A/N: *Warning: Lemons are ahead!* Sorry about the wait, peeps, but here's another one. As always thanks for the support and I hope y'all enjoy this one.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!
Niklaus Mikaelson couldn't remove his eyes from Bonnie Bennett. She was everything he'd been warned of, and scandalously more. Her mystical essence instigated the watering of his mouth and throbbing of his gums. Aquamarine fire flared around her as tiny gold electrical whips arced through the flames. He'd never before beheld an aura such as hers. It radiated about her like a blaze from a candle wick. She was incomparable. There's no way she could be real. This alluring being had to be a figment of his fancy. Nothing more, nothing less.
He lifted a hand to place upon her cheek, all while wondering if her skin was as soft as it appeared or as appetizing as it smelled. Vanilla, Coconuts, and a hint of pineapples would be etched into his nostrils until nature challenged his immortality. Just as his fingers came within a mere centimeter of her face, Rebekah zipped from the bowels of hell and thwarted him by smacking his hand away.
"What the devil are you doing here, Marcel?" She fumed. "Did Nik send you? You're spying for him are you not? No need attempting to deny it."
"Rebekah," he ground out through the slits of his teeth. His slighted hand clenched into a fist. "It's been ages, love."
"Love? Um…who the fuck is this, and why the shit break is he on fire." The spirited temptress made a show of looking around. Her glare then swung back to consider them both. "And why the hell am I the only one who has a problem with this man burning—the fuck up—in literal flames!"
His brows nearly divorced his forehead. Her tongue was fouler than a well-used outhouse. The manner of speech in which she spoke incited his cock to fill. It would seem his family hadn't managed to transform her into a walking and talking satirical tribute of his assumed desires. Unlike those wretched bitches who'd come before her. He despised those elitist magical slags.
After his siblings prepared the previous potential Bennetts for their quickening and the mating ritual they reminded him more of pandering sycophants than perspective mates. That's why he appreciated Greta and now Lucy. They challenged him and that's one thing his family always failed to teach their pupils. Yet, he sensed this one was different. He could ken from the haughty lift of her chin to the derisive glint in her eyes, she was a creature who'd rather perish than be broken. Which made it imperative he break her until she lived to carry out his every nonsensical whim.
Rebekah speared him with a shrewish glare, before she turned to regard the enthralling witch. "I'll explain later, Dove. For now, it's important I speak with Marcel." She leaned down and pressed a—slow to conclude—kiss to the little witch's lips. A searing ache singed his sternum as he watched Bekah plunder her mouth. Moments later his glutinous baby sister pulled away. "For now, seek out Kol and have him escort you back to Mikaelson House. I'll be along, shortly." With that said, she grabbed his arm, and then zipped them away.
Their whirlwind came to a conclusion in an empty classroom lit only by the moon beams pouring into the bank of windows. The setting undoubtedly meant a great deal to his sentimental fool of a sister. Whispers of a moment shared between she and his adoptive son. Rebekah always did don her heart outside her chest for all too behold. Which more times than not fashioned her into someone quite gullible and effortlessly manipulated.
She spun on the heel of her colorful sand shoes to shoot daggers from her sockets at him. "Again I ask, why are you here, Marcel? You've pretended to be dead for the last century, why not continue to do so?"
"So you knew he lived?" He hissed. Her blue sparking eyes flared, and then narrowed anew. Damn it! He'd incited her suspicions. "I meant me…you knew I lived."
"Of course I knew you lived," the volume of her voice soared. "For months I mourned you. My heart full and heavy over your loss. I began to doubt I'd be able to carry it for the length of an eternity. So I waited for Nik to go whore mongering for new witches to corrupt and when it appeared he'd be gone indefinitely I returned to New Orleans. All so I could feel near you, and abandon myself to the memories. Yet instead of discovering memories I find you," she shook a fist at him. "Quite undead and ever persevering."
"How sweet," the sarcastic retort slipped from his lips before he could school his tongue. "And here I was thinking you moved on in my absence. Unless I'm wrong in believing there's more than a platonic friendship between you and the witch."
She cast her gaze away for the briefest of moments. It, however, was still long enough to discern the latter was indeed true. Shock nearly forced him to miss a step. "You care for her."
"What if I do?" She bellowed as tears brimmed her lower lids. "And so what if I did carry on without you? It's no less than what you did after my family and I fled New Orleans! Do you dare utter a denial?" She paused as she soundlessly challenged him to disagree. He continued to covet his right to be silent. Lifting her chin, she sniffed, "just as well. For I witnessed your reign, lover. The king of New Orleans. Is that not what they call you?"
King of New Orleans indeed! He'd learned only recently of what Marcellus had been about since they took leave of their city. It's the sole reason he decided to commandeer his body for the task at hand. As a punishment of sorts. Though to now discover Bekah had known all along, tsk, tsk. However should he repay her for withholding such vital information? The possibilities were endless.
"That's why I'm here, Rebekah. To bring you home." Oh this was too delightful. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from dissolving in chortles. "I've searched far. I've searched wide and now I'm only just finding you've been here under my notice all along."
"Really?" Uncertainty crawled into her suspicious stare and made itself a home. Just when he assumed he'd gained the benefit of that doubt, she blinked and gave her head a slight hint of a shake. "No, no! You can't be here. Bonnie's not just a witch! She's the prospective Bennett Witch. Please tell me you haven't misplaced what that means."
"Bonnie," The single word…name. It swelled in his brain until all thoughts, ideas, and schemes were pushed against the walls and corners of his mind to make way for the only title worth contemplating. "Is that her name?" The question galloped from his lips astride a hoarse rasp. Of course his spies had given him the information afore time, but what's in a name? Only the little witch could give such a handle untold meaning.
Rebekah eyed him from head to toe. "Yes, and you being here will bloody derail everything."
"You can't send me away, Rebekah. I can't go another day being denied the intoxicating lure of your love or the exquisite feel of your body," he said, dying a little more of silent mirth with each word spoken.
"Oh blast it, Marcel. Why can't I ever refuse you?" She rushed toward him with arms wide, eyes closed and lips puckered.
Bekah could be quite moronic at times. Marcellus would never say such things. "Sister, if we had a go while I'm inhabiting Marcellus' body do you think it'd still be considered incest?" Unable to continue holding it in, he gave himself over to a fit of cackles.
"What?" She stopped short of plundering his mouth with incestuous kisses. "I-I don't…" He then saw the moment when his words promoted the lucidity of apparency. Her jaw slackened and her mouth fell open as she squinted her eyes to peer into his. "N-Niklaus?"
"Did you pine for me, Baby Sister?" He preened in the light of his own cleverness.
"How…why…," she stammered. "What the fuck are you doing in Marcel's body? Have you completely taken leave of your wits?"
"Fuck," he tsked, while settling her with a disapproving shake of the head. "Sister, evil communication corrupts stellar manners. I fear the witch has infected your tongue with her vileness. What exactly have you all been doing in the ways of her preparation?"
"What we've always done." Her glare fell from his. "However, Bonnie's different. She doesn't respond to instruction or passion as the others have in the past. The wicked little bird actually enjoys Kol's attention. Never mind that, though." She shoved her way free of his loose embrace. "What schemes are you up to now? Is it your mind to personally spy on our interactions with the Bennett?"
"The Bennett? So you're sure of the little witch's place in this procession, are you?" He asked waving a hand about. "Attend me well, Rebekah. For none of the bloody lot of you can be certain of who this Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls may justly be. Whether she be the prophesized Bennett or another prospective Bennett pretender." He began to move around the darkened classroom. "And were I to leave it to you and our siblings to confirm the chit I'd unquestionably have another failed unbinding ritual on my hands."
She folded her arms under her bosom and cast her gaze down her nose at him. "Well, since you've travelled all this way apparently in a form of your choosing." Disgust twisted her lips. "And you've already made the witch's acquaintance, what are your thoughts on the matter? Does my lovely dove's magic exceed that of your prospective Bennett pretender? Oh and do keep in mind her sorcery has not yet reached its full potential."
Her reference to Lucy galled him. The chit's quickening had come and gone without even a brisk breeze to mark the occasion.
Now after meeting Bonnie Bennett, there was not a smidgen of doubt in his mind she was the prophesized Bennett. Every magical bit within himself sensed her the moment he passed that ridiculous, Welcome to Mystic Falls, sign. His draw to her was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Even now it beckoned for him to seek her out. The yearning he suffered for her ached the deepest depths of his soul. What the bloody hell had he helped himself into with this seductive little siren who called to him like no other? And to think he'd quite willingly offered her to Elijah!
"If I'm to base my opinion upon our first encounter, then I deem there's nothing particularly exceptional about her," his said, while knowing all too well it was the greatest falsehood he'd ever uttered. "Yet, since I'm already here, it wouldn't inflict too much distress to my mental state if I put the chit through her paces."
"There is something profoundly unsound about you." Her arms shot down to her sides, and then her hands clenched into fists. "Wait until I speak to mother of your twisted plots and schemes." She moved to zip from the room, but he thwarted her by stepping into her path.
"You will do no such thing, little sister," he said as he clasped his hands behind his back. "For if you do I'll dagger you until your precious dove is too old and feeble minded to remember your name."
For a fraction of a second fear crept into her scornful expression. "You wouldn't dare."
"It wouldn't bode well for you to endeavor to test me, Rebekah," he said, his waging mask firmly in place.
Stefan Salvatore stood in front of Rebekah Mikaelsons broken gym locker blitzed out of his fucking skull. After draining Tanner, he floated just outside of the moment. Tethered to reality by only one thing…or scent. Her scent. The aroma had hunted him down and crawled into his nostrils. Teasing him until all he could fucking think about was finding the origin of his torment. Like Giuseppe's prized blood hounds he'd tracked the aroma back to the girl's locker room to the gym locker of the culprit. Rebekah—Fuckworthy—Mikaelson. He'd know her fragrance even if he was treading ground at the bottom of the ocean. His fangs exploded from his gums.
Not wasting time on bullshit, should I's or shouldn't I's, he'd broken into the locker and fucking scored. Her gym knapsack sat on the floor of the compartment. With twitching hands he ripped open the fitness bag. He tugged a baby-t and a tiny pair of spandex shorts from the carryall. Rebekah had worn them the day before to cheerleading practice. Her essence practically still clung to them. Cherry blossoms, white jasmine and just the hint of ancient magic. He buried his face in the clothing and took in deep inhaling gulps. Breathing the scent in through his nose and mouth. Blood surged through his veins and converged in his dick. Instant fucking erection. He'd desiccate if she refused to give him the chance to fuck her blind.
A scrap of lavender lace at the bottom of the bag pinched his attention. The clothing slipped from his hands. He reached inside the bag to claim the treasure inside. When he pulled out the barely there thong he almost released his load in his boxer briefs. He brought the panties to his face, shoved the crotch in his mouth and sucked. This time pre-cum seeped from the head of his cock. Fuck this! Laundry wasn't going to drain the monster. He needed his platinum bombshell to take care of him.
On a mission, he zipped from the girl's locker room. Two rights and a left later he found Rebekah in the south hallway near the back entrance of school in a heated conversation with an unfamiliar vampire. They hissed at each other a few seconds longer before the vamp kissed her forehead and raced out of the exit.
When she looked as if she would hurtle away, he zipped to her. "Who was he?"
"Ripper?" She said on the heels of a sharp intake of breath. Her sinfully heaven blue irises gave him a quick head to sneakers eye fucking. "From which dimension of hell did you just rise?"
"Student parking lot." The lie slid from his lips as if it had been rolled in butter. "Was he fucking with you?" He looked in the direction the random vampire disappeared. His feet shuffled to give chase.
"I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself." She waved a dismissive hand. "What do you want?"
He plucked the jewelry from the front pocket of his jeans. When his clenched fist hovered before her face, he allowed the pendant and part of the necklace to slip through his fingers to dangle from his hand.
"To give you this. You dropped it when you and your brother two wheeled it out of Chicago," he said as he visually devoured her doll like features. His tongue slid over the roof his mouth. Damn! Who the fuck did he have to rip apart to lick her dry.
"My talisman," She whispered as she reached for the tarnished necklace. "I thought it was forever lost to me. Where'd you discover it?"
"On the floor of Gloria's." Energy thrummed through the rusted chain when Rebekah's fingers grazed the pendant. "Turn around, I'll you put it on for you."
She whirled away from him, pulling her long ponytail out of the way as she went. After he clasped the necklace, his hands slipped to her shoulders. He leaned forward to inhale the nape of neck. The scent of cherry blossoms invaded his nostrils as he allowed his solid wood situation to press into her lower back. All too soon, she stepped away, and then turned to face him.
"Thank you for seeing to its care for these many years, Stefan," she said as she fingered the pendant. Lucky fucking pendant. "However shall I repay you?"
He had a fuck fest load of ideas. Shit! His balls would explode if she didn't touch them ASAP. "Go to the Founder's Day Party with me."
"Stefan, I've already told-,"
"That's my second option of repayment." He stepped into her personal space. The faint tingle of her magic pricked his skin and forced his dick to throb. "Would you like to hear the first?" He glanced down at the necklace. Shock snatched his eyes wide. The jewelry now gleamed as if it were brand, ass kissing, new.
"Why invite me? Thought you were pursuing the Gilbert twit," She said, while continuing to toy with the pendant around her neck.
He stepped further into her personal space until her cool minty scented breath fanned across his face. "Reruns are boring and everyone knows sequels are never as good as the original."
A smirk transformed her fuckable mouth. "Touché."
"You and I are unfinished business and I don't believe in regrets. So say yes you'll go with me. We both know you want to," he said as memories of all the fun they had and blood they shed flickered before his mind's eye.
"Fine," she agreed with a, she could give a fuck, shrug. "But we go as mates or not at all." He bobbed his head, willing to take advantage of any opening no matter the size. "Give me your mobile phone and I'll program in my number. Call me in the morning for the details."
Tendrils of consciousness infiltrated the dank nothingness in which Kol Mikaelson floated. A sultry voice guided him from nonentity to blinding reality. When he dwelled once again among the unliving, a repetitive chant encountered his auditory senses.
"He's not dead. He's not dead…"
Bonnie sat next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees as a bloody stake dangled from her hands. She rocked back and forth as she recited the phrase. The tiny seductress appeared to be utterly distraught…over him? The thought was incomprehensible. No one ever worried over him. Not even his family. So why did she?
"Darling, did you happen to see who ruined my shirt?" He questioned as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
Her eyes flared as the stake fell from her hands. In under a fraction of a second, she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms about his neck. She peppered kisses all over his face.
"You stupid, stupid, stupid son of a bitch! Who the hell did you piss off?" She berated in between pecks.
He looked around and noticed they were in a grassy trench overran with dried leaves. Slipping his hand in her hair he gripped the locks at the base of her skull and with great reticence pulled her lips from his brow.
"I had a run in with your mate Salvatore. The elder one, mind you," he said as he ran an assessing stare over her face and person to assure himself she remained unharmed. "Just as I was about to relieve you of one half of your hollow headed twosome dilemma someone ran me through from behind. You didn't happen to witness who-,"
"No." She snapped. Her entire frame vibrated. A mixture of fear and anger poured from her pores. "When I found you down here, your skin was all veiny and pale. You looked as if you'd been dead for years. But then I pulled the stake out," she raised her shoulders in a slight shrug, "and you started to pink up."
"If you didn't witness who staked me, then how'd you happen upon my remains?" He slipped an arm around her waist to stroke the dip at her lower back as he glanced their surroundings once more. "I'm pressed to believe we're still within Mystic Falls' town limits." Bonnie averted her normally unflinching gaze. "You're concealing something. A clear violation of our only rule. Nothing between you and I, remember? Now do tell, darling."
Her eyes rolled as a long winded sigh soared from her lips. "This may sound bat shit cray, but ever since the first time we were together in the bungalow…I've been able to feel you and somehow just sense where you are."
"Go on." Her confession carried him aback. Had she'd unwittingly utilized their blood bond? Impossible, only vampires could manipulate such a bond. Not even a witch (no matter how powerful) had command over a blood bond.
"Well, about an hour ago I stopped sensing you and it scared me shitless." She rested her forehead on his. Her emerald irises arrested his. "All I could feel tethered to me was the absence of you. So I followed the emptiness and it brought me here."
He released the hair at the back of her head to grasp the nape of her neck. The pad of his fingers stroked the downy skin there as he guided her mouth closer to his. Right afore their lips met, he spoke. "I'm sure I told you to apprise either Bekah or I of your whereabouts. Why are you here alone? Where's Rebekah?"
"She ditched me for a motherfucker engulfed in literal flames, she called him Marcel. And don't you know nobody but I noticed his burning ass. So maybe I'm the crazy-,"
"Many apologies, darling. Did you say Marcel?" Perhaps he'd misheard. Marcel had perished at his father's hand nigh a century ago.
She leaned away from him to arch a brow. "Yeah, so? Who the fuck is he?"
"A previous lover of Rebekah's," he answered as he attempted to work out the meaning behind it all. "He was thought to have met his end in the early 1900's. Elijah said it devastated Bekah. His appearance is rather unexpected."
"Fuck me to sleep! Another one?" Disbelief cavorted across her face. "Exactly, how many more of these dick holes are going to come bouncing out of Rebekah's closet? I mean the thieving bastard snatched her right from under my fucking nose, Kol!" Genuine anxiety blotted away the disbelief which attacked her charmingly crooked features. "What if she decides to go back to him?" The vulnerability which infected her words and voice, provoked his chest to ache. He, however, ignored the pain.
Although, he abhorred her suffering misery which didn't eventually lead to pleasure, this agony was necessary. Marcel reclaiming Rebekah's heart would restrict her from further vying for Bonnie's affections. "Then allow her to seek her leave. For she'd be foolish to endeavor to do so and you're too extraordinary to worry of such things or be burdened with the company of fools."
"You're wrong, but right as hell," she agreed. A small smile pushed at the corners of her mouth. "Did I tell you how much I missed you last night?" The sadness in her eyes was mismatched with the levity in her words, yet he wouldn't allow it to dampen their evening. For he had ways of making his seductress misremember her name. Rebekah's would be but a small task.
"No, but I'll permit you to demonstrate any remorse you may feel over my unwarranted neglect for the remainder of the evening," he murmured, before capturing her lips with his.
As soon as Bonnie entered the grand foyer of Mikaelson House she found herself twirled back into Kol Mikaelson's arms. A cackle forced its way out of her mouth as he began nipping at her collar bone. Holy hell! She should've never let on she was ticklish there. He'd had her close to pissing her tightey-whiteys all morning.
"Kol," she gasped, while trying to squirm free of his embrace. "Nulla misericordia! Nulla misericordia!"
He released her. The bottom of her sneakers met the marbled floor with a soft thud. "What an utter misuse of your safe word, darling."
"It was either that or watch you splash around in a puddle," she said as she tugged her shirt in place.
"Miss Bennett," The sound Finn's voice straightened her spine, while yanking her arms stiff at her sides. "Mother awaits you in her study. Come, and I'll show you to her."
"Of course you will, Finn. For everyone knows you haven't anything better to do than Hannibal's duties," Kol snarked as he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist.
She elbowed his smart ass in the side. "Behave!" Standing on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his neck. "And stay out of trouble. If I have to pull another stake from your back then I'll fucking lose my mind!" For emphasis she lightly slapped his cheek, and then pointed her finger in his face. "I mean it, Toots."
"And yet I offer no guarantees," he said, before slaying her with a panty drenching smirk and zipping away.
"Motherfu-,"
"Miss Bennett!" Finn's tone slashed the explicit word in half. "If you will." He gestured for her to follow him up the stairs.
Bonnie nodded before ascending the stairs. When she reached the top he turned right, and they continued on until reaching Esther's study. The moment the double doors came into view, she released a sigh. Finn was on some different shit and she didn't know what to expect from him. After their last encounter, she'd walked away feeling like Sally Hemmings. Master Mikaelson? What the hell was that? Yet, she couldn't deny she was a sopping fucking mess by the time he dismissed her. His authoritative stance agitated the shit out of her daddy issues. She wondered if he still wanted to do the twice a week thing.
He paused before knocking. "After lunch tomorrow you will await me in the yellow tea room, Miss Bennett," he said without turning. "And it will not bode well if I'm forced to seek you out." With that said he knocked on the door.
A moment after. "Yes?"
"Miss Bennett has arrived, mother. Are you prepared to receive her?" he questioned.
She'd better be!
"Of course, my child," excitement oozed from her voice. "Please enter."
After being given the green light, Finn opened the door. Inside, leather bound books were stacked high on every available surface. Unlit candles cluttered the coffee table and small glass vials that held liquid, herbs, and other things she couldn't identify, mingled among them. With all the chaos spread out in the room, Esther could easily qualify for an episode on, Hoarders: The Magical Edition.
"What, no ginormous black pot of bubbling witch's brew?" She asked eyeing a couple of ancient knives evenly placed on a silver dumbwaiter.
Esther clasped her hands together as she beamed at her over a stack of books. "I thought we'd begin with the fundamentals."
For the next several hours Esther tutored her on grimoires and their purpose in relation to a witch and her craft. Then she moved on to Latin. The older witch had her write down a series of words and phrases, which she later had her recite. Just when Bonnie thought her tongue would twist right out of her mouth, they progressed to lighting candles. That would've been fine, provided she was able to use a lighter. Instead, Esther expected her to use her magic. And for the past forty-five minutes that's where she sat. In front of an unlit waxed wick attempting to kindle it with nothing more than her sorcery and will. She felt like a fucking fool.
"I'm never going to get this!" She slapped the candle. It fell to the table before rolling and falling to the floor.
Esther waved her hand, and the stick of wax floated from the hand knotted rug. It soared through the air and replaced itself back in front of her. Aggravation forced her eyes to roll.
"You will," Esther assured. "You just need to employ a great deal of patience. Now, whatever came of those numbers?" She asked as she perched on the edge of her arm chair and skimmed through a grimoire. "Did the numerical series manifest into anything substantial?"
Her eyes squinted as she attempted to force a candle wick to ignite. "They disappeared after Rebekah ran off with the man on fire. Bet the numbers were trying to warn me about him."
"Man on fire?" Esther tore her scrutiny from the page to frown at her. "Ah, yes. You must mean his aura. Your third eye must've-,"
"Rebekah called him Marcel." She sat back on her heels.
"Marcel? Why, he perished." The older witch's voice shook as her rosy skin turned the same shade as seven day old dog shit. "Are you certain she addressed this man with the fiery aura as Marcel?" A knock sounded on the door. "Enter." Esther waved a distracted hand, and the door swung open.
Hannibal shuffled in at his usual, sleep walking, pace. "Forgive the interruption, Lady Mikaelson, but the groomers and seamstress has arrived to attend Miss Bennett."
"Oh, Bonnie. I nearly misremembered Elijah is escorting you to the Founder's Day party at the Lockwood's mansion. Run along, I too have to ready myself for attendance," she said, placing the grimoire in her lap on a stack on the coffee table.
Bonnie's eyes flared as she climbed to her feet. "You're going?"
"Of course, pretenses has to be maintained no matter the expense," Esther answered. After she stood, she ambled over to Bonnie and entwined their arms. With ease the ancient witch guided them towards the door.
Once in the hall, Bonne nodded bye to Esther, and then followed Hannibal down the hallway. Thirty minutes and several wrong turns later, she was led into a large room which hosted a bank of beautician booths, a place for manicures, massage chairs attached to foot baths, and a changing area with several racks of clothing. To her surprise, Rebekah sat at the nail station, while her finger tips soaked in a porcelain bowl.
Bonnie stumbled, but recovered quick enough to play it off, or so she hoped. "Well would you look at her fucking stamina. Not too many people can spend the night getting it in with a long lost ass tapper, and then roll out of their freak nest to have their nails done. Exactly, how does she do it?"
"Please, Dove. Why ask questions when you already have custody of the answers?" Rebekah cooed her bitch face firmly in place. "Are were you not in the company of my brother all evening and the better part of the morning?" Bonnie's mouth snapped closed, while several hmm's and ooh's leapt from the got damned glam squad. Even Hannibal tsked his disapproval. "Just as I feared."
Not there for their commentary, Bonnie marched over to Rebekah. When she towered over the blonde, she took hold of her arm and tugged her from the seat. Thank grilled Cheezus the thousand year old original vampire didn't mind being dragged away from her manicure. She followed without any real struggle.
Once inside a dressing room, they stared at each other for a few minutes before Rebekah broke the silence. "Well?"
"So…your ex is back from the dead. Um…how're you dealing?" She could give a two inch dick about how Rebekah was dealing, but she wanted more than anything to be supportive.
"There are no sentimental reunions in our future. Moreover, I knew Marcel hadn't departed to the other side before his impromptu appearance at last night's pep rally." The blonde's eyes darkened to a sapphire hue as her gaze settled on Bonnie's mouth.
Rebekah reached for her, but she slapped her hand away. "What'd you mean you already knew? Everyone else to whom I've mentioned it are knocked on their asses by the news."
"I'd rather not speak on the subject at present," Rebekah said as she cupped Bonnie's face in her hands.
Bonnie jerked her neck and dislodged her cheeks from Rebekah's grasp. "And I'd rather not have your ex two stepping around Mystic Falls, yet here we are!" Even if he is pretty hot and tempting.
"This is absurd. I'm not in the least interested in Marcel Gerrard and neither should you." The blonde rolled her eyes to ceiling and had the damn nerve to growl before drilling her with what some would call a certified hatemaker. "In fact, you should keep your distance from him as well."
"Keep my distance? Why the shit break would I want to go near him?" She demanded.
"Never mind, we haven't the time." Rebekah pulled a dress on hanger from one of the racks. It was a nude sequin backless halter dress. "Here, you should wear this one. Elijah won't be able to look away once he sees you float downstairs in this." With that said, she exited the dressing room.
For the next three hours she was waxed, plucked, brushed, and polished in places the sun had yet to kiss. By the time she gazed in the mirror, she didn't know who the hell was staring back at her. The reflection appeared more beautiful, confident, and grown up than she felt.
Surely, Elijah was accustomed to genuine sophistication. She'd bet dollars to no money, he'd know a fraud when one sashayed in front of him. Right? Apparently not, because when she and Rebekah descended the stairs, the blonde had been right. Elijah appeared unable to look away and it was a damn shame she didn't reciprocate the sentiment, because he looked down right edible in an all-black custom fit Armani original. However, the skeevy bag of micro dicks at his side claimed her focus.
Stefan Salvatore, stood next him eye fucking the hell out of Rebekah. "What the hell is he doing here?" She asked not bothering to lower her voice. What would've been the damn point?
"Stefan's my escort to the party this evening," Rebekah answered in a tone that could freeze the fucking sun. She continued downstairs, while Bonnie could do no more than gawk after her.
Stefan's smirk decomposed into a rotten grin. "Hi, Bonnie. You're looking surprisingly lickable. Can't wait to see you cum," Elijah cleared his throat and Rebekah actually growled. An easy smile glided across his face. "Strutting through the Lockwood's front entrance. Save me a dance later?" She rolled her eyes. His mouth said dance, but his beady green eyes talked major shit about a threesome.
"Fucking hilarious, Salvatore," Bonnie said. She moved to continue her decent downstairs and she missed a step.
Before she knew it, she was hurtling through the air. She braced herself for the imminent impact with the marbled floor. Instead, her body smacked into hills of hard lean muscles. "You're exquisite, Bonnie. In verity, too exquisite for the hillbilly bash commencing at the Lockwoods," Elijah said, while placing her safely on her feet. "Tonight may prove to be memorable yet."
"Disasters often are," she muttered under her breath.
As they waited in the receiving line which led in to the Lockwood's mansion, Elijah found removing his eyes from Bonnie Bennett, for any substantial length of time, intolerable. She was a beguiling apparition. The iridescent sparkle the sequins lit over the flowing nude fabric set her golden brown skin aglow. Keeping his fangs in his gums, had proved to be quite the laborious task. The upswept style of her hair displayed a rather vision consuming view of her lovely neck and pulsing carotid. He wanted nothing more than to forego the artifice pleasantries the evening was sure to settle upon him and whisk away the tempting enchantress to parts only he was privy.
"Bonnie Bennett! Well don't you look well kept," Mayor Lockwood's wife said as her gaze swept over him. "Who's your guardian for the evening…oh dear, did I say guardian? Forgive me, I meant escort."
"Hello, Mrs. Lockwood." Bonnie forced through stiff lips as she glared openly at the horrid woman. "This is Elijah Mikaelson. Like my own, his family proceeds the Lockwoods presence in Mystic Falls by hundreds of years. However never mind me, I'm sure this party is more about having a reason to get drunk than actually founding anything."
Carol skewered Bonnie with a degrading glare before turning her gaze on him. "Mr. Mikaelson," she gushed. "Please come in and enjoy the party. Your sister and Stefan Salvatore are already inside. They make quite the head turning pair."
Bonnie shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the faint sound of teeth sucking escaped her distracting mouth. "Thank you for inviting my family and I. Me, especially. You see I'm rather the historian and my latest field of study has been centered on our fair Mystic Falls. I've even managed to have an in depth look in a majority of the founding families historical backgrounds. Your origins are particularly colorful."
Agitated nerves introduced tension into Carol Lockwood's surgically perfected features. "Well you can't believe everything you hear." She attempted to look pass them to the guests at their rear. "Have a-,"
"I'm afraid gossip mongering isn't a passion of mine. Everything I've learned about your background is based on a county register's account, judicial records, and the Internal Revenue Services." He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "I even have pictures. Pink is not really a fetching color on you. Next time you choose to partake in such a scandalous repass I'd favor burgundy wine tones were I you." Once fear flashed in her eyes, he straightened and tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves. "Now, as tribute to changing one's past, would you care to greet Miss Bennett again…properly?"
Her regard shifted back to his beautiful sorceress as the muscles in her jaw twitched. "Bonnie it's truly a pleasure to see you again. Please come in and enjoy the party." She glanced at him briefly, before casting her gaze back to Bonnie. "It'll be an honor to have you. The Bennett's roots run rather deep here in Mystic Falls. Our Founder's Day festivities can only be richened by your attendance." When she looked to him again, he inclined his head. Her sigh of relief, dropped her shoulders.
After the exchange, they left Carol to collect herself and advanced into the gathering. When they put a substantial amount of distance between them and the front entrance, Bonnie grabbed him by the arm. Her hold wasn't restraining, yet he paused just the same.
"What the hell was that?" She asked as she stared pass him towards the entrance. "Carol Lockwood nearly flooded the front walk with a golden shower."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, while accepting two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. After he handed her a glass, he took a sip to assist him in concealing a grin.
"Wow, Bonnie," the human doppelganger said as she came to a stop next to them. Her bulging brown eyes swept Bonnie from hairstyle to heels. "You look amazing."
"You really do, Bons," an unassuming blonde boy agreed. His stare a bit too lingering for his taste. "That dress is…" he released a whistle.
"Satan's gift to sequins and sheer fabric. Thank you oh father of mine," a vampire with electric blue eyes added as he plastered himself to the back of the doppelganger. "Bennett, you're the inspiration for all the tented trousers from here to the front gates."
"Are you wearing Alexander McQueen?" A blonde girl accused at a rather unfortunate pitch.
"Y'all need to back the hell-," Bonnie began.
"May I lure you onto the dance floor, Bonnie?" Without waiting for an answer he plucked the glass from her fingers and handed each of their flutes to the Gilbert girl. He then led her to the designated dance area. After a couple of spins around the floor, tension took leave her body and she relaxed into his hold.
"Thanks for getting me out of whatever the hell that was," she said as she stumbled her way through the waltz. "They normally ignore me, but I guess a couple pounds of make-up and a bank account clearing dress will turn haters into Stans every time."
"I find it absurd to even think anyone could ever ignore you. If truth is to be professed, I find myself unable to stop thinking about you," he confessed.
With her there could be no skeletons languishing away in dark cupboards. Such secrecies created space and he wanted nothing separating him from her. That's why he was prepared to tell her anything she wanted to know in regards to his feelings for her.
"Bullshit!" She countered in a distracted tone. Something near the top of the stairwell had captured her consideration. "I'd bet every last one of my swear jars, that's not even remotely true."
"Are you alright, Bonnie?" Upon his question, her dazed stare collided with his. "You appear to be a little diverted. Would you like to go out on the balcony for a little fresh air?"
"I'm sorry," she said as contrition flooded her stare. "But ever since we stepped across the threshold I've had this strong urge to climb those stairs. It's almost as if something is drawing me up there."
He nodded. "Then upstairs we must go."
"Yeah?" She questioned with a slight tilt of the head.
"Certainly." He twirled them towards the staircase. "You're a witch, which means your senses are unparalleled. If you're being induced to ascend the stairs then it's a charge we must attend."
As soon as they reached the bottom of the staircase, he whisked them to the top. On the second level, Bonnie marched ahead of him down the corridor until they reached a closed door. A sign clung to the surface which read no guest beyond this point. Paying no heed to the notice, she tried the doorknob, and the door swung open.
Once inside he followed her over to a Cherrywood wall paneled wardrobe. Almost as if in a trance, she reached out and opened a cabinet on the wardrobe. Nothing of note appeared to be inside. Yet she still slipped a hand in the opening. A lever of some sort was pressed which triggered a false back to slide away. The compartment housed an antique jewelry box, which she promptly removed and placed on the tea table.
Before Bonnie opened the box, her hands paused and her emerald gaze ensnared his. After a moment of silent deliberation, her hesitancy vanished. Upon the heels of a lengthy exhalation, she lifted the lid on the trove. An amber crystal the size of an egg lay nestled in the black velvet depths. His auditory senses detected the low hum of energy undetectable to second generation vampires and humans alike. The jewel the magic emitted was by far older than him.
"Unholy fuckery! That's the ugliest rock I've ever seen. Now wonder Carol keeps this thing buried under lock and key," she snorted even as she plucked the crystal from the box. "Something like this would definitely explode her tasteless ass!" The pendant's humming increased. Bonnie hissed, "Son of a bitch!" The jewel fell from her fingers. He caught the oversized pendant before it collided with the area rug. "The hideous bastard shocked me."
"I don't think your talisman appreciates such candidness from you." He murmured as he extended his hand to offer her the jewel. When she reclaimed the crystal, he placed the jewelry box back inside the wardrobe cupboard. "Come let's rejoin the festivities for a while longer, then I'll make the proper excuses to facilitate our departure."
After they set the room to rights, they made their way back down to the gathering. The party continued to dawdle along at a tedious pace. A fact he discerned when they gazed down on the carousing from the top of the stairs. They descended the steps without incident. Soon as they reach the bottom, Bonnie slipped the talisman in his jacket pocket.
When he lifted a brow, she raised and dropped a dainty shoulder. "Where the hell else am I going to put it?"
"Well aren't you ravishing, Sweetness." Kol appeared at Bonnie's side. Her face glowed upon noticing his arrival. "Dance with me before I call out Elijah for daring to steal you away."
"Fuck off, Toots," she said with an affectionate lilt to her tone. "I'm here with Elijah."
"And I'm here with that saucy brunette just over there," he nodded his head at a rather attractive woman speaking with the Gilbert girl's guardian. "She'll be a proper doctor soon enough."
"Meredith—Dick Licking—Fell!" Bonnie swung around to fully glare him. "Are you fucking kidding me, Kol?"
"Let's discuss it while we dance." Kol smirked as he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the designated dance area.
Elijah straightened his tie as he mentally shook his head over Kol's antics. He could be rather bothersome during the most inopportune occasions.
"May I have this dance?" He turned to find the human doppelganger staring at him as if she refused to accept no as an answer.
He allowed himself a mental eye roll, before inclining himself in a slight bow. "Why, it'd be my pleasure Miss Gilbert." With overwhelming reluctance he led the chit out on the floor.
A few spins around the floor and he'd excuse himself with some explanation or other, he assured himself.
"What's going on with you and Bonnie?" The chit demanded not even two steps into the dance.
"May I ask why my relationship with Miss Bennett is any concern of yours?" He questioned as he retreated behind his veil of impassivity.
She huffed several times before settling upon a scoff. "Bonnie Bennett is my best—or was my best friend, and I still care about what happens to her." He spun her out and brought her back. "You Mikaelsons are no good for her. The way you all pass her around has the entire town talking."
"And you and your lot are among those slandering her virtuous name no doubt," he said growing tired of Miss Gilbert and her rather limited human comprehension of something she couldn't even begin to grasp the nature of.
"I'd never talk smack behind Bonnie's back. I love her even if she can't stand the sight of me." She abruptly stopped dancing to jab her finger in his face. "Either you fuckers leave her alone or I'll dedicate all my time and energy to fumigating the shitty lot of you from out of her life." With that said, she whirled about and marched away.
What an utter lunatic! He really should compel the chit to remain clear of him and his family's path. Even fools stumble upon fortune every now and again. When he moved to carry out his plan a discourse on the back verandah involving Bonnie, Kol, Meredith Fell, and Tyler Lockwood arrested his attention. His gaze narrowed on her retreating back. He'd have to see to the Gilbert girl at a later date. Without further delay he moved to diffuse the escalating conflict at the back entrance.
When Elijah mentioned dinner Bonnie thought he meant maybe grabbing a burger from the Grille. She damn sure didn't think her meant some elaborate candle lit dinner for two under the stars on a balcony at the old Witches' mansion. She was not this girl. Yet, he habitually surprised her with things like picnics, party invitations, and now a romantic meal that made her want to try and be.
A man dressed in a simple button down white shirt and black pants, cleared away the left over champagne shrimp and pasta. After the waiter reentered the house with a loaded down platter of dirty dishes, she took the opportunity to speak before Elijah could go into another colloquy about how the food was prepared and what each individual season was meant to inspire on the tongue
"You didn't have to go through all of this trouble for me, Elijah. Ramen noodles would've just as easily hit the spot," she said.
"Nonsense, your palate deserves nothing less than the finest of gourmet dishes. Wait until dessert arrives. It's-,"
"Is there someone else?" She ran her fingertip up and down the stem of the wine gobbler, while keeping her scrutiny trained on the pale gold liquid in the glass.
"How do you mean?" If the question snatched him off guard, his voice gave no indication.
She raised her gaze to consider him over the candlelight and his glass cutting features nearly disabled her lungs. He was painful to look at, but visually addictive just the same. "I know this thing that's happening with you is strapped to a countdown clock." Not just him, all of them. Rebekah's ex-lovers reminded her that their lives didn't just start when they returned to Mystic Falls. "Something tells me, after the quickening you'll all eventually fade to nothing. So I'd like to know if there's someone you'll be running back to when this is all said and done. Knowing gives me a timeline and makes me understand why it's important I safeguard my feelings."
"Bonnie-,"
"Because staring at you under all of these stars while bathed in the glow of candlelight, I know beyond logic and reason that I can love you." She yanked her wine glass from the table and drained the contents. Why the hell did she just show her hand? She never showed her hand! "And not just any love, either. I'm talking about the crazy kind of love that will launch a thousand ships just to retrieve you. A covetous type of love that will send your chick to the front lines of a major battle to die just so I can call you all mine and mean it." She exhaled a stream of air through pursed lips. "So if there is someone else please let me know now. I need a legit reason to pump brakes."
Elijah's mask of indifference lay in pieces on the dinner table. Everything she'd confessed shined neon bright from his mahogany browns and radiated from his expression. "There's someone else, but our association has more or less run its course. Our relationship no longer holds any true commitments or obligations." He slid a hand across the table to capture hers. "And although the steady approach of your quickening stirs unquenchable desire in my siblings and me, please know my interest in you travels far beyond supernatural means."
"Yeah?" She questioned.
He rose from his seat to round the dinner table. Faster than her eyelids could blink, she found herself perched on his knee. His fingers stroked her bare back as a narrow eyed assessing stare crept over her face. After a moment of perusal he spoke. "What's incited such doubt in you?"
"Are you serious?" She shifted in his lap to look at him full on. "My mom two stepped out the door when I was twelve, my dad and I is rarely ever on the same coast, and I still have stab wounds in my back from my so called best friends."
"Not to mention Marcel's reappearance in Rebekah's life," he said. She let him draw her deeper into his embrace, and then rested her head at the curve of his neck.
She sighed. "So you've heard."
"Mother, disclosed the details to me earlier this afternoon. I apologize if this causes you unnecessary pain. We've long now thought Marcel dead." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "My baby sister can be intentionally cruel in other aspects, yet never in the ways of love and legitimate affection. If her heart indeed still lies with Marcel Gerrard then be assured she'll not lead you about without the hope of a true destination."
Boldness discovered an opening and slithered inside of her. Not long after, the brazen state of mind began to push buttons. "And what of your heart, Elijah?" Her palm covered his left pec. "Where does yours lie?"
Instead of answering, his soft cool lips discovered hers. She expected his kiss to be gentle, but it was selfish and demanding. The more she gave, the more he claimed and the more he needed. The vicious cycle devoured her attention. Every nerve in her body quaked at just the hint of stimulation. She wanted his hands all over her, touching her in places that rarely experienced the tingling sensation of a cool breeze. Instead of fondling, fingering or massaging her, one hand continued to stroke her back like a shit eating lap dog, while the other caressed the center of her palm with the pad of his thumb.
The inconsistency of his corrupting oral play and virtuous fingers, confused, excited, and frustrated the hell out of her. How the hell could he make her feel like the aggressor and the pursued all at once? She couldn't be sure just whom the hell was seducing whom. All she knew was she wanted to be writhing and naked under this man ASAP! She reached for his tie, but he lightly slapped her hand away.
He broke the kiss. "Bonnie, I'd very much like to receive my dessert in the master bedroom and if you're receptive to the invitation I'd be honored if you joined me as well." His fingers continued to skim the length of her spine, stoking a fire at the center of her womanhood she hoped like hell he was capable and ready to extinguish. "Under no circumstances is it my intent to make you feel pressured, so if the proposal unnerves-,"
Bonnie abruptly straightened and pulled her foot into her lap. She then proceeded to unbuckle her stilettos, unforgivingly dropping each of them to the lime stone floor. Once free of the strap on torture devices, she climbed from his lap and arched a brow. "Which way is the master bedroom, left or right?"
Without opening his damn mouth, he zipped towards her and lifted her into his arms as if she'd just said, I do. Her surroundings blurred into a live depiction of Van Gogh's Starry Night. A barrage of colors overtook her field of vision as gushing air whipped across her face. By the time she adjusted to the speed the ride came to an abrupt stop.
Elijah lowered her to her feet, and then began to circle her. In slow perusal, his inquisitive stare crept over her. When he completed a full rotation, he stopped at her rear. The bulge in his pants met the dip in her back. Hills of hard lean muscles pressed against her scapulas as cool lips grazed the lobe of her ear.
"Flawless," he whispered, before untying the strings of her dress.
The gauzy material pooled at her feet as the air thickened and became a little difficult to breathe. His hands skimmed up her sides until they palmed her breasts. Gasps fell from her mouth one after the other as he pinched and tugged at her nipples. The proof of her need leaked from the crevices of her thongs. Her hips swayed from side to side as he trailed kisses from the sensitive skin behind her ear to curve her neck. Once her nipples tightened, his hands drifted down her abdomen until his fingertips touched the hem of her G-string.
"May I?" He nipped her shoulder.
She nodded. "Please."
His fingers breached the hem, and then he guided the lace over her thighs and down her legs. He kissed her left ass cheek as he went. When her thongs met her ankles, he prompted her to step out of them by tapping her calf.
Soon as she wore nothing more than a come do me expression, he straightened from his crouch. He rounded her body. Once she stood face to neck with him, she angled her head back to look up at him.
"We have a fucking problem, Mr. Mikaelson." She snaked her arms around his neck.
A hint of a smirk kissed his lips. "Which problem would that be, Miss Bennett?" He questioned as his fingers delved into the apex of her thighs. When he located the her special button she purred her approval.
"Your suit," she groaned as his fingers skimmed over her pearl tongue.
His blistering stare began to stalk each of her expressions. "My suit? What of my suit?"
"It should be on the floor keeping my dress company," she said reaching out and unknotting his tie.
Once the strip of silk hung loose around his neck, she snatched it free of his collar and tossed it over her shoulder. She then she went for his shirt.
"Please don't displace the butt-," he began.
An evil smirk corrupted her lips as she tore the dress shirt open. Fucking buttons flew everywhere. He growled, and then yanked her up in his arms. Before she could recover from the thigh clenching vibration of his rumbling chest he literally body slammed her on the king sized mattress.
Surprise rocked her shit. Who would've thought Elijah could dance dirty? She propped herself on her elbows in time to see him discard his torn shirt on the floor. Soon after his pants followed. Her eyes nearly leaped from her sockets. Shock feasted on all of her preconceived notions about the most posh Mikaelson. Who'd ever thought the noble Elijah paraded around Mystic Falls without boxers, briefs, or drawers to the fucking first? Undone by the distance still remaining between them she crooked a finger at him. He joined her on the king sized mattress without further prompting.
When his body covered hers she opened her legs to guide him where she needed him most, but he blocked the move with a swift roll. Not even a second later she straddled him, while he reclined on a mountain of designer pillows. The shaft of his manhood had firmly wedged itself between her pop rocker's lips. She leaned forward to kiss him, and the movement caused her seeping slit and fully engaged clit to slide over the fucking yuletide log parlaying at present in her hot spot.
A moan tangled with a growl exploded from Elijah's mouth. The expression of sheer ecstasy on his face stunned her motionless. Was Mr. GQ Smooth a moaner? To test the theory she bucked her hips again. This time he tried to bite his bottom lip to prevent the sound, but his throaty squeal still escaped the prison of his perfect white teeth. Oh this shit was going to be epic! She leaned forward and grabbed the hills of his chest for leverage. Slowly, she began to rock her hips back and forth. The pleasure enflaming sensation made her drool.
A familiar pressure throbbed to life at the center of her core as something new hummed to life at her midsection. The sensation resonated within her abdomen in sync with the same rhythm of her thrusting hips. Elijah's hands shot forth and gripped her waist. He pressed her lower half down on him which initiated her pearl tongue to take an even more mouthwatering beating from the bell head of his manhood. The pressure in her core swelled and pushed into her lower abdomen. By this time her own wailing began to mingle with his low growling moans. If she didn't fucking cum soon she would lose her twisted mind! Sweat dripped from her scalp and trickled down the nape of her neck as she worked harder than a sled dog to reach the needle point of her climax.
Before she knew it, her world flipped again. This time she found herself on her hands and knew as Elijah plunged his unyielding wood between the apexes of her pressed together thighs. The impressive length of him slid against the most sensitive parts of her and produced a static electricity of sensual friction that would more or less spark her ass for weeks to come. The pressure began to radiate from lower abdomen and rebounded throughout her entire frame. Her thighs and arms began to tremble as his thrusts became jerky and erratic.
An explosion of energy shook the walls of the room. Balcony doors blew open. The darkened room erupted in a glow of flickering candle lights. Almost at the same time, nonsense spilled from their mouths as the Hercules of orgasms simultaneously slayed them. The convulsions that ricocheted off the walls of her pop rocker nearly quaked them both to quivering bits.
Curiously, hot freak juice shot from between her thighs to mingle with his lukewarm baby making serum. Bonnie collapsed face first into a pile of pillows. Elijah crashed on top of her, driving her further into the pillow toped mattress. An exhausted laugh wobbled from her lips. Holy shit! That was fucking everything!
"You should be aware it's my intention to one day burden you with my name," he whispered next to her ear.
A content smile blossomed on her usually unenthusiastic lips. "And you should know, I'm fucking bananas enough to let you."