Chapter 50: Leap of Faith
ELENA
I open my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and my nose realizes where I am before I do. Almond wood polish, but with no hint of leather to bring texture to the sweetness. My heart drops into my stomach.
I didn't let myself admit how much I was hoping he'd be here when I woke up. I sit up in bed and look around the guest bedroom that is supposed to be mine now. I never heard Damon leave his room last night. He could have snuck out after I was asleep, I guess. I hold my breath and listen, but I can't hear a single sound from this wing of the house.
God, what was I thinking last night with that crazy towel stunt? Tossing it back to him after he'd handed it to me so sweetly, giving himself away right in the middle of our argument? He probably didn't even understand what it meant, because he didn't think about why he'd given it to me in the first place. He just did it because he loves me and he couldn't stand to see me hurting and vulnerable. Just like I couldn't stand to see it in him.
But since he's not here it's obviously going to take a lot more than a towel to convince him that he's lovable.
I bite my lip hard and remind myself that I'm not going to cry. I'm right, damn it. He loves me too much to leave. I'll just get up every morning and put myself through whatever he wants to throw at me until he understands that it's safe. That I won't leave when it gets hard.
I shouldn't have walked out last night with that little snipe about Katherine. I should have explained until he understood.
No one that loves him has ever really left him. We can't.
Katherine talks a good game, but she's been watching him and sometimes playing guardian angel for him since 1864. Stefan's spent his whole life longing for his brother, even when they were supposed to be enemies.
Not even Ric will leave him. Through countless deaths and a psychotic break he's still hanging around for his best friend, even though they can't see each other or say a single word.
That's the magic. When Damon loves, he gives it everything he has.
We can't help but do the same, even when our bodies and our souls and our lives buckle under the strain.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
He's still here. He has to be.
And if he isn't, I'll go after him and drag him back here kicking and screaming and saying terrible, hurtful things to me. I can do this and I can keep doing it as long as I have to.
With that in mind, I get up to shower and dress. I tell myself that I'm not going to check every room in the house. He might have gone out for a while. That doesn't mean he's gone.
Even so, I don't make it past his door without peeking inside. The room is empty, the bed made, not a trace showing of our debauchery last night. I wonder what he did with my lingerie. I still can't quite believe I had the guts to try that.
I descend the stairs, my shoulders squared against whatever he can throw at me today. He's already said all the worst things I can imagine. He has to run low on ammunition soon.
I can hear someone moving around in the kitchen and my heart jumps eagerly. Stefan never cooks. Caroline's been coming over a lot lately, but not this early in the morning. I stop in the doorway and smile, because I can't help myself. Damon's wearing dark jeans and a soft grey Henley and he looks like fresh water trickling through sun-scorched dunes.
"Morning," I tell him, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he drawls, flashing me a quick smirk on his way to the sink.
I raise my eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, waiting to see what his game is.
"Hungry?" he asks.
"Why, is Steve in the living room?" I ask dryly.
"Francois," he says with a flawless French accent and a wink that does nothing to hide the uncertainty in his eyes. "Thought I'd give you a taste of class."
He takes a skillet out of the dish drying rack and flips it up in the air, catching it neatly by the handle. "Or, for the less adventurous, bacon." He waggles his eyebrows. "A favorite of the lady, I think."
"Well, somebody's in a good mood," I comment, the first hints of hope tickling the bottom of my ribs.
"Shh," he says, laying a finger across his lips and giving me a little eye action. "I got laid," he whispers.
"Anybody I know?" I tease.
"I doubt it," he says. "Crazy little minx. You wouldn't believe the moves she had." He growls appreciatively.
I laugh. "You mean the move where she tried to do the sexy walk and tripped over her own high heels? Super classy. I bet she could teach Francois a thing or two."
"Are you kidding?" Damon asks, giving an exaggerated shiver as his eyes flare with heat. "That was the best part. That little stumble slayed me. I'm getting hard just thinking about it."
"Really?" I challenge.
"Mmm-hmm," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sensual half-smile as he drops the skillet back onto the counter. "You better check. I'm a big liar. Huge."
I smile and give my hips a little extra swing as I cross the room toward him. He never did have the first clue about how to apologize.
He doesn't dare reach for me, even when I'm right in front of him. So it's up to me to stretch up on my toes, my lips meeting his in a kiss that holds dozens of apologies that he owes me, that I owe him; regrets and guilt and absolution giving way before pure need because not a syllable of it matters more than touching him.
Our kiss breaks along with his restraint as we lunge at each other, holding on with all the desperation of the last few horrible days. As soon as I touch him, he starts to shake, the fear that I saw in his eyes bleeding out through his limbs.
When his knees give out I go to the floor with him, our limbs tangling together, his head held securely in the hollow of my throat. The knob on the cabinet is digging into my temple. I can smell the salt of his tears, but I pretend that I can't.
"Oh God, Elena, I-" he whispers hoarsely but I free a hand and touch his lips before he can finish.
"Don't. I know. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
I try to breathe him in around the lump in my throat, around the joy and tears battling for my eyes, around the memory of everything that's happened.
There are footsteps coming downstairs and I would bet for once Damon didn't hear them. I'm not ready, not willing to let anyone else into our moment so I pull Damon to his feet, deliberately not taking note of the way he scrubs a careless hand over his face.
"Take me for a walk?" I ask, but I'm already tugging him toward the back door. He glances at me, his eyes bewildered as if he's not yet quite anchored in this new reality.
I smile. "Or maybe…run?"
His eyes gleam and his lips curve just a little. "I doubt you can keep up, kiddo."
I make my eyes wide. "No?"
He opens his mouth to issue a challenge but I'm already darting through the trees, the soles of my boots liquid with speed.
I can hear his footsteps racing like a heartbeat through the forest and I leave a giggle behind for him, swept free of my lips by the wind that can't quite keep up with me.
There's no reason to slow, because we're still running.
But not away.
DAMON
I'm grinning as I run, the air cold against my teeth and clean of the tang of rusty bars, neatsfoot-oiled ghosts, guilt-ridden lace. And for the first time in 146 years, I need that air more than I need blood.
I'm kicking up damp forest dirt, dodging trees and vaulting bushes because there's nothing weighing me down. All that's ahead of me is the possibility of sweet laughter and a flash of dark, earth-colored hair as she darts just out of sight again.
I got up this morning and went down to the kitchen because it was the only way to get the taunt of her words out of my head.
If you were going, you would have left days ago.
She's right. I don't know how to go but I don't know how to stay.
So instead I cooked eggs, because I do know how to do that. I cooked every fucking egg in the house.
Eighteen of them, one right after another. Edges round and fluffy, not a single one singed.
I watched each one go cold before I had the chance to offer it to her.
And then I washed the dishes because she still hadn't come downstairs yet. When there was nothing else left, I stared into the sink and prayed to a God I don't believe in that for once, I could have words.
Words to spread out in offering to a girl that I love like the sun loves the ground. Words to envelop everything I've done. Words that would make her want to touch me the way only Elena has ever touched me.
And somehow, she heard them. Every sound I couldn't begin to form was already tucked away behind her warm eyes when she leaned against the doorframe and smiled at me, playing along.
Nobody deserves that, least of all me.
But I don't think Elena knows that. And if she does, she doesn't care.
I push my exultant legs for more speed and I catch sight of her hair, streaming out behind her like a banner waving just for me.
I catch her with an arm around her waist and we both spin out of control, crashing into the ground and rolling, laughing, holding on tight.
She's kissing me and shredding my shirt as we tumble so that when we stop, she's draped across my naked chest, grinning down at me.
"Now how fair is that?" I scold.
She winks and grabs the front of her shirt, ripping through her bra and top in one swift move.
"Better?" she asks, but I'm choking on my good luck. Her breasts are too beautiful to look at, too much more than I should have after last night, after all the ways I've hurt her.
She sees the tremor in my eyes and steadies my face between her hands.
"I'm sorry," I try, my voice raking my throat.
She bends to me, resting her forehead against mine and holding me tightly. "Shh, Damon. You're alright. We're alright."
"I fucked up. I always fuck up. I thought if you loved me I'd do better, but somehow I think I might be worse and damn it, Elena, I know I should sometimes but I don't want to go," I tell her wretchedly.
"You don't have to," she whispers. "This is your home now. You're not going anywhere and neither am I."
"But I-" I don't even know where to start.
"I know," she tells me again, pulling back and looking me steadily in the eye. "I screw up too, especially with you and I just...I know, Damon."
I swallow, lost.
Elena kisses me, her breasts and lips and stomach soft against mine. I thread my fingers into her hair and hope she never makes me let go. She wraps a leg around my hip, squeezing me closer and I hate the roughness of denim between us, so I sacrifice one hand for long enough to tear away the offending fabric. She doesn't make it easy for me, clinging so tightly that it's hard to rid us both of the last threads.
But then it's better, skin against skin everywhere. I don't protest when she reaches between us and brings me inside of her with no foreplay because this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with need.
And for all the clothes and beds and lives I've slipped into and out of over the years, this is the first time I've felt truly naked, truly held. Truly safe.
I draw her knee up over my hip, not breaking eye contact as I pull out then push slowly back inside. Her body accepts me eagerly and the sweet friction runs goosebumps all down the backs of my legs.
I whisper her name and tilt my head back, baring my throat to her.
She hesitates, her hand clenching nervously on my arm. I close my eyes, trusting her. She kisses my throat with trembling lips and presses her fangs to me but then flinches away, panting as she tries to restrain herself. She's trying to be gentle, but I damn well know she hasn't been feeding often enough and she's too hungry.
I grip the back of her neck and thrust my hips forward. She cries out, her leg tightening around me and she strikes. Her bite is less than precise but I couldn't care less. I want her fangs in me. And somehow, God, somehow she still wants it too.
Her tongue rasps against my wounded skin, receiving me. She makes a throaty little purr of satisfaction and my cock swells inside of her in response, heat sweeping from my scalp to my toes at her approval of my taste. Too soon, she pulls back, my veins closing.
"Damon," she breathes, pulling my head into her neck. I nuzzle her precious skin, ignoring my fangs pricking my lower lip.
"Please," she says, her fingernails digging into the back of my neck.
And God, what could I ever deny her? I slide my fangs in soundlessly and let her blood well around my teeth, clean and hot. She tastes sweet and sacred and dangerous. The link between us thrums, gasps and heartbeats and urgent sensuality all the same sound. My name and hers on moans and lips and thoughts, calling to each other.
Answering.
I salute her skin with a kiss and let it heal, because there's no reason to keep the door open when we're already inside.
I roll Elena onto her back and her legs and eyes embrace me as one. She pulses through my veins as I rock deeper into her, memorizing how it feels to be to be known. To be forgiven.
To be loved.
# # #
The canopy of leaves above us filters light in shades of green and gold onto the forest floor. There are twigs digging into my bare hip and the dirt smells damp and rich beneath us. I've never been much of a nature lover, but with Elena's nude form adorning this small clearing, I think I could be a convert.
"Are you cold?"
She smiles up at me. "With you around? Not likely."
I stroke her tangled hair back from her face. "I know you said I didn't have to explain, but I have to say something."
Wariness flickers in her eyes and I cradle her cheek in my palm, wishing I'd never given her a reason to be nervous about my words.
"This whole spell thing... I want you to know it was never that you weren't enough, that I wouldn't love you without magic being involved."
She starts to respond, but I lay a finger across her lips. "It was that I never felt in control around you. Not that I'm ever all that great at planning ahead, but when you were involved I did all kinds of things I thought I'd never do and I didn't even care." I toy with her hair while she watches me quietly, her eyes luminous in the early morning light. "I wanted to believe that was just a spell. That you couldn't have changed me as much as you have."
She rolls her eyes.
"Ouch," I say, wincing. "I know I'm not that great with the feelings speeches, but I was actually trying for a change and all I get is the eye roll?"
"Weren't you listening, Damon? That's how I feel and nobody ever said I was spelled. That's why I fought my feelings for you for so long, that's why I half-killed myself trying not to have sex with you." She bites her lip, her fingers tracing my collarbone. "I don't think it's magic, I think it's just us."
"I wish you looked happier about that."
"I don't mind being crazy in love with you," she tilts her head, looking me steadily in the eye. "But loving someone means losing them, eventually. You can't run from that, or it just happens sooner."
"I know," I tell her, my voice all broken, scraping stone. I should have lost her. I should have lost her dozens of times, being who I am, doing what I do. I have to clear my throat to continue, because it squeezes down around the truth as if to keep it from escaping. "I just don't know how to stop waiting for you to change your mind."
And suddenly I can't keep the words inside me anymore, no matter how much I want to forget what I've done. No matter how much I want to take her forgiveness and run with it before she can take it back.
"Last night, Elena, I shouldn't have done those things to you. I was out of control, I wanted to make you feel things you didn't want to feel, I-" I glance away because there are tears in my eyes again and this time I don't think I can blink or run or joke them away. I can still see the red chafe marks around her wrists from that belt. I can hear her calling out my name when she was afraid. "I fucked you like you were just some girl," I tell her, my voice breaking. "I scared you and pushed you too hard and God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Hey," she says urgently, pulling me tight against her, her hands roaming all over me as if she can push those words back away from me. "No, Damon, stop it."
I would beg to be able to take back last night but even if she says I can, I can't. Instead I bite my tongue and let blood fill my mouth. I can't stop the tears that squeeze out from underneath my eyelids but I don't make a sound. I don't breathe or move while Elena cradles me, wrapping her leg over my hip.
"Shh," she tells me anyway, pressing kisses to my forehead. "You didn't do anything to me I didn't want you to do. You were with me the whole time, Damon. I was absolutely safe. I don't care what you're telling yourself, if I would have told you no, you would have stopped."
"You let me do it." My horrified whisper is only a shade above silence. "I think you would have done anything last night to convince me the spell wasn't real. You don't watch out for yourself like you should and last night, I didn't either. Elena, I'm so sorry."
"That's not true," she says fiercely. "I was there last night because you needed me to be, but I never would have let you do something that we would regret. You can trust me. I'll always be there when it's too much for you, just like you've always, always been there for me."
Elena shifts so my face is tucked into the curve between her breasts and her chin. She still has a leg wrapped around my hip and she squeezes me, hugging me with her whole body as she strokes my hair. "Breathe, Damon. Please, don't hurt for me. I'm fine. All I was missing was you."
I try to draw a breath in through my nose but my throat doesn't allow it.
Elena said that the Guardian spell wasn't real and even though there's always a chance that Katherine was lying, I couldn't give less of a fuck.
Elena's scent, the melody of her is seeping into my skin as if she is my armor, the center of my bones, the sound behind my tongue. There was no fucking chance I was going to be able to do without her.
I wonder if loving me is woven all through her now in the same way, so that you can't pull that thread out without unraveling everything. I've never understood what it is about me that she loves but maybe that's the wrong question.
Maybe there's never been a question, or an answer.
I remember how her eyes held no fear last night. How she held her hands out for me to wrap them in my belt. She knew I couldn't be with her any other way just then and she accepted that, accepted me at my worst. And somehow, I ended up better when she was done with me.
Elena wriggles against me and nips the side of my neck with blunt teeth, giggling. The sound makes it easier to breathe, somehow. I can feel the dirt beneath us again, scratchy and fresh.
"You know, we totally destroyed our clothes," she says, sounding smug. "We're hiding in the woods buck naked. If somebody finds us, we'll get a ticket for indecent exposure."
"If somebody finds us, I'll compel them for their clothes and they'll get a ticket for indecent exposure," I tell her.
"What if it's the sheriff?" she challenges. "You'll have to explain what you're doing with me out here, because she takes vervain."
I snort. "If Liz finds us, she'll be way too embarrassed to stick around."
Elena's rubbing my chest, lazily trailing her fingers over me and for the way it feels, I don't think I'm ever going to bother with clothes again.
Elena bites my ear and my cock twitches eagerly in response. "Can I tell you a secret?" she whispers to me.
"Mmm-hmm," I tell her, covering her hand with mine and relaxing into the leaves. I think maybe she's right. I think maybe it's going to be okay.
She edges even closer, her lower lip grazing my earlobe when she speaks. "I liked what you did to me last night."
Heat flares beneath my skin and my traitorous dick starts to swell all over again.
"I think I might..." she falters and she's pressed so close that I can feel her heart rate pick up. "I might like to try it a little rough sometime," she breathes, nuzzling her face into my neck. "If that's okay."
My eyes roll back in my head at her words.
"Elena, you can do whatever you want with me," I tell her and her eyes dilate hungrily, even though this can't possibly be news to her. She kisses me fast and deep, her fangs scoring my lip once when she gets too excited.
"What if I want you to fuck me against a tree?" she asks with a throaty little growl underlying her words as she wraps her fingers around my now-throbbing cock.
I pick her up with one arm around her waist and one hand gripping the nape of her neck, kissing the hell out of her all the way to the nearest tree. I don't know if it's luck or just a perfect fucking fit, but when her back hits the tree, the impact spears me into her and it feels like somebody just switched all my circuits to 'on.'
This time, I don't worry at all about hurting her because her legs, her hands, her tongue are all begging me for more. I slip the leash on my self-control without a second thought, disappearing into the feel of her body.
"Damon!" she cries out, her nails raking me, the sweet pain making me go a little wild. I can hear the primitive noises I'm making but I don't give a damn. I just want to give it to her until she screams, until everyone in the forest hears her.
"Hard," she orders, biting into my shoulder, my blood in her mouth when she moans.
I grab the trunk of the tree, my fingers sinking into tough bark as I use it for leverage so I can thrust deeper, driving myself into her with all the force of my desperation because she said she wants me. Those words are my own personal drug and I'm addicted as all fucking hell.
I come so hard that it hurts and I shout helplessly, in pleasure and painful awe. She wants me anyway.
She's crying out so continuously that I can't tell when her orgasm started, so I just keep stroking her, slowing gradually until I'm just rocking against her. I hold her while she sobs and shakes and tries to come down from something that felt like the end of everything that I understood. Finally, she gasps and relaxes into my arms. I lean against her, my eyelids drifting closed while the tree holds us up.
Something tickles my head and I twitch my nose. Elena's lips move against my temple in a sleepy kiss and I huff out a tired, happy breath. I want to lie down but I'm afraid if I unlock my knees, we'll make it to the ground much faster than I'd like.
"I," I announce. "Like communication."
She giggles and it shakes her whole tiny body. "I don't know," she says coyly. "I may need to try it again. Just to be sure."
"Well, we certainly can't go back to the house," I tell her. "We don't have any damn clothes left."
"Nope," she agrees. "We'll have to stay in the woods forever."
I heave an exaggerated sigh. "Comfort me?"
"Gladly," she says. And she does.
