All he said was: “You can’t. Not while you’re asleep.”
“And neither can you—while you’re asleep!” Elena retorted.
“I sleep very lightly,” Damon said, thinking: For pity’s sake, moron, just Influence her! Do it! Do it now!
“I can’t break my promise,” Elena said. “I would never ask you to go back when you’d given your word.”
“What if I call your Aunt Judith and explain that I only want to be close to you so that whoever attacked you before can’t—”
“Don’t you dare! She’ll end up pulling me off campus, making me come home, if I’m in that much danger. I can’t understand why she hadn’t already suggested something like that.”
Because Stefan Influenced her not to, while he was still full of your sweet blood, Damon thought grimly. The thought was grim because he was realizing just how hungry he was, and just how long the night was going to be, given that he couldn’t leave Elena.
I’d better Influence her now, while I still can, he thought. And because he was taking time deciding exactly how to Influence her, he made the worst mistake possible.
“I said I brought you something besides the coverlet. Here you go.” He held up the locket, which sparkled in the light.
Elena took one look and went ballistic. “So now you’re trying to bribe me to—to—?”
“What? Of course not,” Damon said hastily, wrapping her in a coil of Influence. “I just want you to calm down and then lie down. On the bed. I want you to forget about this silly argument and let us both get some sleep.”
What happened next was completely unexpected. “Are you crazy? What are you saying? And what are you doing—trying to hypnotize me or something?” Elena advanced two steps on him, breaking through the tendril of Influence. “Stop it right now!”
Damon stopped it. He was shocked. He hadn’t comprehended how weak he actually was. He’d skipped lunch, and of course he hadn’t left Elena alone since they’d departed from the hospital.
He couldn’t Influence her. And he was ravenous.
What in hell’s name was he going to do?
“I think,” Elena mused, stepping still closer, “that this is the bit where I kick you out of my room entirely. It’s almost curfew anyway.”
Damon found himself holding completely still, with every muscle tensed, like a panther before a sudden spring. “You are not going to throw me out,” he said very quietly, and added, after a pause, “princess.”
“Didn’t say throw. Said kick,” Elena replied, and it was true that the gold flecks in her lapis eyes grew brighter. Damon had no idea how she managed it, but the fact was that it happened.
“Throw, kick—”
“Meredith,” Elena said composedly, “taught me some killer kicks. Because of . . . because she’s . . .” Her voice trailed off and her pupils widened, but she never took her eyes off Damon. “I forget why now, but she did teach me some.”
Oh, damn. Damn, little brother! You screwed up royally. Motor memory again. Plus an association with Meredith that you didn’t catch. “Elena, I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m not going to let you hurt me, either. And there’s nothing on earth that could make me walk out of this room.”
“Yes, well, if I do it right, you won’t actually be walking. Hobbling, probably. Possibly crawling.”
Damon had thought he couldn’t get more tense. He’d been wrong. “And that’s what you want?” he demanded.
“No, it is not what I want!” Elena almost shouted. “But I’ve tried everything else but saying ‘pretty please with sugar and sprinkles’ and I seriously doubt that that’s going to work!”
“You’re right,” Damon breathed. “You’re right. Pleading equals big fail. But there’s a reason I’m not going to leave you, and the reason is that I love you. And you can’t get around that: you can’t kick it down, or throw it out, or climb over it, or scramble under it. You can’t win this fight.” You’re thinking about dealing with Stefan, he added silently, in his own mind. That’s the opponent you’re imagining, someone full of honor and terrified of harming you. But I’m the other guy.
“If you did love me,” Elena said, and there was genuine bitterness in her tone, “then you’d allow me to keep my word to my aunt. You’d leave like a gentleman.”
There, Damon thought. I knew it. She has no clue.
He went slightly, spontaneously insane, caught between exasperation and exhilaration. He hadn’t seen this particular Elena for over a month and he was realizing just now how much he’d missed her.
“You don’t know who I am,” he said softly. “Le
t me explain. To, ah, thoroughly misquote the erudite Brenna Yovanoff: I am electricity itself. I live with entire galaxies moving through my bloodstream. I have never yet been impressed, my princess, by earthly royalty or heavenly crown. I love you with a desperate fire that I carry like an arch-angel’s flaming sword. I love you the way the Greeks burned Troy for your namesake . . . Helena.”