Chapter 59
Elena's POV
Hours passed. I didn't move. Didn't turn on the lights. Just lay there in the dark, feeling the weight of everything crushing down on me.
Family. Blood pact. Duty. Expectations. It was all so fucking exhausting.
I didn't want any of it anymore. Didn't want to be the perfect daughter, the obedient fiancée, the solution to everyone else's problems.
I just wanted to disappear.
---
The food arrived around seven.
I stared at the tray the staff left on the table. My stomach turned. I couldn't eat.
Instead, I found myself opening the fridge. There were small bottles of vodka, gin, beer. I grabbed a beer and twisted off the cap.
The first sip was bitter. The second easier. By the time I'd finished the can, my head felt lighter. The crushing weight in my chest loosened just a fraction.
I opened another.
---
I don't know how much time passed.
The room was spinning slightly when I heard the keycard beep. The door opened.
I looked up from where I was sitting by the window, beer can in hand, and saw Caleb standing in the doorway. He took one look at me and his expression went hard.
"Why aren't you eating?"
His voice was rougher than usual. Almost angry.
I looked up at him and smiled. The smile was a little dazed. "Wasn't hungry. When I drink, it helps."
He frowned, crossing the room in quick strides, reaching for the beer can.
I pulled it away, holding it close.
"Don't take it..." I heard my own voice, carrying a vulnerability I didn't recognize. "When I drink, I stop being me. I don't have to be Elena anymore."
His hand froze in midair.
I saw his expression change. The severity disappeared, replaced by something deeper. Pain? Heartache?
"Elena..." His voice dropped. "What have you been carrying?"
I didn't answer. Just took another sip.
The alcohol warmed in my bloodstream. My head felt lighter and lighter, but at the same time something was awakening. I could feel it pulling inside me, trying to break free.
I looked at him.
"You're the only one who cares about me."
The words came out, tone serious and aggrieved.
Caleb watched me in silence. Less than a meter separated us.
"Are you sober right now?" he asked.
I tilted my head, thinking. "Tomorrow I'll definitely remember." I paused, looking into his eyes. "But later... I can't say for sure."
"Then I'll wait until later to talk," he said, voice low and rough.
I smiled. The smile held alcohol's boldness, and something I normally didn't dare show.
I leaned forward. The distance between us shrank to less than half a meter. I could smell his scent—ice, cedar, and a hint of tobacco.
"Earlier, when you came back," I stared into his eyes, "you wanted to kiss me, didn't you?"
The air froze.
He didn't deny it. Didn't confirm it either. Just looked at me, eyes deep and dangerous.
I stood up.
The room swayed, but I steadied myself. I walked over to stand in front of him.
My finger lifted, lightly poking his chest.
"You know what?" My voice was soft. "Sometimes I think you're much more dangerous than Damon."
His hand suddenly gripped my wrist.
"Elena," his voice was already laced with suppressed roughness, "don't provoke me."
But I didn't listen.
I moved closer. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to see that amber glow in his eyes—it wasn't a reflection of the light.
Something inside me was struggling violently. My skin was burning. The air filled with the scent of gardenias, rich to the point of being cloying, mixed with sweet milk.
I heard his breathing grow heavier.
I heard a sharp clang—the beer can in my hand hit the carpet with a thud.
Then his hand gripped the back of my head.
He turned quickly.
His mouth pressed against mine.
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It was aggressive, consuming, like he'd been holding back for too long and something inside him finally snapped. His hand gripped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and his mouth moved against mine with a hunger that made my knees weak.
I felt his body heat—wrong, too intense. He was burning up. Hotter than any person should be.
My spine arced like electricity had shot through it. My body responded before my brain caught up, leaning into him, wanting more—
No.
I shoved him. Hard.
He didn't budge. Instead, his other hand caught my wrist, holding it against his chest. Not painful. Just... firm. Unyielding.
"Caleb—" My voice came out breathless.
He pulled back just enough for me to see his face. His eyes—shit. They weren't brown anymore. There was amber in them, flickering like embers in the dark.
"Now you know to be scared?" His voice was rough, barely controlled.
I could smell it. The change in his scent. That cold cedar I'd gotten used to—it was still there, but now it was thick. Heated. Aggressive. It filled the room like smoke.
My heart was slamming against my ribs.
"Let go," I whispered.
"No."
He stepped closer, backing me toward the sofa. I stumbled, my legs hitting the edge, and he followed, caging me in. His forehead pressed against mine. Our breaths tangled together.
He was shaking.
That scared me more than anything else.
"You know what you're doing?" he asked, voice low and strained.
I swallowed.
His eyes flashed. I saw it—just for a second—the tips of his canines lengthening, sharper than they should be.
"I'm afraid," he said slowly, "that my wolf won't stop at just kissing you."
His hand slid from my wrist to my waist. His fingers found the hem of my hoodie, brushing bare skin. I jerked back instinctively.
He didn't let me go far. Just pressed me down into the corner of the sofa, leaning in until his mouth was right next to my ear. His breath was scorching against the side of my neck.
"Next time you provoke me," he murmured, "I won't stop here."
Then he let go. Stood up. Stepped back like I'd burned him.