He knew what that kiss had meant to him. The question was, what had it meant to Elena? They hadn’t talked about it. Since the night three weeks before when they’d killed Jack, they’d been cautious and polite with each other, circling each other warily in the confines of Elena’s apartment. Every once in a while, though, he’d felt the brush of her regard, turned to see Elena’s lapis lazuli eyes watching him thoughtfully and with affection.
Damon permitted himself, sometimes, to hope.
The minister said, with a smile, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” and Bonnie leaned up for Zander’s kiss, her face shining.
Damon stood with the rest as the bridal party went down the path, and then followed and joined them as waiters passed around champagne.
Bonnie’s father cleared his throat, holding his glass aloft. “My baby girl…” he began, tears in his eyes. Damon let his gaze drift around the circle of faces. Bonnie’s family was so ordinary—balding middle-management father, comfortably plump mother, two round-faced practical older sisters. His redbird was like a rare rose in a garden of dandelions.
“Like the cliché goes, I’m not losing a daughter, I’m gaining a son,” Bonnie’s father said, putting an awkward hand on Zander’s shoulder. Everyone smiled, and Damon felt a small stir of sentiment. At least they adored her, Bonnie’s plebian suburban family. They’d never quite comprehend how fiery and sweet and full of Power she was. But they loved her.
When Bonnie’s father finished his toast with a clumsy kiss on his daughter’s cheek, Jared raised his glass. Damon hid his smile with a sip of champagne. This ought to be amusing.
“Uh…” the shaggy-haired werewolf began. “When Zander started dating Bonnie, we all thought she was awesome, but we were, like, ‘Really?’ because she wasn’t, uh, the same kind of person we were.” The boy paused, and his eyes traveled slowly around the circle of attentive faces.
Damon could see the moment when he realized he was going to have to make this speech without using the words wolf, Pack, or Alpha. Without that, the whole lot of them were going to sound like a bunch of weirdly close-knit overgrown frat boys. Fair enough, really.
On the other side of the circle, Zander’s Beta girl—Shay, that was it—twitched, and Damon could tell she was longing to smack the boy over the head.
Jared stumbled over his words, stared down at his feet, his floppy hair falling over his eyes, and finally looked up, smiling, dimples creasing his cheeks, and launched into an anecdote about Bonnie and Zander together. There was a little more alcohol in the story, Damon thought, than Bonnie’s mother would have preferred, but his affection for them both shone through. Werewolf crisis averted.
Elena’s arm brushed his as she stepped up next to him, and they exchanged a look of perfect understanding, amusement flowing through the bond between them.
Letting his attention wander again, Damon fingered a small rounded package in his pocket.
When the toasts were over, he pulled Bonnie aside. Zander followed amiably, a glass of champagne in his hand, and Elena stayed near them, watching. The rest of the wedding guests were drifting toward the tent set up on the other side of the meadow, where a band was warming up on the dance floor.
“Congratulations,” Damon said formally. “I have a little something for you.” He handed Bonnie the small package, wrapped in black silk.
“But you already gave us a present,” Bonnie said, taken aback.
“I suppose so,” Damon said. Elena had ordered something from the registry from them both, he vaguely recalled—silver, perhaps, or some sort of kitchen appliance. These were the traditional gifts now, apparently. “But this is something for you.”
Looking intrigued, Bonnie slipped the silk away from her present. A glossy white stone shone in her hand, half the size of her palm, with glistening highlights of green and blue. In its top was deeply etched a rough representation of a wolf’s face.
“A moonstone,” Bonnie said, examining it. “They’re supposed to help keep the bond between lovers strong.” She looked touched, her eyes soft, as she ran her finger across the carving.
“It seemed appropriate. This particular one is quite old. I got it from an acquaintance in Zurich. Legend says that it gives its owner power over werewolves.” Damon couldn’t resist shooting a sly smile at Zander, but the wolf-boy only laughed.
“She’s got plenty of power over me already,” he said, and squeezed Bonnie’s hand.
“Oh, Damon,” Bonnie said, and, letting go of Zander, flung her arms around Damon’s neck.