The shower’s spray had been very helpful, too — at concealing the teardrops that kept flowing down Elena’s cheeks. She could — oh, dear heaven — count and feel each one of his ribs. He was just bones and skin, her beautiful Stefan, but his green eyes were alive, sparkling and dancing in his pale face.
After they were dressed in nightclothes they simply sat on the bed for a little while. Sitting together, both breathing — Stefan had got into the habit from being around humans so much and, recently, from trying to eke out the small amount of nutrition he received — in synchronicity, and both
Elena was swallowing and swallowing, trying to make a start in a conversation, felt herself practically radiating bliss. Oh, I never want anything more, she thought, although she knew that soon enough she would want to talk, and to hold, and to kiss, and to feed Stefan. But if someone had asked her if she would have accepted just this, sitting together, communicating by touch and love alone, she would have accepted it.
Before she knew it, she was talking, words that came like bubbles out of molasses, only these were bubbles from her soul. “I thought that somehow I might lose this time. That I’d won so many times, and that this time something would teach me a lesson and you…wouldn’t make it.”
Stefan was still wondering over her hand, bending industriously to kiss each separate finger. “You call ‘winning’ dying in pain and sunlight to save my worthless life — and my even more worthless brother’s?”
“I call this a better kind of winning,” Elena admitted. “Any time we get to be together is winning. Any moment — even in that dungeon…”
Stefan winced, but Elena had to finish her thought. “Even there, to look in your eyes, to touch your hand, to know that you were looking at me and touching me — and that you were happy — well, that’s winning, in my book.”
Stefan lifted his eyes to hers. In the dim light, the green looked suddenly dark and mysterious. “And one more thing,” he whispered. “Because I am what I am…and because your crowning glory isn’t that glorious golden cloud of hair, but an aura that is…ineffable. Indescribable. Beyond any words…”
Elena had thought they would sit and simply gaze at each other, drowning in each other’s eyes, but that wasn’t happening. Stefan’s expression had slipped and Elena realized how close to bloodlust — and to death — he still really was.
Hurriedly, Elena pulled her damp hair to one side of her neck, and then she leaned back, knowing Stefan would catch her.
He did this, but although Elena tilted her chin back, he tilted it down in his two hands to look at her.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he asked.
His entire face was masked now, enigmatic and strangely thrilling. “I don’t think you do,” he whispered. “I’ve watched and watched how you were willing to do anything,
Delicious shivers were going down Elena’s spine.
“Then you’d better show me,” she whispered. “Or I might not believe that you mean it—”
“I’ll show you what I mean,” Stefan whispered back. But when he bent down it was to kiss her softly. The feelings inside Elena — that this starving creature wanted to kiss her instead of going at once for her throat, reached a peak that she could not explain in thoughts or words, but only by drawing Stefan’s head so that his mouth rested on her neck.
“Please,” she said. “Oh, Stefan,
Then she felt the quick sacrificial pains, and then Stefan was drinking her blood, and her mind, which had been fluttering around like a bird in a lighted room, now saw its nest and its mate and swooped up and up and up to at last reach unity with its best-beloved.
After that there was no need for clumsy things like words. They communicated in thoughts as pure and clear as shimmering gems, and Elena rejoiced because all of Stefan’s mind was open to her, and none of it was walled off or dark and there were no boulders of secrets or chained and weeping children…
Stefan broke off, knowing the answer, even before Elena’s lightning-swift thought could tell him. Elena felt the clear green wave of his pity, spiced by the natural anger of a young man who has gone through the depths of hell, but untainted by the terrible black poison of hatred of brother for brother.
When Elena had finished explaining all she knew about Damon’s mental processes, she said,
Elena wrapped him in a tight embrace, stopped, worried that it was too tight, and glanced at him. He smiled and shook his head. He was already looking like a person rather than a death camp survivor.
But one look at Stefan was enough to assure her that she was doing the right thing.
They clung to each other.
It wasn’t as hard as Elena had imagined it would be — handing Stefan over to other humans to be bled. Stefan had a clean pair of pajamas on, and the first thing he said to all three donors was, “If you get frightened or change your mind, just say so. I can hear perfectly well, and I’m not in bloodlust. And anyway, I’ll probably sense it if you’re not enjoying it before you do, and I’ll stop. And finally — thank you — thank you all. I’ve decided to break my oath tonight because there’s still some little chance that if I slept I wouldn’t wake up tomorrow without you.”
Bonnie was horrified and indignant and furious. “You mean you couldn’t sleep
“I did fall asleep from time to time, but thank fortune — thank
And then she set up a schedule, with Stefan being fed every hour on the hour, and then she and the others left the first volunteer, Bonnie, alone, so as to be more comfortable.
It was the next morning. Damon had already been out to visit Leigh, the antiques-seller’s niece, who had seemed very glad to see him. And now he was back, to look with scorn at the slug-a-beds who were distributed all around the boardinghouse.
That was when he saw the bouquet.
It was heavily sealed down with wards — amulets to help get it through the dimensional gap. There was something powerful in there.
Damon cocked his head to one side.
Hmm…I wonder what?