I have never felt special. Since before I could remember, it had always been me and my father. Given, my father is The Marcel Gerard, king of the quarter and most requested man in the whole of New Orleans. Most people placed me on a pedestal and worshiped me as if I were royalty myself. And who could blame me for enjoying it? Most people gave me gifts and accompanied me in pleasant conversation as I moved around the streets on outings with father. And the few that disrespected me, belittled me because I was human? Well, let's just say that they don't live to tell the tale.

Now, I know what you must be wondering. How is it possible for a 200-year-old vampire to have a child, and the answer is very easy. They can't. No vampire in the history of vampirism has ever had a child. To put it simply, I was adopted. Marcel would tell me stories of how one day, he walked from his home in the centre of New Orleans, when he heard a child crying. And that's how he found me, wrapped up in a blanket and abandoned on his doorstep. Not the best adoption story, I know, but I could not have wished for a better father.

When I was younger, father would take me to visit the witches. Since I was young, I had always had an elevated interest in magic. I mean that's how I met my best friend Sophie after all. Despite the age difference, Sophie was somewhat of a sister figure for me. She would always be willing to show me spells and teach me how to read grimoires. We would sit in her restaurant and she would tutor me while I ate all her food. I always admired how she excepted me, as if I was her own, despite the territorial nature of her ancestral magic. She even gave me a necklace for my 15th birthday. It is a bright red stone, shaped like a blood drop, that lit up in darkness. Sophie said it would allow me to 'have a little magic of my own'.

It sounds strange doesn't it? A human excited in magic, with a witch best friend and a vampire dad. Now all were waiting on is the werewolf element of my story, but there is none. Werewolves had been banished from the quarter for years now, left to rot in the bayou. Father would tell me of their self-destruction, how vile and ruthless the werewolves were. They would kill their own members of their pack just to prove they were alpha. He would recall how he had managed to save two sisters, who were werewolf royalty, and sent them to a better life and how it was their fate to find each other again. I would dream of these two girls, they were my version of Disney princesses, both stunningly beautiful, somewhere in America and having no clue of their destiny.

My father was always someone who liked to make a big deal out of everything, which explains where I am now. We are in the vampire club of New Orleans, the go to place for my father's nightwalkers. From the outside, it seems like an abandoned jazz club, with peeling paint and rotting planks covering the windows. It lies on an abandoned corner of the quarter, as to avoid unsuspecting tourists becoming their next meal. However, as you step through the doors, you are welcomed by a rustic, antique setting, with a bar full of alcohol and a karaoke machine. That's where my dad is, singing his heart out on stage. He brought me here since it was my 17th birthday, and he wanted to bond with me before I leave for college in a year and a half. I'm stuck between Diego and Thierry, who's eyes slightly glance to me every now and again, since they think in going to raid the alcohol at the bar. Marcel has genuinely not allowed alcohol within a five-metre radius of me, all because of the incident that happened at Christmas, seriously this man needs to let things GO.

I reach my hand across the bar to grab a bottle of vodka that just seems to be teasing me just as I see Thierry and Diego turn to look at something. I quickly reach it, my fingertips practically kissing the bottle. I'm almost there...

"I don't think so" my wrist was grabbed, and my eyes met a mischievous smile. That smug git.

"haven't you got some locals to harass, speaking of, isn't that blonde bartender working today?" I smirked at him.

"And why would I abandon my beautiful daughter on such a special day?" Marcel pulled me from my seat at the bar and began swaying side to side with me in his arms. My face glowed red as I playfully shoved him away from me. Each of his men burst into husky laughter. What I failed to see the vampire who walked through the door.

"Klaus" my father stated. I turned and came face to face with the most stunning man I had ever seen. His hair was light brown and he had the brightest blue eyes. But he looked pissed. Very pissed. Diego, sensing danger, grabbed my hand and pulled me to his side. Damn vampire strength.

"Marcel" The man, Klaus, replied.

"Must have been a hundred years since that nasty business with your papa".

"Has it really been that long?"

I wriggled helplessly, trying to pry Diego's hand off my wrist. So, these two knew each other?

"The way I recall it, he ran you out of town, and left a trail of dead vampires in his wake" Marcel stated. What kind of fucked up people was this family... Oh wait, not people, vampires.

"And yet how unfortunate you managed to survive. My father, I'm afraid, I recently incinerated to dust" The man smiled, SMILED, as he said this. What kind of twisted bastard was he?

that's when, one by one, the laughter seized. Each one of Marcels men stood protectively behind him. Diego pulled me against his side, his grip even tighter on my wrist. Now this was really beginning to fucking hurt.

"well if I had known you were coming back into town, if I had had a heads up" Marcel joked.

"what, Marcel, what would you have done?" The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Both men glared at each other, the wrong reply seeming to risk breaking out into war.

That's when I saw my father smile. "I would have thrown you a damn parade" They both embraced each other, ignoring the crowd of confused faces staring at them. Everyone seemed lost on what to say, or worried they would get hurt for asking. I mean seriously, he just threatened Marcel no more than THIRTY SECONDS AGO.

"Ok, I'll give, who the fuck is he?" I asked, moving to my father's side and staring Klaus up and down. His eyes widened slightly with interest before breathing in. And deeply as well. Ok, now we had reached stalker territory. He is genuinely smelling me.

"Klaus Mikaelson, and you are?"

"The girl telling you to back off." I smirked at the men before returning to my seat at the bar. Seeing an opportunity, I reached across the bar, half expecting Marcel to stop me, but he didn't. I turned back around to see that he, creepy Klaus, Thierry and Diego had all gone to the back room.

After entertaining myself with the karaoke machine for just under an hour, the boys came back out. I turned when I felt a hand on my wrist and saw it was Diego. Seriously, what was it with this guy and grabbing me.