The Return: Shadow Souls

The deceptively light drink had gone to her head, making her tipsy. Everything had taken on an unreal, dreamlike quality.

“It will finish healing well now,” Damon said, again touching her hair so softly that she could barely feel it. But this time she did feel it, because she sent out fingers of Power to meet the sensation and enjoy every moment of it. And once again he kissed her — so lightly — his lips barely brushing hers. When her head fell back, though, he didn’t follow, even when, disappointed, she tried to put pressure on the back of his neck. He simply waited until Elena thought things out…slowly.

We shouldn’t be kissing. Meredith and Bonnie are right next door. How do I get myself in situations like this? But Damon isn’t even trying to kiss…and we’re supposed to be — oh!

Her other wounds.

They really hurt now. What cruel person had thought up a whip like that, Elena thought, with a razor-thin lash that cut so deeply it didn’t even hurt at first — or not that much…but got worse and worse over time? And kept bleeding…we’re supposed to be stopping the bleeding until the doctor can see me….

But her next wound, the one that burned like fire now, was diagonally across her collarbone. And the third was near her knee….

Damon started to get up, to get another cloth from the sink and cleanse the cut with water.

Elena held him back. “No.”

“No? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“All I want to do is cleanse it….”

“I know.” She did know. His mind was open to hers, all its turbulent power running clear and tranquilly. She didn’t know why it had opened to her like this, but it had.

“But let me advise you, don’t go donating your blood to some dying vampire; don’t let anyone sample it. It’s worse than Black Magic—”

“Worse?” She knew he was complimenting her, but she didn’t understand.

“The more you drink, the more you want to drink,” Damon answered, and for a moment Elena saw the turbulence she had caused in those calm waters. “And the more you drink, the more Power you can absorb,” he added seriously. Elena realized that she had never even thought of this as a problem, but it was. She remembered the agony it had been to try to absorb her own aura before she had learned how to keep it moving with her bloodstream.

“Don’t worry,” he added, still serious. “I know who you’re thinking about.” He made a move again to get a cloth. But without knowing it, he had said too much, presumed too far.

“You know who I’m thinking about?” Elena said softly, and she was surprised at how dangerous her own voice could sound, like the soft padding of heavy tigress feet. “Without asking me?”

Damon tried to finesse his way out. “Well, I assumed….”

“No one knows what I’m thinking about,” Elena said. “Until I tell them.” She moved and made him kneel to look at her, questioningly.

Hungrily.

Then, just as it was she who had made him kneel, it was she who drew him to her wound.

18

Elena came back to the real world slowly, fighting it all the way. She sank her nails into the leather of Damon’s jacket, found herself wondering briefly if removing it would help, and then her mood was shattered again by that sound — a sharp, imperative knock.

Damon raised his head and snarled.

We are a pair of wolves, aren’t we? Elena thought. Fighting nail and tooth.

But, another part of her mind supplied, that isn’t stopping the knocking. He warned those girls….

Those girls! Bonnie and Meredith! And he’d said not to interrupt unless the house was on fire!

But, the doctor — oh, God, something’s happened to that poor, wretched woman! She’s dying!

Damon was still snarling, a trace of blood on his lips. It was only a trace, because her second wound had really been healed just as thoroughly as the first, the one across her cheekbone. Elena had no idea how long it had been since she had pulled Damon to her to kiss this cut. But now, with her blood in his veins and his pleasure interrupted, he was like an untamed black panther in her arms.

She didn’t know whether she could stop him or even slow him down without using raw Power on him.

“Damon!” she said aloud. “Out there — those are our friends. Remember? Bonnie and Meredith and the healer.”

“Meredith,” Damon said, and again his lips peeled back, exposing terrifyingly long canines. He still wasn’t in reality. If he saw Meredith now, he wouldn’t be frightened, Elena thought — and, oh yes, she knew how her logical, thoughtful friend made Damon uneasy. They saw the world through such different eyes. She irked him like a pebble in his shoe. But right now he might deal with that unease in a way that would leave Meredith a savaged corpse.

“Let me go see,” she said, as the knock came again — couldn’t they stop that? Didn’t she have enough to deal with?

Damon’s arms merely tightened around her. She felt a flash of heat, because she knew that, even as he restrained her, he was holding back so much of his strength. He didn’t want to crush her, as he could if he used a tenth of the power in his hard muscles alone.

The wave of feeling that washed over her made her shut her eyes briefly, helplessly, but she knew she had to be the voice of sanity here.

“Damon! They could be warning us — or Ulma may have died.”

Death got through to him. His eyes were slits, the bloodred light from the kitchen shutters throwing bars of scarlet and black across his face, making him look more handsome — and more demonic — than ever.

“You’ll stay here.” Damon said it flatly, with no idea of being a “master” or a “gentleman.” He was a wild beast protecting his mate, the only creature in the world that wasn’t competition or food.

There was no arguing with him, not in this state. Elena would stay here. Damon would go to do whatever needed to be done. And Elena would stay for as long as he thought necessary.

Elena truly didn’t know whose thoughts these last were. She and Damon were still trying to untangle their emotions. She decided to watch him and only if he really got out of control…

You don’t want to see me out of control.

Feeling him snap from raw animal instinct to icy, perfect mental dominance was even scarier than the animal alone. She didn’t know whether Damon was the sanest person she had ever met or just the one best able to cover up his wildness. She held her torn blouse together and watched as he moved with effortless grace to the door and then, suddenly, violently, wrenched it almost off its hinges.

No one fell; no one had been listening in on their private conversation. But Meredith stood, restraining Bonnie with one hand, and with the other hand raised, ready to knock again.

“Yes?” Damon said in glacial tones. “I thought I told you—”

“You did, and there is,” Meredith said, interrupting this Damon in an unusual attempt to commit suicide.

“There is what?” Damon snarled.

“There’s a mob outside threatening to burn the whole building down. I don’t know if they’re upset about Drohzne, or about us taking Ulma, but they’re enraged about something, and they’ve got torches. I didn’t want to interrupt Elena’s — treatment — but Dr. Meggar says they won’t listen to him. He’s a human.”

“He used to be a slave,” Bonnie added, wresting free of the chokehold that Meredith had on her. She looked up at Damon with streaming brown eyes, hands outstretched. “Only you can save us,” she said, translating the message of her gaze aloud — which meant that things were really serious.

“All right, all right. I’ll go take care of them. You take care of Elena.”

“Of course, but—”

“No.” Damon had either gone reckless with the blood — and the memories that were still keeping Elena from forming a coherent sentence — or he had somehow overcome all his fear of Meredith. He put a hand on each of her