III. Harder Harmonies
And brings a fever, a dream of sweat and ecstasy.
A kiss on every hammer hit that follows as the keys fall down and
Bring an order first, then chaos, then a calm, that
Paints every shift in murals on the wall. And
It presses to your neck,
It clutches to your hips,
Softly sings to you of fireworks and God and art and sex and it's strange-
That it feels so right when nothing else does.
I jerk awake, sitting straight up in my bed and pushing the stop button on my alarm angrily. I had fallen asleep with my clothes on. I stare at the clock and it's seven in the morning. What possessed me to set it this early? I sigh and get up to take my shower. I carefully peel my clothes off in the bathroom, folding them into a neat little pile, and turning the shower on so that it's just a little bit cold. I shampoo my hair; it's some fancy designer shampoo with lavender scent. I wonder idly if Klaus picked it out... And that's when the dream I've been meticulously avoiding thinking about rears its ugly head.
What the hell was that about? Klaus and me, and a bathtub? I drank his blood, and I was acting as if it was sex for Christ's sake. It felt so real. What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of sick, twisted mind—Oh. My. God. That's it! Its Klaus, he must have done that freaky Jedi-vampire mind trick thingy. Stefan told me how Katherine manipulated him like that. That's messed up. I am NOT going to let him treat me like that. I turn off the shower and grab the fluffy pale blue towel on the rod and hastily dry and then put on little dark blue shorts and a white tank. I am going to give him a piece of my mind. And then I'm going to get the hell out of here.
I ignore my wet hair and go padding around the house, shouting for Klaus. I've reached the kitchen and he's just standing there, leaning against the island just in pajama pants, and sipping what strangely enough actually smelled like coffee. "Caroline! Good morning, love." He greets cheerily, taking in my scantily clad body shamelessly. I forget myself for a moment, and stare at his exposed upper body. Focus, Care. "Don't you 'good morning' me." I seethe. "I see somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Klaus says, taking a swig of his coffee and raising his eyebrows. "What's all the yelling about then?" I can't believe this. He's seriously going to play all innocent? "You know what Klaus!" He takes a step forward, putting down his coffee mug. "I assure you sweetheart, I don't. I suggest you tell me what's going on. I have a fairly short fuse in the morning."
I frown and the tiniest sliver of doubt rises in my head. No, he's trying to trick me. "You know what, Klaus? This is probably the most depraved thing you've ever done, and you've pretty much almost killed me twice." All the breath is knocked out of my lungs—ouch—and I find that I'm pressed up against the far wall of the kitchen, Klaus's hand around my throat. Not squeezing—yet—just holding.
Before I can get out a string of expletives, Klaus puts a small amount of pressure on my throat, getting my attention. "Caroline. While I do not, and have not ever claimed to be a saint, I don't take kindly to deformations of character completely uncalled for." He growls. His grip relaxes slightly and he says, "Now tell me, what is going on?" Could I be wrong? I can't tell if he's just bullshitting me. What would he gain? "Let go of me Klaus!" I demand, struggling.
"No. Not until you tell me what's wrong." He says calmly.
This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to happen. "You messed with my mind! You-you made me dream…" I trail off, and I get the sickening feeling that this is all going to blow up in my face.
"Dream?" Klaus blurts out in astonishment. He lets go of me and takes a small step back. He runs his hand through his short hair. "You dreamt of me? That's what this is about?" He gives a small laugh. "For fuck's sake Caroline, you had me worried." I feel my face heat and I look down, wishing I could disappear. Klaus's hand grabs my chin and he tilts my face up to look at him. I try to look away, but he squeezes, and it hurts. "You don't need to be embarrassed, love. It was only a matter of time, you know that. Stubborn repression only works for so long."
How could I? How could I be that terrible of a person?
Klaus's hands move to firmly grasp my waist I'm so wrapped up in my inner panic that it hardly registers. "Tell me about it." He says, as if I've just had a bad dream. "NO." I reply, shaking my head and trying thoughtlessly to put space between us. He sighs and moves one hand to grip my wet mane, pulling so that I'm facing him once again. His pupils' contract and he repeats, "Tell me about it."
My mouth moves of its own accord. "I was taking a bath, and you were there and I drank your blood." Did he really just—"How did you feel?" He prompts, pupils contracting. "Wonderful—I was so happy. It was…delicious."
He doesn't say anything for a moment, he just stares at me curiously, and I realize I'm able to look away. Anger roars inside me, building up rapidly, spreading like wildfire through my being. He just compelled me. Literally took my free will, even if for only a moment.
A crack slices through the air as my palm collides with his face. "Just who THE FUCK do you think you are?" I scream. I move to slap him again, but his hand reaches up casually and stops me midway. "UGHH!" I shriek, jerkily pulling my arm to get him to let me go. "Temper, temper." He clucks. "I know you feel guilty, sweetheart, but really. Control yourself."
He's smiling.
I yell something that might have been words originally, but just sounded like animal cries. My other hand scrunches into a fist and I throw it into his stomach, with all the force I can muster. He coughs lightly, letting go of my hand. That didn't hurt him nearly as much as I wanted it to.
Klaus's eyebrows rise in disbelief. "You're playing with fire, love." He warns.
I am so past caring.
I speed over to the knife holder, and take out the biggest I see. I throw it, straight where his heart would be, if he had one. He catches it, blood blooming from his hand where he's gripped the blade. It clatters to the floor. Could he be any more frustrating? I lunge, hoping to knock him off his feet so I can wipe that smug face into the wood. He turns my momentum against me, twirling me around, arm around my waist until I'm flush against him, my back towards his front.
He keeps one arm around my waist, immovable as steel. He takes his other—bloody but healed—hand and captures both of my wrists, effectively stilling me. His voice comes rough by my ear, "You're reckless when you're angry at yourself, you know that?"
I thrash violently and grit out, "I'm angry at you!" I feel his chuckle on my ear and shiver compulsively. "So you don't feel guilty? What would everyone in Mystic Falls say if they knew? Hmm? That you dream about playing with the big bad wolf in a bathtub, about this—" He abandons my wrists and brings his hand up to my face, a smear of dried blood on it. My nostrils flare and I feel my fangs elongating painfully in my mouth.
I stare at it, mesmerized, remembering how good it was in my dream.
"Klaus. Just stop, please." I whine, deflating. To my surprise, he does. He removes his hand from my waist, stepping back.
"You're not a bad person, Caroline." He says softly. "Even the purest of hearts are attracted to the darkness." He walks past me, stopping to lean in and kiss my forehead. I hear him taking the steps to go upstairs, to his room, but I don't move a muscle.
I feel cold.
Klaus's assurance has done nothing to ease my mind. I had to be a bad person. There's no other way of looking at it. I was maddeningly attracted to a man who probably murdered the most people of any one person in the history, of like, the entire world.
I'm a monster.
I speed outside; it's still fairly early in the morning, even though it feels like it's been days since I got up this morning.
I find what I'm looking for around the back of the house; there's a young man fishing in the waterways. I stop in front of him, and he jumps, startled. "I am so sorry." I whisper, before grabbing him by the collar and forcing him to meet my eyes and focusing my compulsion on him, "Don't scream."
I watch my dear Caroline from the window. She rips into the poor Spaniard's neck, quite viciously. In broad daylight, no less. I wonder if I should stop her, but I doubt that she'll kill him. She's not yet had her switch off, and I don't think she'd give into that desire until then.
It will happen, one day. And I'll be sure to be there to help her through it, in any way she needs.
In the meantime, there's the matter of Marcel to keep me busy whilst she inevitably avoids me because of today.
Elijah told me he had news. He wouldn't say what over the phone, but it had bloody well be good.
AN: Poor Caroline, she's a stress eater. Elijah's news. Hmm... wonder what that could be? For the record, I'm viciously anti-Haley. So it's not going to end well for her if she does indeed make an appearance.
Tell me what you think, and I'll love you forever-Midden.
