Blood Will Tell (The Vampire Diaries 4.5)

what desperate situation was in front, he would have mistrusted

himself. The gallantry of these two girls in facing a horror all humans

shared made him admire them almost too much. He had no fears of forgetting Elena for a millisecond, but both Bonnie and Meredith, in their own ways, were so dear to him, so fine in their characters and in their graceful bodies, that tonight he was close to loving them.

And what that could lead to, while he was drinking their blood . . . . . .

“We’re your friends,” Meredith said, still helping him, as they sat. “Friends pooling their strength—out of lovingkindness—for the sake of all the ignorant people who don’t even know they’re in danger.”

Lovingkindness, now there was an apt word. Had it been used since the days of long skirts and governesses? But it was exactly right. Meredith and Bonnie both knew the value of lovingkindness.

Then Meredith did something that would seem to offset what she had just said.

Deliberately, she snapped the lamp beside her on. This brightened the room so much that Stefan found it almost painful; Mrs. Flower’s had changed his lowwattage bulb for a slightly higher one. But it also seemed to bring the matter into the sane, level ground of the daylight world. It acted as a shock and a restorative for both of them.

“I want this in the light,” she said. “No vampire mind control—I won’t need it. I’ve made up my own mind, and I’ll stick to my decision; if you can believe that.”

“Yes,” Stefan said simply. He added, “I’ll do my best without controlling your mind. I know how—uneasy—you are about anything interfering with your thoughts.” Meredith smiled, a little sadly. “That’s not the only issue, my friend, and I think you know it. But if you don’t mind . . .”

“I don’t mind.”

And then for a moment they both just sat, looking at each other in the toobright light, searching each other’s eyes, and neither of them able to think of a thing to say.

Finally Stefan said, somewhat huskily, “We should really . . .”

“ . . . get started.” Meredith nodded. She unbuttoned her blouse again. “Just . . .

tell me what to do . . .”

Terrified. She was terrified. Stefan made himself smile warmly, and he held out an arm wide for her to rest against, but all the time his mind was racing wildly through options.

Terrified meant that she would rebel. He had promised not to use mind control. She would experience agonizing pain; she might even lose her balanced, diamondbright mind.

He was about to put her through hell.

What could he do to help her? How could he get her past the fear that was making her rigid in his arm, with little tremors running through her? He knew what she was thinking about: the crystalline fangs with their double sting and the long, frozen moments after as her life substance leaked away.

And then he thought of something. A “Plan C,” as Elena might have said.

“Meredith, could you shut your eyes for a moment?” he asked, his voice still husky. “I wanted to ask you something and it’s a little embarrassing. I remember one thing Elena told me, and that was that you used to—well, to take on her discarded boyfriends for a little while, to comfort them, before turning them lose in the world again. And I was wondering—

could you think of me that way?”

Meredith’s eyes flew open and her held breath exploded in laughter. “You!”

“I fulfill all the requirements, I’m sure. Low selfesteem. Can’t sleep, can’t eat. I think about Elena night and day. I can’t picture myself—ever?

?wanting another girl—” Meredith laughed and laughed and the tension that had been holding her rigid broke.

“All right, all right. You’re an Elena’sex. Join the very large club. But what can I do for you?”

“Meredith, my friend, my sane, levelheaded friend . . . for a few minutes, will you pretend with me? Just for a few minutes will you pretend that everything we’re doing here is not for a desperate cause?”

Meredith’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “What are you saying, Stefan? What is it you want?”

Always so forthright. Stefan felt a wave of relief. Meredith was very close to full womanhood—although she had probably been that way since she was twelve or thirteen.

She was not a tightly closed blossom, but a fragrant, soft rose in full bloom. He could treat her as an adult.