"I wanted to," he started. "We were interrupted, at first. Attacked. It was after you'd taken the cure. It was in my hand and, snap." That was his neck, if it wasn't clear. She didn't know that, did she. "My neck. Vampire. It's temporary. Anyway, later, after you'd regained certain memories, you questioned if I really wanted it." He looked away, picturing the fight between them, minor in the long run, it wouldn't have ended them. Elena wanted to be with him, human or not, even if a part of her had been scared that taking cure would change her feelings. "Remember that our whole sage spans years, so when I say that, a few years before that you asked me to take it with you and I refused, remember that people change. And when you originally asked me, on an island on the hunt for said cure, I was a different person. I believed that you loved me because you died with my blood in your system, and not because your feelings were real." He sucked in a breath and extricated himself from her arms, grabbing his glass and standing. "When a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they wake up in transition. If they feed in the first twenty-four hours," he said, retrieving the bottle again and starting to pour. "They turn. If a human in love with the vampire in question dies with his, or her," he gestured, bringing the glass up as he turned. He was always an inclusive vampire. Him, her, love who people wanted to love, bite who people wanted to bite. "blood in their system, then the sirebond is born." He looked down into his drink, not proud of the next part. "Because you died with my blood in your system," he explained, looking up again. "You were sired to me, Elena. And that, along with a million other vampire-related hang-ups and reasons, had me not wanting to take the cure." Then.