“There’s trouble here!” Bonnie said indignantly.
“I know. But it’s Pack stuff. In the end, I’m sworn to them, and I have to do what they say. The whole Pack has to go where we’re needed.” He squeezed her hand tightly and looked back up at her, his eyes pleading. “Come with us. Marry me. I don’t want to lose you, Bonnie.”
Bonnie couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t with the happy surprise of a few moments ago. Instead her throat seemed to be closing up. She felt like she was going to die.
Colorado. Colorado was really far away.
The first tiny drops of rain hit her arms, one cold drop and then another. Wind blew through the rose arch and showered damp white petals down over Bonnie. One hit her face, a delicate blow, and she peeled it off her own cheek, soft and wilted.
It was beginning to rain more steadily, and the cold raindrops loosened Bonnie’s tongue and let her start thinking again. “I can’t. Zander, I can’t.” He was staring at her, his eyelashes wet with rain. “I love you, but how could I leave here with everything that’s going on? Meredith’s a vampire. Stefan’s dead. My friends need me here.”
Zander leaned closer, put a hand on Bonnie’s knee to steady himself. “I need you,” he said softly, almost whispering.
Rain plastered Bonnie’s hair against her forehead and ran down her cheeks, feeling almost like tears. “Please, Zander, I can’t.”
Zander’s eyes closed for a second, long pale eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, and then he opened his eyes, let go of her hand, and stood. “I understand,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll go tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to make things tense for everybody. Some of the guys can stay and patrol for a few days, until Damon and Elena are back.” Standing above her, he seemed impossibly tall. Bonnie couldn’t get a good look at his face, but his hands were clenched tightly. He backed away from her for a few steps, then turned and headed for the gate out of the botanical gardens, walking slowly with his head down.
Water was running down her arms, soaking her clothes. A white rose petal clung limply to the back of her hand, and Bonnie stared at it numbly, seeing the curve at its base, the line of brown at its edge. There was a terrible ache in her chest. Bonnie realized she was feeling her heart break.
#TVD12TheProposal
It had rained all night and through the day, and now it was late afternoon, the cloudy gray sky gradually getting darker. Damon drove his gleaming black car down the highway and let his Power loose around him, trying to sense if anything supernatural lurked in the woods on either side of the road. There was nothing, just the gentle hum of nondescript human minds from the cars on the road and the towns they swept by.
“There’s just a trace,” Elena said from the passenger seat beside him. She leaned forward and peered out through the windshield. “It’s very faint, but I think she kept heading north.”
They’d been on the road all day. Elena swore they were following slight signs of Siobhan’s aura. Damon couldn’t see them himself, but he trusted her. She’d always been clever. Terribly, frighteningly young, but clever. And he could feel her intentness coming through the bond between them, the careful way she scanned their environment, her excitement when she caught a glimpse of Siobhan’s aura trail. Sitting so close to her, he was more aware of her emotions than ever.
And now he was feeling something else from her. Hunger. He was about to comment, when she stretched, and said, “Let’s get something to eat.”
Damon felt his mouth twitch up into the beginnings of a smile—he’d read her so well—and he took the next exit. He drove a little farther, until they came to a likely looking diner. They pulled into the parking lot and climbed out, glancing up at the sullen glow of the low-hanging sun through the clouds. It would be evening soon, and it didn’t feel like they were getting much closer to their goal.
Crossing to the other side of the car, he opened Elena’s door for her. “Come on, princess,” he said. “The quest will wait while you have a cheeseburger.”
Inside the diner, gingham tablecloths covered each table, folk art pictures of roosters and ducks hung on the walls, and a child’s toy—an Etch-a-Sketch, Magic 8 Ball, or game—sat on each table.
“Aw, this is charming,” Elena said as the waitress, wearing a ruffled apron, led them to a table for two.
“The word you’re looking for is cloying,” Damon told her. The waitress glanced back at him, and he shot her a blinding smile.
Elena ordered a sandwich and iced tea, but Damon didn’t feel like eating. Human food gave him no nourishment, and there was nothing on the menu he was in the mood to sample. There was a low ache of hunger in his stomach, though, and he ran his tongue over his sensitive canines. He could last a little longer before he hunted, he supposed. He wasn’t desperate enough yet for fur or feathers in his mouth. “Just coffee, please,” he told the waitress.