Paradise Lost (The Vampire Diaries 20)

“Well . . . okay.” Margaret looked relieved.

Aunt Judith was looking over her shoulder. “I do wish,” she said nervously to Elena, “that Damon hadn’t invited his old landlady to come here. Dr. Alpert is one thing, and makes sense given the situation, but that scatterbrained old woman—”

“Mrs. Flowers!” Elena cried in genuine pleasure. “Is she here? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Please have her come in to say hello.”

“All right,” Aunt Judith said reluctantly, as she and Robert turned to leave. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

In minutes Elena was receiving the genteel hug of the white-haired woman. “Thank you so much for coming. I wish I’d known earlier that you were waiting.”

“Well, I got in a nice nap while everyone else was bustling around,” Mrs. Flowers said. “I’m delighted that you’ve made such a spectacular recovery, my dear.”

“I’m just . . . trying not to think about it, really,” Elena said, wishing that the chilly ache in her arm where the IV went in would subside. “I don’t see what the point is, since the doctors themselves can’t figure it out.”

“That’s a good idea, to just ignore it,” Dr. Alpert said from behind Mrs. Flowers. “Don’t worry over anything that you can help.” She ran her fingers through short iron-gray hair before hugging Elena carefully. “Call me any time you like.”

“I will,” Elena promised, touched. She smiled at the two women: Mrs. Flowers, fragile and pink-cheeked; and Dr. Alpert, sturdy with skin the color of mocha. “Thank you both.”

When they left, a nurse came in to take her vital signs. After which Damon appeared, just in time to see Elena regarding her cocoa dolefully. It was lukewarm.

“No problem,” Damon said, taking the cup. “A quick nuke in the microwave and you’ll never know the difference. I’ll even skim the skin off it. You’ll feel better after you drink it.”

Damon was right, too. The cocoa warmed everything but the arm where the IV went in. Elena was doing her best to dissociate herself from the entire arm—to pretend it didn’t belong to her—when Damon put his finger to his lips and then drew the hipflask out of his pocket.

“Trust me?” he whispered.

“Eternally.”

“Then try a sip of this. Don’t worry; it’s not alcoholic. It tastes like grape juice.”

It tasted a tiny bit like grape juice, a little bit like champagne, and a lot like something bubbly and sweet and delicious—and very familiar, although Elena couldn’t put her finger on when she’d tasted it before.

“Feel better?” Damon gently touched the arm with the IV. Suddenly, amazingly, soothing warmth was permeating every inch of the limb.

“Oh, yes! Much better!”

“Good. Then I’m going to scoot up as close to the bed as I can get, and then maybe we can see if we can’t get to sleep.” Elena watched him take off his black jacket and hang it on a hook on the wall, feeling as if the sight ought to make her giggle. It must be what’s in that flask, she thought woozily. How many times have I seen him take his jacket off? And when the answer “once” floated into her mind from somewhere she gave up and laughed out loud.

“I’m amusing, eh?”

“You’re just gorgeous. And I’m in a hospital and I could sing . . .”

“Better not; they’ll try to analyze the Black Magic.”

“The which?”

“What you just had a sip of.”

“Oh. Of course.” Black Magic was the perfect name for it. That was what it tasted like: magic. How exciting.

When Damon moved his chair up close to the hospital bed and leaned in so that they could intertwine fingers, she felt even more excited, but very sleepy, too.

“Won’t the nurses get upset if they catch you sleeping here, though?”

“Nah,” Damon said. “They’ll see I’m just part of your ensemble.”

Elena snorted. “Kiss,” she murmured drowsily, and instead of saying “Kiss” back, Damon got up and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Lightning flash. Suddenly, Elena was thinking of something else besides sleeping. Her lips tingled promisingly.