Chapter Thirty-Four
"I like your place," Elena told Damon, looking around.
She'd been mildly surprised when he invited her to dinner. A conventional date wasn't something she ever associated with Damon, but on her way over she had been tingling with excitement and curiosity. Despite having lived in the same palace as Damon in the Dark Dimension, she had never seen a home he'd made for himself. For al his brashness, she realized, Damon was oddly private.
She would have expected his apartment to be gothical y decorated in blacks and reds, like the vampire manors she'd visited in the Dark Dimension. But it wasn't like that at al . Instead, it was minimalist, sleek and elegant in its simplicity, with clean pale wal s, lots of windows, furniture in glass and metal, and soft cool colors.
It suited him somehow. If you didn't look too deeply into his dark, ancient eyes, he could have been a handsome young model or architect, clad in fashionable black, firmly rooted in the modern world.
But not entirely modern. Elena paused in the living room to admire the view over the town: stars sparkled in the sky above the muted lights of houses and car headlights on the roads. On a glass-and-chrome table below the window, something else sparkled just as brightly.
"What's this?" she asked, picking it up. It looked like a golden bal overlaid with a tracery of diamonds, just the right size to fit comfortably in her palm.
"A treasure," Damon said, smiling. "See if you can find the catch on the side."
Elena felt the sphere with careful fingers, final y finding a cleverly concealed catch and pressing it. The bal unfolded in her hands, revealing a smal golden figure. A hummingbird, Elena saw, holding it up to inspect it, the gold chased with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.
"Wind the key," Damon said, coming to stand behind her, one cool hand on each of her sides. Elena found the smal key low on the back of the bird and turned it. The bird arched its neck and spread its wings, moving slowly and smoothly, as a delicate tune began to play.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"Made for a princess," Damon told her, his eyes fixed on the bird. "A dainty little toy, from Russia before the revolution. They had craftsmen there in those days. A fun place to be, too, if you weren't a peasant. Palaces, feasts, and riding through the snow in sleighs piled with furs."
"You were in Russia during the revolution?" Elena asked.
Damon laughed, a dry sharp little sound. "I was there before the revolution, darling. 'Get out before things go bad,' that's always been my motto. I never cared enough to stay and see things through til the end. Before I met you, anyway."
As the music stopped playing, Elena half turned, wanting to see Damon's face. He smiled at her and reached to take her hand, closing the bird back into its sphere. "Keep it," he said. Elena tried to protest - it was surely priceless - but Damon shrugged a little. "I want you to have it," he said. "Besides, I have a lot of treasures. You tend to accumulate things when you live several lifetimes." He ushered her into the dining room, where the table was set for one. "Are you hungry, princess?" he asked. "I had food brought in for you."
He served her an amazing soup - something she didn't recognize that was smooth and velvety on her tongue, with just a hint of spice - fol owed by a tiny roast bird, which Elena dissected careful y with her fork, its smal bones cracking. Damon didn't eat, he never ate, but he sipped a glass of wine and watched Elena, smiling as she told him about her classes, nodding seriously as she told him about the tol that patrol ing every night was taking on Meredith.
"This was wonderful," she said at last, stil picking at the rich flourless chocolate tart he'd brought out for dessert. "I think it's the best meal I've ever had." Damon smiled. "I want to give you the best of everything," he said. "You should have the world at your feet, you know."
Something in Elena stirred. She put her fork down and rose, walking over to the window to gaze out at the stars again. "You've been everywhere, haven't you, Damon?" she asked. She pressed her palm against the glass.
Damon came up close behind her and pul ed her to face him, gently stroking her hair. "Oh, Elena," he said. "I have been everywhere, but the thing about the world is that it keeps changing, so it's always new and exciting. There are so many places I want to show you, to see them through your eyes. There's so much out there, so much life to live." He kissed her neck, his canines pushing gently against the vein on the side of her throat, then put his hands on her hips, turning her back toward the window, where a spread of stars glowed against the night. "Most people never even see a tenth of what the human world holds," he murmured in her ear. "Be extraordinary with me, Elena." His breath was warm on her throat. "Be my dark princess." Elena leaned against him, trembling.
Dear Diary,
I don't know who I am anymore.
Tonight, with Damon, I could almost picture my life if I took what he offered me, became his "dark princess." The two of us, hand in hand, strong and beautiful and free. Everything I wanted without having to lift a finger, from jewels to clothes to wonderful food. A life above the concerns I used to have, somewhere far away. Experiencing and seeing wonders I can't even imagine.
It would have to be a world without Stefan, though. He's shut me out, utterly. But seeing me with Damon - not just kissing, but being who Damon wants me to be - would hurt him, I know.
And I can't stand to do that anymore.
It's like there are two paths in front of me. One goes into the daylight, and it's the ordinary girl I thought I wanted to be: parties and classes and eventually a job and a house and a normal life.
Stefan wants to give me that. The other is in the darkness, with Damon, and I'm just starting to realize how much that world has to offer, and how much I want to experience everything it holds.
I always thought Stefan would be with me on the daylit path. But now I've lost him, and that path seems so lonely. Maybe the dark path really is my future. Maybe Damon is right, and I belong with him, in the night.
"I can't wait to see my surprise." Bonnie giggled as she and Zander crossed the lawn of the science building hand in hand. "You're so romantic. Wait til I tel the guys." Zander brushed a feather-light kiss across her cheek, his lips warm. "They already know I've lost al my cool guy points for you. I sang karaoke with you last night." Bonnie snickered. "Well, after I introduced you to Dirty Dancing, we had to sing the big duet, right? I can't believe you'd never seen that movie before."
"It's because I used to be manly," Zander admitted. "But now I've seen the error of my ways." He gave her one of his slow smiles, and Bonnie's knees nearly buckled. "It was a cute movie."
They reached the bottom of the fire escape, and Zander boosted her up and then climbed after her. When they got to the roof, Zander gestured expansively at the scene before them. "For our six-week anniversary, Bonnie, a re-creation of our first date."
"Oh! That's so sweet!" Bonnie looked around. There was the ragged army blanket, covered with the pizza box and sodas. The stars shone overhead, just as they had six weeks ago. It was sweet; it was a romantic idea even if their first date hadn't been al that amazing. Then she corrected herself: it had actual y been a pretty amazing date, even though it had been simple.
She took a seat on the blanket, then peeked into the pizza box and involuntarily grinned. Olive, sausage, and mushroom. Her favorite. "At least one improvement in the re-creation, though, I see."
Zander sat next to her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Of course I know what you like on your pizza now," he said. "Got to pay attention to my girl." Bonnie snuggled up under his arm, and they shared the pizza, gazing at the stars and talking cozily about this and that. When the pizza was al gone, Zander wiped his greasy hands careful y with a napkin, then took both of Bonnie's hands in his. "I need to talk to you," he said seriously, his sky-blue eyes intent on hers.
"Okay," Bonnie said nervously, a flash of panic starting in her stomach. Surely Zander wouldn't have brought her al the way up here and re-created their first date if he was planning to dump her, would he? No, that was a ridiculous idea. But he looked so solemn and worried. "You're not sick, are you?" she asked, horrified by the idea.
The corner of Zander's mouth twitched up into a smile.
"You're so funny, Bonnie," he said. "You just say whatever pops into your head. That's one of the reasons why I love you." Bonnie's heart leaped into her throat, and she felt her cheeks flush. Zander loved her?
Zander got serious again. "I mean it," he said. "I know it's real y early, and you don't have to feel like you need to say something back, but I wanted you to know that I'm fal ing in love with you. You're amazing. I've never felt like this before. Never."
Tears of happy surprise sprang into Bonnie's eyes, and she sniffed, squeezing Zander's hands tightly. "I feel it, too," she said in a tiny voice. "These last few weeks have been amazing. I mean, I don't think I've ever had as much fun as I do with you. We get each other, you know?" They kissed, a long, slow, sweet kiss. Bonnie leaned against Zander and sighed contentedly. She'd never been so comfortable. Then Zander pul ed away.
Bonnie reached out for him, but Zander took her hands again and gazed into her eyes. "It's because I'm fal ing in love with you," he said slowly, "that I have to tel you something. You have the right to know." He squeezed his eyes closed tightly for a moment, then opened them again, looking at Bonnie as if he wanted to climb into her head and find out how she was going to react to what he said next. "I'm a werewolf," he said flatly.
Bonnie sat frozen for a minute, her mind scrambling to understand. Then she shrieked and pul ed her hands away from him, jumping to her feet. "Oh no," she gasped. "Oh my God." Images were rushing through her mind: Tyler Smal wood's face twisting, grotesquely lengthening into a muzzle, his newly yel ow and slit-pupiled eyes glaring at her with vicious, bloodthirsty hatred. Meredith crumpled on her bed like an abandoned dol , blank-eyed as she told them how Samantha's body had been mauled. The flash of white-blond hair Meredith had seen when she chased a dark-clad figure away from a screaming girl. The black bruises on Zander's side.
"Meredith and Elena were right," she said, backing away from him.
"No! No, it's not like that, Bonnie, please," Zander said, scrambling to his feet so that they stood facing each other.
His face was white and strained. "I'm a good werewolf, I swear, I don't ... we don't hurt people."
"Liar!" Bonnie shouted, furious. "I've known werewolves, Zander. To become one, you have to be a killer!" With that, she was off, scrambling down the fire escape to the relative safety of the ground. Don't look back, don't look back, hammered inside her head. Get away, get away.
"Bonnie!" Zander cal ed from the top of the fire escape, and she heard him clattering down after her.
Bonnie jumped the last few feet from the bottom of the fire escape and landed hard, stumbling. She straightened up and started to run immediately. She had to get inside, had to find somewhere she wouldn't be alone.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement in the shadows of the building. Jared and Tristan and, oh no, big muscular Marcus. Werewolves, she realized, just like Zander, part of his pack. Bonnie thought she was moving as quickly as she could, but, as they came into the light, she found a fresh spurt of speed.
"Bonnie!" Jared cal ed hoarsely, and they came after her.
She was running faster than she ever had, breathless sobs torn from her chest, but it wasn't nearly fast enough.
They were close behind her; she could hear their heavy footsteps catching up to her.
"We just want to talk to you, Bonnie," Tristan cal ed, his voice level and calm. He didn't even sound out of breath.
"Stop," Marcus said. "Wait for us," and oh God, he was coming up beside her now, and Tristan on her other side, cutting her off. They were moving in closer, penning her in.
Bonnie stopped, her hands on her knees, panting for breath. Hot tears ran down her face and dripped off her chin. They had caught her. She had run and run, as fast as she could, but she hadn't been able to get away. The three guys were pacing around her, hemming her in, their faces wary.
They'd pretended to be her friends, but now they looked like hunters, circling her. They'd lied, al of them.
"Monsters," she muttered like a curse, and pul ed herself upright, stil panting. They had caught her, but they hadn't defeated her yet. She was a witch, wasn't she? She clenched her hands into fists and began to chant under her breath the charms Mrs. Flowers taught her for protection and defense. She didn't think she could beat three werewolves, not without the time to make a magic circle, without any supplies, but maybe she could hurt them.
"Guys, wait. Stop." Zander was coming now, running across the col ege lawns toward them. Even through the hot tears clouding her vision, Bonnie could see how beautiful he was, how graceful and natural a runner, his long legs eating up the distance, and her heart ached just a little more. She had loved him so much. She went on chanting, feeling the power building up inside her like the pressure in a shaken can of soda, ready to pop.
Zander came to a halt when he reached them, clasping Marcus's shoulder with one hand. The other three looked at him.
"She ran away from us," Tristan said, and he sounded baffled and resentful.
"Yeah," Zander said. "I know." Tears were running down Zander's face, too, Bonnie realized, and he was making no move to wipe them away. He just looked at her, those beautiful blue eyes wide open, heartbreakingly sad. "Back off, guys," he said without looking away from Bonnie. To her, then, he added, "You do what you have to do." Bonnie stopped chanting, letting the built-up power drain away. She took a harsh gasp of air, and then, quick as an arrow, her heart pounding as if it would burst out of her chest, she ran.
***