Chapter 2
The velvet box, the white bow, the small ivory card, all lie familiar and challenging, on her bed.
"Shit," she hisses to herself as she snatches it up and carelessly tears it open not even glancing at the elegant letters on the card. It doesn't seem fair she thinks peevishly a she gawps at the stunning emerald pendant inside that he has to have such impeccable taste.
She's managed to avoid him for a full week since he rescued her from Elena and they made, in what she now considers a moment of pure madness, their illicit deal. The stone glints invitingly from it's luxurious bed of dark velvet and her fingers twitch with the desire to lift it to her neck and see if it brings out her eyes as she expects it will.
Instead she snatches it up and storms out of the house.
She finds him sitting in the nearly empty grill and waves the box in his face. "What's this?" she demands.
"A gift," he replies with a small insolent smile.
"No," she retorts. "It's a prompt"
"Not at all love," he indicates the stool beside him and without thinking she sits. "I wouldn't think that were needed, you're not the type to renege on a deal now are you?"
"No" she frowns, feeling cornered. "But just so you know you are blowing this way out of proportion"
"Am I?" He turns away before she can respond and orders a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
"Yes" she takes a sip of the wine and he does the same, looking at her over the rim of his glass with dancing puckish eyes. It really doesn't help, she thinks, that he's so pretty and playful sometimes, such easy company. "Any Cosmo girl can tell you that fantasies are natural and healthy, it really doesn't matter who they're about"
"I quite agree love," he smirks. "There's nothing wrong with an active imagination"
"Precisely!" She declares emphatically.
"Tell me Caroline," his tone changes suddenly from playful to serious. "Are you alright? After your altercation with the doppleganger"
"Sure," she tries for a flippant. "Vamp healing and all"
"Not exactly what I meant love," he pushes gently and she shrugs.
"I just can't believe that she'd try and kill me, I mean, it's Elena," she pauses and bites her lip. "She's supposed to be my best friend."
He seems in that moment to understand all the complexities of her reaction to Elena's attack. Of course on one level she understands that Elena is not herself, but she can't quite separate the actions of this version of her friend from her remembered one.
Why her? She thinks sometimes. Why was it her Elena tried to kill not Bonnie or one of the Salvatores? She knows she was never the first choice of best friend and she wonders sometimes if Elena and Bonnie just put up with her because they're both too darn nice to do anything else. He sees it she thinks, all that self doubt, all those feelings of unworthiness, sees it because he has those feelings too.
"Ah sweetheart," he says eventually. "Elena's not herself. I've seen vampires go against the one's they love the most with their emotions off. If she singled you out its got nothing to do with how much she cares about you, its because she sees what you are"
She frowns, ready to be offended. "And what am I?"
"You're a threat," he replies as if it were obvious. "You're the strongest of the lot of them. You're the one least likely to let her have her way and most likely to force this emotionless farce of hers to an end. Going after you was pure cold self preservation, so don't read anything more into than that."
She gives a small unsure smile. He always does this, just when she's sure she's found a way to hate him, he twists her around with his perception or his vulnerability and she's back to wildly bailing out her heart as it fills, like a sinking row boat, with something far too close to affection.
"Caroline?" Stefan's voice startles her and she feels disorientated as she turns away from the hybrid.
"Hi, er, Stefan you ok?" she flounders with a forced bright smile.
"Yeah. Listen its about Elena," he says and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it is, isn't everything? No that's not fair, she loves Elena, truly she does, she'd just like to have the right to be pissed at her for at least a while.
Beside her Klaus snorts, "No doubt," he voices her thoughts for her. "Well I'll leave you all to tend you're precious doppleganger"
He stands and begins to leave then turns and smiles at her. "I'll see you soon then, Caroline"
She nods and he goes and she has to blunder quickly into asking about Elena because Stefan looks decidedly suspicious. "What's up Stef? Is Elena ok?"
She makes it another three days before she gets his next nudge. This time in the form of a rolled up piece of ivory paper tied with a crimson bow. If she's excited as she reaches for it, if her heart races in her chest and her fingers tremble then she doesn't acknowledge it, any more than she's acknowledged how much he's occupied her thoughts since she made this stupid deal.
She unrolls the paper, already constructing in her mind the perfect disdainful response to whatever misguided idea of romance she expects to find inside. Instead she laughs. She laughs the sort of instant liberated laugh that burst unbidden from your body when you're taken by surprise by a humour that perfectly matches your own.
She puts on a little makeup, just the faintest hint of blusher and a dab of lip-gloss, just enough to make her question her own intensions. Before she leaves she unrolls the page one more time, on it is a drawing of her face, hair blown up and back as if by a wind machine. Above her image the word "Cosmopolitan" blares in bold capital letters and around the image headlines in mismatched fonts make her grin at his cheekiness. "Your fantasies: Making them real", "Bad boys, could you handle one?"
At his house she enters uninvited and watches him from the doorway, hand haughtily on hip, humour threatening to break through her peeved façade.
"You know it's scary how authentic this is?" she says without preamble and lifts the page a little.
"Bekah," he explains with a grin, indicating the space beside him on the couch. "She seems to have read nothing but this puerile nonsense since I undaggered her and to think she used to so enjoy the bard"
"Hmm," she wanders into the room, sits beside him and unrolls the page, the image yet again making her smile, its so silly and so far from what she'd expect from him and yet not because its also playful and its all about her.
"Looks like a fascinating issue," he says and he's laughing in his eyes, she can tell that he's delighted to have tickled her with his efforts and that makes her roll her eyes and beat down hard on a stir of warmth in her chest.
"Drink?" He offers and reaches behind him for a glass.
"Ok, but just one"
The elegant stem of a champagne glass find its way into her hand and then he's reaching for a bottle from the silver bucket on the side table.
"On ice?" she asks with a tinge of offence that doesn't stop her holding out the glass for him to fill. "Presumptions"
He smirks as he fills his own glass. "But accurate"
She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, it's not like I can afford the good stuff so why not?"
"If you like it I'll have Elijah reserve you a case or two"
"Elijah?" she asks confused.
"This particular vintage is from one of my brother's vineyards, a stunning little chateaux in Champagne." He looks at her from under his lashes and laces his next words with invitation. "You'd love it"
She bites her lip, she can't deny that she does sort of like the idea that he'd still take her anywhere she wanted to go. "One of?" she asks just to save them from an awkward silence
"He has several. Old world only of course," his eyes sparkle with fond mockery of his stuffy older brother and she nods seriously and fights a smile.
"Oh of course."
"He also has a few very exclusive restaurants in Paris and New York. Compulsion may get you the basics Caroline," with the air of imparting wisdom. "But if you want to acquire the kind of wealth my siblings and I enjoy you need a few legitimate income streams, it draws far less attention"
"Well I'll bear that in mind," she quips. "So what are yours, drug running and brothels?"
He gives her an unamused look. "Real estate mainly, some stocks"
She pulls a face. Real estate seems just too ordinary for him, too boring.
He refills her glass fluidly and she takes another hefty sip, it delicious and the bubbles are already going to her head. "So what brings you here then love, other than to critique my artwork?"
"Well since it seems you're not going to stop harassing me," she says with a pointed look. "I figure its best to get this damn deal over with."
He smiles charmingly but his eyes are suddenly sharp and watchful and she nervously downs her glass of champagne. "Ok" he says simply.
Her glass is mysteriously full again and she takes another long gulp. "God this is weird," she gripes and he just grins. "Right"
She stands to put distance between them and he stands too and wanders over to the mantle piece, looking down into the flames and giving her a few moments to gather herself.
She's already decided which one to go with, and yes she does have a small library of Klaus based fantasies to choose from, not that she'll tell him that. But this is the tamest so she's sure she'll be safe sharing this one.
Eventually he turns to face her and she swallows hard. "Fine ok, if you really must know, your tattoos. I may, very occasionally mind you, think about your tattoos."
He glances down bashfully and that must be an act used to trap less savvy women than her because no one this old and this hot could possibly be shy. "Any context for that love?" he asks and looks up at her through his lashes.
She knew he'd want the details, that's ok she can do this. Get it over with and get out and never have to see him again. Because, and she is extremely firm with herself on this point, she does not want to see him.
She does not want to be the girl who wants the guy who hurt everyone she loves and if she doesn't get clear of him with his charm and his champagne and his changing vulnerable eyes, she's going to wind up doing something incredibly stupid.
"Well, in my fantasy, and can we just remind ourselves that fantasies mean absolutely nothing, I would be sitting on your lap. You have no shirt on and I am tracing the birds on your shoulder. With my fingers", she adds hastily. "Before you say something perverted"
He frowns briefly then his lips twitch and he bites them and looks away clearly fighting a laugh.
"What?" she snaps. She'd been prepared for his interests, his wicked teasing, his seducing gaze, but in the face of his mirth she is wrong footed and defensive. "What's funny?"
"Nothing love," he assures her not very convincingly.
"Then stop laughing," she insists crossly.
"Sorry," he cracks and lets out a brief stifled giggle that would be amusingly cute coming from the big bad original hybrid if she weren't so busy being offended.
She huffs and heads for the door. But his hand catches her arm. "I'm sorry love, don't go. Please, have one last glass of champagne with me"
"Fine," her hands go to her own hips. "If you tell me what's so hilarious"
He looks a little chastened. "Aw sweetheart pay no mind to it, your confession wasn't exactly what I expected that's all"
"How do you mean?" she pushes. "You wanted my fantasy, there it is, I'm sorry you found it so comical"
"Caroline, sweetheart, don't be angry," he hands her a glass and she takes it grudgingly. "Your fantasy is absolutely charming, just like you"
"Charming?" she grinds out getting increasingly irritated. "As in quaint?"
He looks unsure for a moment; his mouth moves a fraction silently before he speaks. "Of course not love."
"You think it's boring?" she accuses.
"No, but you must admit it for a fantasy it is perhaps a little," he searches uneasily for a word. "Reserved"
She feels affront register on her face and sees it reflected in his apologetic eyes. "It is not, it's sophisticated and hot"
"Caroline, it's positively chaste"
"No," she draws the word out pointedly. "It's just heavy on sexual tension and anticipation and you have no imagination"
He makes and unconvinced noise. "I can assure you my imagination lacks nothing and nor does yours, its innocence is beguiling, truly"
"Innocence, seriously?" she isn't sure why she's so insulted, so disappointed perhaps, by his reaction. Sure she hadn't picked her steamiest fantasy but still she thinks it's got to at least register a smolder on the hotness scale.
He makes a placating gesture with his hands and digs himself further into a hole. "Love relax, it's perfect, adorable-"
"Shut up" she snaps. "Just stop talking and sit the fuck down."
"Caroline, what-"
She shoves him hard in the chest so he's sitting back on the couch. She'll show him innocence the patronising jerk. "You are totally picturing it wrong. Shirt off, I'll show you"
He looks uneasy at her sudden aggression. "Now! Mr No Imagination" she demands and he obeys swiftly.
She settles in his lap, one arm around his neck the other lying gently on his bicep and looks into his eyes. The conciliatory apology and uneasiness are gone, replaced with a wicked glint of mocking humour.
She closes her eyes and gives a small shake of her head. "And I'm an idiot," she tells the ceiling with a huff and feels his laughter rumble through her body.
She should move, its one thing to be tricked, it's another to just stay there in his lap with her fingers on his hot bare skin. She makes a half-hearted attempt to move and his hands grip her waist and pull her back down firmly. "Apologies love, I couldn't resist teasing you. Forgive me?"
"No" she snaps.
He sighs and moves to stand them up but without thinking her hand slams down on his shoulder, pinning him in place. Vaguely she's aware that this is madness, that she should be running for the hills right now, but the heat of his body under her is enticing and this fantasy of hers, which she has played out in her mind so many times, is suddenly flickering into reality.
She looks challengingly into his eyes and then, with deliberate slowness, moves her hand so that it hovers over the black ink on his shoulder. He watches her intently, almost warily, and when her fingers finally make contact his eyes close and his lips part.
She watches her own fingers as they dance over the image, running form the base of the feather on his upper arm and up across his chest to where a wingtip brushes just below his collar bone. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest that the rushing of her own blood is all she can hear and every nerve ending seems to be on high alert, buzzing under her skin.
"Caroline" Klaus speaks in a hoarse whisper. "Sweetheart perhaps-"
"In my fantasy you don't talk so much" she says distractedly and turns her attention to the panther that bares its teeth on his other bicep, her fingertips with a barely there pressure tracing the line where flawless skin meets ink.
"In your fantasy," Klaus asks in a hushed voice once she's trailed her fingers back across the pale skin of his chest to play with the birds again. "Are you wearing a dress like this one?"
Their eyes meet and his burn with so much wanting that her throat goes instantly dry and she is terrified of what she's doing and yet utterly unable to stop. "Yes" she breathes.
He nods and looks down to where his hand hovers above her slightly parted knees. "And in your fantasy am I permitted to-?" he leaves the question hanging and meets her rabbity eyes again.
Muffled in the centre of her brain her sanity is screaming. "No, no, no, you are certainly not" but it's buried deep beneath layers lust and shallow desire and honesty, because in her fantasy he most certainly is. She nods mutely, slightly urgently, and he traps her eyes as his hand settles on the bare skin of her inner thigh.
She can smell her own arousal, knows he can smell it too as her panties soak with her need for his touch. She's sort of embarrassed and sort of not because she can feel his answering need pressed against her thigh. And the symmetry makes it somehow ok.
His fingers turn maddening circles on her skin not travelling upward, holding their position just above her knee. While hers go exploring all over the landscape of his upper body. Over his shoulders they ghost and down his abs to his navel and back again to the tattoos where her hand splays out, maximizing contact.
Their faces are so close now that they're breathing each other's air and she can't look away from his eyes as the arm that's around her body shifts so that his hand presses firmly against her ribs and his thumb can brush teasingly along the underside of her breast.
"In your fantasy," he whispers again in a voice so low and rough that she holds her breath to hear him. "Do I kiss you?"
For a moment she considers lying, because she wants so much to feel his lips on hers right now. She shakes her head. "No" she forces the truth barely audibly past her lips.
His eyes close and his jaw clenches and she can see him struggle to exert control over himself. No one, she thinks with a thrill, no one, has ever wanted her this much.
She's aware that her hands have stopped moving, that she's just clinging to him while he teases the skin of her thigh and staring dumbly into his eyes. She was a fool to think that this fantasy would be safe, she should have known, or perhaps she had known, how indescribably intimate it would be.
She reminds herself she didn't come here intending to act it out but she's no longer sure that she hadn't half expected this. His hand travels higher on her thigh and she makes a small involuntary noise that makes his eyes darken and his breath hitch.
She opens her legs a fraction in invitation and tries to will a command for him to touch her from her mind into his. She wants to break script from her fantasy, she wants his fingers to slip boldly beneath the cotton of her knickers, she wants her dress torn and discarded on the ground and her breasts tumbling freely into his hands. She wants the hard length of him, that she can feel ever more insistent against her leg, in her palm, the silken skin sliding beneath her eager fingers.
"Klaus," she breathes his name like a plea. Please she wants to say please just do it. His thumb brushes once over her clit through her knickers and she gasps and claws at his shoulders. Everything is buzzing and aching with want, her breast feel tingly and neglected her centre empty and yearning to be filled by him.
"God Caroline," he murmurs and drops his head into her shoulder. She feels his breath, hot and ragged, against her neck as he draws in deep steadying lungfuls of air. Then his hand withdraws from her thigh and he stands and sets her on her feet carefully.
"What?" she asks stupidly, aware she's just standing there, unsteady on her feet and staring at him. "What's wrong?"
"Rebekah's home."
"Shit," a curse on her lips, guilt hammering in her chest.
She grabs her bag and makes hurriedly for the door, the last thing she needs is for the youngest Mikaelson to walk on on this little scene; Klaus shirtless, the champagne, the heavy scent on desire in the air. She's sure Rebekah would have a lot of fun making sure her friends knew all about it.
"Caroline," his voice stops her and she turns, already irritated with him.
"What?" she snaps.
He steps up to he and touches her face, his expression turning a little melancholy. "I am many terrible things Caroline, but I am still a man of my word"
She doesn't understand for a moment, then the terms of their deal come back to her, this is goodbye. "Oh, I…" she trails off, she should be glad to hear it but she's still honestly a little lust addled and her heart is racing with the fear of being caught.
"Goodbye", he leans in and kisses her cheek gently. "Caroline."