Even from the back of the room the veins in her neck are as prominent as ever. None of the ordinary suckers around me notices how her blood rushes through them just underneath that thin layer of skin. I'd easily break it. I'd thrust my teeth into her neck and tear her throat open. Her blood would fill my mouth, thick and sweet.

"God, Khan, you're so pathetic." Erin's eyes are trained on Stella as well, but unlike me, she doesn't look like she wants to rip every limb from her body.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I mumble and try to focus on the book before me. Who am I even kidding? As long as Stella's in the room, my attention is on her. I smell her stupid strawberry shampoo and I listen for the soft rustle of fabric as she crosses her legs under that way-too-fucking-long skirt.

"Is he staring again?" Rick doesn't even bother to lower his voice when he lifts his head off his table.

"Yup, full stalker mode activated," Erin whispers. Rick has no trouble picking up on her words, even though I'm sitting between the both, because Rick is more like me than Erin will ever understand. He's partially human, partially wolf.

"Maybe I was looking. I wasn't staring." I was staring, but the second I'd admit that I was craving a girl's blood I am out of school for good. My mother has her ears everywhere. It's fucking with my head. I can hardly voice an honest thought without her confronting me about it.

"Just go talk to her, man."

"I hate to admit it, but Rick's right. It's not like you're a leper. Somewhere underneath those terrible curls and the girly dimples must be potential for cuteness."

God, sometimes I wonder why we even hang out with that redheaded pain in the ass. "You're such a sweetheart, Erin. How is someone like you perpetually single?"

"Mister Mikaelson, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Collins," I sigh. Everybody is staring at me, now. Including Stella. God, I have to focus on my teacher. I swear, if I get one glance at Stella's rosy lips, she won't get home alive.

"Cut the birthday boy some slack, Mrs. Collins," Rick hollers.

Our history teacher mumbles something into her scarf and sits back down without more complaining. It's not because it's my eighteenth birthday, though, it's just that she's a lazy ass woman who can't be bothered to give a shit.

As soon as class lets out, I bolt to the bathroom. Mostly because it smells like shit – literally – and clears my nose of every bit of Stella's scent. I roll my head back into my neck and lean against the sink. It's getting worse each day. I won't be able to take much more. Blood bags only get me so far. Soon I'd have to start carrying them around to help against the dusty tongue in a dry mouth and the constant stream of bloody massacres in my head. As soon as I'm sure most of the hallways are empty and my brain isn't fogged up by a blonde neo hippie girl, I shoulder my bag and jog out of the building, past the hurrying students and down the steps. Only to stop dead at the sight of a sleek, black car and a twenty-something guy in a leather jacket leaning next to it.

It's hard to control the muscles in my face but somehow I manage to freeze them still. My breathing evens and I step up to the son of a bitch who hasn't shown his face in two years.

"What do you want?" I bite, although I don't even want to hear the answer.

"Is that any way to talk to your father?"

I whip my head around, but there's no one to hear. The parking lot has been wiped clean. As far as everybody in school in concerned, my father is dead. It's kind of hard to explain that my father is in fact a never-aging vampire/werewolf hybrid who has some serious ego issues.

"I wouldn't know, Klaus. I never had one."

"Get in the car, son."

I'm about to refuse but the door to the backside swings open. Rick sits inside, breathing heavily with his hand curled around Stella's neck. Her lips tremble. Her fear leaks sweat from her pores. The blood hammers through her veins and her eyes skip from Rick to Klaus to me and back to Rick. She opens her mouth but no sound escapes her throat.

"You compelled her."

"Of course I did. Now, get inside before Richard snaps the girl's neck."

Richard. I should have seen this coming. Klaus was a control freak. Why did I even think only Mom was watching my every step. He had his spy as well. I dig my nails into my palms and sink into the seat besides Stella. Right in front of me, in the passenger seat, I see a familiar curtain of red curls.

"Happy birthday, Khan," Erin sings.

He had spies. Plural.

I knew there were reasons why I was a loner in middle school. Friends sucked.

Klaus falls into the driver's seat and rips the engine to life. "Eat up, son. It's going to be a long drive."

"Where are we going?" I ask, dismissing his order to eat.

"Home. It's time you learn to rule your kingdom."

It's weird, but my biggest concern is that Mom won't know I'm being forced to go back to New Orleans. She's going to be angry first, because I'm not home for dinner, and then, a few hours later, she will wear a path into the living room carpet because she can't stop pacing back and forth when she's worried. Maybe I should worry, too, about sitting in a car with a psychopath and his sidekicks. It's just so hard to worry with Stella's erratic heart beating merely two feet away from my mouth.

"Why are you even hesitating, man. This is our birthday present for you. I mean, if you don't want her… I'm always hungry."

"Shut the fuck up or you'll be the one that I'll rip apart," I growl.

"Now, that's more like it," Klaus laughs. "Nevertheless, I have no need for a starved little boy. Eat."

Tuning out my father's words, I turn to Rick and Stella. He still holds her in place and it would be easy to compel him off of her, but my eyes stop on Stella's. She wears the same expression I've fantasized about so often. That's it. All I can think of is that I have imagined clawing my way under her skin so many times. Other than that, she's an empty shell. I don't know what she likes. I don't know her family or her plans for the future. She's just the image of a girl that I can't get out of my head. And suddenly the solution is so easy. Get it over with, kill her and have her out of my thoughts for good. Why fight the symptoms when you can erase the cause?

Because it would be the humane thing to do.

The problem is: I was never human. I was born a monster.

"I'm sorry," I say and tilt my head to the side. Pain shoots through my gums as the fangs pierce their way out and grow longer. My lips curl back to make room for them. "I waited for this for a long time." Lurching forward, I press my mouth against her sweaty neck. My tongue flicks over her salty skin, before my teeth break through the thin tissue and the blood wells into my mouth. My hand moves up. I push Rick off, grabbing her hair and tugging her head out of my way. I swallow the hot liquid. It deliciously burns down my throat. She makes no attempt to stop me. Her hands lie on my chest but she doesn't shove. I push into them. Their cold seeps through my shirt. It drives me further. I want more of her warmth. I want all her warmth.