Лиза Смит - The Return - Shadow Souls

But Damon was — very capable — now. And the closer he got to Elena, the stronger her aura was around him, and the weaker was his control.

Thank all the little demons in hell, his pride was stronger than the desire he felt. Damon had never asked for anything from anyone in his life. He paid for the blood he took from humans in his own particular coin: of pleasure and fantasy and dreams. But Elena didn’t need fantasy; didn’t want dreams.

Didn’t want him .

She wanted Stefan. And Damon’s pride would never allow him to ask Elena for what he alone desired, and equally it would never allow him to take it without her consent…he hoped.

Just a few days ago he had been an empty shell, his body a puppet of the kitsune twins, who had made him hurt Elena in ways that now made him cringe inside. Damon hadn’t existed then as a personality, but his body had been Shinichi’s to play with. And although he scarcely could believe it, the takeover had been so complete that his shell had obeyed Shinichi’s every command: he had tormented Elena; he might well have killed her.

There was no point in disbelieving it; or saying that it couldn’t be true. It was true. It had happened. Shinichi was that much stronger when it came to mind control, and the kitsune had none of the vampires’ detachment about pretty girls — below the neck. Besides which, he happened to be a sadist. He liked pain — other people’s, that is.

Damon couldn’t deny the past, couldn’t wonder why he hadn’t “awakened” to stop Shinichi from hurting Elena. There had been nothing of him to awaken. And if a solitary part of his mind still wept because of the evil he had done — well, Damon was good at blocking it out. He wouldn’t waste time over regrets, but he was intent on controlling the future. It would never happen again — not and leave him still alive.

What Damon really couldn’t understand was why Elena was pushing him. Acting as if she trusted him. Of all the people in the world, she was the one with the most right to hate him, to point an accusing finger at him. But she had never once done that. She had never even looked at him with anger in her dark blue, gold-spattered eyes. She alone had seemed to understand that someone as completely possessed by the master of the malach, Shinichi, as Damon had been, simply had no choice — wasn’t there to make a choice — in what he or she did.

Maybe it was because she’d pulled the thing the malach had created out of him. The pulsating, albino, second body that had been inside him. Damon forced himself to repress a shudder. He only knew this because Shinichi had jovially mentioned it, while taking away all Damon’s memories of the time since the two of them, kitsune and vampire, had met in the Old Wood.

Damon was glad to have had the memories gone. From the moment he had locked gazes with the fox spirit’s laughing golden eyes, his life had been poisoned.

And now…right now he was alone with Elena, in the middle of the wilderness, with towns few and far between. They were utterly, uniquely alone, with Damon helplessly wanting from Elena what every human boy she’d ever encountered had wanted.

Worst of all was the fact that charming girls, deceiving girls, was practically Damon’s own raison d’être. It was certainly the only reason he’d been able to keep on living for the past half millennium. And yet he knew that he must not, must not even start the process with this one girl who, to him, was the jewel lying on the dungheap of humanity.

To all appearances, he was perfectly in control, icy and precise, distant and disinterested.

The truth was that he was going out of his mind.

That night, after making sure that Elena had food and water and was safely locked into the Prius, Damon called down a damp fog and began to weave his darkest wards. These were announcements to any sisters or brothers of the night who might come upon the car that the girl inside it was under Damon’s protection; and that Damon would hunt down and flay alive anyone who even disturbed the girl’s rest…and then he’d get around to really punishing the culprit. Damon then flew a few miles south as a crow, found a dive with a pack of werewolves drinking in it and a few charming barmaids serving them, and brawled and bled the night away.

But it wasn’t enough to distract him — not nearly enough. In the morning, returning early, he saw the wards around the car in tatters. Before he could panic, he realized that Elena had broken them from the inside. There had been no warning to him because of her peaceful intent and innocent heart.

And then Elena herself appeared, coming up the bank of a stream, looking clean and refreshed. Damon was stricken speechless by the very sight of her. By her grace, by her beauty, by the unbearable closeness of her. He could smell her freshly washed skin, and couldn’t help deliberately breathing in more and more of her unique fragrance.

He didn’t see how he could put up with another day of this.

And then Damon suddenly had an Idea.

“Would you like to learn something that would help you to control that aura of yours?” he asked as she passed him, heading for the car.

Elena threw him a sidelong glance. “So you’ve decided to talk to me again. Am I supposed to faint with joy?”

“Well — that would always be appreciated—”

“Would it?” she said sharply, and Damon realized that he had underestimated the storm he had brewed inside this formidable girl.

“No. Now, I’m being serious,” he said, fixing his dark gaze on her.

“I know. You’re going to tell me to become a vampire to help control my Power.”

“No, no, no . This has nothing to do with being a vampire.” Damon refused to be drawn into an argument and that must have impressed Elena, because finally she said, “What is it, then?”

“It’s learning how to circulate your Power. Blood circulates, yes? And Power can be circulated, too. Even humans have known that for centuries, whether they call it life-force or chi or ki . As it is, you’re simply dissipating your Power into the air. That’s an aura. But if you learn to circulate it, you can build it up for some really big release, and you can be more inconspicuous as well.”

Elena was clearly fascinated. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Because I’m stupid, Damon thought. Because to vampires it’s as instinctive as breathing is to you. He lied unblushingly. “It takes a certain level of competence to accomplish.”

“And I can do it now?”

“I think so.” Damon put slight uncertainty in his voice.

Naturally, this made Elena even more determined. “Show me!” she said.

“You mean right now?” He glanced around. “Someone might drive by—”

“We’re off the road. Oh, please, Damon? Please?” Elena looked at Damon with the huge blue eyes that altogether too many males had found irresistible. She touched his arm, trying once more to make some kind of contact, but when he automatically drew away, she continued, “I really do want to learn. You can teach me. Just show me once, and I’ll practice.”

Damon glanced down at his arm, felt his good sense and his will wavering. How does she do that?

“All right.” He sighed. There were at least three or four billion people on this dust mote of a planet that would give anything to be with this warm and eager, yearning Elena Gilbert. The problem was that he happened to be one of them — and that she clearly didn’t give a damn for him.

Of course not. She had dear Stefan. Well, he would see if his princess was still the same when — if — she managed to free Stefan and get out of their destination alive.