Chapter Five

Hayley

We almost kissed. Holy shit. Elijah and I almost kissed. I can feel a blush rise to my cheeks just replaying that moment in my mind. His breath brushing my face, the scent of his spicy cologne, the way his eyes clouded before he leaned down, slowly, his lips almost touching mine—and then my damn cell phone ruined everything. God. Damn. It.

And to make a weird situation even weirder, we held hands. Acquaintances don't hold hands…do they? I met Elijah yesterday. It's been less than 24 hours. And yet we're handholding like a…couple. The last time I held hands with a guy was approximately zero years ago. And I don't recall ever having a desire to get all mushy and touchy-feely with a guy.

The weirdest part about this whole thing? When I'm with Elijah and in the moment, it actually doesn't feel weird at all. Oddly enough, I like holding Elijah's hand. It feels…right. It's comfortable. If it were any other person, I'd be running for the hills, but with Elijah, I want to stay close to him. And I want more. Much more.

It's tempting to douse myself with a bucket of ice-cold water to shake off these new feelings, but it's no use. Especially now that we're at the Cole Street Bar and Elijah's leaning against the bar table in his crisp white dress shirt, black slacks…and of course, the fedora I made him wear. And though I detect he's still a little peeved about my selection of that particular accessory, the way he wears the outfit confidently with that slight smirk planted on his face, oozes sexuality. I'll put it this way: if there weren't people currently populating the bar, I would have my way with him on the bar table within five seconds flat.

A strong hand grasps my arm, pulling me out of my dirty daydream, and of course, the hand belongs to Elijah, who's looking at me with concern. Shit. How long has he been trying to get my attention? Panic hits me like a wave. Original vampires don't have the ability to read minds…do they?

"Are you alright, Hayley? You seemed to be in a daze. I asked what you would like to drink."

I exhale loudly and shrug. "Yep, I'm fine! Just a Blue Moon for me, thanks."

Elijah gives me an incredulous look. I'm sure he's not buying what I'm selling. Still, he turns toward the bartender and order us our drinks. Blue Moon for me. Gin and tonic for him.

We clink glasses before sipping our drinks. Then silence. Awkward silence.

I focus on looking around the bar for my friend. Any excuse not to stare at Elijah…but I can't find him.

Damn it. Where the hell is Zack when I need him!?

Then as if I summoned him out of thin air, my golden-haired, tan surfer-dude-esque friend, Zack, struts into the main area of the dimly-lit bar from the back kitchen and flashes me a grin.

"Marshall! How ya been, my girl?"

"I've been okay, how've—"

Before I can answer, Zack grabs me in a bear hug and swings me around. I laugh and return the hug as he sets me down on my feet. He ruffles my hair and I jab him playfully in the arm. He's one of my few friends in the city and the only one I trust with my life. When Katherine was messing with the wolves, Zack protected me. He made sure that no one knew about my whereabouts. I was kept safe. Too bad the rest of the pack wasn't.

I'm so caught up in playful exchange with Zack, I completely miss Elijah watching the whole scene unfold. And the original vampire does not look pleased. In fact, I've never seen such a cold, hard expression on his face.

I back away a little from Zack and gesture toward the pissed off vampire.

"Zack, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Elijah."

"Ah, nice to meet ya, Elijah." Happy-go-lucky Zack, totally oblivious to Elijah's frosty demeanor, extends his hand.

Elijah looks at Zack's hand dismissively and continues to drink his gin and tonic. "A pleasure."

Zack lowers his hand and glances briefly at me as if to say "What is this guy's deal?" To which, I shrug. I know Zack will go with the flow. It's Elijah I'm worried about. He's acting more like a two-year-old than a centuries-old vampire. Do I really have to remind this worldly, sophisticated supernatural being to play it cool? Lord, help me.

Of course, Zack is his usual sweet, puppy-dog self. He gets down to business behind the bar and works his million-dollar smile when he notices two single ladies waiting to place their drink orders. With his charm and natural good looks, I'm sure he'll make plenty of tips today. And seeing the spark in his pale blue eyes, he knows it too.

Surprisingly, though, Zack turns toward Elijah instead of chasing after his new lady-friends. "Say, it's been a long time since Marshall's been back here. Your next round of drinks is on me."

Zack winks at me and Elijah utters a low growl.

I roll my eyes, fed up with Elijah acting like a petulant child, and elbow him—hard—in the ribs. Finally, the original vampire gets my very strong hint and tilts his head slightly to acknowledge Zack's kind offer.

Zack shrugs and gives me the old "well, I tried to be friendly" smile and prances away. This is a nightmare and so humiliating.

I whirl around to glare at the now sour-faced Elijah. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Elijah takes a long sip of his cocktail. "I don't know what you mean."

I place my hands on either side of Elijah's chiseled cheekbones and turn his head so that we're facing each other.

"Yes, you do. In case you completely forgot—Zack is the key to getting answers about the werewolves. So stop acting jealous and get a grip, ok?"

Elijah takes my hands away from his face, but doesn't let them go. We're officially holding hands again. Shit.

"You think I'm jealous?" Elijah asks with a hint of surprise in his voice, as if he just realized it himself.

I don't answer and he doesn't look at me. Instead his gaze rests on our clasped hands. Then he starts rubbing his thumb gently across my knuckles.

A thrill runs down my spine. My mouth is too dry to speak. I look down at our entwined hands, wondering—hoping–what might be next.

Fortunately, Zack, forever blessed with impeccable timing, makes his way over to us, breaking up the romantic mood.

"Hey guys, I'm back with your second round. I noticed you were needing a refill."

I lift my hands away from Elijah's, and he eyes me curiously. He's probably wondering what that intimate moment meant between us. And I'd like to know too.

"Thanks, Zack." I grin, happy for the distraction.

"Anytime, Marshall." Zack replies.

I open my mouth to ask him if he's seen any of my old werewolf crew around, but Elijah beats me to it.

"Hayley tells me you're connected with the wolves who live in this neighborhood. Have you perhaps noticed them acting strangely recently?"

So much for subtlety.

Zack doesn't answer Elijah right away and he actually looks a shade paler. Although it's quite possible he's shocked that Elijah finally made eye contact with him. Poor guy.

Finally, Zack speaks up.

"Yes, the wolves have been longtime patrons of this particular establishment. How do you think I met Miss Marshall here?"

I'm about to respond, but again, Elijah cuts in. Damn him.

"Ah, but you see? You're not answering my question. It was a simple one, really."

"Elijah, stop being rude." I hit him on the shoulder as a warning, but Elijah never breaks eye contact with Zack.

My bartender friend holds his hand up to me and meets Elijah's gaze. "It's ok, Marshall, your strange friend is right. No, no one—no wolf—has been acting strange. Satisfied?"

Now I'm weirded out. How could Zack, the one who protected me when I fell out of favor with the wolves, not say something is seriously wrong with the pack? He knows my history and would definitely be the first person to know what's going on with them. Mind-controlled or not, I know that the wolves would never stop coming to this dive bar. It's $3 beer happy hour for god sakes. New Yorkers don't get a better bargain than that.

In sum, I'm totally confused.

"Zack, what the hell? Don't you remember when you let me crash at your place when the wolves kicked me out? Don't you remember that she-vamp—"

"So you know Katherine," Elijah interjects, his eyes narrowing.

Zack seemed dismissive before, but now he's noticeably uncomfortable. He's shuffling his feet. He won't look at me. Something's up.

"Katherine? I don't know who you're talking about."

My jaw drops. I'm stunned. He lied. I can't believe Zack would lie in front of me. He's acting strange…almost like he isn't himself. Like there's an imposter in his place. Then it hits me and I realize Elijah and I need to leave the bar…now.

"Then why would Hayley mention you knew her?" Elijah persists.

Zack looks at me with pleading eyes, but I don't try to intervene. Instead, I grasp Elijah's shirtsleeve and prepare to haul him out of the bar.

I fix Elijah with a serious look. "We need to get the hell out of here."

Elijah doesn't even ask why we need to go. He moves to my side, ready to leave, when a sultry voice stops us in our tracks.

"Leaving so soon, are you? Just when it was getting fun? You were asking about me after all. Go ahead and ask away."

Elijah and I turn around and take in the breathtaking vision of a slender woman with long dark curls dressed in a tight black dress standing just a few feet away from us. Her hands are planted on her hips. Her full lips curve up in a half-smile. Her brown eyes are glowing with intensity.

Katherine Pierce is here. Now what the hell do we do?