A/N: I'll be quite busy till Sunday, so it's an extra-super-fast update for you my Dear Readers.
8.
killing me softly
Klaus' fingers are itching for a cigarette. This habit of his has gained the upper hand but here it is, the problem of being on a plane — you are not allowed to smoke. So his right hand is twitching and his fingers are dancing to a melody playing in his head.
Caroline is curious what melody is stuck in his mind, but she won't ask him. No, she's too proud to talk to him now after he just took her by the hand and dragged to a plane.
We're going to London, he says, we have to. They really have to, because there's a party organized by Dominique Maxwell to commemorate her husband's death and to honour the new leader. It's business. It's his duty.
I can stay in Mystic Falls, you don't need me there, Caroline tries to wriggle out of this, but Klaus is unrelenting.
You're going. I need to keep an eye on you until I get everything under control, he says, not telling her the truth that she is simply tied to him by what she did to Maxwell and there's no way back. That it's not just the matter of a week or two, it's a matter of years. He doesn't tell her the truth because he knows it best that nobody feels good locked in a cage, and this is where Caroline will be living from now on. Once in the Organization, always in the Organization.
Contrary to what you may be thinking, he's not thrilled about his new role. Not at all. He used to be a lone wolf, free and independent, now he has to run a dirty business with hundreds of people under him. And it's not just about killing people. It's about actually doing business.
Caroline sighs. There's a gloomy gangster on her left and a grinning gangster on her right. Yes, Stefan is with them on the plane. While Klaus is contemplating something, with a frown on his face and his fingers still beating out an unknown rhythm, Stefan is staring at Caroline with a dumb but vicious smile. Caroline hates to admit it, but Damon's been right.
Stefan doesn't know about what happened. No one knows. Caroline is considered Klaus' trophy girlfriend for the time being, and well, it doesn't exactly flatter her, but it's better to be a trophy girlfriend than a walking target.
Still, both Stefan's Cheshire grin and Klaus' grim frown are deeply unsettling.
The hotel they are staying at is nothing but a feast of luxury. Marble, expensive fabric, antiques and an open bar downstairs. Caroline grits her teeth when she sees a king-sized bed in the apartment she and Klaus are ("—of course, love, isn't it obvious?") sharing. She's well aware of his smirk, that suggestive smirk, the smirk boys wear when they want to make girls feel embarrassed. It works perfectly fine for her cheeks go red instantly.
The awkward moment is interrupted by her cell phone ring melody, Lily Allen singing happily fuck you, fuck you very, very mu-u-uch— (Of course it's melody she chose for Damon.)
"Put him on the speaker phone." Klaus commands, his face turning from smug to irritated. ''Do it.''
Caroline can't argue with him, so she takes a deep breath before saying out loud,
"What do you want, Damon?"
"Where the hell are you, Blondie?" Damon's voice sounds worried and pissed off which means he's sober. If he was drunk, his fury would make the phone rise up in the air and hit her in the head.
"Currently away from Mystic Falls, as you probably know." Caroline says dryly.
"Other state?"
"Something like that." She looks warily at Klaus whose frown is so ominous it makes her shiver.
"Are you with that smooth criminal?" Ouch, Caroline thinks seeing Klaus' frown, here we go...
"Yes." She gulps.
"Damn it, Barbie, I told you— "
"I know, okay! I. Know." She cuts him off, wishing Damon would just shut up.
"You know? You know and you go with that psycho anyways? Caroline, he's a criminal!"
Klaus eyes widen as they bore into Caroline's, this time they are cold and cruel, and all Caroline can think of right now is, Oh snap.
"Damon, I'm with Klaus and Stefan," she gives up, "don't worry, I'll be fine. Don't do anything stupid." And she hangs up, then puts the phone slowly on the glass coffee table. She inhales sharply seeing Klaus' tense face.
"So this is how you know about me?" He hisses. "From that pathetic asshole?" Oh God, she feels the storm coming, his blood boiling, his breath quickening.
"No," she shakes her head, "um, I mean not only. I heard you talking on the phone that day, and it all made sense then." The blonde feels a pressure in her chest, she's choking on fear.
"I swear I'll kill the bastard!" He growls, taking her phone and throwing it — Caroline gasps— at the wall, smashing the device.
"Please, he just wanted to know what his brother was doing all those years." Caroline's trembling as she takes two steps backwards. Klaus moves forward closing the gap between them, trapping her between his body and a wooden wardrobe, glaring daggers at her, making her freeze against him.
"What was between you two, huh?" His nostrils flare.
"What?" Caroline chokes out, unable to dodge his question. It's inevitable. She feels her mouth run dry.
"You've heard me. Why is he so interested in your life?" Klaus is observing her, scanning her face, analyzing her every gesture, every facial expression she makes.
"H— He's just trying to be a good friend, I guess." Caroline cracks a faint smile but is soon falters as well.
"Really?" Klaus ironically cocks an eyebrow. "Let me ask you a straightforward question then. Did you sleep with him?" She notices he's also afraid of the answer. His eyes are saying, tell me that you didn't, tell me what I want to hear, lie to me if you have to. But she's already caught up in the web of lies so complex she isn't sure whether it is possible to break free at all. Look where it's led her.
Caroline squeezes her eyes shut and whispers, "Yes. Long time ago."
Suddenly there's no weight pressing her against the wardrobe. Before she can open her eyes, the door shuts with a loud bang, and she's left alone in the room.
"So this is what you were doing when you texted me you're busy!" Klaus shouts at the naked brunette that covers herself with a blanket, her dark curls tangled, the black eyeliner smeared around her eyes.
"It's not her fault, brother, let me explain." Elijah tries to placate him, but is it even possible to calm your brother down when he walks in on you and his girlfriend? Not really.
Klaus takes an angry step forward, but then he stops, throws Tatia a reproachful look, and leaves Elijah's apartment, the sound of the door slamming shut is the last statement he makes.
She catches up with him, follows him shouting, begging him to give her a chance to explain. Please, Klaus, I need you to understand— !
He pulls the trigger.
Maybe if she hadn't run after him that night she would be still alive now.
He's chain smoking on the hotel roof when Stefan finds him. He throws a cigarette end away and lights up next one.
"Easy there," Stefan steals the cigarette from Klaus' mouth and has a drag. Klaus is so mad at Caroline that he's not even protesting, he just lights up a new cigarette.
"Let me guess. Trouble in paradise?" Stefan lets out a cloud of smoke.
"Not your business." Klaus sulks.
"Caroline that is." His friend nods knowingly.
Klaus seems to be fighting with himself for a while but finally he gives up and asks,
"Do you know that your brother has a soft spot for her?"
"Sure."
"What!" Klaus almost chokes on the smoke. "And you didn't tell me!"
"She's with you, isn't she?" Stefan rolls his eyes. Well, he's got a point. "So what's your problem, mate?"
"He's our problem, mate!" Klaus snorts. "I hope you keep him under control, I'd hate to have to teach him a lesson." What am I saying, I'd love to kick his ass.
"He won't be a nuisance, I can assure you."
"A nuisance is what he'll always be, I just want him to keep his mouth shut and stay away from my girl." Klaus stubs the cigarette out and walks away.
She saw him once or twice, hanging at the Grill. Alone. A new bad boy on duty, she thinks, but her eyes dart to his side every few seconds.
''Who's that girl over there, that blonde eye candy?'' A dark haired guy asks the bartender after downing a glass of whiskey.
''You mean, Caroline Forbes? She's our cheerleader commander-in-chief.'' Matt shrugs knowing her reputation. She's rather desperate for attention, and bossy. A queen bee —but not of the highest caliber. Tyler Lockwood dumped her, so she's drinking her sorrows away.
''A cheerleader you're saying.'' The new guy winks at her when he catches her looking at him (discreetly, which means she's staring). Suddenly Caroline pretends she's not noticing him and the blonde becomes extremely interested in the local newspaper. Small ads have never been so absorbing.
''Drink for you.'' Matt appears by her side and puts down a colorful mixture with a cocktail umbrella in it.
Sex on the beach? Seriously? Caroline raises her eyebrows. ''From...?''
''That guy over there.'' Her heart skips a beat when she sees that it's a gift from no one else but the mysterious stranger she's been observing lately. Oh God, he's coming here. He's coming here. He's...
''Cocky much?'' Caroline pouts trying to keep her chin up and look proud. It's not an easy task since his pale blue eyes are so tantalizing Caroline could just stare into them for the rest of her life.
''Very much.'' The stranger smirks and sits down facing her.
''I'm Damon.'' He tilts his head to one side, eying her up and down. His tremendous self-confidence is making her blush. He grins satisfied with the effect he's having on her. ''And it's a pleasure to meet you, Caroline.''
He finds his girl in their room, she's sipping cuba libre and sitting in a comfortable armchair, her knees pulled up under her chin. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, adds some ice, and joins her resting down on a couch.
Klaus and Caroline stay like this for a while, both silent, with their lips pressed tight, occasionally taking a sip of their drinks.
Klaus knows he's not squeaky-clean. He's not a saint. He admits that no matter how complicated her past is, his is surely ten times darker, or even more.
Maybe it's crazy — it probably is— but when he imagines any other man holding her in his arms, kissing her delicate skin, undressing her— It makes him so furious he could tear them apart. Klaus remembers that blind rage that almost made him kill Tyler Lockwood. Right now, if Damon appeared in the doorway Klaus wouldn't be able to stop himself from beating the older Salvatore to death. Not this time.
His eyes never leave Caroline, they are fixed on her although his gaze seems absent. She wonders where are his thoughts now.
Well, it doesn't take much time before his train of thoughts is derailed, and her cuba libre spills over the expensive piece of furniture as two strong hands yank her up from the armchair and pull her into a tight embrace. His greedy lips claim hers, burning Caroline with the intoxicating mix of nicotine and alcohol. It makes her head spin.
One of his hands grips her hair, messing with it, keeping her head up, while the other travels to her back and sneaks under her t-shirt, hovering over her bare back, feeling the goosebumps on her skin. He smiles against her lips as his hand slides down to her waist and brushes her hip bone eliciting a quiet moan from her. (He must remember to buy her more of those drop waist skinny jeans, he decides.)
Caroline feels a familiar heat in her abdomen, an unconscious, lustful throbbing for him while he's kissing her hungrily on the lips, kiss after kiss, tugging at her lower lip, biting her, their tongues fighting for dominance, but he's stronger. (Of course, he smirks.)
With these kisses he's taking his revenge on every man that touched her.
His hand stroking her flat stomach aims at every man that held her close.
When he grabs her by her hips and presses her even harder against him — when he earns a deep, yearning sigh from her— it's his payback.
One moment he picks her up, the next he's already on top of her, back with a vengeance. He settles down between her thighs, right where he belongs. And Caroline belongs to him (and to him only! he remarks while undressing her).
When he buries his head in the crook of her neck she bites down on his shoulder, partially because of an almost unbearable pleasure he's bringing her, and partially because of the guilt she's feeling.
(She should be running away from him, hiding in a place his thugs can't find her, she should leave him alone with all that crap he brought upon himself. Or she did it, but hey, he had it coming. Yet...)
Yet she can't help it when her hands dart to his neck, to his back, her restless hands that won't be satisfied until they rip his clothes off him.
Klaus draws her into yet another kiss — he can taste that rum and coke— he licks his lips, reveling in her sweetness. Yes, she is a cuba libre — strong liquor mixed with sweet fizzy drink. A contradiction that goes straight to your head.
He tortures her by grazing his hips against her core, knowing that she's more than ready, but taking a minute or two to set her skin alight. Then he goes for it. Her breath becomes erratic when she feels him right there — filling her, hitting the right spot, taking her again. Again, she thinks, as his tongue caress her collar bones and breasts, again, again, again.
Klaus thinks he's going crazy — he must be, considering how passionate he is while getting his revenge on Caroline's ex-lovers. I'll show them, he thinks, more than determined while ravaging her, enjoying her moans, every single oh and ah. He looks down at her, "aren't you stunning, love" he pants out, kissing the delicate line of her jaw. Her legs wrap around his waist, her ankles lock in the small of his back, and a couple of thrusts later he feels her tighten around him, then she explodes like a supernova, and with a moan escaping his throat he follows her.
Caroline's gaze rests on his stubble-covered face and his closed eyes as they lie down in the biggest bed she's ever seen, both still naked, enveloped in the covers, and she watches him sleep. Or so it seems because Klaus isn't sleeping, he's inwardly celebrating his victory over all those bastards that dared touch her. He's laughing right in their face, basking in his glory.
When Caroline finally drifts away exhausted and still flushed with excitement, he relishes the sight of her peacefully resting next to him, feasting his eyes on her bare form.
Revenge is a dish best served steamy and naked.
TBC
A/N: Click the review button and do not abandon all hope ye who enter here.
