Chapter One
Strawberries, cherries and an angel's kiss in spring
My summer wine is really made from all these things…..
Elijah Mikaelson was drunk on his success.
The taste in his mouth was sweeter than any wine; addictive than any drug he ever had the pleasure to use. They chanted his name as if they were in trance, paying him homage for his husky voice that ignited the lush fires of sin.
'Elijah' 'Elijah' 'Elijah'
His concert had ended two hours ago and they had followed him to his hotel. If he went on his window and peered outside, he would see mass of people waiting in the eager hope.
Music, his one and true love.
His lover, his mistress, his wife. The music that made him god for the people who didn't believe in gods and devil for those who worshiped the beauty of his many vices.
He was a man who had chased his dream, sacrificed a lot for it and had been rewarded a lot for it too. The only love he had ever known in his life was music. Sweet, precious, gritty, angry, dark music. Music with numerous shades and secrets.
The night called him. Called his name softly, as if she was inviting him for her bacchanalian saga of melody. The edgy, restless energy inside him intensified as his name was uttered by many in the hopes of a glimpse, of a man who was as much music as music was him.
He put on a random shirt from the closet over the skin tight jeans he had been wearing since concert. The keys of his new Bugatti were where he had left them early morning, on his bedside table.
As he walked out with his jacket slung on his back, the maid in the corridor paused to admire the sensuality that was Elijah Mikaelson. There were very few who could even make rags work for them and this man was one of those people.
Elena Gilbert was broke, homeless and roaming on the streets of an unknown city but fate was still not satisfied. No, she had to write a mugging incident in her destiny which resulted in loss of her phone, her only source of comfort. So in short Elena Gilbert was fucked up in a strange city where people had mean stares and no pity in their heart.
The rain was a soft shimmer and if she were back in Mystic Falls, she might have enjoyed it but here in New Orleans rain seemed like Satan's own vindictive daughter.
She wrapped her hands tightly around herself as the gust of wind made her shiver.
There was no one out on these deserted roads and she felt another slice of fear sinking in her skin. Why the hell had she decided running from home to see Elijah Mikaelson would be a good idea? Right now, it seemed like the worst one she ever had.
The throaty rumble of engine made her heart rate spike and she quickened her pace. God knew what kind of perverts frequented these streets.
The car slowed when it came beside her. It was a black Bugatti. Elena Gilbert wanted to touch the car because she had never seen something so magnificent in her ordinary life but self perseverance kept her walking.
The window rolled and the smell of whiskey assailed her senses. The strong smell indicated that the man had probably bathed in whiskey before he got in his million dollar car.
'Care for a ride baby?' the smooth husky voice made the hairs rise on her neck. It was the voice she had worshiped. Voice of the man who was proclaimed as the God of Music by his adoring fans.
She turned just to confirm that her mind was not playing any tricks on her, that he was indeed Elijah Mikaelson and not someone else.
And yes he was Elijah Mikaelson because he could be no one else.
White shirt carelessly unbuttoned, which gave a mesmerizing peek at his impressive musculature and myriad of tattoos that graced his skin were an impressive sight to behold. His hair was disheveled as if many hands had delved in its silky depths and his lips were red as if he had kissed scores of women.
'Baby, I don't have the whole night. Are you getting in?' he slurred.
What the hell was happening right now? Elijah Mikaelson was inviting her in his car. She didn't know Elijah Mikaelson personally. He could be a class A creep for all she knew.
'Darling, it's getting late and I don't think your regular Johns are going to come. So how much do you charge for a single night?' he asked. 'Never had to pay for sex before.' He mumbled.
It registered after a moment that he thought she was a prostitute working the streets. Elijah Mikaelson slipped down a bit from the pedestal she had kept him on. If it had been someone else, she would have given a scathing reply or run away as fast as she could but this was Elijah Mikaelson.
Her heart thudded, feet hesitated before moving towards the door he had unlocked. What kind of madness was she going to jump in? She looked at his face again. His eyes were on her and the passion simmering in them left her wanting for the forbidden fruit he offered.
The hesitation was locked away in a corner of her heart and mind as she got in his car, shutting the door after her and the Bugatti raced down the street….
This plot came to me in my dream and then it just couldn't let me sleep. So what do you think? Review below and let me know.