The Awakening (book1):
"If you're looking for somebody, I think you'd better look somewhere else."
He was looking at her oddly, with an expression she couldn't understand. It was a mixture of annoyance and grudging respect—and something else. Something hot and fierce that frightened her in a different way.
[…] "Perhaps I've already found her... Elena."

A vision of dark eyes rose before her. That boy, the boy she'd almost given in to at Bonnie's house, the boy who'd made her forget Stefan. Was he the one?

The Struggle (book2):
God, he was beautiful. Handsome was too weak and colorless a word. […] "I do believe you," he said, relaxing, looking around the graveyard. Then he turned back and held out a hand to her. "You're too good for my brother," he said casually.

“My brother," he went on, "is a fool. He thinks that because you look like Katherine you're weak and easily led like her. But he's wrong. I could feel your anger from the other side of town. I can feel it now, a white light like the desert sun. […]Suddenly, he stepped close to her, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice soft and urgent. "You've tried everything else, and nothing has satisfied you. You're the girl who has everything, but there's always been something just out of your reach, something you need desperately and can't have. That's what I'm offering you. Power. Eternal life. And feelings you've never felt before."

"I may just have to make you my Queen of Shadows," he said, and, speaking almost to himself, he continued: "I've had many companions, girls as young as you and women who were the beauties of Europe. But you're the one I want at my side. Ruling, taking what we want when we want it. Feared and worshipped by all the weaker souls. Would that be so bad?"

The Fury (Book3):
He was hurt. His mind had summoned her here, battering her with shock waves of rage and pain. She had come to help him because she belonged to him.

But he'd been decent to her when she'd been confused and irrational. He'd taken her to shelter; he'd kept her safe. And he hadn't kissed her while she'd been in that horrifyingly vulnerable state. He'd been… kind to her.

But then she remembered something else, just a flash: looking up at Damon's face in the woods and feeling such—such excitement, such affinity with him. As if he understood the flame that burned inside her as nobody else ever could. As if together they could do anything they liked, conquer the world or destroy it; as if they were better than anyone else who had ever lived.

"But I don't have any better ideas. Do you?"
"What, you mean about other ways to spend the time? Yes, I do. Do you want me to tell you about them?”

Something was shining on Damon's face. She reached toward it, touched it, and lifted her fingers away in wonder.
"Don't be sad," she told him, feeling the cool wetness on her fingertips. But a pang of worry disturbed her. Who was there to understand Damon now? Who would be there to push him, to try to see what was really inside him?

Dark Reunion (Book4):
"Damon," she said.
The clear light and shining love in her face was irresistible.

He turned back to the couple on the ground. Then he removed his jacket and stepped behind Elena. He draped it over her shoulders without touching her.
"It's a cold night," he said. His eyes held Stefan's a moment as he settled the black jacket around her.

Nightfall (Book 5):
He wanted her more than ever now that she had been a spirit. Even as a vampire she would retain most
of her own nature, and he could just picture it: her light for his darkness, her soft whiteness in his hard,
black-jacketed arms. He would stop that exquisite mouth with kisses, smother her with them

She was facing him now, but strangely Damon didn’t find himself tracing the blue veins in her fair, smooth skin. He found himself staring hungrily at her slightly parted lips. They were…almost impossible
to resist. Even in sleep they were the color of rose petals, slightly moist, and parted that way…[…] It seemed to jerk him out of a dream world. What had he been thinking? Risking everything, all his plans,
for a kiss ? There would be plenty of time for kisses—and other, much more important things.

She had seen him when she was a human girl, and she had defied him and desired him in equal measure—and he had seemed to love her best when she was defying him. She had seen him when she was a vampire and had been drawn to him with all her being.

He wanted her to believe him, to trust him. He didn’t want Elena as a one-night bleeder. He wanted her to choose him. He wanted her to see how much better suited she was to him than to his mousy, milksop brother.
His princess of darkness. That was what she was meant to be. With him as king, consort, whatever she wished. When she saw things more clearly, she would understand that it didn’t matter. That nothing
mattered except them being together.

She was…damn it, she was everything . Witty, enchanting, brave, smart…and beautiful. And he knew that his eyes were saying all that and that she wasn’t turning away.
“We might—take a little walk,” he said, and bells rang and trumpets played fanfares, and confetti came raining down and there was a release of doves….
In other words, she said, “All right.”

Without a thought of herself, without a thought of any kind, Elena did what she did best—gave in to impulse. She threw her arms around Damon’s neck and kissed him.

Elena leaned forward and tilted her head up, lips pursed slightly.
After a few moments, Damon, the Don Juan of darkness, got the point.
He kissed her very gently, as if afraid to make too much contact

Stefan was her lynchpin, but Damon was the fiery breath beneath her wings. However far she went, Damon seemed to lure her on just a little farther.

Because Damon wasn’t just on her side. Unless she was wrong, he was willing to die for her—was courting death for her.

I’m being honest with myself, I have to admit that he
touches something deep inside me that makes me shiver—a part of myself even I don’t understand.