Chapter Fourteen: Too Old For Kiss Chase

Damon Salvatore

If Damon had a million guesses where he'd be at this point in his life, running through the woods playing an arrestable version of kiss chase would not make the list. He felt ridiculous. Was this crazy predator/prey trope really supposed to be exciting for romance readers? Honestly, how attractive would it be to see your pursuer stumbling through mud and dense underbrush, hands flapping at flying insects, scratching at nettle rashes, getting all sweaty and out of breath, then pausing to shake a stone from his shoe?

No, that was not hypothetical. Damon really did have a stone in his shoe, and yes, he was going to mentally bitch about it. But he would also put on a front and tough it out like a man until he got to the lodge. Elena may hate his guts, but he wasn't about to risk giving her the ick by leaning against a tree, leg raised like a flamingo, while he took off his shoe and tilted, rotated, and shook it like a damn ball-in-a-maze puzzle. If she happened to witness that, he was sure any attempt at kissing her would result in her dry retching.

Not that he was going to kiss Elena if he caught her... not unless she wanted him to. Which she didn't. Of course she didn't. He could kill that pathetic hope right away. He'd just needed Elena out of harm's way, and suggesting this ridiculous trope was the only way he could get her stubborn ass to move – which she did. She moved very fast, proving that she did not want that kiss. In fact, he was pretty sure that if she was given the choice of either kissing him or throwing herself into a bush of poison ivy, she'd choose the latter.

But he did need to catch her... because she had his phone.

And she needed to be caught... because he had her bag.

But she didn't want to be caught. Not by him. That he could guarantee.

He had no idea where he was going – somewhere towards the direction of the lodges since that's where she would be heading. He didn't feel much like a predator – more like a hostage of the supposedly great outdoors. There was no path, and the ground kept alternating between being soft enough to stick to his shoe, and hard enough to send shock waves up his shin. Elena was nowhere in sight, so she had to be navigating this mess of a forest better than he was.

Pausing to regain his bearings, a surprising thump landed unexpectedly on Damon's shoulder, and he spun around to see a stone fall to the floor by his heels. Then Elena dashed out from behind a tree five yards away, overtaking him with a level of grace and sprightliness that Damon didn't possess – like she was a damn fawn frolicking through the woods for fun.

And he'd caught that smirk on her face, so he knew she was having fun – at his expense. Who the hell was supposed to be the prey here? Him or her?

Suddenly, Damon wasn't so sure Elena didn't want to be caught.

Suddenly, this just became a pretty good game.

With Elena still in his line of sight, he ran after her at full speed, ignoring the fact that moments ago he felt like he was wandering through nature's booby trap. While he was trying his best to keep to a straight line, Elena was zigzagging unnecessarily between trees, making it easier for him to catch up to her.

What the hell was she playing at? She had to be taunting him. She was a trained runner – he'd seen online photos of the marathons she'd taken part in – but if this was her thing, he'd have to make a mental note to incorporate more cardio into his weight training.

Swerving to the right, Elena sprinted towards the rear of a lodge, which Damon hoped didn't belong to her. He'd nearly caught up, and maybe it was his competitive streak kicking in, but he was actually starting to enjoy himself.

Elena stopped against the outside wall of the lodge, panting heavily as Damon caged her in with his arms. As she rotated to face him, she was smiling. So was he.

Her smile took on a lopsided stubbornness. "Finally caught up then, slowpoke?"

Damon scoffed. "Don't give me that – you wanted to get caught. I wouldn't have even known where you were if you hadn't thrown that rock at my back."

"That was a mistake," Elena confessed. She paused, smirking. "I was aiming for your head."

"You've got a thing for torturing me, haven't you?" he grinned. "I guess there's only one way to fix that."

He could see Elena swallow her next snarky comeback when he suddenly cupped her under her chin and tilted her face up to his. She was no longer caged in – she was free to run, but she didn't. But she did look nervous. Her eyes darted all over his face. Her bottom lip drew in slightly, then popped back out and parted. Her quick breaths were no longer from exertion. But what was it? Excitement? Apprehension? Fear? Shit, he wished he could read her better.

He wanted to give her the best damn kiss of her life – one that left her craving more and wondering what the hell it was she hated about him – but without knowing if she really wanted it too, he couldn't go ahead with it. She was the queen of mixed signals. Or was he the king of being awful at reading signals?

There was only one way of finding out.

Closing his eyes and lowering his head slowly, his lips rounded to plant an innocent kiss against her forehead.

His lips remained there for a beat as he inhaled the scent of her hair, finding it impossible to let go. Would it be creepy to say he wanted to melt into her and live there happily for all eternity? It sure seemed like a pretty creepy thing to think about at that moment. Certainly not the kind of inner dialogue that made it into romance novels. Horror novels, maybe.

Feeling his creep-o-meter max out, Damon managed to finally move away. Opening his eyes and releasing her chin, the first thing he noticed was that Elena's eyes had been closed too.

Why were her eyes closed? Had she been expecting...?

Uh-oh... had he screwed up?

Elena's eyes suddenly shot open; her pupils half submerged under her eyelids as she glared up at him with a look that could kill. Her upper lip curled.

Oh, shit. Yep, he'd completely screwed up.

Her arms shot out, shoving him against the same bruised chest that was now likely to receive round two of an Elena beating.

"What the hell was that?!" she seethed, shoving him again.

He needed to explain himself before she started breathing fire. "I was being..." A moron. A coward. An idiot. "... a gentleman."

She went rigid with anger. He knew he should have gone with "idiot". But, in his defense, playing this unhinged predator/prey game wasn't exactly the way he'd imagined having his first kiss with Elena. It was the kind of story that would result in extremely awkward silence during their future wedding toasts.

"You... are... terrible at this trope!" she hissed venomously.

"Oh, I'm terrible at hunting down women in the woods and forcing myself on them?" Damon shot back sarcastically. "That's not exactly a skill I wanted on my dating resume, so thank you for the compliment."

"Stop taking everything I say as a compliment!"

"Can I help it if you only have good things to say about me?"

Elena flung her arms to her side, emitting a frustrated bellow into the air. Then she stopped to look around, scanning the floor. This time, she did not need Damon's help finding something to hit him with. The ground was a smorgasbord of potential weapons. She picked up a long, thin branch, raised it above her head, and stalked towards him.

Damon backed up from the caning he was about to receive. "Hey now," he cautioned, "your kinks have gotten just a bit too wild for me."

But Elena swung without hesitation, the branch whistling through the air. Damon barely dodged the first strike, and he watched her eyes burn with determination as she pivoted, adjusting her stance for a second attempt.

Studying her next movement eagle-eyed, Damon grabbed the branch mid-swing, feeling the sting of it hit his palm and reverberate up his wrist as it sliced through the air like a damn katana. Damon gritted his teeth through the pain. This little wannabe samurai was starting to piss him off. He yanked the branch towards him, bringing her forward. "Is this seriously because I didn't kiss you?"

Elena tugged the other end, forcing Damon's arms to straighten. "No," she snapped unconvincingly.

Damon tugged back, whipping Elena's arms forward as she clung on. His eyes widened knowingly. "Bullshit."

A tug-of-war erupted between them: Damon single-handedly pulled on the branch at one end while Elena gripped the other end with both hands, leaning back to use her body weight as leverage. Her heels dug into the dirt, muscles straining as she fought to wrest the branch from his grasp. Damon suppressed a smirk, knowing how easy it would be to let go and have her tumble backward. But the reality of her getting hurt had him tightening his fingers around the branch instead. Her strenuous efforts were kind of cute... like grappling with a Chihuahua.

Suddenly a voice shouted from the front of the lodge. A man in his sixties, holding a fishing rod, had heard the commotion on his way back from the lake. "Is everything okay?" he asked, scratching his short gray beard, unsure what to make of the situation in front of him.

Damon smiled at the man, waving his free hand. "Just a lovers' spat," he reassured him.

Elena jutted her head angrily at Damon, her hair flying in front of her face like she was possessed. "I am not your lover," she growled. "I hate you!"

Damon laughed nervously in the direction of the man. "Women say the craziest things."

The man chuckled back. "My wife acts the same way sometimes." He half-turned, proceeding towards the entrance to his lodge. "It's nothing that can't be rectified with a loving kiss."

"Oh, I'm starting to realize that," Damon said with slow regret, his eyes turning back to the woman who could now nail an audition for a remake of The Exorcist.

As soon as the man disappeared into his lodge, Damon pulled on the branch with both hands, determined to release it from her grasp. But Elena let go too late, stumbling into him and almost losing her footing.

Damon dropped the branch and caught her in his arms, steadying her. "You're okay, I've got you."

Elena felt all her pride diminish. "You don't have me," she grumbled, loosening herself from his embrace but not fully pulling away.

Sensing Elena's anger fading, the exorcism seemingly successful, Damon flattened down her hair tenderly. "I screwed up. I didn't mean to disappoint you."

Surprisingly, Elena looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. "You could still change that if you wanted to."

Wait, what? Was she for real? This girl blew hot and cold like a faulty air conditioner. But her eyes were already closed, waiting for him to make amends, and Damon wasn't going to screw this up a second time. He lowered his mouth, pausing for a moment, expecting her to back out. When he was certain this was what she wanted, his lips gently touched hers. Her hands came up, cupping his jaw. Her mouth parted...

...and, with a flat tongue, she licked halfway up his face.

She released him, stepped back, and grinned. "Now who's disappointed?" Pleased with her revenge, she turned on her heels and ran off once more into the woods.

Wiping his sleeve across his face, Damon called out, "I'm not going to lie, I kind of enjoyed that." Then he sped in her direction before he lost sight of her.

They passed three more lodges before Damon realized he was reaching the one Stefan owned. A memory returned of him chasing his younger brother in this same location. Stefan had dumped a bucket of fish bait over Damon's head for the preteen crime of choosing to sleep instead of taking him fishing at the absurd time of six in the morning. With a handful of dead worms and insects, Damon had then chased him outside and around the building, only to have the last laugh when Stefan tripped over a tree root protruding from the ground. Naturally, he'd comforted him, but the moment the tears stopped, Damon shoved the bait down the back of Stefan's pants and left him squealing while he returned to bed.

Lost in the memory for a second, Damon discovered that he'd also lost sight of Elena.

Then he heard her scream.

He shouted her name as he ran towards her cries of pain. He followed the sound around the corner of Stefan's lodge and saw her on the ground, her face pinched in anguish, clutching at her ankle.

He quickly crouched next to her, panic setting in. "Who hurt you?"

Elena's growl was a crescendo, and at the peak, she grabbed a handful of dirt and dead foliage from the floor and threw it in his face. "You did!" she spat. "You hurt me!"

As she rolled onto her front, attempting to push herself to her feet, Damon noticed the same protruding tree root that had taken down his brother all those years ago. He kicked it in retaliation but only succeeded in stubbing his toe.

Leaning against the outside wall, Elena tried to put weight on her foot, but instantly lifted it with a yelp.

Damon ran over to her, tucking himself under her arm to support her. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"No, I don't want you to carry me," she grumbled. "Just help me inside."

As she hopped towards the front of the lodge, her arm squeezing against the side of Damon's neck with each movement, he asked, "How did you know this was mine?"

"How did I know what was yours?" she grunted.

"The fishing lodge," he answered.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

Damon wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he didn't probe further. Rounding the corner of the wooden building, he sat her down on the front steps, her back against the banister, while he took his keys from his pocket and walked up to the door. He put the key in the lock, turned, and pushed it open.

Elena stared at the door, wide-eyed. "How did you do that?"

Damon dangled the keys in his hand. "You need me to explain how keys work?" he asked, confused. "Did you hit your head?"

"This lodge doesn't belong to you," she said with conviction.

"Well, technically it belongs to my brother," he replied dismissively. For obvious reasons, he didn't want to get into that. He walked back to Elena, taking her hand to help her onto her feet, while she scanned behind him in alarm, scrutinizing the building. "I'm just getting you inside," he reassured her slowly. "I only want to check you're okay, then I can help you to your lodge later."

"This is my lodge," she insisted sharply. "I'm renting it from a friend, Stefan..."

Uh-oh!

Her voice trailed off, and her expression flickered as she lingered wordlessly on the surname. Damon watched her, frozen. There was no way out of this – she'd just seen him open the door – heard him confess that the lodge belonged to his brother.

The same brother who had also given her a key.

The cogs were turning, and then Elena slowly narrowed her eyes at him. She'd figured it out. The hint about his surname being "Savior"... where he'd managed to get a copy of her key to break into her apartment... the whole nine yards.

Damon shook his head, letting his disastrous luck sink in. "Come inside and I'll..." He sighed heavily. "...find you something to hit me with."