"I HAD to, Elena," Damon insisted roughly. He braced her down against the bed, holding her shoulders. He normally would have healed her by now, and the wound on her neck was still spilling blood all over the sheets.
"You need to stop."
He hadn't compelled her, but he knew deep down that that was what it was going to take. He couldn't move forward with her training, knowing that she was terrified of him, that she had seen him tear into that man. There was a big difference between her vaguely knowing is history, and seeing him in action first hand.