ith the
hard cold eyes of a predator. Something had caused him to hate her, to
barely be able to sit in the car with her. And whatever it was, Elena had
to learn to ignore it, because if Damon left, she would have no chance of
finding Stefan.
Stefan. At last her trembling heart could find rest in thinking of
Stefan. He wouldn’t care what she looked like: his sole concern would
be for her well-being. Elena shut her eyes as she turned on the hot water
in the tub and stripped off her clammy clothes, basking in her
imagination of Stefan’s love and approval.
The motel had provided a small plastic bottle of bubblebath, but
Elena left it alone. She’d brought her own translucent-gold bag of
vanilla bath crystals in her duffel bag, and this was the first chance she’d
had to use it.
Carefully, she shook about a third of the beribboned bag’s crystals
into the rapidly filling tub and was rewarded with a steamy blast of
vanilla, which she drew into her lungs gratefully.
A few minutes later, Elena was shoulder deep in hot water covered
with a vanilla-scented foam. Her eyes were shut and the warmth was
soaking into her body. The softly disintegrating salts were easing away
all pain.
These weren’t ordinary bath salts. They had no medicinal smell,
but they’d been given to her by Stefan’s landlady, Mrs. Flowers, who