"When did I say I wanted to go back? Besides, this is my new house." Elena retorted, her voice unwavering.
"The deed's in my name, so you're better off staying with this affectionate, dashing gentleman in the suburbs. No one's around, and you can show your love however you like." Elysia's tone was dripping with suggestive amusement, practically urging Elena to give in and embrace the situation.
Elena's face darkened, knowing exactly what Elysia was implying.
However, in the end, she found herself heading back with Damon.
She wanted to know: what was Damon's true intention? Why did he repeatedly spare her, even help her cover her identity and fend off other vampire hunters?
What was he after?
In the middle of May, the night air was cool, a gentle breeze brushing against their ears as it passed.
Elena stepped out of the Yu Lake Mansion, sliding into Damon's car.
She fixed her sharp gaze on him, searching his impassive face for any sign of vulnerability or ulterior motive.
Damon caught her looking at him, and with a slight quirk of his lips, he asked, "What? You planning to slap me again?"
Elena's expression was cold, recalling the events of the previous night. She turned her head to look out the window without a word.
One slap, one kiss. Nothing was owed. Or so she told herself.
Damon noticed her silence, leaning over to fasten her seatbelt for her.
Elena raised an eyebrow. His touch was soft, yet his actions felt oddly gentle, and she wasn't repelled by it.
Damon, too, felt her cold aura, and for a moment, it struck him differently. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "I've set up a barrier around the mansion. No one will find us for now. Elysia is safe."
"Why are you helping me?" Elena asked coldly, her voice tinged with suspicion.
No free lunches in this world. There had to be something he wanted, something she had that he needed.
Damon turned the car key, starting the engine. His dark eyes flickered with a hint of something inscrutable as he replied, "What if I said I wanted your heart? Would you believe me?"
"Damon, I'm injured, not stupid. I'm neither foolish nor naïve."
In the dimly lit car, Elena tilted her head, the soft glow of passing lights casting shadows over her perfect, coldly beautiful face.
"I know you're smart." Damon lifted his gaze, his voice low. "But I'm serious."
"Why?" Elena's disbelief was clear, though she let him speak.
"We'll talk about it later." Damon's voice was firm, unwilling to dive into such a sensitive topic.
The city lights slowly faded into the distance, replaced by tall, slender trees as they drove further out. The night air grew colder, as if reflecting the deepening tension between them.
Through the window, Elena noticed two figures darting across the street—one chasing, the other fleeing. They disappeared quickly into the darkness, vanishing atop the rooftops.
"Damon, what was that?" Elena asked, her sharp gaze following the shadows.
"There have been several cases of mummified corpses turning up lately in Windy City. We suspect some vampires are trying to break the peace treaty between our two species. They're causing trouble…" Damon didn't finish the thought, but his meaning was clear.
Elena's gaze darkened, and her voice grew cold. "Have you considered talking to the higher-ups from both sides? If this is the case, the best solution is diplomacy. Let Vampire Clan handle their own issues. It's better than you humans getting involved and starting unnecessary conflict."
Damon adjusted his glasses, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. "We've tried, but we haven't gotten any response. You should know better than anyone why that is."
Elena's silence spoke volumes.
At this point, showing herself was far too risky.
But there was someone in Vampire Clan who could handle this matter.
Unless that person was either too preoccupied or had already fallen into the hands of the traitors.
When they arrived at the two-story house, they each retreated to their rooms for the night, the air thick with unspoken words.
In the middle of the night, Elena felt parched and decided to go downstairs for a blood bag.
The kitchen light was still on, and a tall figure stood at the stove, waiting for water to boil.
For some reason, Damon had suddenly felt a stomach ache, so he'd come to prepare some soup.
"Good evening." Elena's voice was soft but steady, her eyes shadowed with thoughts she couldn't shake off from the previous night.
Under the kitchen light, Damon noticed her gaze lingered on him. A strange feeling tugged at his chest. He wasn't an idiot—he knew she liked him, but that was dangerous territory.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Are you thinking about me?" Damon asked, his voice direct and without a trace of awkwardness.
"No." Elena denied quickly, turning her eyes elsewhere, avoiding his gaze.
"You're lying." Damon's voice was smooth, almost teasing, as it echoed in the quiet kitchen.
"Hmph, don't think you can read my mind." Elena scoffed, though she knew it wasn't entirely untrue.
Damon's gaze never wavered. His tea-dark eyes followed her, a shadow of something darker flickering within them. His focus shifted briefly to the pale curve of her neck.
Without warning, he stepped closer, leaning in as if to kiss her.
Elena, caught off guard, felt his lips graze hers briefly before she quickly turned her head away.
She didn't want to cross that line again.
But Damon's gaze darkened with frustration.
He tilted his head and kissed her forcefully, as if to seal her defiance.
This woman clearly liked him—so why was she avoiding him?
Elena froze for a moment, feeling the warmth of his lips, the proximity of his face. This kiss was different from the one last night.
If last night had been a mistake, tonight felt like a gentle temptation.
Damon's lips were soft yet insistent, kissing her slowly, tenderly, with just a hint of coldness.
Even though his eyes were clear, the sensation hit him deeply, making his heart race.
Elena remained still, neither rejecting nor accepting, but the warmth of his kiss lingered on her lips.
Deep down, a ripple stirred in her heart.
She didn't want to ignore this feeling, this undeniable pull.
But what was it?
His striking looks?
His character?
Or simply the sensation of his kiss?
Before she could fully process it, the sound of water boiling broke through her thoughts.
Her pupils dilated, and she abruptly pushed Damon away, quickly turning and walking out of the kitchen.
As she reached the stairs, she glanced back.
From the top, she saw Damon standing in the kitchen below, his gaze calm and unflinching, like still water. There was no trace of passion in his eyes—no hint of longing.
He hadn't been moved by this at all.