Rave On 4
I've been going back and forth with their points of view. Back to Klaus in this one. I think there will be just one more chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Nine months, Klaus thought as he strode through the airport. She really was taking a year. He hoped that would be the end of it. She could do so much more if she did it as the true version of herself.
Buenos Aires, Argentina. The 'Paris of South America' was one of his favorite cities. Did she know? Could she guess? It was the perfect place to check in one of his favorite people. Maybe his favorite. Her globetrotting should have been done when he could go with her in its entirety. He sighed, never able to resist her for long. Only checking in every three months was difficult.
He found her at a cafe near her hotel. She was eternally gorgeous. Her flowing blue skirt and stylish green top gave her a classic look, but the glamorous black floppy hat and sunglasses could have convinced someone she was a celebrity. As she sat with her book in the sunshine, he hated to intrude when she was peaceful, but it was all a facade. Plus he was Klaus Mikaelson. He did whatever he wanted, including chase her around the world.
"Buenos tardes, Caroline," he said, as he sat across from her, ordering whatever she was having with a nod of his head to the server.
She put down her book and smiled. "Niklaus Mikaelson, as I live and breathe, right on time."
"Expecting me, sweetheart?"
"Your spy here? He's the worst. Usually they only check in on me once a week. This one has been on his phone quite a bit. I figured that meant you were on your way."
"Yet, you didn't take off. Why is that?" he asked with a sip of his coffee, his tone as crisp as hers.
"It's a waste of time and energy to run." She ticked off on her fingers, "Plus you're pretty and you let me drink from you."
"Will you tell me I'm pretty so often with your emotions on?" he enquired with a devilish grin.
She smirked, leaned forward to slide her fingers along his smooth cheek, and then sat back. Yes, he shaved for her again.
"Here I am," he said, spreading his arms wide. "How was India?"
"I could open my own studio now, although pretending to relax when I have no stress or worry was boring." She took off her sunglasses and put them on the table. "I tried kickboxing in Thailand, but it wasn't fun since I couldn't use my strength. I visited the temples of Angkor Wat. I took cooking classes everywhere."
"And South America?"
"Real cowboys are yummy." Her tongue came out to wet her lips and he was caught.
He smirked when he realized what she was doing. "Are you free today?"
The pause was long enough to make him uncomfortable.
"You can take me dancing, Klaus. I've gone three times now and each time my partner is too faint to dance," she said nonchalantly, checking on her manicure.
If she stopped drinking from them first, he thought wryly, she would get to dance. Their loss was his gain.
"Stamina isn't a problem for me, sweetheart," he said with a knowing look, reaching out to touch her fingers. "Are you free now?"
She shrugged her shoulders and put her book in her large bag.
He threw some pesos on the table and took her hand. The day was beautiful and they went for a stroll. Her hand was tucked into the crook of his arm. Her other fingers touched the side of his neck. It gave him goosebumps. He was powerless and she knew it.
"Hungry?"
"Always."
Creeping into a darkened alley, where the temperature dropped several degrees, he backed into a wall, pulling her in front of him. "Take what you need, sweetheart."
Diving in, the brim of her hat getting in the way for a moment before she took it off, he felt the pinch as she drank from him. His hands rested on her hips and he closed his eyes as she pulled the blood from him.
When she was finished, which was too soon for him, she met his eyes and then she leaned in to kiss him. Gladly returning the kiss, he could taste the blood mixed with the sweetness of her mouth. His hands roamed up and down her back, pulling her even closer, tongues tangling. With a groan, he freed his lips from hers. "Caroline." She didn't ease up on him, pressing kisses to his neck and sucking along his jaw. Her fingers played with his necklaces.
"Let's go," he said gruffly and they were off. They arrived at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. While they were quiet during the walk, once at the art museum, he began to talk. He was in his element. Her opinion of the art was brutal.
"Ugly."
"Boring."
"I could do that one," she said, pointing to a piece of modern art.
"That's a Mark Rothko, sweetheart," he said with a laugh in his voice.
"Uh huh," she said with a roll of her eyes. He loved hearing her honest opinions about the art, even though he thought the painting was exceptional.
He made it his mission to find art she admired. They found some when she spotted one of the works of El Greco. It was dark and beautiful. Klaus was curious if she would still like it with her emotions. He would have pegged her as an Impressionist fan versus an admirer of 16th century religious paintings.
They wandered through the galleries for a few hours. There weren't many people around them. The museum had a Degas he was interested in seeing again.
As they got closer to it, a work with two ballet dancers, one in a yellow tutu and another in a pink one, Caroline made a noise and quickly strode away and out of the room.
Klaus found her around the corner with her hands pressed to her temples.
"I just couldn't look at it," she explained in a monotone voice.
He was surprised. Her emotions were clearly getting closer to the surface and something acted as a trigger.
"What was it about that painting?"
Her look was wary and he made sure to express all the compassion in his eyes she wasn't capable of.
"The tutus," she mumbled. "Can we go?"
Stretching his hand out to her, she took it and they left. She looked calmer in the sunshine. He didn't want to see her hurt, but it had been nine months of this.
He felt her eyes on him as they walked.
"If I think about tutus I'll think about the one my mom bought me when I was six," she said quickly. "I can't think about her, Klaus."
The look in her eyes disappeared and they became cold again. Her sunglasses and hat went back on. Wanting to get further control over the situation, she released his hand and reached back to cup his ass. He took a hold of her hand again and held on tight. He was letting her use him to a point, but he ached for the real her.
He wanted to tell her it was ok to think about her mother. He wanted to tell her he bet she was adorable in her tutu. He wanted to tell her he would buy her a tutu right then or in three months. He wanted to tell her that her mother wouldn't have wanted her to turn it off. They both knew it and ignored it.
Instead, he squeezed her hand again. He wasn't supposed to be the comforter although he would try with her. He was the one who needed her help with his own emotions. She was so well adapted usually and he was struggling how to help her.
Klaus wanted her to come to him when she was ready to turn it back on. It wasn't supposed to be this way and he didn't know it would bother him so much. It was getting worse.
"I'm hungry," she announced into the silence.
Taking the unsubtle hint, they found a restaurant. He told her of his last visit to Argentina and why he liked it so much. He had a feeling she tuned him out as she previously admitted, but she didn't tell him to stop talking. Her eyes looked all over the room, occasionally stopping on him. The wine flowed freely and her cheeks took on a slight blush.
After their long lunch, he brought her back to her hotel.
"Pick me up at eleven," she said quickly, disappearing behind the hotel's ornate doors.
Klaus spent the rest of the day checking in on his contacts, including the boob that tailed Caroline. At least his frustration with Caroline had an outlet when he saw the inept vampire. Rumors of his arrival spread throughout the supernatural community. His sinister reputation was kept alive with his treatment of the vampire he made an example of.
At 10:45 pm, Klaus was at her hotel. He dressed for the part in black pants and a black shirt open at the throat. It was the same outfit he wore in Paris, except instead of her dancing for a crowd, they would dance together.
His Caroline spidey-sense let him know she was close. First he saw her black sandals and black sheer nylons stride down the stairs. Each step revealed more of her. The hem of the black dress hit her mid-shin, but the slit ran all the way up to the top of her left thigh. Her long and lean legs flashed as she walked. The upper half of the dress was modest with a high neckline. Her hair was down in loose waves. Her lips were bright red. She looked incredible and in a hotel full of beautiful people, everyone stopped to look at her.
"For you," he said, giving her a single thornless red rose with a shortened stem. She pushed it behind her ear and took his arm. Her light perfume wafted behind her as she walked.
When they were out in the sultry air, a cab took them to the address Klaus gave in perfect Spanish. He felt the heat radiate off her thigh near his own. It reminded him of Paris.
"Did you eat?" he asked.
She nodded.
Outside the cab, he saw her look around. They were going to a real milonga, a real tango club, not a tourist attraction. Inside, they were seated together. It wasn't an old fashioned club where the men and women were separated. Klaus kept Caroline close and ordered a bottle of Malbec. Klaus spoke and Caroline's eyes darted around the spacious room just like before. At 1:30am, the professional dancers took the floor.
He watched her take in every move, storing it up for use later. One bottle of wine turned into the next and so on. He thought her high school Spanish was pitiful, but charming.
The music was sexy and the dancing was too. The dance floor opened up after the performance was over.
Standing over her at their table, he reached his hand out and she took it with a graceful movement.
Leading her out onto the wooden floor, they immediately began dancing as if they'd been doing it for lifetimes. His hold was tight, keeping her torso as close to his as possible as their steps were in sync. Her face was a hair's breath from his own. Her scent intoxicated him.
The tango was intimate and passionate. The irony wasn't lost on him.
Her legs twined in and out of his own. Her back arched. Her leg swept out and back again. Each movement was sensual on the surface. He couldn't forget she was an actress. Clinically she was an incredible dancer.
Before they knew it, the song was over and the next one began. Occasionally she challenged him to lead, but he was firm and kept control. There were no words between them as they danced.
He led them in and out of the other dancers. Some were younger and more experienced. Others were older couples enjoying what was probably a regular evening.
Pushing her, his steps got more complicated and hers followed. Her breathing didn't hitch and he was in awe of her. He learned the tango many years ago when it came in handy. How an eternal teenager from Virginia learned it with such skill in weeks was what made her so special.
Leading her to their table when the crowds were dispersing, he smiled at her, dimples flashing. "You're quite the dancer, Caroline."
She smiled back and finished the wine at their table.
"Let's go," he said, leading them out and down to an after hours club. The crowd was less fussy and upscale. This place was where the partiers of Buenos Aires came to dance.
The lights were down except for some colorful bulbs in the corners of the room throwing green, purple, and yellow swatches of color across the crowd. He noticed she smiled when she saw the place. She was probably scoping out her next meal or boytoy. The attention was certainly on her. He saw several men do double takes when they saw her, which had him holding her closer.
Pulling her out to the dance floor, she threw the rose from behind her ear out into the crowd before taking his hand again. This club wasn't for tango dancing. It was for salsa dancing.
The tango was all restrained passion. The salsa was about moving hips, twirling, and sex.
Caroline was made to dance. Mystic Falls, Paris, and now Buenos Aires. They should have danced in Brisbane, he thought.
Her grin lit up the room. It felt good to her, so she did it. Shaking her head and running her hands through her hair, she captivated him. His hands took hers and they began to salsa. Back and forth, spinning with the beat. She was as good at it as the tango. They did some complicated spins and walkthroughs. The crowd around them disappeared as they kept their eyes on each other. Blue met blue. Fire and ice.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Hips pushing and pulling. All he could think of was sex and he saw she was thinking the same in the way she looked at him. He saw it in the way she flicked her hair over her shoulder to show off her neck. He saw it in the way she pushed her ass against his groin before spinning away. He saw it in the way she thrust her left leg forward provocatively, testing the bonds of the dress' slit.
One man attempted to cut in, but Klaus flashed his yellow eyes. Caroline smirked when she heard him growl under his breath. Then she spun and he had to keep up with her or get left behind. That was the story of his life with her.
When the deejay finally played the last song, they had to stop. Both were breathless and not a little bit sweaty and turned on. How could he resist when his body was so close to hers, moving in unison for hours?
Dawn was breaking and so was his heart. They should be doing this when he could talk to her. The real her. She could drink from the vein and have lots of sex…with him!
Putting her hair up in a messy bun from an elastic she'd had wrapped around her wrist, she fanned her neck when they made it outside.
He found them a cab and she laid her head against his shoulder during the ride. He appreciated the gesture even though it just meant she was tired and nothing more.
Pulling up in front of her hotel, he reluctantly paid the driver and got out, helping her along behind him.
"I had a lovely time, sweetheart," he said, wanting a connection with her as they stood off to the side.
"It wasn't boring," she conceded, looking up through her lashes. He was getting to know that look.
He cupped her head to bring her mouth to his. The kisses were passionate and he hated to stop, but they were in public and it was time to go.
"You're going to leave now?" she asked.
The look in her eye was new. It wasn't quite as cold for a moment, but then it was gone. He wanted it desperately to be real, but it disappeared. He must have made it up. When did he become so naive and soft?
"Yes," he said, looking at the time on his phone. It was almost 9am.
Caroline's eyes grew huge and she put her hand over her mouth. He turned, not noticing anything in their vicinity, and that's when he saw them. A mother and daughter were walking hand in hand towards them. The little girl had her hair in a bun and was wearing a white tutu. Clearly, they were off to ballet lessons.
Klaus willed Caroline to turn her emotions on right there, but she kept her eyes closed and then he saw the veins begin to creep to the surface.
Acting without thinking, he picked her up under her knees, being sure to protect her modesty in the dress and tucked her head along his neck. "Drink," he said as he strode into the hotel. She complied, taking what he offered, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him close. He hoped she would come to crave his blood more than any other's.
They got a few looks in the lobby, but Klaus glared at anyone who looked too long. He carried her to the elevator and when the doors opened, they got inside. She finished drinking, but wouldn't look at him and he wouldn't put her down. She mumbled her room number.
Setting her down outside her door, she found her keycard and he followed her inside the hotel room.
She sat on the bed and leaned back on her elbows. "Does this mean we're going to have sex now, Klaus? Will you break your vow of chastity for me?"
His eyes became as hard as hers.
"You're struggling to keep your emotions off."
She was quiet, but he knew the truth. Twice that day she'd had close calls. This wasn't the same Caroline he saw at the rave all those months ago or even the woman he'd chased in Paris or Brisbane.
"I gave myself one year and I'm taking one year, Klaus," she said, firm, but with less chill than usual, standing up and starting to undo the zipper at the back of her dress as she faced away from him.
"Will it be a failure if it only lasts nine months?" he asked quietly, watching her closely, the zipper slowly sliding down her back until her smooth skin was revealed. No bra. She was killing him.
Her hands paused. "Yes. I have three months to make my way back home."
"You can be home today, Caroline," he reminded her. "You're strong enough. You can put if off if that's really what you want, but you're getting hurt in the process. It's not working as it once was." Didn't she see that?
He watched her struggle to decide what to do. He wondered how long she'd been dealing with this alone. She turned to face him, hands on her hips, the dress still covering her.
"I can bring you to New Orleans. You can get it all out before you go back to Mystic Falls. You can let your emotions out on me. I can take it," he vowed.
He was strong enough to carry them both until she got herself back on her feet. She was the strongest person he'd ever met. This would be a momentary lapse and he would be there for her.
"Because you're in love with me."
It shouldn't hurt to hear her say it, but when she said it with no inflection, no hint of what that meant to her, it did.
"You don't want my thoughts on that matter right now, Caroline."
As she stood motionless he went through her things, heart racing that this was finally happening. Pulling clothes out for her, he put them in her arms and pushed her into the bathroom to get changed. He packed up the rest of her luggage. He called down to the lobby to check her out and had them call a cab to be waiting to bring them to the private airfield where his plane was waiting. It would take a while to get home, but they would get there.
Caroline emerged from the bathroom with her fresh clothes on, face washed clean. She looked young and innocent, not like someone who was about to crack.
"I will go with you to New Orleans, but it is my choice. I don't know that I will turn it on before my year is up, but if it gets you to stop nagging, I'll go. Might as well see how New Orleans tastes."
"Thank you, sweetheart. Always your choice," he said quickly, letting her save face, and checking that he packed everything.
Then he took her hand. He was not letting go now.