Hands gently caress her cheeks but the underlying threat remains. Neither says it, both knowing that in less than a heartbreak he could kill her.
She sometimes wonders why it doesn't bother her anymore.
"Sweet Caroline," he mocks her, his eyes betraying the hatred that his voice disguises. She forces a smile that they both know is far too sickly sweet, even for her. His lips find their way to the side of her neck as he trails kisses along the base of her throat, being considerate enough to only let his teeth scrape the skin occasionally.
His eyes flick up to meet hers and he sees the hidden terror and barely disguised arousal. He grins quickly before sinking his teeth into his neck. Both of them knew that she would need his blood later to heal the wound, but it was not at the forefront of either's mind. She struggled against him futilely; he was far stronger and so much older.
"Hush Caroline," he whispers, "My sweet Caroline." He laps at her blood not really drinking it, at least sparing her that humiliation.
She thought that she was done with being overpowered when she became a vampire.
Evidently, no one had told him that yet.
She wonders why he ignores the fact that she doesn't love him or even like him. She can't even stand him. Maybe that's why he keeps her around – to torture her further with his presence alone. Sometimes when they're like this, she remembers another time when she felt so utterly overpowered and so destroyed as she watched his blue eyes mocking her.
She would give anything to see those eyes now.
"Please, stop," she begs him uselessly and he throws his head back and laughs.
"My sweet, sweet Caroline," he whispers, "I'll stop when I want to." She shakes her head and meets those harsh eyes and she wonders what she could possible mean to him. He bites his wrist and presses it firmly against her mouth, so as she can heal the already rotting wound. She drinks reluctantly knowing that she has no other choice. She forgets why she came here originally, just as she forgets every other time. And afterwards she'll vow never to come back, just as every other time.
But she always comes back. She needs him for some sick, unexplained reason. She's slightly masochistic like that.
She finally manages to pull herself off him. She doesn't fool herself into thinking that it's because of any other reason except that he allows her to. She pulls on her clothes and informs him sternly,
"I won't be back again." He doesn't reply. He doesn't need to.
They both know that it's a lie.
As she shuts the door she tries to ignore the sound of Klaus' laughter echoing after her.
She'll be back. She's addicted to him.