Notes: klarolineauweek continues! Here are my contributions for the second day AU: Adversaries.
Line After Line
(Prompt: Publishing House AU. Rated T. Title from "Book Club" by The Arkells).
Caroline's just about to start yelling (or whisper yelling – they're at work and she's not an animal) because Klaus' feet are on her desk.
She was beginning to think he had a death wish.
Caroline had googled the crap out of him (and then his family) when they'd become cubicle mates. From what she'd gleaned he'd grown up in a super fancy house, had probably had etiquette lessons and a stern Nanny to correct his behavior so there was no excuse for him treating her desk like an ottoman.
Other than the fact that he seemed to take great pleasure in being the most annoying person on the planet. At least with Caroline. Other people seemed to find him perfectly charming. A couple of the girls down in marketing were forever attempting to pump Caroline for info in hopes of snagging Klaus' attention.
Did he date often? How did he take his coffee? Did Caroline think he was the type who liked it when a woman made the first move? In the beginning she'd demurred, dodged. Eventually she'd just started making up amusing lies. At this point they thought Klaus was an avid lawn bowler who collected vintage picture frames.
She'd been tempted to offer her Great Gran's foolproof man catching strategy – less hair, more boobs – but she figured that wouldn't go over well. Gran had been married three times though so she had clearly been doing something right. Plus, he might think he was subtle but Caroline had noted that Klaus' eyes tended to dip whenever her necklines did
Caroline stands at the entrance to their workspace, fuming while Klaus pays her no mind. When she notices the manuscript in his hands, the one he's perusing with great interest, all biting words about his appalling lack of manners die on her lips.
It's her manuscript.
That was not meant for his eyes.
She'd been planning on slipping it into one of the to-be read piles. The publishing house received stacks upon stacks of spec stories from hopeful authors every month. She, Klaus, and a handful of others were responsible for pre-reading them and separating out the ones that had potential.
Caroline was finally ready to share hers. She'd listed a pseudonym, had told herself that there was no harm in taking a shot – maybe she'd be rejected but that wouldn't be the end of the world. She'd just have to keep trying, improving.
She hadn't wanted Klaus to be the first one to get to it.
He'd read way too much into the fact that her hero kind of resembled him. Mostly physically but Caroline will admit that some of the snarky-one liners were things she imagined from his distractingly full lips. And maybe her hero had a few exasperating younger siblings. But that was all. Caroline hadn't even really done it on purpose but when there was a hot English dude in your space every day it was inevitable that the Earl in your historical romance ended up molded in his image.
That was her story and she was sticking to it.
She hastily smooths her face into a less panicked expression when Klaus glances up. No need to clue him into the fact that she didn't want him to read what he was reading. He delighted in being contrary so there's no way he'd willingly put it down. Tackling him and taking it by force was obviously out of the question since she was a professional. "Do you mind?" she hisses. "You have a perfectly good desk less than three feet away. Rest your stupid hipster boots over there."
Klaus has the gall to smirk up at her, slouching down slightly in her chair, "I thought I'd help you out. It seems like you've fallen behind." He nods over the whiteboard where they keep a tally of the projects they've completed. Every month the loser was obligated to buy drinks and Klaus had narrowly eked out a victory two months running and was in the lead once more.
Did that kill her a little? Yes. Something Klaus knew very well.
"I think I picked an easy one, however. It's quite good. The dialogue flows nicely. The sex scenes need the most polishing."
Caroline tries not to obviously bristle. "What, did you skip ahead to the dirty bits?"
Klaus would never say 'duh' but the look he sends her conveys it all the same.
"And what, exactly, is wrong with them?" It has come out a little sharper than Caroline had meant it to, more defensively, and Caroline hopes Klaus doesn't notice.
"This is for print, correct? If it were eBook only it would be fine, they're a bit more lenient about the racy elements there. "
Caroline feels her cheeks heat. That's so not what she'd been expecting him to say. "So you're saying it's too graphic?" Was it too graphic? Caroline hadn't thought so but, as much as she hated to admit it, Klaus was a good editor. She'd been dubious when he'd shown up, even more so when she'd found out that his father was kind of a big deal in the publishing world. Why he was choosing to do grunt work in New York City when he could join his older brothers in huge offices (propbably complete with sweeping views of London) was still a mystery.
"Mmm," Klaus hums in confirmation. "And it's perhaps a bit too… imaginative for a title in this division. Authors are only allowed to sneak in bondage sparingly, as you know."
That was true. She could maybe omit the ribbons. Perhaps have the hero instruct the heroine to hold on to the bed rails if she wanted to come? But then she'd have to rewrite the descriptions of the room. Lost in her own thoughts she barely registers Klaus saying her name. Caroline shakes herself, "What?"
His eyes narrow, "So you've started this one already? And here I thought I was doing a good deed."
Yeah, and that was suspicious. "Which is confusing to me, by the way. Why would you want to help me win? Don't you like free drinks?"
He shifts, so slightly she might not have noticed if not for the squeaky wheels of her chair. It's intriguing since Klaus was generally pretty unflappable, she's not certain he's even capable of being embarrassed. The quick glance down, the way he wets his lips before continuing tells her she might be wrong. "I do. I just thought you might as well."
"Of course I do. I have an entry level job and an insane rent payment every month. I occasionally consider accepting dinner invites from total creepers just to get a free meal."
"And would you consider me a 'total creeper'?"
He looks pained as he says the words and Caroline presses her lips together to keep from giggling. It takes a second for the meaning of his question to register. "What, what?" Did you just ask me out?"
"Not quite though I'll admit that is my intent."
"Oh my god Klaus you are way too old to be annoying me because you like me."
"Initially it was just because it was fun," he confesses. "And then it became a habit. Your reactions are delightful."
"Yeah, I'll bet anger really brings out the blue in my eyes," Caroline quips, crossing her arms as she studies him. He seems sincere, invested in her response.
"Is that a no, then?" Klaus asks, his expression carefully blank.
Caroline takes a second to mull it over. She has to admit that she usually has a good time with Klaus once they're off the company premises. He is funny, even when they're trash talking and needling each other. And he had taken a semi-terrible book by a first time author who clearly thought women were brainless morons off her hands two weeks ago. Before he'd offered she'd been painfully close to banging her head against her desk. So he wasn't actually a terrible person hell bent on making her miserable.
And if she had to refine her sex scenes for a broader audience maybe it would be helpful to have some assistance. He'd read them and had some ideas about how they could be improved.
He already resembled her Earl and Caroline's bed did have a slatted wooden headboard.
They could experiment. Test out practical applications. For art.
"Tomorrow," Caroline says. "My outfit today is so not cute enough for a date."
Klaus eyes flit down her body taking in her fitted navy dress. "I would be happy to argue that point, love."
"Nope," Caroline chirps, before pointedly jerking her thumb in the direction of his desk. "You only say that because you've never been treated to a date dress. Now get out of my chair."
He unfolds himself and stands and Caroline takes in a sharp breath when she realizes how close he is.
How is it that she'd never noticed that he smells really good? They work in a freaking plywood shoebox. He gives her an infuriating little smile, like he knows what she's thinking. He's left her manuscript behind and Caroline snatches it up. "Wait, take this. I think it needs another opinion."
And, while she wouldn't say it aloud just yet, Caroline does trust Klaus's.
He takes the pages from her hands. "I'll bring it home with me. We can discuss it tomorrow?"
"Sure!" Caroline says, even though she begins internally panicking. Her in a date dress, Klaus with the charm turned up to eleven, discussing her book? Diving into details about the sex scenes? That could very well be a disaster for her self-control.
Or, Caroline thought optimistically, possibly an excellent research opportunity. Car sex could totally be translatable to carriage sex, right?
Send Shivers Down My Back
(Prompt: kc + alphas of rival werewolf packs and fuck we're mates. Rated T. Title from "Furr" by Blitzen Trapper).
When Caroline steps off the elevator she's greeted by an eerie quiet. It puts her on edge. She's later than usual, a side effect of a series of restless nights and last night's guest who hadn't known how to take a hint. It's nearly 10 AM she should be the last to arrive. Scanning the room she sees a full house, but there's none of the usual chatter and bustle. The ping of IMs is absent, there are no tapping keyboards. Not a single squeaky wheel can be heard, the shuffling of papers is completely absent.
Caroline needs to figure out just what's happened and quickly.
She pauses a few steps outside of the elevator and looks around more carefully, notes the pinched expressions and nervous fidgeting that abound even as all of her employees avoid her eyes.
Something was very wrong.
She doesn't think it's her – she's not exactly a pushover of a boss but she's not Cruella DeVille either. Caroline expects results and isn't shy about offering either praise or criticism. Nor did she allow herself to get too personally involved with her staff. Most of her employees were also her pack and her position as alpha was tenuous and often on the verge of being challenged. At work she takes great pains to be cordial, to act like a boss and not an Alpha, so she hasn't the faintest clue about why every person who works for her is suddenly acting like Caroline has been hatching a plan to use their pelts for outerwear.
She begins walking again, her pace brisk, the crack of her heels on the marble tiles gunshot loud in the stillness. She stops in front of her assistant's desk, notes that April is trembling with nerves. Caroline leans forward, smiling softly and making an effort to sound gentle. She can't show that she's alarmed. Leaders never panicked. "April? Do you have any messages for me?"
"On your desk, ma'am. But…" her voice falters and she looks up at Caroline with wide, helpless eyes.
"But…" Caroline prompts.
"There's a… visitor in your office."
Caroline straightens abruptly, a swell of irritation mingling with her unease. "Why would you let someone wait in my office unsupervised?"
April struggles to answer, at first only emitting a strangled whimper. She manages to draw in a shaky breath. "He didn't really give me a choice."
Caroline scoffs, "So? There's a reason I pay a security team."
She whirls when she hears the familiar whisper of her office door. It only takes another instant for the heavy scent of blood to hit her. Caroline tenses, darts a glance at the letter opener on April's desk. It's not silver so it won't kill a wolf but Caroline can certainly do some damage with it. Her fingers itch to lunge for it but she tells herself to be patient and assess the situation. She studies the man framed in the doorway carefully, trying to place him. He's dressed casually in jeans and a snug grey Henley that's spattered with blood. He's not particularly large or muscle bound but some instinct tells Caroline not to let that fool her.
Her gut tells her he's powerful, dangerous. All the more so because he doesn't look it.
"Who," she bites out frostily, "do you think you are?"
She vaguely hears April scurrying away though she doesn't turn to look. The man's eyes don't leave Caroline, he tracks her movements carefully. He drifts forward a step, then another, light on his feet even in heavy boots and Caroline watches him approach, looking for any twitch of muscle that will indicate he's planning on going for her throat.
But there's no threat immediately apparent, his hands remain visible, loose at his sides. "I know exactly who I am. I thought I knew who you were, Caroline Forbes, but it seems as if I missed something critical."
He sounds perturbed but Caroline only grows more confused. What could he possibly have missed? Caroline led two lives, kept pack business separate from her company, but she was an open book in both if you knew who to ask. And from the way this guy carries himself, the intelligence in his eyes, he's not the type to do sloppy recon.
If he hadn't shown up uninvited and spilled blood in her territory she might have respect him.
When he steps closer Caroline inhales instinctively, used to using her heightened senses to her advantage. His scent drifts over her and a light touch of cologne can't hide the scent of his skin.
It hits her hard and she breathes deep, her pulse thrumming a frantic rhythm as she fights her instinctive need to claim what's hers with touch and teeth and claws. She wants her marks on his skin, his hands on hers and for their scents to combine into something new, something that will warn others away.
He's hers. Only hers. She knows it in her bones, with every too quick thump of her heart.
She's heard enough stories to know what's happening to her, what he is to her, even though he's yet to supply a name. Caroline locks her knees to keep from swaying on her feet. It's a struggle to maintain her hardened expression, but she has to think. She grits her teeth and fights the pull of him, tenses her muscles when her body protests. The urge to step forward is strong, all she wants to do is rend their clothing into miniscule pieces, to press every inch of her skin to every inch of his.
She didn't even care that they had an audience. Werewolves weren't exactly shy.
It takes longer to recognize the scent of the blood, but once it tugs at her she uses it as a focal point. It's familiar but placing it takes time while she sorts through an overwhelming tangle of emotions.
Once it clicks she's abashed that it took so long. She knows whose blood her mate is wearing. After all, she's spilled it herself often enough.
"Where's Tyler?" Caroline demands, hating how thick and unsteady the words come out. She needs to get herself under control.
"Tyler?" the stranger asks, his head tipping to the side quizzically.
Caroline offers a false smile. "Dark hair, about yay high?" She holds her hand about level with her forehead. "His blood ruined your shirt so I imagine you at least spoke?"
"Ah, so that was his name. We only exchanged a few brief words. I'm afraid I reacted rather hastily." The words are contrite but his expression isn't. If anything he appears maliciously pleased with himself.
"Reacted to what?" Caroline presses.
"A strange wolf covered in my mate's scent."
Several audible gasps ring out from around the room, making it clear this conversation is far from private.
They need to take this discussion elsewhere. Baring her body wouldn't faze her but this? This was no one's business.
Caroline's hands ball into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms as she considers the ramifications of what her pack had just witnessed. The gossip would spread quickly, every member of her pack who wasn't in attendance will have heard the news she'd been mated within the hour. The usual dicks who are always gunning for her spot will be emboldened, will assume a mate will make her weak.
They're going to be sorely disappointed. Caroline's not about to let go of everything she's achieved, all that she's built, without one hell of a fight.
Klaus had known Caroline Forbes was lovely – the company she'd inherited was publically traded, and so a quick search had yielded dozens of images. He'd studied them all. She'd been cool and calculating in a navy business suit at a shareholder's meeting, her pale blonde hair ruthlessly pinned back. She wore evening wear just as well, elegant gowns and fine jewels, always smooth and serene as she attended charity galas and awards banquets. He'd particularly liked the photo of her outdoors at a Forbes Inc. sponsored animal adoption drive. She'd been laughing with a pile of Shepard mutts in her lap, her curls loose and blowing in the wind, sweet and joyous and all the more appealing.
At that point he'd begun to idly consider bedding her as a means of softening her up. Every report said that Caroline was smart, calculating and ruthless. All traits Klaus admired. It wouldn't be a hardship to use lust to attempt to way her to his side.
He suspected that, in this case, he'd rather enjoy mixing business with pleasure.
He intended to claim a piece of territory for the pack he's been building. A piece that bordered and possibly overlapped land that the Forbes pack had always considered theirs. And while Klaus had no real qualms about taking what he wanted with fear and bloodshed (a method that had worked exceedingly well for him over the last millennium) it had been pointed out that diplomacy might occasionally serve his interests better. His efforts to force triggered wolves to be hybrids had yielded unfavorable results. A wolf infected with vampirism against their will was difficult to control.
Besides, if he continued to have to kill the hybrids that refused to fall in line, Klaus might run out of werewolves altogether.
Without werewolves there could be no hybrids. And Klaus had come to be rather fond of his hybrids.
Caroline Forbes will make a magnificent one.
She'd looked a bit tired when he'd first spotted her, though that had quickly melted away once she'd sensed a threat. She'd grown reactive and watchful until the moment she'd caught his scent and then she'd been sent reeling. He'd watched the play of emotions across her face with fascination, had been impressed by her ability to control herself. She'd managed to claw back an admirable amount of poise.
Watching her Klaus had decided he'd make a project of unravelling her impressive control. And he'd make certain she enjoyed it enough to beg for a repeat performance.
After he'd uttered the word 'mate' her posture had closed off. She'd stalked out the way she'd come, making no motion for Klaus to follow.
He had, of course. They had quite a lot to discuss. Caroline hadn't appeared surprised when he'd shadowed her into the elevator and Klaus took that as a sign that he was welcome. He watches as she yanks her phone out of her bag. A few taps and she lifts it to her ear, "Tell everyone to clear out. Now," she instructs, her tone icy and offering no room for questions. She stows the phone in jerky motions and smooths out her dress as she faces the front of the elevator, keeping a careful distance between them. He detects no additional warmth when she speaks to him and she doesn't look in his direction. "We use three floors of this building. We're heading to the 42nd. Everyone will be gone and we can talk over who you are and what you want."
"Yes, it was rather rude of me to show up without an appointment, wasn't it? But you've so determinedly been dodging my attempts to set up a meeting."
Klaus watches with great interest as her spine stiffens, pleased to confirm that she's every bit as bright as advertised. Caroline crosses her arms, "Ah. So you're Klaus."
"Does my reputation precede me?"
Her eyes close briefly and he watches her fists ball so tightly he wonders if her nails are drawing blood, "It's kind of hard for it not to, don't you think? It's so very colorful. Were you planning on killing me?"
"I had considered it," Klaus admits. "That's off the table now, of course. Though, if it eases your mind, you should know that I was rather leaning towards seduction."
"Oh, that's immensely comforting," she spits out venomously, just as the elevator doors slide open.
She stalks out, attempting to leave him in her dust. Klaus doesn't bother to hide his pleased grin as he watches the angry sway of her hips. He'd never given much thought to what his mate would be like but he should have known she'd have a temper that was something to marvel at.
Honestly, Klaus had always thought him finding a mate was exceedingly unlikely given how long he'd been alive.
Caroline Forbes is a surprise, a disruption to his plans. He's never dealt with those graciously before but this instance is an exception.
He's not even bothered by the knowledge that this is unlikely to be the last wrinkle she's responsible for. He's knows Caroline for scant minutes but it's already obvious she's not the passive sort. If he pushes her she'll return the pressure with all her might. He finds he eagerly anticipates the clashes they'll have.
Caroline would be a worthy opponent. Any mate of his would have to be.
She's being unforgivably rude. Both of her southern grandmothers would have fits if they saw the way Caroline was acting. Her parents would be entirely disapproving – they'd drilled the rules of diplomacy their kind abided by into her head since birth. William and Elizabeth Forbes had prepared her to lead even when their peers had scoffed at the idea of a woman heading up a pack as old as theirs. If Caroline had treated any other visiting Alpha the way she was treating Klaus Mikaelson right now she'd have a war on her hands.
She tells herself there are serious extenuating circumstances but it's a weak defense. She needs to do better. Caroline keeps moving, avoids looking at him, and maintains as much distance between their bodies as she possibly can. Her avoidance wouldn't be noticeable to most but Klaus' indulgent expression tells Caroline he knows exactly what she's doing and why. He's persistent in closing the gap though he's smooth about it. He doesn't push too far into her bubble but he's undeniably there.
Unsettling her.
She leads him into a conference room, a place where she always feels in control. Caroline can only hope that it gives her a boost because she's feeling so far off her game. Her nerves are screaming at her, her thoughts a jumbled mess of cautions and demands and admonishments. She'd known that putting Klaus Mikaelson off was a gamble, had hoped to just buy a little time to figure out a way to bargain with him.
She's got lists on her phone. Things she can offer him. She'd thought it a simple matter of enticement, thought that she merely had to find something he would want.
The problem with that was there weren't too many things a 1000 year old hybrid with money to burn and very few boundaries about pesky things like rights of ownership didn't already have.
She'd had no illusions about how hopelessly outmatched her pack was if Klaus wanted to take them out or worse, collect them for his hybrid army. Caroline has been running herself ragged trying to think of a solution, some deal she could strike.
She hadn't expected him to just show up and she certainly hadn't expected that he'd be her freaking mate.
Caroline circles the table, sinks into the leather chair that sits at its head. Klaus wanders over to the windows. "It's quite a view," he remarks admiringly.
She holds in a snort. "Really? We're doing small talk now?"
"Would you have preferred that I offer an apology for your boyfriend's untimely death?"
He turns to look at her, his eyes far too blue and far too intent. Caroline folds her hands to stop them from visibly trembling. She's trying so hard but she can't stop wanting to touch him.
"That depends. Are you actually sorry?"
His shrug is casual and he takes a careful step forward, gauging her reaction. "I'm rarely sorry, truth be told."
"Yeah, I figured. That sounds right in line with your reputation."
"You don't seem particularly broken up," Klaus notes. "About Tyler. Not a love match?"
Caroline considers her answer carefully. She knew how old Klaus was, had heard stories of his cunning. She has no doubt he'll spot any lie she tries to tell and hold it against her. If she's going to protect her pack she needs to earn a little trust. "I loved Tyler when I was in high school. Before pack politics mattered. When my father died… things got messy. Richard Lockwood wanted to be alpha, couldn't wrap his head around the idea that little 'ol me was capable. He challenged me. I won."
"Did you kill him?"
"No. Nor did I kill him the second time he tried. I probably would have, had he tried again, but Mr. Lockwood had a heart attack and keeled over in his mistress's apartment before that became necessary. Tyler tried a challenge of his own the next full moon. Wanted to make daddy proud."
"Unsuccessfully, I imagine?"
"He did better than his dad ever did but he relied too much on brute strength, not enough on brains. Typical man."
Klaus' lips curl in amusement even as his eyes flare yellow, "And yet, this morning, your scent was all over him."
Caroline meets his eyes defiantly, "Yeah, he's kind of a post coital cuddler. Or was, I guess. And if you start in on some chest beating alpha male crap I will do my very best to throw you out that window."
"Wouldn't kill me," Klaus notes casually. Caroline imagined he was pretty used to threats against his person.
"I don't want to kill you. If I kill you I turn into a raving lunatic, remember? I like my brain as it is, thanks."
"I'm beginning to think I like your brain too, love."
Caroline refuses to be charmed even if he seems like he means it. 'Seems' was the important word. If he's adept at spotting lies he must be equally capable of telling them. She narrows her eyes and straightens her posture. "I'm not going to apologize for any of the sex I've had. It kind of comes with the whole werewolf thing, certain itches just don't go away. My position in the pack means my options are limited. I didn't love Tyler. We haven't even been friends for a very long time. But he could pretty reliably get the job done and didn't get clingy."
"You didn't hold his attempt to usurp you against him?"
"I had gotten over it. I get that grief can mess a person up. I've been hearing whispers that he'd been gearing up for another shot though so you might have done me a favor."
Klaus raises an eyebrow, "And yet you still invited him into your bed?"
"How much closer can an enemy get?" Caroline asks sweetly.
He smiles, a gleam of something like admiration in his eyes. "I see. And I'm happy to have helped."
He's drawn closer throughout the conversation and Caroline bites back a gasp as he sidesteps her chair, placing himself behind her. A hand rests on her shoulder when she would have turned. The pressure is light, he's not holding her down. Klaus ducks low to whisper, "Easy. I won't hurt you, Caroline."
Caroline's body softens and she curses her heritage because surely her long line of werewolf ancestors was the only reason she believed him. Mates were rare, miraculous, she'd always been taught. A gift to be cherished if you were lucky enough to find it.
With him touching her she almost believes that.
"Why wouldn't you meet with me?" he asks, thumb idly stroking the top of her spine. "I was most polite in my inquiries."
Caroline would roll her eyes if she wasn't so busy telling herself not to lean further into his hands. "I had a pretty good idea of what you wanted."
"Did you?"
"Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas," she recites. A brief pause in his gentle explorations is the only indication she might have surprised him. He resumes his caresses and Caroline continues, giving in to the urge to roll her head forward and bare more of her skin. "Hayley Marshall is a snake and was only too happy to come and whisper in my ear. I doubled the money you gave her."
"Funny, I thought a Queen would be above such petty back dealing," Klaus mutters. Caroline barely hears him because he's begun to unpin her hair, his fingers carefully unraveling her curls until they brush her shoulders.
She should stop him.
She doesn't.
Caroline clears her throat, wills her voice not to shake, "Hayley's pack is… odd. But they don't bother us so we let them have their tiny piece of land, their silly titles, because she's occasionally useful."
"Tell me, does she expect you to bow, curtsey?"
"I'd rip her throat out if she did."
He makes a small noise, rich with mirth and somehow fond. "I offered her the opportunity to be a hybrid."
"Offered?" Caroline echoes incredulously. "Is that how you're trying to sell it? Because forced is the term I've heard used most often."
Klaus doesn't seem offended and his reply is matter of fact. "I'm trying something a bit different. Call it a new leaf. Hayley declined my offer. Seemed rather repulsed by the idea of becoming a half-breed."
Well, that was tactless. Caroline couldn't say she was surprised, however. "Werewolves have hated vampires since the birth of your species. That's not something that can be easily set aside."
"So if I were to offer your pack the same choice?" Klaus asks and Caroline's not fooled by the casualness of the query. There's a lot of weight in such a small question.
The connection between them had been instantaneous, a sharp new awareness. It hummed in the back of her mind and his fingers brushing her skin made her feel warm, like she was lit up from within. She feels attuned to his movements even though her eyes are closed, the thread between them thickening. If he hadn't taken the initiative to touch her she'd have snapped and asked him to. His idle caresses are soothing her nerves and Caroline's never one to be easily calmed. That more than anything convinces her that she's stuck with him.
If this wasn't real would she really feel so safe in a monster's hands?
Klaus Mikaelson is her mate. She's stuck with him, and he's just as stuck with her. If Caroline dies he goes insane be it tomorrow or in sixty or seventy years at the end of her natural life.
She doesn't even want to think about what that would look like, the destruction he could cause if his sanity were shattered.
"In my pack I doubt you'd find many willing. We've held our territory for generations and vampires have never been welcome."
"I'm aware."
"Killing Tyler will endear you to a few, make you an enemy of others. Though I'm sure a few more of those won't make much difference to you. No one will look kindly on the fact that you showed up and got immediately murder-y."
Klaus nods in acceptance and Caroline's not surprised he'd already considered all the angles and come to the correct conclusions. "And you?" he asks. "Could you be convinced?"
That's the big question. Her knee jerk reaction should be a firm, 'Hell, no' but Caroline finds that's not the case.
She suspects she could be convinced.
She pushes her chair back, rises so they're face to face. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. Her next words will change her life irrevocably but she's not afraid. Caroline's no stranger to deals, excels at negotiations. She might never have attempted anything with stakes this high but she still plans on coming out ahead. "If you mean what you say, that you don't intend to force my pack to turn into hybrids, then maybe. I need you to show me that I can trust you."
Klaus takes her hand, tugs it up to his lips, eyes gleaming with heat and triumph. He brushes a kiss across the inside of her wrist and the shiver that wracks her frame is impossible to hide. It had only been a tiny hint of a kiss but it felt like a promise. "For you, Caroline for what we could be, I'll do my very best."
That will have to be good enough.