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The vampire pressed forward, his teeth scraping at Damon’s throat, and Damon yanked away. The vampire’s body was warm, as warm as a human’s, and his breath was hot and fetid, like something rotten. Damon shoved at him, trying to get some leverage to snap his neck. But his weight was too much—his canines sank into Damon’s throat, tearing at it.
The bite burned like fire, and Damon thrashed, trying to get free.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught more movement. Another vampire. Two vampires. No.
With a fresh surge of strength, Damon struggled harder, rolling over and slamming the larger vampire down against the asphalt of the parking lot. He needed to get up before the other two got to Elena. Maybe they couldn’t kill her, not with their bite, but they could take her, and Jack knew Elena’s secret. It was unlikely that she’d be able to raise her Guardian Powers against them—they weren’t her target, and she had no time to coax her Power to the surface.
He and the artificial vampire were gripping each other tight now, straining against each other. The other vampire’s muscles bulged with effort. Slowly, his teeth gritted, Damon forced his opponent’s arms back down and pinned them against the pavement, enjoying the expression of shock on his face.
He snapped the other vampire’s neck quickly and watched as his eyes glazed over. That would keep him down for a little while. Damon leaped gracefully to his feet.
As he turned, he heard a heavy thump. Behind him, a tall light-haired vampire had fallen at Elena’s feet, a stake protruding from his chest. The third vampire, a woman, hesitated, staring at Elena.
Before the fallen recovered, Damon took two long steps over and snapped her neck quickly. “That’ll knock her out longer than the stake,” he told Elena, and bent to snap the neck of the third vampire as well.
“We’d better get out of here while we can,” Elena said. She bent to tug her stake, with an audible huff of effort, from the tall vampire’s chest. Efficiently, she wiped it on a tissue and tucked the stake back into her purse.
“Nicely done,” Damon said, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t seem frightened, and there was nothing but adrenaline-fueled excitement and a certain smug pleasure coming through their bond. “You don’t need too much protecting, do you, Guardian?” Elena smirked at him, and he felt her spark of pride.
Then her face fell. The pride shifted to shock, then fear. “You’re hurt,” she said.
“Oh,” Damon said, reaching up to touch the bite. The blood was still trickling down his neck, hot and painful. He’d forgotten for a moment in his concern for Elena. “I’m all right. ”
“No,” Elena said. “Come here. ” She leaned back against the side of the car and pulled open the neck of her shirt, brushing back her hair from her throat. She cocked her head invitingly.
He could see the delicate veins beneath her skin, and his breath caught. Elena would be so soft, he knew, her neck like warm satin beneath his lips and teeth. And her blood was rich and sweet.
“Hurry,” she said urgently. “They’ll be waking up soon. ”
Damon wanted. He really did.
But he swallowed and dragged his eyes away from her, licking his lips.
When he’d fed from her before, she’d turned away from him. She hadn’t wanted him to see inside her mind, hadn’t wanted him any closer than the bond between them already brought them.
He didn’t just want her blood. When he drank from Elena, he didn’t want it to be about food.
“No thank you, princess,” he said. “I’m fine. ”
“Don’t be chivalrous, Damon,” Elena said, irritated. “You need this. ”
Damon stared down at his feet. “Better not,” he said. “We need to get going. ” He took a quick breath, and then looked up at Elena again, shooting her his most brilliant smile. “I really am perfectly fine. It’s healing already. ” He brought his hand up to his neck, and found that it was true: The bite was messy and painful, but the wound was clotting.
Before she could argue, he opened his car door and reached over to unlock hers. Once they were in, he pulled out, tires squealing. The false vampires were already beginning to stir.
Elena felt a bit petulant, he thought, cautiously checking their bond—his princess liked everyone to fall in line with her plans—and he concentrated on shutting down the connection between them, trying to broadcast only thoughts about the road ahead.
He didn’t know if she could feel the small bitter ache in his chest, but he surrounded it with layers of don’t ask and private and hoped she would mind her own business.
“You’re being an idiot,” Elena told him sharply. Damon winced and didn’t answer. The warmth that had echoed through their bond earlier was gone.
He couldn’t bear to drink from her anymore.
It was an exquisite torture, tasting her sweetness, reaching out for her mind, her soul—only to have Elena pull away. Sharing blood like that should be for lovers, the most intimate connection there was.
Damon was tired of letting himself pretend. Stefan—his irritating, noble, beloved little brother—was dead, but he still occupied Elena’s heart. And if Damon couldn’t have that place, if that part of Elena was going to be closed to him, he had to let it go.
Chapter 22
