Slept Together

"Damon, you're back?"

Elena sensed Damon's presence and turned her head toward him.

Once, her eyesight had been flawless, able to perceive the faintest details in the farthest corners. But today, after overexerting her vision yesterday, all she could see was a blur of shadows.

Damon walked closer, standing directly in front of her. His gaze fell on Elena's dull, grayish eyes, and he asked, "What happened to your eyes?"

"Just some eye strain. Nothing serious." Elena shrugged nonchalantly.

A thousand years ago, her eyes had suffered injuries far worse than this. Fortunately, she'd simply slept through the recovery. When she woke, they were as good as new.

"How are you planning to take care of yourself?" Damon's concern was buried deep within his tea-black irises.

Elena raised her head arrogantly and let out a cold scoff. "I can stay here. Elysia and Ronan are with me."

Her subordinates weren't useless. If they couldn't even take care of her properly, what good were they?

"No," Damon said firmly. "You're coming back with me."

He remembered the orders Jay had given him earlier that morning. Windy City was currently in chaos with hunters targeting the Vampire Clan.

If Jay had secretly sent others after vampires as well, then Elena was in danger just by staying here. Damon didn't want her falling into anyone's hands—especially Jay's.

Elena frowned in confusion. "Mr. Gilbert, there's no need for us to see each other again."

That beautiful storm of Verdant Soulblade rain had indeed stirred her memories, bringing back a dreamlike sense of déjà vu.

But one thing she was certain of: this Damon standing before her wasn't the same Damon she had once met.

They merely shared the same name, but their appearance, personality, and the way they treated her were completely different.

Elena had no interest in playing hunting games with this man.

In her world, time was precious, energy limited, and even memories were treasures to be carefully guarded.

Damon remained silent for a long moment after hearing Elena's words.

Women were fickle creatures. The Vampire Clan, perhaps even more so.

After some thought, Damon softened his tone, adopting a negotiating approach. "The air is fresher there, the surroundings quieter. It's a good place for you to recover."

Elena fumbled her way back to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Trying to decipher Damon's intentions, she suddenly had a mischievous idea. "Damon, don't you know that all injuries are connected to one's mood?"

"You're in a bad mood?" Damon reflexively began reflecting on himself.

Had he upset her today?

If not him, then… Elysia?

Or Ronan?

Elena didn't deny it and said, "Without handsome men around, of course I'm in a bad mood."

"And who do you want to throw themselves at you?" Damon raised an eyebrow slightly, his lips tightening in restrained coldness.

This woman was as restless as she was fond of teasing him.

Elena stretched her arms, yawning as she climbed back into bed. Beneath the covers, she waved him off dismissively. "Figure it out yourself. If I have to spell everything out for you, what good are you to me?"

If he wanted her to stay, he'd have to offer something worthwhile.

She was the queen of the Vampire Clan, the most noble ruler of all.

Did he think he could push her away whenever he pleased and call her back just as easily?

The opportunity she had once given was his to refuse.

"Wait…" Damon suddenly grabbed her wrist as she was tucking herself in.

Elena looked at him with mild confusion. "Ten seconds," she said flatly.

That was all the time she was willing to give him.

Damon cleared his throat awkwardly, a faint blush creeping across his coldly handsome face. Slowly, he said, "I'm… taking a couple of days off."

The implication was clear: if he met her standard for a "handsome man," then… he could accompany her.

"Deal."

Elena's expression showed her satisfaction—at least for now. She certainly preferred men who knew their place.

10 PM

Damon brought Elena back to his quiet two-story house in the suburbs.

He helped her upstairs, assisted with her night routine, and then led her to her room to rest.

Before closing the door, he left her with an oddly specific warning. "No complaining about being hungry tonight, and don't disturb my sleep."

Recently, Damon had noticed an unusual phenomenon: he could hear Elena's voice more clearly than ever before.

Even when they were far apart, her words rang distinct and vivid in his mind.

It was… strange.

After Damon left, Elena lay in bed, tossing and turning.

Her dull gray eyes opened and closed repeatedly, but sleep eluded her.

The silent night, the tranquil city, and the blood-filled mortals roaming about…

To Elena, this felt like the paradise of the Vampire Clan.

Her surroundings seemed saturated with the scent of fresh, delicious blood.

What could she do?

She couldn't sleep.

1 AM

Elena could no longer suppress her hunger.

She sat up, fully awake, and opened her door to step into the hallway.

Tilting her head, she sniffed the air.

A faint but intoxicating scent of fresh blood reached her senses. It smelled utterly enticing.

"Blood… fresh blood…" she murmured, her voice tinged with yearning as she followed the scent into the night.

The scent of blood lingered in the air, leading straight to Damon's room.

The closer she got, the stronger it became, almost like a tempting lure.

Standing at the door, Elena raised her hand and knocked softly. "Damon, are you awake?"

If he wasn't asleep, it would be best to let her have a bite.

These past two days, it seemed she had developed a craving for Damon's blood.

However, there was no response—only an eerie silence greeted her.

Inside the room, all was still.

Shortly after midnight, Damon's wound became infected, and his fever climbed to 39 degrees.

In his dreams, he found himself reliving the events of six years ago—the sudden, life-altering car accident.

A midnight bus had appeared out of nowhere, first hitting his parents before chasing him down relentlessly, leaving him nowhere to escape.

That night, Damon's parents disappeared without a trace, their whereabouts still unknown.

His sister Zia, in an act of self-sacrifice, saved him but became a comatose patient, lying unconscious in a hospital bed for six long years.

As for Damon, though his life was spared, he had been gravely injured and left to bleed out, immobile.

Through his blurred vision, he thought he saw a massive black beast circling in the night sky.

Its enormous, ancient silver wings shimmered with an otherworldly glow as it descended.

The creature's towering form seemed wreathed in a dense fog of death, like a Satanic figure emerging from the depths of hell.

It engulfed Damon in its shadow, its razor-sharp claws raking across his flesh, leaving gashes that burned with searing pain.

The sensation was so intense it carved itself into his soul, as though shackling him in eternal torment.

"Zia… Zia…"

Damon suddenly woke from his nightmare, his tea-black eyes wide with fear.

Beads of cold sweat dotted his pale forehead, his chestnut bangs damp and clinging to his face.

The stark contrast between his porcelain skin and his dark, brooding eyes made his features even more striking.

A voice broke the silence. "Zia? Is that the girl in the photo—your girlfriend?"

Elena stood by his bedside, tilting her head curiously.

Half an hour earlier, after receiving no response from Damon, she had feared something was wrong. Ignoring all boundaries, she had snapped the door handle with her bare hands and broken in.

The Vampire Clan's strength was no joke.

Damon glanced at the now-useless door, his pale face stiff with displeasure. "Why are you here?"

He had explicitly warned her not to enter his room without permission.

Instead of answering, Elena leaned down slightly, drawing closer to his chest.

She licked her lips lightly, her gaze tinged with something strange. "Your blood smells… divine."

"Get away!"

Damon frowned sharply and turned his body to avoid her, his voice cold and distant.

Illness had made him more irritable than usual, and his resistance to the woman before him was palpable.

Elena froze, momentarily stunned.

She hadn't expected Damon's mood to be so foul, so much so that he refused to let her feed.

It seemed her little toy had gotten angry again.

Without a word, Elena turned to leave, but unfamiliarity with the room's layout caused her to trip on the carpet after just a few steps. "Thud!"

Her forehead collided with the edge of a cabinet, and she instinctively reached up to rub the sore spot.

Damon leaned back against the headboard, his cold expression softening slightly. "Sorry, I was a bit harsh earlier."

Elena stood up, holding her forehead, a faint smile curving her crimson lips. "It's fine," she said magnanimously.

"Bang!"

As she spoke, she turned, only to collide with the doorframe this time.

This impact was much harder than the last. She bounced back like a ball, a red mark blooming on her forehead, accompanied by slight bruising.

"Can't you be a little more careful?" Damon said, his voice laced with exasperation and hesitation.

Sick as he was, he didn't expect Elena to care for him—he only hoped she would quietly leave and let him rest.

But quiet wasn't exactly her style.

Thud.

Thud.

No matter where she walked, Elena seemed to trip over her own feet, falling repeatedly.

Her constant stumbles weren't just worrying—they were alarming.

"Enough. Stop moving. I'll help you."

Finally, a flicker of compassion stirred in Damon's heart.

He didn't want to see her turn into a battered mess.

Pressing a hand to his chest, Damon took a deep breath and climbed out of bed, his vision swimming as he steadied himself against the wall.

But after only two steps, his strength failed him, and he sank back onto the edge of the bed, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Elena stood up once more, her gaze slightly off-kilter as she blinked toward the wall. "Damon, are you sick?"

"Yes," Damon muttered, glancing at her misaligned line of sight with a trace of helplessness.

Elena didn't notice her mistake. Instead, she offered unexpectedly, "I'll get you some medicine."

"Do you even know where it is?" Damon asked, skeptical of her intentions.

"Tell me, and I'll know," she replied, her tone audacious and her smile mischievous.

After a moment of thought, Damon relented. "Downstairs, in the tea cabinet. The left drawer. There's a bottle of white pills."

He had no choice but to trust her—he couldn't manage the stairs in his current state.

But minutes later, a loud crash echoed from downstairs, followed by the sound of something shattering.

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

He had underestimated Elena's ability to wreak havoc.

Ever since she had found Elysia and Ronan, her naturally restless tendencies seemed to have grown exponentially.