I won't bore you all with a longwinded author's note.
What I will say however, before this adventure begins, is that this is another three-part story and the sequel to Beautiful War. If you haven't already read Beautiful War then I strongly suggest you do so before starting this.
On a side note, how awesome was the new episode of The Originals? :)
Anyway, please let me know what you think. Feedback is invaluable.
Enjoy!
The warmth of his breath, the wet brush of his tongue as he slowly kissed a trail down her collarbone, pulling aside the soft lace material of her summer dress so that he had unfettered access, exploring with teeth and tongue the creamy white arch of her neck; it destroyed all reason. She wanted to berate him, to swat away his reaching hand as it slowly glided up her leg. Her senses were in total overdrive. His arm wrapped around her like a vice, holding her in place as he explored in leisure, nipping the soft skin behind her ear, his hand drawing maddening patterns along her inner thigh.
Caroline tilted her head unknowingly, offering him better access as she brushed away her hair. She leaned back, breathing softly as he continued to explore her. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world if they wished it. And she did wish it, so desperately that she had to force herself to remain still. This time would be different. They weren't in the woods. They didn't have to rush. No frantic kisses stolen in the heat of the moment, no wooden bark biting into skin. This was not scandalous sex. It was an exploration long overdue.
She let her hand slide down to his wandering one, guiding him to where she wanted him most. A soundless gasp formed on her lips, her body arching back as he finally, finally took the hint. She could feel the smirk on his lips as her head fell back, resting on his shoulder as she expelled a soft moan. This was what she wanted. After three weeks of dancing around the inevitable they had finally come to this. What had possessed her to think that this was a bad idea? It was the best idea. It was –
Caroline gasped suddenly, her eyes flying open as Klaus spun her around in his arms. She looked into his eyes, mouth moving soundlessly he continued to slide his fingers along her heat teasingly. She didn't think she could take much more of this. Her body was wound so tight that she felt an inexplicable desire to simply launch herself at him and take what she wanted without care. He smiled knowingly, leaning forward to capture her lips, swallowing her moan as he finally sunk his fingers into her hot warmth.
Klaus gripped the back of her neck, her hair bunched painfully in his strength. She didn't care. Caroline moved on instinct, her body rhythmically searching for release. He watched her take her fill, eyes darkening as she leaned forward to capture him in a bruising kiss.
Close. She was so unbelievably close.
Klaus growled suddenly. She was vaguely aware of her phone ringing. It sounded far off, like something from a dream. She couldn't be bothered to care. As if sensing her need, her desperation, Klaus pressed the pad of his thumb hard against her.
It was hard to describe the feeling of utter bliss. It was like a coil had sprung loose, the knot in her abdomen suddenly awash with warmth. Her body arched, mouth open in a wordless sigh. Her nails dug into his shoulders bitingly as she rode out her pleasure.
Caroline's shoulders sagged slightly as she fell forward, burying her forehead into the dark material of his shirt. Three weeks she had waited for this. Why she had waited at all seemed ridiculous now. Klaus ran a hand along her back, his nails gently digging in. If she was a cat, she might have purred at the sensation. The soft rumbling at the back of her throat might have been just that.
Klaus gently kissed the top of her head. "Whoever keeps calling you has a death wish."
She laughed at his soft grumble, moving out of his arms. Klaus looked offended by the move, giving her a look that said he clearly couldn't believe that she would look at her phone now, of all times.
"It might be important," she smiled apologetically, skipping out of his reach as he tried to grab the hem of her sundress. He simply growled in response.
Caroline moved to the bag she had carelessly thrown against the bedroom closet, bending down to find the object that seemed to cause Klaus such offence. She stared at the screen in confusion.
Three missed calls. From Enzo, of all people.
Caroline frowned at the tiny black object as a multitude of questions crossed her mind. Why would Enzo call her? It didn't make any sense. They were friendly but they weren't exactly friends. The last time they had spoken he'd been in a foul mood, the failure of finding Maggie destroying almost all of his charm. He had been so spiteful at first, but as she had sat there, listening to his tirade without a word, his spite had turned to sorrow. Enzo was pretty much the reason she was here. He had made her think in his sorrow and she felt she owed him for that.
She offered Klaus a weak smile. He groaned, falling back almost dramatically against the bed. Caroline tried to stifle her laugh.
Klaus was mean. He was guarded and careful and pretty much the biggest monster to ever walk the earth. But sometimes, sometimes when he let his guard down, he was just a man, a gorgeous and absolutely ridiculous man.
He moved off the bed quickly then, grabbing his jacket with an exaggerated swipe of his hand. His kiss was bruising as he pushed her against the wall. His stubble scratched her cheek, his mouth moving to her ear. "You have ten minutes. Otherwise, I'm throwing your phone out the window."
He was gone before she could do anything more than narrow her eyes.
Caroline moved to sit on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly dialling Enzo's number on her phone. She picked at the soft white sheets while she waited. It was strange; she had always kind of pictured Klaus to be a black sheets kind of guy. This was the first time she had been to his studio since that first day. It felt like a lifetime ago but in reality only three weeks had passed.
Three weeks.
Three weeks of letting him woo her. Three weeks of dinners and dances by candlelight, of endless tours of the Quarter; Caroline had seen and done just about everything the French Quarter had to offer. Klaus had even tried to teach her to paint, his impromptu lesson unceremoniously sprung upon her while they took a walk in the park. It had been three weeks of happiness, of care free enjoyment, but Caroline knew that eventually it would end. She had to go back to Whitmore at some point and when she did, well they would just have to figure something out.
"Hey Goldilocks," Enzo's dark voice floated down the receiver, his accent thicker than normal. She thought he sounded almost upset, like he had been drinking for a while.
Caroline tucked a curl behind her ear. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh, everything's just peachy love. Nothing to really worry about; everyone is making moon eyes at each other, so the usual drama," his laugh was dark, tone almost bitter.
"And you? Is everything alright with you?"
Caroline waited patiently but Enzo didn't reply. It worried her.
"Enzo, you called me three times," she persisted calmly, eying the digital clock on the nightstand beside her. Klaus would absolutely throw her phone out the window. He was selfish that way. The only time he wouldn't dare, she thought in amusement, was if it was her mother. "What's wrong?"
She heard the sound of liquid sloshing around in a bottle. Definitely drinking then.
"Nothing," he finally replied after some time had passed. "Just – I heard you went down south for a while. What was it Stefan said? Ah, yes. You were visiting family or something to that effect."
The way he said it, the sarcastic knowing lilt in his voice, gave him away immediately. There was no game afoot. Enzo wanted her to know that he knew. He knew where she was. More importantly, he knew why she was there. How could he not after she'd told him everything that day.
And your epic love, Goldilocks. Have you found him yet? His words echoed in her mind.
Stefan was the only person who knew where she was. Her mother thought that she was visiting Stephen; it had been such a long time since she had last seen him. Her friends, they didn't know any different. She needed a break from Whitmore, from everything that had happened. Why would they question if she was lying when she said that she was helping her dead father's boyfriend move house? No one really wanted to have that conversation.
"So you know where I am," she stated defensively. If he told them, she really would claw her frustration out on his skin.
"No need to snap, my perky little angel. I just wanted to see if you found what you were looking for," Caroline ground her teeth at the nickname but stopped short from snapping at him a second time. He sounded sincere enough. And she supposed, after that conversation, they did sort of have an invested interest in each others 'epic love' or whatever you wanted to call it. "Did you?"
The conversation was eerily reminiscent of the one that she had had with Stefan some weeks ago. Caroline had figured out what she wanted pretty quickly after that. But had she found her epic love? That was a big call. Klaus was volatile and obstinate; perhaps the most difficult man to ever walk the earth when he had his mind set on something. He was good to her though. Sweet when he wanted to be, surprisingly funny and older than sin. He was also ridiculously selfish but he made her happy.
"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I think so. What about you? Have you heard anymore about Mag – "
"Best not to think on it love," Enzo interrupted her. Caroline could hear the sadness in his voice. She could hear the pain. "I think that ship has sailed."
Caroline sighed. Enzo was a good man beneath the facade. "I'm sorry."
"It's probably for the best," he offered half-heartedly, taking another long swig of whatever he had decided to drown his sorrows in this time. She felt bad for him. "You sound happy. I'm...glad."
She didn't think he was. Not really.
"Thank you," her voice was soft, comforting. She tried to pour all the empathy she could into those two small syllables. They weren't just friendly, they were friends. She didn't know why she couldn't see it before now.
"Well, best get back to it then. Bloodied mayhem and torture won't start itself you know," Enzo quipped lightly. He was putting on a show, she could tell, but Caroline let it slide. It would do nothing to break down his facade, not when he was so obviously alone and she was his port of comfort.
"Try to be good."
Enzo simply laughed.
Caroline ended the call with a small smile at his teasing reply. Never. She supposed it was true; he would never really try to be good. He was good, whether he knew it or not.
She hated that he was drinking alone. Damon was probably too busy making eyes at Elena to notice his friend's pain. She would have to ask Stefan to check on him for her. She knew that there was no love loss between the two. Enzo was a bad influence on Damon but Damon was equally as bad for him; Caroline firmly believed that.
Maybe she should have lied. It might have been more merciful to say that she hadn't found what she was looking for. Perhaps it would have given him some comfort to know that he was not the only one, that he was not alone in his sorrow. He would know that she was lying though.
Running a hand over her face tiredly, Caroline looked around the room. It would not be long before Klaus was back and try as she might, Caroline could not recreate the feeling of excitement inside her. The conversation had quelled any and all desire. She felt...sad. The way Enzo had talked about Maggie all those months ago; it sucked that he didn't get to have his happy ending.
Caroline needed a drink.
She picked up her bag, carelessly tossing her phone inside, just in time for the door to open. Klaus looked at her, a takeaway coffee cup in each hand. He pursed his lips, a small frown crinkling his forehead.
He sighed and looked down at the coffee in his hands. "By the look of it you need something stronger than this."
Caroline smiled apologetically and walked towards him.
She took the coffee cup from his offered hand and wound her arm through his. Klaus nodded his head in what appeared to be resignation and slowly led them downstairs and out of the apartment. They walked in a comfortable silence but Caroline could tell that he wanted to ask her who she had been talking to. Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe she selfishly wanted to keep Enzo's friendship a secret, whatever it was, it told her to say nothing. Klaus would likely see Enzo as some sort of threat and Caroline did not want to deal with that scenario.
By the time they had reached Rousseau's her coffee cup was empty. As she moved to chuck the paper cup in the bin, she became aware of the eyes watching her. She tried to ignore them. Being on Klaus' arm drew more attention than she was comfortable with. On the rare occasion that Klaus left her unguarded, left her to wander the city on her own as he took care of whatever business he had in the Bayou, even though a part of her knew that she was never really alone, she would hear them whispering behind their hands as she passed by. Genevieve's replacement.
Genevieve. She'd heard about the witch's death from the whispers on the street. The beautiful woman she'd spied in the alleyway that day was dead. It was all very tragic and a little too convenient. If Caroline was being honest with herself, truly honest, then the knot in her stomach, the one that twisted in guilt whenever she heard the woman's name, was an indication of the truth. Tripping down the stairs, breaking her neck; it was too convenient to be believable.
Caroline hoped that he didn't do it.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to be responsible for someone's death. She didn't want to be the cause, the trigger that had unleashed what seemed to be a power struggle among the witches of the French Quarter. But somewhere, deep down, Caroline knew that she was to blame. She was not so naive as to believe in coincidence anymore, not where Klaus was concerned. It would have been so much easier to simply ask him if he had done it, if he had killed his lover simply because she was a complication. Instead, she tried to ignore the gnawing guilt in her gut. She didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss, after all.
He guided her into the bar, hand splayed possessively across her lower back. Some brunette was working behind the bar today. Caroline found herself slightly disappointed. She somewhat liked Camille. Or rather, she liked the way the blonde bartender seemed to bristle with contempt at Klaus' continued presence in her life. There was something all too familiar about the woman's indignant disapproval of anything remotely related to the hybrid. It was amusing to watch him simply sit back and take each insult with a patronising tilt of the head and dimpled smile.
Caroline liked it here. She liked New Orleans and the people in it. She liked how every day there seemed to be something new happening. The music was infectious, the culture invigorating; New Orleans was like a drug and she the addict. Caroline didn't think she'd ever want to leave.
Which was the problem.
Klaus brought her a small tumbler of bourbon from the bar, sitting down beside her. She blamed Stefan for her newfound appreciation of the drink. Bourbon and whiskey was all they really had over at Castle de la Salvatore. She missed the days where a vodka tonic was her poison of choice. Now it was like drinking water.
He fiddled with her hair, trying to distract her, trying to draw her attention away from the dark amber liquid that she seemed so focused on.
"You seem distracted, sweetheart. Who were you talking to earlier?" his question fell on deaf ears as she continued to stare into the contents of her glass.
How would she tell them, Caroline wondered.
What would they say when they finally realised that she wasn't coming back? Because the truth was that Caroline didn't want to go back to Whitmore. She didn't want to go back to Mystic Falls. Talking to Enzo had made her sad. It made her feel guilty for not being able to help, but it had also made her realise something. Mystic Falls, it was a conduit for death. She had grown up there, felt safe and happy as a naive and ignorant human girl. But now that she was older, different, the place only held memories of death. Vicki's death. Alaric's. Her father's. She had even begun to associate Whitmore with Jesse and what had happened to him.
New Orleans was a fresh start. She felt happy here. There was no drama, no Big Bad to worry about, discounting of course the man beside her. New Orleans spoke of life and Mystic Falls of death.
She wouldn't go back.
Her comfortable silence was broken then as a man stumbled through the door. Caroline's senses prickled and she instinctively thought wolf. And then she smelt it. The blood.
She eyed the stranger with wide, almost disbelieving curiosity. He was covered in blood, his dark blue tartan shirt stained red. His eyes seemed to glide over her as he rushed forward, toward Klaus. It was only then that she realised Klaus had moved, standing so suddenly and moving forward so quickly to catch the man as he fell forward.
Caroline jolted from her seat, instinctively moving to help Klaus manoeuvre the stranger onto the floor, propping him up so that he could lean his weight against the side of the booth. She eyed the wound on his side, watching almost fixatedly as it continued to pulse with blood. She swallowed hard and beat back the bloodlust.
"Jackson," Klaus lifted the man's head as it rolled to the side, eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. Klaus persisted with an almost feral shake. "What happened? Jackson!? Are they –"
"Bayou. Under attack," the wolf gasped brokenly. "Marcel."
Klaus growled, moving to rush to the door but Jackson lifted a hand, stilling him. Caroline could only watch with wide eyes, her palms pressed on the man's wound as she desperately tried to staunch the bleeding. Who was Marcel?
"Tried to get them away," the man coughed. "Told her to run... to call Elijah. I would get you."
Klaus nodded his head.
There was a fire in his eyes that Caroline had never seen before, a sort of impenetrable determination. He looked at her briefly, opened his mouth as if to say something but simply shook his head. Klaus leaned forward to kiss her cheek and then he was gone, so quickly she barely had time to blink.
All she could think as she knelt beside the dying man, blood soaking into her white dress, was one thing.
Who was in the Bayou?
Cliffhanger. Cliffhanger. Cliffhanger.
Feel free to berate me in the comments/reviews below ;)