her legs shook. This was it. This was their goodbye. He was going to walk out that door. Stefan would hide her away, Damon would run in the opposite direction and she would never see him again.
"My very existence seems to piss you off," he quoted her, spitting out every word as if it burned him. "You think I'm angry with you?"
Her eyes dropped as she sighed softly. "Come on, Damon. You can't even stand to be in the Safe House when I'm awake. You won't let me touch you−"
"That has nothing to do with you!"
You don't have to lie to spare my feelings, Damon. You can just come out and say that this Crescător-thing is one bridge too far and that you can't be with something as disgusting as−"
"Stop," he hissed, glaring. "No one talks about my Mate like that. Not even she herself!"
She wasn't sure if what passed her lips next was a sob or a sigh. Even her breathing was confused at that point. He hated her…and yet, he still thought she was his Mate?
Maybe it were the last traces of alcohol that made her next decision, but suddenly, she found herself closing the distance between them and reaching out for him. For a moment, she thought he'd let her touch him...and then he grabbed her wrist tightly, shooting her a warning glare. She raised her chin defiantly, trying again with her other hand. With lightning speed, his fingers clutched around her second wrist, too, a low rumble building up in his chest. God, he felt good. Even though his fingers were way too tight, it felt like the most intimate caress after such a long time.
But she needed more.
"Let me touch you," she breathed, desperation underlining her words.
His fingers tightened ever harder on her skin. "No."
"Why not?"
She could see his Adam's apple bouncing, feel his warm, spicy breath on her face.
"Please," she whispered, her pride going out the window. "Please, kiss me."
His haunted eyes dipped to her mouth and in a last effort to push him over the edge, she sucked her bottom lip and bit down. She could tell it had the effect she'd hoped for. His breathing hitched. His eyes turned even darker. Moaning, she leaned into him as much as she could with his hands still clutching her wrists and for a wonderful second, he leaned in too. His lips were so close, so damned close…and then he was gone again, heading towards the door.
"Damon, stop!"
He didn't, but she was on his heels.
"Damon, please!"
He ignored her.
"Dammit Salvatore, why do you keep walking away from me?"
"BECAUSE I WASN'T THERE!"
Elena had almost bumped into him as he'd spun around and spit out those heart wrenching, confusing words. She could see tears in his tortured eyes, could see the pain and sorrow, but she knew better than to reach out to sooth him. He was finally talking to her. She didn't want to do anything that would make him stop.
"What are you talking about?"
"I wasn't there, Elena!" he said again, his voice a low hiss.
"Damon−"
"Do you know what I did while you suffered in that dungeon?" Elena's eyes widened in understanding. "I killed, that's what! I disappeared in blood and bottles and I HATED you! I hated you while you were being tortured by the one man I vowed to protect you against! I hated you while you suffered because you loved me!"
"Sweetheart−"
"Don't!" he shouted, his fangs pushing through his gums. "Don't you dare tell me it wasn't my fault, that I was compelled! It shouldn't have mattered! I should've know!"
"How?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, too. "Tell me how, sweetheart. How were you supposed to know you were compelled? By an Original, none the less."
"Abby knew! Abby knew within seconds!"
"Abby is a witch."
"And I'm your Mate! I should've know!"
"You did."
He frowned, anger still plastered all over his face.
"Why did you go to Abby in the first place, sweetheart?"
He sniffed. "You think I went to her because I suspected there was something more going on? I didn't! I went there to get you out of my head! As if abandoning you wasn't bad enough, I wanted to get rid of the memory of you, too!"
"Exactly," Elena whispered. "I was still in your head. In your soul. Not the version of me that Klaus had created, but me. You held on to the memory of me as the woman who loved you, who would do anything for you, because deep down, you knew. You knew something wasn't right."
"And yet I didn't act on it for three fucking weeks! I just wallowed in self-pity while you−" he trailed off, clutching his hair. "You were alone."
"Damon, I was never alone. You were there with me, every second. You kept me sane−"
"But I wasn't there to stop him! To safe you!"
She let out a labored breath and then she couldn't stop herself any longer. Slowly, she raised her tiny hand. And he didn't flinch. He didn't run. Holding her breath, she closed the final distance between them and cupped his cheek. His eyes closed the second her skin met his, a strangled moan passing his lips.
"Baby," she whispered. "I'm responsible for my own decisions. And that night in the woods, when I went with Niklaus, I made a decision, not you."
He backed away from her again, his hands still in tight fists by his side. "You made that decision because of me, Elena! That very, very stupid decision!"
"And I'd make it again in a heartbeat."
He growled, but Elena refused to back down.
"Look, Damon, I love you−" His eyes closed for a second. "−but if this is going to work, we'll have to accept the fact that every once in a while, one of us will make a choice the other won't like," He opened his mouth to protest, but she added, "Remember when you followed Klaus into the woods and almost let him stake you? I wasn't exactly happy about that either."
His eyes darkened in that way that made her toes curl. "You were angry about that? If memory serves, I had you in my bed for the first time that same day."
She bit her lip again, drawing his gaze down. "Yes, well, apparently sex helps me vent." She filled the space between them, pressing her curves against his hard body. "You should try it sometimes."
Elena could see his anger battling with arousal, but he kept his pissed-off gaze resolutely on her face. He wasn't ready to give in, yet.
But neither was she.
Why couldn't I have fallen in love with some shy little girl instead of this sex kitten?
And why did she have to look so exquisite?
From the second he'd seen her on that dancefloor with that fuckers hands all over that curvaceous body of hers, he'd lost it. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to only break his jaw and not completely destroy him. Maybe his need to appease his stunning Mate who'd told him to stop overshadowed his need to kill. Just like right now, his need to protect his stunning Mate overshadowed his need to fuck her senseless. But only barely.
Her breast were crushed against his chest, and her rapid heartbeat reverberated through his body. Blood pumped into his loins at her sensual softness, surging to his cock. His pants tightened uncomfortably and he knew there was a very easy way to ease his discomfort. All he had to do was bury himself inside of her until she begged for release. Until she screamed and cried, tightening around him…
Pushing back his agonizing thoughts, he backed away from her warm, inviting body, clutching his hair. He couldn't do this. He couldn't take her. Her body wasn't ready for him. He could feel the monster inside wanting to stake his claim after seeing her with another man and he knew he wouldn't be able to take it slow once he had her underneath him. He wouldn't make love to her, he would fuck her, which was the last thing her recovering body needed.
He heard her sigh and dared another glance her way. Who had given her that damned dress? It clung to her like water, showing off every tantalizing curve. And that wasn't even the hottest part of her outfit. Since when did she wear stockings? And since when did Damon love stockings? He'd never had a really outspoken opinion about that particular garment, but now, first chance he got, he was going to buy her every single kind of stocking out there.
His eyes travelled up from her long legs, to her slim hips, to her pert breasts and then finally, to her simmering, hazel eyes.
"No, Elena," he grated, recognizing the lust, the determination in her gaze. "Not yet."
She bit that lip again, making him growl and then, suddenly, he found himself standing right in front of her, inches from her body, her lips.
Don't. Do. This.
He took a step back, but then, in a move he should've seen coming, Elena dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a hot, hard, Cosmo-flavored kiss. The instant her lips touched his, the off switch to his brain flipped and shut out every sane thought he'd ever had, completely annihilating his brilliant plan to leave her alone. Her lips tasted of vanilla blossoms, of fire, passion and desire. Of innocence. The taste was intoxicating, purely female, and indescribably sexy. Angling his head, he pushed his tongue against her lips, demanding entrance and she eagerly accepted with a throaty moan.
Of its own volition, his hands dipped below her waist, splaying over her rounded ass, kneading the taut flesh beneath her dress. He couldn't stop himself from lifting her against him, fitting their bodies together with a perfection that made him groan roughly into her mouth. The next moment, he was backing her into the desk, grounding his erection against her soft, inviting center, ravishing the cavers of her mouth like a barbarian, wild and savage. Instead of withdrawing from his assault, her tongue battled with his, sending tiny shocks through his body each time it stroked his. It felt like heaven and hell at the same time, his body demanding more. All he had to do was hitch up her dress, strip her of her panties and she'd be his for the taking. Without even touching her , he knew she was already wet, wet enough for him to slide in without resistance. Now. Now.
No.
Groaning, he tore his lips away. "Elena, Love−"
"Don't," she moaned, her voice sounding as breathless as he felt. "Don't stop. "
He inhaled sharply when she tugged his shirt out of his pants, her hands slipping underneath the fabric. Her warm fingers on his chest made the animal inside claw even harder to get out, to take her, dominate her.
"Love," he groaned. "You're not ready for this."
She looked up at him with those full, swollen lips, her hair rummaged, her gaze simmering with desire and a hint of anger. A dangerous combination in any woman's eyes, but in Elena's…deadly. "I'm tougher than I look."
"But not as tough as you pretend to be," he countered, his fingers clutching her silky hair. "Your body needs more time. I'll hurt you."
"The only way you could hurt me, is by leaving me like this. Aching."
The lust in her voice made his cock jerk.
"Please," she begged, her hand slipping inside his pants. "I know you want me." Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him, torturing him. "I can feel it."
Growling, his forehead fell against her shoulder. "Off course I want you. I constantly want you. Everywhere. In every which way."
"Then take me," she breathed, her lips inches from his ear as her fingers worked him in the most delicious way. "Take what's yours."
Smart girl, using his possessive nature to make him crack.
And damn him if it didn't work.
Completely abandoning every rational thought, his mouth claimed hers again in a heated kiss, his hands finding the zipper at the back of her dress and dragging it down roughly, tugging the lace over her shoulders and down her hips, all the while possessing her mouth with desperate abandon. She wanted the animal? She wanted him to snap? Fine! When she tore her mouth from his to breath, his lips latched onto her neck, sucking and tasting as she drew in the oxygen her human body needed…and what a body it was. Holding on to her hips, he took a step back, drinking her in with his eyes. Whoever had provided his girl, his woman, with that black corset-and-panty set, complete with garter belt and stockings, would be added to his Christmas list for all of eternity.
He tucked one finger into the top of her stockings, sliding it back and forth slowly. Elena arched her back at the innocent touch, her nails digging into the desk behind her as if he was touching her between her legs instead.
"I hate these stockings," he growled, tugging on them and then making them snap back against her skin. "Wear nothing else from now on."
Elena sucked in a breath. "T-That makes no sense."
Her eyes grew heavy lidded as he rubbed his erection against her, showing her what she'd done to him. She writhed against the desk in response. "Every time you walk, I can hear that material rubbing together." He ran his tongue and teeth down the side of her neck. "Your tight thighs, covered in silk, sliding against each other. It drives me crazy." He grasped her around the waist and deposited her on the sofa sideways, kneeling down on the cushion between her legs. Damon's chest felt tight, his skin on fire. Every nerve ending in his body hummed with dizzying arousal, need and he knew he couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever. He couldn't even remember why he'd objected to this in the first place.
She reached for his zipper, but he grabbed her hand before she could get to it, growling low in his chest. She whimpered in protest. "I'll give you what you want, princess," he rumbled. "But if we're doing this, we're doing it my way. I am in control. Understand?"
She nodded, her legs shaking against his hips.
"First rule," he hissed, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip to pull it free from her teeth. "No biting that lip. You know what it does to me and I don't like you using it as a weapon."
When she nodded and he pulled his finger back, he saw a drop of her blood coating his thumb. She'd bit down too hard on that plumb lip of hers, breaking the skin. Fierce little minx. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd brought the crimson drop to his mouth, taking every trace of it inside of him. The taste that had haunted his dreams invaded him. Even though it was just a single drop, he could've sworn the blood filled his entire mouth. He could feel it run down his throat as if he'd greedily gulped her down.
Like he wasn't already on the fucking brink to begin with.
"Lose the corset. Now."
Trying to keep his breathing steady and failing, Damon watched her work the delicate ribbons, sliding them out of each round opening until the garment fell open in front of his eyes. Once again, that low, almost angry sound emanated from his throat. This time, she moaned in response, letting her head fall to the side. When her hands rose to palm her breasts, thumbs caressing her peaked nipples, his entire body shook. If he wanted to hold on to any control, that would not do.
"Hands over your head," he ground out.
She shot him a pleading look.
"Don't disobey me baby, or this is over before it even begins."
He watched her swallow hard, but she followed his order, raising her arms.
"Good girl." Her eyes flared at his praise and he couldn't help but smile. He knew from experience his girl loved to be dominated, but she always had to put up a little fight first, even if it only lasted until his first touch.
Holding her eyes, he stripped out of his shirt. When he got up to take of his pants and boxers, Elena started to roll the stockings down her legs. He stopped her with a harsh sound. "What did I say about your hands?"
"But−"
"No buts, Elena," he growled, positioning himself between her thighs again. "Hands. Above. Your. Head."
She listened again, very slowly raising her arms once more.
"Besides−" he added, running his fingertips from her toes all the way up her long legs. "−these stockings aren't going anywhere, baby."
"Damon−" she rasped, nails digging into the arm of the couch.
"Yes, Love?"
"No more," she breathed, thrusting her hips upwards, rubbing her center against his. "Fuck me."
He narrowed his eyes, fisting her panties. "Was that an order?"
She bit her lip.
Shaking with lust and anger, he ripped her panties clean off and spun her around , shoving a pillow beneath her hips . He could see her body tremble, face pressed against the couch, bottom in the air. Fuck, had there ever been anything sexier than this?
"Time to clear up a misunderstanding, because I don't think you're getting it, baby," he growled fisting her hair and tugging so she could look at him. "Who's in charge here?"
She sucked in a breath. "You are."
"Exactly," he whispered harshly in her ear. "So who decides when you get fucked?"
"You," she moaned, as he tore off the remains of the corset. Her back arched beneath him. God, she had such a lovely back. Groaning, he brushed his lips down her spine, sending a shiver through her body. At the nape, right above her bottom, he bit down. He didn't break the skin, but something told him Elena wouldn't have minded if he had. The little sounds of pleasure that erupted from her were a dead giveaway.
When he ran his lips back up her back, he slowly slid his fingertips up her sides and around to her breasts. Fuck, those breasts fit his palms perfectly, as if they were made for him. Just him. Feelings of ownership and love overwhelmed him, made him work himself against her upturned cheeks like a hungry animal, grinding her hips down into the pillow.
"Open your legs for me, baby." She did as he asked. "Good girl." There was no more anger in her eyes at the praise. Only lust and heat. Hissing with need, he grabbed himself and ran his tip over her slit, slickening it with her cream. He could feel her body fighting the urge to push back onto him. She knew she wasn't supposed to, not unless he gave her the order. Elena had submitted completely now and it was fucking hot.
When he spoke again, his voice was raw and severe. "I'm going to ask you some questions now. The answer to all of them better be my name. Do you understand?"
She made a breathy sound of agreement, but that wasn't enough for him. He wanted to hear that sweet voice of hers comply. Squeezing her breasts tighter, he pulled his hips back, pulling his tip away from her entrance.
"Yes!" she shouted, understanding the wordless threat. "Yes!"
He shoved into her with a groan, Elena echoing the sound into the sofa. A zillion sensations rocketed through his system as he basked in the feeling of being back inside of her. She was still so tight, her muscles clenching him from every angle. He could feel how much she'd wanted this, how much her body had been waiting for him.
Only him.
Elena was biting her lip again, but he let it go, because he knew it had nothing to do with manipulating him this time. She was fighting the urge to scream at him to move inside of her, to go faster, harder. She was fighting to follow his orders. Such a fucking good girl.
Filling her completely, he held his hips still. "Who gets in the deepest, Elena?"
She moaned. "Damon."
He thrust into her. Once. Twice. He held her tighter, feeling her shudder at the friction.
"Who can fuck you for hours on end and still have you begging for more?"
"Damon," she sobbed. "Damon!"
He slammed into her again, not stopping until she screamed, until he'd almost hurtled her over the edge. Her muscles clenched and relaxed around him, her thighs shaking. One more thrust and she would explode all around him.
Not yet.
Groaning, he dropped his chest against her back, crouching over her like the animal that he was, his face buried in her neck, his voice dropping considerably when he said, "Who do you belong to?"
"Damon," she moaned without missing a beat, her voice warm and dripping. "I belong to you, Damon Salvatore. Body and soul, I'm yours. Only yours."
On top of her, his body trembled with pride, with possessiveness. He could no longer hold back after that. Driven mad by lust, his hand came down on her ass, the sound of palm hitting skin drifting through the room.
"Yes!" she screamed, her nails actually tearing into the sofa.
"More?" he asked, his voice a mix between a growl and a whisper.
"Yes!"
"Yes what?"
Her legs opened wider, his cock hardening even more at the sight she presented.
"Yes, please!"
Raising his palm, he brought it down wide across both her cheeks. She gave a yelp, tensing in his arms and then melting again, getting even wetter around him. After the tenth slap, she was panting frantically, the scent of her arousal making him drowsy. She'd stopped tensing halfway through to press up against him, begging for more.
She was so fucking made for him.
His balls had tightened painfully now and he knew playtime was over. Every slap had vibrated through her ass and into his dick, making him share her sweet torture. But now the torture had to end. Gripping her hips tightly, Damon started bucking into her, hard, all the while kissing her neck and back. Every part of him was alive, his shaft gliding in and out of her, her ragged breathing spurring him on.
"God, Damon!" she screamed.
"I know, baby," he groaned, pounding inside of her. "Fuck, I know. You feel so good."
One of his hands left her hips to glide between them, teasing her clit. "Come for me, Elena."
Lifting her pelvis up, she met each one of his thrusts, spurring him on to fuck her harder than ever before. Each time his cock entered her, he seemed to hit deeper.
"I'm never letting you go," he growled into her ear.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"No, you're not." Screaming, her pussy clenched around him. He held on to her as she came apart in his arms, trying to make it last, but she felt too good. His cock jerked, shooting jets of hotness deep inside of her. Minutes passed before he came down from his high.
Before he could breathe again.
Before he realized what he'd done.
Off all the times they'd made love, this had been the one time he should've been gentle, kind. Instead, he found himself staring down at her beautiful behind that was now discolored and no doubt aching. Disgusted with himself, he brushed his fingers across the red areas and his self-loathing only grew when he heard her moan. He'd hurt her. After everything she'd been through−
"I missed you, Damon."
Her voice barely carried, she'd spoken so softly, but he'd hear her loud and clear.
So fucking forgiving.
With a growl, he pulled out of her and dressed, hearing her do the same thing behind him. The sound of ribbon being tightened again made him remember watching her untie her corset and like the sick fuck that he was, he grew hard again. Had the monster not been satisfied enough, at her expense?
As he buttoned up his shirt, he wanted to turn and apologize to her for treating her the way he had, but he couldn't make himself face her. Normally, this was the part he held her, soothed her, talked to her until she fell asleep or wanted another go. This, the silence, the guilt, felt wrong.
"Damon."
Her voice set his skin on fire again.
"Please, talk to me," she whispered. "This awkward silence after sex is making me feel like a two-dollar whore."
He spun around so fast he was sure he'd been a mere blur in Elena's eyes. Her warm, tear-filled eyes. She was back in her dress, but everything about her still screamed sex. Her mussed hair, her plumb lips, he flushed cheeks.
"You're not a whore," he snapped. "Don't ever talk about yourself like that."
"I'm not a victim either," she said, getting up from the couch. "Don't treat me like one."
"Elena−"
"No," she cut him off, her eyes full of fiery spirit. "Don't. You are one of the very few people who know I was a victim once. You know how being helpless hurt me. So, you better believe I would never put myself in any position that would make me feel like that again. Not voluntarily."
"I lost control−"
"No, you didn't," she snapped. "I surrendered to you, yes, but I know that if I would ever say stop, you would listen! And you know that, too!"
She's right, the animal inside roared. We would never force her to do anything she didn't want to do.
"So, please," she continued, her voice softer. "Stop making me feel like a porcelain doll and stop feeling guilty over doing things to me that make my body sing. It makes me feel guilty about wanting them done to me. Okay?"
He let out a tortured sigh as he cupped Elena's cheeks. "I don't deserve you. You know that, right?"
"Damon," she smiled. "I'm Niklaus's six hundred and sixty year old, Crescător wife. You're damned right you don't deserve me. You deserve much better."
"We really are some pair, aren't we?" He shook his head softly. "There will never be anyone else for me."
"Same here, sweetheart. Now−" she turned, pushing her hair over one shoulder. "Zip me up and let's get out of here before whoever this office belongs to decides to catch up on some paperwork."
He slowly drew the zipper up, his finger sliding over her skin on the way. As his digits came across her scars, he couldn't hold back the question he'd been dreading to ask.
"Elena−" he trailed off, draping her hair over her back.
She turned around, frowning at the serious look on his face. "Yes?"
"I want to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me, even if you know the answer will hurt me. Alright?"
Her frown deepened, worry taking over her features. "Alright."
Cupping her neck, he ran his thumbs over her jaw and growled, "When Niklaus did what he did−" He felt her pulse thump underneath his palms. "−was he alone?"
It took her only a second to realize what he was asking. Her eyes melted into his as she cast him one of her warm, sweet smiles. "Yes."
He knew she'd understood him, but he needed to hear her say it, he needed to know for sure.
"He didn't use Caine?"
She shook her head softly, resting her hands on his chest. "I wasn't raped. I swear."
He let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, resting his forehead against her "If he'd touched you, I would've brought him back from the dead just to kill him again."
"I know," she whispered, her warm breath brushing against his face. "I know ."
Pressing a last, long kiss to her forehead, he slipped an arm around her waist and guided her back into the club where Stefan and the other vampires were having a rather heated argument with the drunk humans. When Stefan spotted him with Elena, the anger left his face for the smallest second, a little smile playing on his lips.
"I'm taking her home," Damon said from half way across the room. No human would've picked up on it, but Stefan heard, shooting him a nod.
The second they were outside, Damon cradled her in his arms and took her back to the Safe House, vampire speed.
"You realize you're never to leave this house without me again, right?" he said when he closed the door behind them.
She shot him an innocent smile. "On one condition."
He growled. "Gilbert−"
"Share my bed again," she whispered, her little fingers hooking into his shirt.
He smiled, kissing her nose. "I've been sharing your bed every night, Love."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Her eyes widened. "You son of a−"
He kissed her teasing insult away, lifting her off the ground and carrying her into the living room. "Besides, who needs a bed?" he breathed against her lips. "I quite like how you get on a couch."
She giggled as he pressed her into the soft cushions, kissing her neck.
"You taste like me," he groaned, settling between her thighs. "Good."
Elena moaned, amazed her body craved him so soon again after just having mind-blowing sex in the club. Maybe it was the fact they'd been apart for so long. It had been since before Klaus had taken her that they'd made love and her body had missed him. Then again, they'd always been like horny teenagers around each other.
The rough material of his pants against her bare sex made her inhale sharply. "My torn panties are still in that office."
"No, Love," he groaned, reaching into his pocket and showing her a bundle of shredded lace. "I would never leave anything of yours behind for someone else to find and touch. No one else gets to smell you on their fingers."
God, did every woman get so turned on by this kind of talk?
With greedy hands, Damon pushed a strap of her dress aside, kissing the exposed skin, making her head fall to the side.
"Elena," Damon moaned against her shoulder, his fingers softly outlining the curve of her breasts. Usually, that move made her eyes roll back in her head, but now, her eyes were focused on something else entirely. And he noticed her lack of response.
"What's wrong?" he asked, following her gaze.
Her heart thundering, she grabbed the sheet of paper that had slid under the coffee table and sat up, ignoring the way Damon muttered curses as she did.
"What is this?" she asked, staring at a drawing.
Damon tugged her into his side so he could get a look. "That's the White Oak Stake, Love."
"That is the White Oak Stake?" Oh, fuck me.
"Yes," Damon said, picking up on her suddenly serious mood. "Why?"
"Because I've seen this before," she whispered, her eyes wide on his. "Damon, I think there's a second one out there. And I know where to find it."
Damon straightened up. "Where?" he asked as the front door opened and the others spilled inside
"How fast can you get me to New Orleans?"
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