07 The Return_ Midnight - L. J. Smith

5
“I thought you wanted to get out so we could talk to Damon,” Stefan said, still hand in hand with
Elena as she made a sharp right turn onto the rickety stairway that led to the second-floor rooms and,
above that, to Stefan’s attic.
“Well, unless he kills Matt and runs I don’t see what’s to keep us from talking to him
tomorrow.” Elena glanced back at Stefan and dimpled. “I took your advice and thought a little about
the two of them. Matt’s a pretty tough quarterback and they’re both only human now, right? Anyway,
it’s time for your dinner.”
“Dinner?” Stefan’s canine teeth responded automatically—embarrassingly quickly—to
the word. He really needed to have a word with Damon later and make sure Damon understood his
place as a guest at the boardinghouse—nothing more—but it was true, he could do that tomorrow. It
might even be more effective tomorrow, when Damon’s own pent-up rage was spent.
He pressed his tongue against his fangs, trying to force them back down, but the small
stimulation caused them to sharpen, nicking his lip. Now they were aching pleasantly. All in response
to a single word: dinner.
Elena threw him a teasing glance over her shoulder and giggled. She was one of those
lucky females with a beautiful laugh. But this was a clearly mischievous giggle, straight from her
wicked, scheming childhood. It made Stefan want to tickle her to hear more; it made him want to
laugh with her; it made him want to grab her and demand to know the joke. Instead he said, “What’s
up, love?”
“Someone has sharp teeth,” she responded innocently, and giggled again. He lost himself
in admiration for a second and also suddenly lost hold of her hand. Laughing like a musical cascade
of white water over rock, she ran up the stairs ahead of him, both to tease and to show him what good
shape she was in, he thought. If she had stumbled, or faltered, she knew he would decide that her
donation of blood was harming her.
So far it didn’t seem to be damaging any of his friends, or he would have insisted on a
rest for that person. But even Bonnie, as delicate as a dragonfly, hadn’t seemed to be the worse for it.
Elena raced up the stairs knowing that Stefan was smiling behind her, and there was no shadow of
mistrust in his mind. She didn’t deserve it, but that only made her more anxious to please him.
“Have you had your dinner?” Stefan asked as they reached his room.
“Long ago; roast beef—cooked.” She smiled.