PrimeMegalodon - I don't think Katherine would do that either, and neither does Rebekah really; she just hates Katherine. Though I do think Katherine would use a child as a distraction with Rebekah because she knows - like everyone - how much Rebekah likes kids.
Elejah88 - Thierry was definitely too young to remember, but I think during those early days he did see Kol that way.
Ketsueko - Rebekah definitely has a preference, however at this point in time she has no reason to hate Elena or want to hurt her, so she's a little conflicted because she wants to warn Klaus about the plot, but she wants to do it in a way that doesn't reveal a girl who's only trying to survive.
Kolenalover - Klaus is coming soon, but the majority of his scenes are going to be in the present.
AN: Stefan stole the coffins but he never told Elena they existed. So when Elena left for New Orleans she didn't know the Originals were being hidden by her ex-boyfriend, and Rebekah didn't know either since her coffin was separate from the rest of them when she woke up. Elena assumed – like Rebekah – that Klaus had dredged her up. She has no idea that the latest locator spell blocking her search is curtesy of her dear friend Bonnie, or that the coffins – save for Esther's have been returned to Klaus.
2011
The bottom of the ocean, words long since heard echoed in her mind. He stole them away and dropped them at the bottom of the ocean.
There was no reason to doubt the validity of his words, and no reason to believe he had lied to her. He was not the type to lie; not about something like that anyway.
The bottom of the ocean created a large playing field.
She knew, she had been playing it for decades before her nap and never come close. Locator spells failed at every turn, and any place she could think to be significant for a drop turned up empty. The information she sought was in Klaus' head and Klaus' head alone; only he had been able to return Rebekah.
After the life she had lived she no longer felt the once familiar prickle of guilt when she thought of the blonde vampire; she only hoped that Rebekah would feel no anger when she woke up.
Pre-emptive apologies were wonderful, but she couldn't help thinking the blonde had forgotten everything. It was like her words held no meaning once she was gone; she could think of no other reason daggering the Original had worked so well.
"You okay?" Matt's voice drew her from her internal thoughts.
"Hmm?" She turned to her friend; his concern registered in his eyes. "I'm fine," she smiled, "just thinking about everything… everyone we've…"
"Got it," Matt nodded, "say no more. This town is messed up," he sighed as she unlocked the door, "none of us should have to live like this."
"It'll get better one day," she nodded, stepping into the house. She flipped the switch for the lights and froze in the darkness.
"Electricity must be out," Matt muttered.
"Weird," she swallowed. A rich smell flooded her senses and it took the century of self-control to keep her fangs in check.
Every instinct told her to run, but she hurried into the kitchen at a human speed; not to protect her secret from Matt – truthfully she wasn't sure why she hadn't told him yet – but because she feared giving into the first instinct would make denying the second one harder.
She would not sink her teeth into the poor soul who was bleeding out in her kitchen.
"Here," she reached into a cupboard for a pair of flashlights.
"Got any candles?" He clicked on his flashlight.
"Over here," she started toward the source of the smell. A large puddle of blood covered the floor. "Oh my God!" A vein fluttered beneath her eye.
"What the hell?" Matt failed to notice her shifting features.
Elena moved her flashlight beam into the hallway, following what she now realized was a trail of blood.
"Matt?" She nodded to the floor. It had been a long time since she required anything beyond her own blood to defend herself, but when Matt handed her the knife her fingers instinctively curled around the handle.
The pair of them followed the bloody footprints out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As they moved closer Elena made out the sound of a slow heartbeat, labouring to pump the little blood that remained in her soon to be patient's body, but still she dared not run.
Crimson hand prints stained the wall at the top of the stairs. She turned her head, followed the beam of light, and prayed the blood belonged to a home invader and not to one of her loved ones because based on the amount and the slow heart she doubted vampire blood would be enough to save them; that wouldn't stop her from trying.
"Ric!" Her voice came out in a gasp and she broke into a run.
Matt turned in time to see her kneeling before her step-father. He grabbed her arm when she touched the knife and Alaric's hoarse scream filled the hall.
"Leave it in," his voice pierced the haze over her mind, "leave it in!" He repeated when it looked like she would ignore him. "He's lost too much blood." He fished his phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna call 911."
"Ric, look at me," Elena grabbed Alaric's face and forced his chin up. His heart told her he was too far gone for magical intervention. "Who did this to you?"
His voice was raspy when he replied: "I don't know."
Through the fog of his vision and the dark of the power outage he squinted at her face. Tears streaked her cheeks, distorting the wriggling veins below her red eyes.
Matt paced behind her.
Alaric caught her wrist with a deceptively strong hold.
"You," he grunted, "have to kill me."
"What?" Elena's brows drew together. He was dying in front of her and they had no way of knowing that he would wake up. How could she do it?"
"Elena," he closed his eyes and took a short breath; the pain around the wound was fading. When he looked up there was an unreadable expression in his eyes. "You… you have to kill me."
She felt like hitting herself with a bag of bricks.
"Hang up the phone, Matt," she glanced over her shoulder. "If he dies a supernatural death, then he'll come back to life and he'll be healed."
Matt shook his head, holding the phone in place. "How do you know who did this is supernatural?"
"I don't," she exhaled. Her hands gripped either side of Alaric's head.
A loud snap echoed from under her palms.
"What did you do?" Matt froze. He quickly hung up the phone before the call could connect. "You just…" his tongue fumbled over the words, "… you… that's…"
Elena pulled the knife from Alaric's abdomen and stood up, turning around. Spots of blood dripped onto the floor at her feet.
Matt's eyes bulged when he saw her face slowly shift back to human. "This is… this is so messed up!"
"Tell me about it," she chewed her bottom lip and cupped her elbow.
1914
Sunlight warmed her face, kissing her skin and gently rousing her from an uneasy slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, burning against the day; mourning had left her burnt out with a headache to rival any hangover.
She squinted, pressing her palm to her brow, and pushed up on her elbow. She brought her hand down and collided with a folded sheet of paper. Sitting up, she flipped open the page; the blurred lines refused to come into focus until she blinked and rubbed the crust from her eyes.
There is aspirin on your nightstand.
She turned her head and located the tiny white tablets alongside a tall crystal glass filled with water; condensation rolled down the sides, soaking into the coaster he had placed down. Warmth spread through her stomach.
The tablets slid down her throat with ease and she spent the next fifteen minutes sipping her water until the headache eased.
In the bathroom she refilled the glass and drank it faster.
She splashed water on her face, further invigorating her senses. Examining her reflection she made a half-hearted effort to tame the wild mess of her hair and untucked her rumpled shirt from the twisted grey skirt; she had every intention of crying some more and then changing, but a distant sound made her freeze.
The childish giggles tickled her senses.
Over the last few days – nights mostly – she had caught Kol with the baby. It was usually in the midnight hours when she was too tired to wake up as Thierry cried; Kol appeared before the boy could whimper and would tend to him and cradle him until he went back to sleep. Once she heard him singing a strange lilting melody in a foreign language; music always seemed to calm him. During the day there were moments too: little games, and teasing smiles; things he would never let anyone else see.
A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She pushed her grief to the back of her mind – it wasn't like she could ever escape it – and tiptoed to the nightstand. In the top drawer sat a rectangular leather covered box she had found a few days before. She picked it up by the handle and crossed her fingers, praying her fiddling had not been for naught.
Her ears led her to the room beside hers; she poked her head in and smiled. Along one wall, away from the window's light sat a newly installed crib, but her eyes were drawn to the middle of the room where Kol knelt on the floor with two tiny pink hands in his grasp; one of them came free to point in her direction.
"See," he chuckled, "I told you she was still here."
Thierry reached back until he had Kol's hand again, babbling and bouncing in his small blue shoes; taking a step he moved forward with Kol's help.
Elena acted before his foot touched the floor.
She whipped out the box, leveled it and spun a small silver dial on the side. A mechanical click was her reward.
Kol's head snapped up, eyes boring into her with an unreadable emotion. She pressed her lips into a thin line, but mirth still shone in her chocolate eyes. The longer he surveyed her in silence the faster her heart raced.
Thierry tugged on his hand, indifferent to the situation and impatient to move.
"What do you think you're doing with that, darling?" His eyes dropped to her hands.
The grip on the box tightened as a faint flush stained her cheeks. She held fast to her evidence that proved beyond a shadow of doubt that at least one Original had a heart. No proof existed to such a statement for his siblings; nothing tangible anyway – nothing beyond words or promises spoken, and speeches tended to be forgotten once the moment had passed. Positive actions faded in the wake of negative, and too often people became the villain because their earlier deeds were left behind – forgotten beneath layers of love turned to hate and trust twisted by betrayal – but not for him. Nobody could accuse him of being a soulless killer incapable of love, or the basic decency of humanity.
The photographic proof rested in her hand: corroboration for her view of his character.
Provided the camera had worked.
"Nothing," her smile was light and heavy at the same time; weighted with the forced show of false innocence.
He stood in a fluid motion, bracing the baby's back against his chest. A wicked gleam entered his eyes. "I find I don't believe you."
For every step Kol took forward, Elena went back.
"Are you accusing me of lying?" She shifted the camera until it was hidden from view, holding her wrists behind her.
"It's only an accusation when it's not true," he smirked. Her bright eyes drew him closer, hooking him in orbit.
"How do you know it's not true?" Her shoulders hit the wall. "Are you listening to my heart again? I'm starting to think you might be obsessed with it," her eyes sparkled.
"I don't need your heart to know of your dishonesty," he smirked, stepping into her personal space, "the smile you can't quite bite back is more than enough."
Thierry wrapped his hands in her mussed hair and tugged.
"Don't pull Thierry," he chastised, tapping the boy's fingers; he seemed to bet the message, but kept his hold on the curls. "The camera, love," Kol cocked his head.
"What camera?" His proximity brought a deeper flush to her skin.
"Come on, love," he sighed, "whatever photograph you managed to take could ruin my reputation."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied as lightly as she could.
"I'm talking about the camera behind your back." Her fast breaths, fanning across his chin, made rational thought difficult. "Give me the camera, darling."
"Make me," her eyes glittered.
For one long moment the juvenile challenge hung between them and stunned Kol into silence, but victory for Elena was beyond reach. The defeat washed over her with his cocky smirk.
"As you wish," he dropped his hands from Thierry.
She choked on her inhale and jerked, wrapping her arms around Thierry. It was only after she dropped the camera to hug him that she realized Kol had never let go; his right hand still held the baby in place.
His left hand hoisted the camera above her head.
"That's cheating," she pouted, and his triumphant grin grew. "You tricked me."
He flipped open the camera and pulled out a small frame of translucent paper. "I have to say that I'm hurt you fell for it."
"I didn't fall for it," she glared.
He looked down to her arms and lifted one eyebrow.
"This means nothing," she scoffed, shifting Thierry. "I just have fast reflexes. I know you'd never drop him. Now give me back my picture."
"Your picture?" He pressed his hand to his chest, scrutinizing the film against the light. "That's odd," he pursed his lips, "I don't see your likeness here."
"Are you sure? I'm fairly certain I was holding it backwards."
"No," he smirked, holding it higher when Elena reached for it. "That's Thierry," he tipped his head up, "and that's me, but…" he flipped the picture so she caught a glimpse, "… no you."
"Give it back, Kol," she stood as high as she dared with Thierry on her hip.
"Manners, darling," he tsked.
"Please give it back, Kol?" She fell back on her heels.
"Better," he hummed and tilted his head, considering, "but, no. I can't risk this getting out into the world."
"I'm not putting anything out into the world," she bit down on the corner of her mouth to keep her face stern. "I just want the picture I took."
"Is that all?" He blinked.
"Yes," she nodded.
"Well then," he smirked, backing up, "come and get it."
He stepped away, waited a moment for her to follow and then flashed down the stairs.
She ran to the top and pointed at him on her way down.
"I am human and carrying a baby," she fixed him with a truly stern look, "no vampire tricks!"
He had the good sense to hand his head and offered her a sheepish smile with his apology. He resumed his retreat at a human pace until he was in front of the tree.
Elena appeared after a beat, put Thierry on the cleared floor and strode toward him. She followed him around the sofa, laughing and swiping for the picture. On the third pass she struck, lunging. Her hands hit his chest as she fell forward and his knees buckled as they went down over the sofa's arm.
From the corner of her eye she spotted Thierry as he used the coffee table to walk around in a wide oval.
She reached for his arms around her waist, reclaiming the photo.
"Ha," she laughed. She held it over his head and her heart melted. "Awe," she bit her lip, impressed with how the picture turned out, "so cute."
"Which is why you can't keep it," he held her hips.
"Please," she pouted, "we can call it my Christmas present."
"And what's my Christmas present?" He met her eyes.
"I'm pretty sure there's a giant diamond in my room with your name on it," she rolled her eyes and tried to tuck her prize in her skirt.
"Such a shame I already got your present," he caught the picture, hiding it in his pocket.
"You got me a present? You didn't have to do that," she shook her head.
"Well, I did," he smirked, "and you have no choice but to accept it."
"I could shove it in a drawer," she tilted her head.
"You'd have to take it first," he chuckled.
"That's true," she nodded, biting her lip. "What is it?"
"Oh no," he held her hips to keep her from falling, "you'll have to wait until tomorrow."
"Ugh," she groaned, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes, "you're one of those." She adopted an exaggerated tone of a stern parent. "Absolutely no presents until Christmas Day."
"You'll find I'm very strict," he moved her hair away when it fell in his face.
"Please," she pushed out her bottom lip.
"If I can resist Thierry than I can resist you."
That drew a snort from her. "You can't say no to him."
"True," he glanced at the boy, "but I can say no to the woman who chased me through the house and tackled me."
"It's not Christmas without at least one tackle," she moved to sit up and nearly fell.
"This is an annual thing for you?" He sat up, balancing her weight beside him.
"My brother and I tend to fight the closer we get to Christmas, and then we would laugh about it later. When I was little we would end up wrestling, but the last few years we've taken to throwing pillows… or food…"
Her smile slipped.
"You have strange traditions," he nudged her shoulder.
She lifted Thierry up onto her knees. "Don't you have any traditions for Christmas?"
"Growing up we celebrated yule," he shrugged.
"There must have been traditions," she jiggled her leg.
"Many," he chuckled. "There were games and songs, and banquets that lasted for days. But my favorite part was when we would write out our wishes and burn them."
"Why would you burn wishes?" Her skin tingled where they were still pressed against each other.
"So they would come true," he met her eyes. "I haven't done that since I was human."
She bit her bottom lip, searching his gaze. Curiosity reared up.
"What would you wish for?"
"Different things," he murmured, eyes taking on a distant look. "I remember wishing for the spell I was trying to master to finally work, and for the girl I fancied to notice me. Once I wished for Elijah to stop paying so much attention to me so I could get on with playing tricks on Rebekah."
"Did any of them come true?"
"In a way," his smile whispered of nostalgia, but his eyes spoke of tainted memories. "Study and practice made the spell work. A prank for Rebekah hit the girl, and she slapped me. And shortly after Yule Elijah and Klaus met Tatia."
"Not quite the outcomes you had in mind," she turned slightly to face him. Tilting her head she felt his arm shift at her side. "What would you wish for now?"
"You mean aside from the immediate demise of my brother?" He tilted his head. "That might require some thought."
Something in the set of his mouth made her grin.
"I find I don't believe you."
"Are you accusing me of lying?" His eyes glinted with amusement.
She leaned a little closer and looked up at him through her lashes, echoing his earlier words: "it's only an accusation when it's not true."
"How do you know it's not true?" His whispered words brushed over her skin and his gaze flickered to her parted lips.
Flames rose up on the table.
Elena whipped her head to look, cradling the baby close as she backed away. The fire flickered and died, leaving behind a slip of paper with a few neat lines of printing.
Kol picked it up and read through it.
"It's from Freya," he folded the page. "She'll be back in a few hours; perhaps in time to attend the party this evening."
"Ah yes," she sat back on the couch. Whatever moment that had been building between them passed. "The much anticipated Christmas party. Are you excited?"
"Quivering with anticipation," he rolled his eyes.
He examined the purchase carefully, ensuring the specifications had been met. He tested the order with a small herb in his jacket pocket, removing his gloves only after he was done.
"Almost perfect," he hummed.
"Sir?" The shopkeeper's voice was tense with nerves; even among the humans he possessed a reputation. They didn't understand why they feared the glamourous family steeped in mystery, only that they did. "I've followed you directions exactly."
"You have," he slid the object back across the counter and reached into another pocket, folding back the page, "but I have one more requirement. I would like this inside. I would also like to leave with this today."
The unseen war had caused tension for all, and he flashed a charming smile to dispel it; the man nodded and disappeared into a backroom with a promise to return in fifteen minutes.
While he waited he browsed the displays, fingered a few items and traced engravings on others. He was inspecting a length of silver when the bell over the door rang.
"You're leaving your Christmas shopping late this year," Rebekah watched him from the door.
"I'll have you know I placed the order weeks ago," he rolled his eyes.
"I see," she held her hands behind her back, "and what did you get me?"
"I never said I was here for you," he lifted an eyebrow.
"That chain is far too delicate for Elijah or Nik," she sauntered across the shop.
"This is not why I'm here," he moved back to the counter as the shopkeeper returned.
"I'll be right with you miss," he smiled.
"Rebekah caught a brief glimpse of the item when Kol nodded and tucked the box and a folded paper into his jacket. "I'm not shopping," she smiled in return, "I'm just trying to figure out what he bought me."
"Tell my sister nothing, Adam," he glanced at Rebekah.
"Oh come on," she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, "give me a hint."
Adam swallowed, disarmed by Rebekah's smile. "All I can say is that I do not believe the gift is for you," he cleared his throat. Moving to look away he found his gaze caught by Kol.
"Not another word on the subject," his voice held a mesmeric quality.
"Spoil sport," Rebekah pouted as he paid. She held his arm as they stepped out onto the street where a brisk breeze played with the ends of her scarf. "Join me for a drink before the party."
"Love to, Bex," he shook his head, "but I'm headed back home to change."
Elena tiptoed out of the room, carefully closing the nursery door. She left it open just enough so she would hear the cries when he woke up.
Downstairs she slipped into Kol's study and quickly located a heavy sheet of paper that she folded in half and tore along the line. She put one half aside and sat down, reaching for a pen.
There were so many ways the subject could be approached. So many things to long for that it physically hurt to think about. Her family was lost, beyond her reach by a good stretch of time. Her life hung in the balance; she wanted to trust Rebekah, but she wasn't sure that she could. And then there was Kol whose fate hung in as precarious a position as hers; Kol who made her heart flutter and her blood warm.
A drop of ink stained the page.
She began to write, pausing for a moment between ever sentence to think of the right words that would accurately portray her thoughts and desires. When she leaned back the page had been filled with longing, desperate pleas for his survival and hers, and Thierry's if something should happen to both of them, words that hoped for a solution to every looming problem.
She stared at the ink speckled mess that she could barely read before crumpling it and tearing the second sheet of paper and writing a single sentence in place of the rambling paragraph.
The ink had just dried when she heard the front door open and close. She felt the myriad of emotions rush over her skin; the longer she spent in Kol's presence, practicing magic, the better she became at recognizing him without seeing him.
She folded the paper until it was a small square and swished into the hall with a rustle of heavy fabric. Her skirt swayed around her calves as she approached.
"What are you smiling about?" Kol hung his jacket in the closet.
"I may have figured out the spell you showed me for fire," she shrugged.
"Oh, bloody hell," he heaved a heavy sigh. "Am I going to find singed drapes somewhere?"
"I lit the fireplace, you jerk," she laughed, nudging him with her hip.
He leaned back to peek into the room where a crackling fire illuminated the glass ornaments on the tree. When he looked back Elena was holding out a slip of paper and a fountain pen. A small, uncertain, smile lifted her lips.
His eyes flickered from the offering to the fireplace and back. a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar fluttered in his chest.
"Traditionally wishes are placed in a Yule log and then put on the fire," he took the pen.
"Is that part important?" She backed into the room, turning to the fire as he wrote on the page. She took the crumpled paper from her pocket and tossed it in, watching the edges catch. The folded square holding her actual wish stayed in her hand.
"The only important thing is giving your wishes to the flames," he appeared at her side. "The fire releases the words and gives them power."
"After you," she motioned to the hearth.
"Ladies first," he smirked.
"How archaic," she giggled, pushing her washed hair behind her ear.
"How about a compromise?" He pressed a hand to the mantle. "Together?"
She twisted the square of paper, turning it between her fingers before nodding and tossing the paper to the flames. It felt a little silly and juvenile, but a rush of happiness and energy washed over her as the words were reduced to smoke and ash.
"Does this really work?" She whispered, watching the light flicker over his face. "Those wishes you mentioned sounded suspiciously like coincidences."
"Maybe," he murmured, stepping back from the hearth, "but you did light the fire with magic, so…"
He left the sentence hanging, full of possibilities, and backed out of the room.
"Where are you going?" She followed, bracing her arms on the banister.
"I've got to change," he walked backwards up the stairs, smirking.
"You're not going to tell me what you wished for," she teased on her way up.
"If I did that it wouldn't come true," he smirked.
"Like birthday candles then," she laughed, ducking into the nursery. It wasn't late, but well passed bedtime for little ones, but she worried he would wake up as he had in the beginning.
He slept fitfully on his back with his chubby arms over his head. As she watched his mouth puckered and he rolled, placing one hand under his cheek and squishing his face.
"Don't wake him up," a low voice whispered in her ear.
"I'm surprised he's still sleeping," she reached down, adjusting the covers.
"Perhaps being back in a space of his own helps," Kol took her elbow, gently steering her back out to the hall and downstairs.
"Maybe he'll sleep through the night," she breathed.
"Maybe you'll sleep through the night," he draped his suit jacket over the stairs and fitted the cufflinks in place, fumbling with the end.
Elena caught the bit of gold and fastened the pieces together. She held out her hand for the second one.
"I'm capable of dressing myself," he dropped the cufflink into her palm.
"Of course you are," she agreed. Stepping back she ran her eyes over his clothing choices. "What kind of party is this?"
He popped the top button of his green shirt and pulled on his jacket, leaving the vest undone. "Are you insulting my fashion sense?"
She shook her head. The clothes fit him perfectly and brought out the sparkle in his eyes. "From what I do know of your family I would have thought this party was black tie."
"Oh, it is," he nodded, grin growing. "It's a black tie affair complete with dancing, inane conversation and insufferable family."
"You dance?" Her brows rose.
"I happen to be an exceptional dancer," a lock of hair fell in his eyes and he made no move to remove it. "Every party opens with a dance."
"What kind?" Her fingers itched to brush the dark hair back in place.
"Well, when Elijah is in charge, it's typically a waltz," amusement flickered in his eyes, "but it the musicians are free of vervain I can guarantee it will be a little more upbeat."
"Why?" She tilted her head.
"For the sole purpose of getting under Elijah's skin," he chuckled.
"I get the feeling you go out of your way to get under Elijah's skin," she laughed, glancing at his attire.
"Trust me, darling, annoying Elijah is highly amusing; especially when he has no choice but to participate in a maxixe – I had though a mazurka, but for that you'd need trained dancers."
"I'm starting to think you're the type of guy who organizes flash mobs," she snickered, picturing him with a mix of dancers in matching outfits.
"What's a flash mob?" His brows drew together.
"A bunch of people that break into dance at random times, and usually in weird places," she shrugged. "What's a 'ma-sheesh'?"
"I can show you," he held out his hand.
"There's no music," she bit her lip.
"Why should that stop you from dancing?"
"The beat does help," she met his eyes.
"Very well," he nodded. With a smile he disappeared only to return a few seconds later with the quiet sound of music on his heels.
She couldn't remember the last time someone had asked her to dance. She always had to beg Stefan to step foot on the dancefloor and Matt had never been fond of dancing either – he would do it for her, but he was rarely thrilled at the prospect.
The fast and happy rhythm reminded her of dance competitions she used to watch with her mom, and was similar to a polka but with a distinct Latin feel behind the notes.
"I'm more familiar with the waltz," she eyed the sitting room. in the few seconds he had been gone the furniture had been pushed aside to create a respectable dance floor.
"Life is boring when you cling to the familiar," he caught her left hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
He said something she failed to catch over the sudden thunder of her heart. She nodded all the same and stepped with him, still holding his hand.
The dance began with a few steps into the room, but then he let go, talking hold of her right hand and placing a warm, guiding, palm on her waist.
Backwards she moved in time with music; every other beat her hand would be lifted and lowered. Looking down at his footwork proved to be a mistake; the patterns were too fast and complicated for her to follow. She chose instead to watch his eyes where she could see and counter every move he made.
The dance began to resemble a tango, but then he released her hand and nodded to where her fingers clung to his shoulder while his arm reached up and around.
With their left hands joined she reached around to her spine and his waiting fingers. They resumed with arms above their heads for a couple of bars before his hand slid around, pulling her back to his chest so he could guide her in a wide circle.
The intoxicating smell of her shampoo hit his senses.
He fumbled.
Elena bit down her laugh, scared the noise would travel to the second floor.
She looked over her shoulder to breathlessly ask if he was having her on but forgot what she was going to say. The music faded into the background and their steps stilled.
His dark eyes darted from her eyes to her mouth as her tongue poked out, tasting the salt on her upper lip, and then back to her lidded gaze.
She would have flushed when he caught her staring, but her skin already glowed from the dance – if it even was a dance.
He loosed his hold on her hand, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair from her eyes. His knuckles grazed her cheekbone, traced her jaw and urged her chin to lift.
Her body turned and her hand found its way to his collar, soft beneath her finger tips. Her eyes rose to the lock of hair he had left untended. There was little hesitation as she pushed it back in place with no doubt that it would fall free again soon.
Her fingers slid downwards to curl around his neck and a tingle raced down his spine. He followed the unspoken order and slowly dipped his head.
Her long lashes brushed her cheek and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't think.
He pressed his palm to the small of her back, pausing an inch from her parted lips. The tip of his nose nudged hers and he lifted his eyes. The feel of her body in his arms and the heady combinations of smells were getting to his head.
Through lidded eyes she met his gaze and tilted her head just enough that they could move closer, bridging the space between them.
A jolt ran straight from her lips to her heart with the brush of his lower lip, but he never got a chance to begin.
The door slammed shut, and before either of them could move a voice stuttered from the arch of the door, clearly in an attempt at a drawl.
"Well isn't this cozy?"
Kol sighed against her lips and pulled back, heart sinking with the sudden rush of cold.
"What do you want Rebekah?"
"You're late," she shrugged, unable to take her eyes off the pair of them. "Elijah and Nik are getting impatient, and will probably come themselves if I return without you."
"Right," he gritted his teeth, "I'll be along in a second."
Elena's eyes left Rebekah's red dress when he squeezed her hand.
"I should say goodnight," his thumb pressed into her palm as he flipped her hand over and kissed her wrist. "You'll likely be asleep when I return."
"You think I can sleep with this plan you've concocted," she bit her lip. She already knew she would be waiting up for his return. "It's impossible to sleep on Christmas Eve anyway."
2011
His eyes opened slowly, and for one glorious moment he was willing to pass it all off as a nightmare. He would sit up and she would be in the next room, or the kitchen, or pulling Thierry out from under the tree where he had crawled once more. He would wake up and everything would be fine.
The moment passed. He wasn't lying in his bed, or staring at his ceiling. He laid flat on his back, surrounded on three sides by smooth satin. An unbearable hunger drew him up and he sucked a greedy burning breath of air into his neglected lungs.
More bodies sat up in his peripheral vision. The twist of his neck was pure agony with no blood running through his veins, but he managed it.
He managed it and came face to face with his seething brother and traitorous sister.
"You'd better be right about this," a raven haired man spoke up.
He followed the man's nod to a wall where one of his least favorite people leaned with three silver daggers in his hand.
"Elijah," he growled, stumbling from his silken prison. All the threats he wanted to make raced through his fog filled mind, but the only thing he could manage was a raspy: "How long?"
Elijah's dark eyes held him in place, shifting with something close to regret, but it was gone as soon as it came. He maintained eye-contact with his youngest living brother and straightened his shoulders.
"Ninety-seven years…"
He trembled from a combination of rage and hunger. His sloppy attack was easily blocked by Elijah.
He struggled against the hand around his throat.
"No amount of anger can change what happened, so save your fury for Niklaus, brother," Elijah whispered. He dropped his brother and watched as he slumped against the wall.
Rebekah, with a healthy glow beneath her skin, approached them. She held out a clear bag filled with what looked like blood.
Hunger won out over his fury and he sank his teeth into the bag. His pulse slammed in his neck, forcing the blood into his rage poisoned veins.
The next chapter is nearly written as well, along with another chapter after that.