Unspoken

The door was hanging wide open.



Matt dropped his bags, hearing the wine bottle inside one of the bags smash, and ran toward it, his heart pounding. He barreled through the front door and stopped dead, horrified.



Jasmine’s living room had been trashed. The velvety-soft sofa was flipped over and disemboweled. The weavings she’d put on the walls were ripped down, her tables knocked over and broken.



“Jasmine?” Matt called, breaking out of his shock. He raced down the hall, checking the other rooms.



The kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom were more of the same, everything smashed and broken. The closet door had been ripped off, clothes trailing out as if someone had tried to hold onto them while being yanked out of the closet. “Jasmine!”



His phone rang. JASMINE, the display read. Thank God. She was okay. She would have some explanation. Tension flowed out of him, his shoulders relaxing.



“Where are you?” Matt answered the phone. “Are you okay?”



A low, warm, familiar chuckle. Not Jasmine’s. Everything went fuzzy around the edges, and Matt swayed on his feet, lightheaded. Jack.



“I’m fine,” Jack said. “Your girlfriend seems a little nervous, though.”



“You—” Matt clenched his teeth, snapping things back into focus. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her,” he spat.



Jack laughed again. “You can’t, can you?” he asked. “You know, I didn’t really get to know Jasmine back when you and I were hanging around together. I can see why you like her. She’s pretty tasty, isn’t she?” He moved the phone, and Matt heard a soft whimper.



“Jasmine?” he said, straining to hear. “Honey, be strong. It’ll be all right.” His pulse was pounding, his hands sweating. He couldn’t think.



“She’s fine,” Jack said. “For now.”



“Please don’t hurt her,” Matt said. “I’ll do anything you want.” He felt sick and dizzy. Not Jasmine, he prayed, not good, strong Jasmine, who’d been outside all of this, safe—until Matt brought her in.



“I want Damon,” Jack said, his voice suddenly cold and tight. “Bring me Damon, and I’ll let your girlfriend go.”



Chapter 25



“She’s got to be somewhere. Siobhan can’t have gotten away from us.” Elena had her hands balled into fists, pressed against her temples. She was concentrating hard, her pretty face twisted. “If I could just find her…”



“Calm down,” Damon told her as he steered the car down the highway, still heading north. It seemed as good a direction as any, although Elena had lost Siobhan’s trail earlier that day. “We’ll pull into the next motel we see. You need a good night’s rest. It’ll come back to you.”



The sun was setting, throwing long shadows across the road. If Elena ate and rested, maybe she’d be able to find her Power again.



He was having trouble, too. Anxiety radiated through their bond, making him jittery. Elena was in pain, her head aching, her muscles tense, and that made Damon hurt, too. He longed to pull her against him and stroke her soft golden hair, to press her face against his shoulder and hold her until she calmed.



“We can’t stop,” Elena said firmly. “There’s no time.” She leaned back against the window and shut her eyes, making little huffing noises as she drew in breaths through her nose, then let them out through her mouth.



Damon knew she was trying to force her Guardian Powers to the surface. They were strong, but fickle, these Powers. Even when she was working on a Guardian task, like now, she couldn’t always rely on them.



Ridiculous Celestial Guardians. They wielded huge Powers themselves, more than any vampire or witch, but they meted out tiny bits of Power to the Earthly Guardians like drips from a faucet. Damon had to wonder: Did the Celestial Guardians want to keep Earthly Guardians like Elena weak and dependent on them? Or were their own Powers on Earth limited?



In any case, it made no difference now. The important thing was Elena.



“Listen,” he said, and reached out to stroke her arm, gently reassuring her. “You’re strong as hell, princess. The strongest person I’ve ever met. You’ll do this stubborn and bull-headed, just like you’ve done everything else the whole time I’ve known you.”



He gave her his most blinding grin, and something softened in Elena’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, her gaze so deeply blue, as blue as the lapis lazuli that let Damon walk in sunlight.



Something in his chest tightened, and he felt it tug toward Elena, as sure as a magnet. They were breathing in time, he realized, their chests rising and falling in perfect accord. He couldn’t resist her anymore.



He didn’t want to resist. Elena was all he wanted, all he needed. She had been since the first time he saw her, a pretty high school girl in the morning sunshine, all pink and gold and flushed with the warmth of life. Since the first time his mind brushed hers, and he realized she was more than that: strong and fierce, stubborn and proud. Perfect for him.



Slowly, giving her time to pull away, Damon slid closer. Elena didn’t back away, but held his gaze, her blue eyes almost challenging. She wanted this; he could feel that want burning through their bond. Gently, holding his breath, he pressed his lips to hers.



Her lips were impossibly soft and warm, the softest thing he’d ever felt. Damon’s eyes closed and he leaned closer, cupping her cheek with one hand. The connection between them throbbed with hot energy, with desire. His fingers tangled in her silky hair, and he pulled her closer still.



He could feel their auras blending. It was as if they were melting into each other. He could almost see them, the way Elena had described their auras to him, his peacock blue and rust-red, hers a soft gold. They were entwining—he could feel it. They were stronger like this, better together.



Damon thought briefly of his brother, then pushed the thought away. Stefan was gone. And Damon and Elena remained. He stroked Elena’s cheek, ran his hand over her shoulders, down her arm. She was his, he knew it as surely as he’d ever known anything. They belonged to each other.



And then, a sharp, hard jerk. All over, he felt exposed, strained. Something pulled at him, a brisk, insistent tug.



With a muffled gasp against Elena’s mouth, Damon realized she was drawing his aura into hers, his peacock blue slowly shading to gold. Her aura was growing bigger, brighter.



It hurt, a little, but it was somehow thrilling. The steady, draining pull made him lightheaded, made him sigh against her lips. Was this how it felt for her when he’d fed on her?



Just as when he’d fed on her, this was love, he was sure of it.



Damon tangled both hands in Elena’s hair, silken strands between his fingers, and tried to push his aura toward her, to give her whatever she needed.



Elena pulled away slowly and Damon sat back, drained and relaxed. His head was swimming. They stared at each other, and Elena licked her lips quickly, just a brief slide of her tongue.



“West,” she said.



“What?” Damon asked. His heart was pounding, slow and heavy, and it was an effort to speak.



“I see it now,” Elena said. “She went west.”



Shaking himself back into alertness, Damon started the engine. “We can turn west on I-64,” he said, his mouth dry. “About half a mile.”



“Good,” Elena said. She was looking straight ahead through the windshield. Damon checked the connection between them, but Elena was locked down tight. All he got was an intent concentration on the road ahead. Whatever else she was thinking, she wasn’t letting herself feel it, not yet. She wasn’t going to let him in.



Tentatively, he reached across the seat between them, his hand palm up, waiting for her hand to clasp his.



Elena did not take his hand.



Chapter 26



Matt wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans and let his head rest against the driver’s seat for a moment. He took a deep breath before looking at the polished wooden stave in the passenger seat—one of Meredith’s old bo staffs. He gritted his teeth and picked it up. It was cool and sturdy in his hands, and he gripped it tightly, trying to remember all the moves Meredith had ever taught him.



Then he climbed out of the car, dread pooling in his stomach. Waiting wasn’t going to make this any easier.



Gravel scattered under his feet as he made his way across the parking lot toward Jack’s warehouse. Everything was silent, no signs of life in the empty lot. The silence seemed wrong, and, after a moment, Matt realized how weirdly complete it was: no sounds of traffic from the highway, no rustling of leaves from the trees, no birdsong. He shuddered, but kept walking.



Matt couldn’t wait for the others to make a plan, couldn’t wait for Elena and Damon to come home. Not while Jasmine was suffering.



Sweet, intelligent Jasmine with her shining eyes and softly curving mouth. Jasmine who loved him, who trusted him. Who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into trying to help Matt and his friends. Whatever happened, he had to at least try to save her. Tears prickled at the back of Matt’s eyes, and he blinked them away.



He wasn’t an idiot. There was a nest of vampires inside this warehouse. With his total lack of special powers, he was probably going to his death.



Matt swallowed hard. It would be better to die today trying to save Jasmine than to live sixty more years knowing he’d abandoned her.



Clutching the stave tightly, he considered his silent surroundings. The whole place seemed still and empty, as if it were deserted, but Matt knew better. He inspected the door. There was a little rust on its panels, but it was solid looking and made of steel. There was no way he’d be able to kick it down.



With a mental shrug, Matt raised his fist and pounded heavily on the door, which let out metallic echoing thuds. They were vampires, they would have heard him coming.



The door gave a long screech as a lanky dark-haired guy with close-set eyes—not a guy, a vampire—opened it. Acting on instinct, Matt moved fast.



One hard thrust from the stave in Matt’s hand, and the vampire staggered and fell, blood blooming red across his chest, his mouth open in a grimace of surprise. His eyes dimmed. He was dead, at least for the moment. Lucky hit. Matt knew with deadly certainty that his luck wasn’t going to last.



Matt stepped over the dead vampire and moved toward the next one, a slim blond girl with a short swinging bob.



She was just standing still, looking bewildered, as if events were happening too quickly for her to catch up. Beyond her, chained to the back wall of the warehouse, he glimpsed Jasmine and quickly looked away, his breath catching.



He couldn’t concentrate on the fight if he looked at her right now. He wouldn’t have much time before the vampires got over their surprise and their superior reflexes kicked in.



But maybe he could get past one more, maybe he could make his way to Jasmine. Please, he prayed silently, raising his stave again. Please. If I’m going to die, at least let me touch Jasmine again.



But as he moved toward the girl, a pair of strong arms, as unyielding as steel bands, wrapped around him from behind and pinned Matt’s arms to his sides.



He tried to struggle, but it was pointless; however much he strained, he couldn’t move at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall, thin vampire struggling to his feet, already beginning to recover. Giving in to despair, Matt sagged against his captor’s arms.



“Can you think of a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now?” Jack’s voice said, soft and low. His breath was warm against Matt’s ear, and Matt shuddered.



Jack squeezed him tighter, and Matt struggled to breathe. It was painful, the pressure of Jack’s arms compressing his ribs, slowly pressing the air from his lungs. Now that the fight was over, and he’d failed, just as he’d feared he would, he let himself look across the warehouse toward Jasmine for the first time.



Her arms were chained high above her head, her muscles taut with the strain, and she was looking straight back at him, her eyes shining with love. Tears ran down her cheeks, making long tracks through the dirt there. There were streaks of dried blood on the side of her throat. She gave Matt a tiny, tremulous smile, and his chest ached. He hadn’t saved her, and now she was trying to send him comfort.



“Take me instead,” Matt blurted out.



“What?” Jack sounded startled, and his arms loosened a fraction. Matt gasped in a quick breath.



“I’m better for your purposes than Jasmine is,” he said hurriedly. This was his only back-up plan, Jasmine’s only chance. He had to sell it. “I’m a better hostage. Elena and the others have known me longer, they’re more likely to trade Damon for me. You hunted with us. You know what I’m saying is true.”



Jack made a thoughtful humming noise in his throat, considering, and Matt clenched his teeth. This was the only way he could possibly save Jasmine, he realized, by throwing himself into the abyss. They were all watching him, five or six vampires, their eyes hostile. Everything was sharp and bright at the edges, and he wondered if he was going into shock.