A/N: As promised, I'm back with the third part to what I have written. I want to thank all of you lovely reviewers. My quick update is largely due to your positive influence and support. Like I said, you are a great motivator. Please do not stop! I love hearing from you!
Without spoiling too much, I would like to warn you of the adult content of the following chapter. You were warned!
This is definitely an emotional rollercoaster of a chapter, and for all my written emotional rollercoasters there are always songs that inspire me. Two songs I used for this chapter were Damien Rice – "Volcano" and Ed Sheeran – "Kiss Me" – if you're interested.
As always, I apologize for any spelling errors or other inconsistencies. There is over 12,000 pieces of word vomit here (good word vomit, I hope), and I loathe editing. Please understand.
If you have any questions about the chapter don't hesitate to ask. There will be another author's message at the end of the chapter to clarify a few things, but I don't want to inadvertently spoil anything so please, go on and read this lengthy chapter.
With some convincing, he had managed to get her back on Rebekah's horse. He had offered to let her ride with him, but she refused, knowing the last thing she needed immediately following their impromptu make-out session was to feel his body against hers some more.
It took longer to get back as they moved at a snail's pace at her request. She was not about to lose control again.
The slow ride back was prolonged by the small talk and extended periods of silence between them. Every now and then she would look his way only to find that he was looking back at her, and it made for the most embarrassing situation.
When they had returned back to the house it was nearly dark.
She followed Klaus back to the house, eagerly hoping that any one of her friends sent her an update by now regarding the stake. After another confusing encounter with Klaus, all her conscience wanted was an excuse to leave. At the same time, she could feel her body yearning for an excuse to stay.
The lights had been turned on inside the house since they had left. With no sign of Rebekah, she assumed that they had to be on a timer, or Klaus had a sired hybrid or compelled human taking care of the house.
"I'm just gonna grab my purse," she announced as they stepped inside.
"I'll be in the kitchen," Klaus informed her.
She never thought to ask him where exactly that was.
Reunited with her purse, she opened it and quickly located her phone. There were two messages from Damon.
"No stake yet. Keep Klaus occupied," the first one read.
"Here's a suggestion ;)," the second one said, with an attached video.
She scoffed at Damon's attempt at humour. The title of the video read: "How to Give Your Man a Lap Dance."
"I'm sure you're a pro at keeping men occupied with lap dances," she texted back before deleting his messages.
Back out in the hallway she was relieved to smell the aroma of food. Not only because it smelled delicious, but it had given a sure way to the kitchen without getting lost.
She followed the scent into an oversized and expensive kitchen. All of the finishes were of top quality.
The numerous wooden cabinets were stained in a rich dark colour. They were complemented by a light granite countertop and backsplash. All of the appliances were professional grade.
The detail of the kitchen amused her, given the fact that the house's occupants were vampires and food was really only secondary in their diet next to blood. Food was only used to quell their blood lust, and give them a literal taste of what it meant to be human.
Klaus was at the expansive island in the middle of the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables. Another man in what appeared to be a chef's jacket, who she did not recognize, was at an opposite counter with his back towards her.
"What are you doing?" she asked confused.
"What does it look like?" Klaus asked. "Making something to eat."
She looked over at the middle aged "chef" who had now turned around to acknowledge her.
"This is my personal chef Mr. Davies," Klaus smirked. "Mr. Davies, this is Caroline," he added, turning his hand in her direction.
He smiled and said "hello," while she simply nodded at him.
She knew Klaus could see the look of concern on her face at the presence of his so-called "employee."
"It's okay Caroline; I'm not exploiting him. He's only compelled to keep our secret. I pay him generously," Klaus admitted.
"That's true," Mr. Davies attested as he turned back towards whatever he had been occupied doing when she entered the room.
"He could just be compelled to say that," Caroline retorted.
Now Klaus rolled his eyes at her.
"Then compel him to tell you the truth if you don't trust my word," Klaus suggested simply.
She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Fine, I believe you," she said flatly.
He grinned and continued to expertly chop a tomato.
"Have you ever had homemade Italian pizza Caroline?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Pizza is pizza."
He glared at her.
"This isn't just any pizza Caroline. Mr. Davies' mother is from Italy. This is an original recipe. The next best thing to actually going there and trying it," he said seriously.
She crossed her arms and laughed lightly.
"If this is another way to try and convince me to go travel with you, it's not going to work."
"I told you I had no ulterior motives for inviting you here. Please just stay awhile longer and try some," he requested.
This is what she wanted. She wanted another reason to stay; not just for the sake of her friends' mission to find the stake, but for herself.
"I can't. I'm a sweaty mess from earlier," she reasoned.
"I have plenty of bathrooms Caroline. You can clean up here. The pizza won't be ready for awhile," he told her.
She bit her lip and hesitated trying to convey the impression that she was legitimately unsure about staying.
"Well, I did work up an appetite..." she noted.
"I also have more vampire-friendly fare for desert," he revealed, hinting at the supply of blood he had.
Her mouth watered at the prospect of his desert menu.
"Which bathroom should I use?" she asked, indirectly accepting his offer.
He finished chewing a piece of tomato he cut before speaking.
"In case one of my siblings decides to return, it would probably be best if you used my room," he suggested with a smirk, knowing she would react anxiously.
"Your room?" she asked slowly.
"There's an ensuite. It's right at the top of the stairs," he told her before turning towards Mr. Davies, purposely ignoring her in case of any objection.
She huffed in defeat and headed towards the front foyer.
Although she was nervous about entering his most private space, she was surprisingly curious. He had revealed much about himself to her, yet he was still a closed box. She suspected his bedroom would provide her with more insight into the man who had terrorized her friends and captivated her interest.
She opened one of the doors to his room at a crawling pace, as if she was entering somewhere she shouldn't have been.
Concluding it was only fair that she got to see his room since he had already saw hers – twice, she stepped inside.
Turning on the light switch, the various wall sconces illuminated the bedroom. As she expected, the room was anything but small.
Despite the light, the room itself was dark. The floors were stained dark and partially covered by a massive Persian rug. The walls were painted a deep red colour and were enclosed with dark brown crown moulding. Thick black and white drapes hung against the windows, partially shielding the room from the last bit light of the day.
The large bed was the focal point of the room. Surprisingly the bed was neatly made with inviting black and white linens. The solid black headboard guided her eyes above the bed where she noticed framed writings.
On each side of the entrance rested bookcases occupied by hundreds of books. She recognized several works of fiction from her high school reading list. There were also numerous non-fiction writings on a variety of topics: history, science, geography, philosophy, religion, art, among many others. Her mind was overwhelmed. Of course, he had centuries to read all of these.
To her right, large French doors opened to another room. From where she stood she noticed an easel and paints in the corner by one of the windows. In between the two windows was an antique-looking wooden desk and chair. A fireplace was situated on the far wall with a flat screen television above and two shelves on either side. Two wingback chairs were in the centre of the room with a paisley patterned chaise lounge.
Walking closer, the rest of the room became visible to her. On the walls were several paintings. In the opposite corner to the one with the easel rested a record player. Low shelves along the one wall housed two rows of records.
His bedroom almost seemed like a museum.
She turned back into the main part of the bedroom. The writings above his bed had caught her eye again and she wanted to determine their significance. From what she could tell, they were old. The papers had been creased, the edges were wearing, and they were also fading and yellowing. Moreover, the writing itself was done in an intricate cursive font, probably with a quill, she assumed.
The first piece she examined was written in French. She had paid enough attention in her introductory French class to recognize some words. It appeared to be a letter, as it began with: "Mon cher Antoine" she also noted "Je t'aime" and finally at the end, "À bientôt. Je t'embrasse. Votre Charlotte." The letter confused her. The fact that he had framed it and put it on his bedroom wall confused her even more.
The second piece of writing was also in a letter format, and in a language that appeared to be German, but she was unsure. At the very least, the letter was addressed to a Werner and signed by a woman named Johanna.
The third, and final letter, was written in English. This was a relief. She quickly read over its contents:
"To my dearest Thomas,
It has only been six months since you set sail for the colonies with His Majesty's army, but I miss you terribly. Not one day goes by that I do not think of you. I pray every day that you will return to England safely and successful once your tour of duty is completed. I couldn't bear to lose you. In the meantime, you will be pleased to know that my father and mother have approved of your request to marry me upon your return. We are now betrothed and we will be man and wife soon. Our parents have already begun to make the arrangements for the wedding. The sadness that I experience from your absence is quelled greatly by this and I hope that it grants you some solace amidst the dreary atmosphere of war. Please write to me as soon as time permits. I am eager to know of your reaction and how you are. In addition to this letter, I will also be sending a package that contains knitted clothing. I know His Majesty keeps his army well equipped, but winter is approaching.
I long for the day that we will see and hold each other again. Until that day comes, please be careful and stay strong.
Your love and future wife,
Elizabeth"
She looked at the framed letters fixedly trying to come up with an explanation for them. Why would he have these above his bed? Perhaps they were letters exchanged between well known people in history? Could these men be his aliases throughout time? All she could do was ask him later.
In the meantime, she had to find his ensuite.
On the wall across from the pocket doors was a corridor that contained three doors on each wall.
The doors across from each other led into two separate closets and dressing rooms, both of which rivaled the size of her bedroom. Klaus's clothes occupied one and a half of them and the fact that he had that many clothes amused her.
She assumed the door directly at the end, was the entrance to the ensuite bathroom. When she entered and turned on the lights, she gasped at how luxurious it appeared.
The far wall directly in front of her was decorated in black patterned wallpaper, while the rest of the walls were painted a light shade of grey. Against the wallpapered wall was a long set of white cabinets that held a black stone counter and two white square basin sinks with chrome fixtures. Two tall brushed nickel framed mirrors sat behind each sink, with appropriate bright lighting above.
She noted the floor as she stepped across it. The tile was rectangular in shape, slate in colour, and laid in a bricked pattern.
To her left was a large glass enclosed shower, decorated with similar tile to the floor. It took up almost that entire wall, save for a small enclosed room in the corner, which she presumed to be where the toilet was located.
To her right on each end of the wall were two windows, covered by drapes similar to the ones in the rest of his room. In between the two windows sat a white deep claw foot bathtub. On the one side of the tub there was an upholstered and wood trimmed chair, accompanied by a free standing towel rack. On the other side of the tub was a glass and black iron table that held a few candles and a variety of soaps. Directly above the tub hung a black chandelier and on the wall above the tub hung a fitting painting of a partially nude woman bathing. She made a mental note to ask him whether he had painted that or not.
She laughed when she considered the bathroom she shared with her mother in their small bungalow. It was a plain and cramped room. There was a small pedestal sink, toilet, and bathtub/shower combination that had been leaking for as long as she could remember. His bathroom was like a spa.
Removing her coat, she draped it over the arm of the chair. Next came her boots, which only then did she realize she had worn very impolitely all over his house. Her socks were partially wet, confirming her earlier suspicions that the boots she had worn did indeed have a hole in them somewhere.
She removed her grey long-sleeved sweater and hung that over the edge of the chair also, hoping that it would still be okay to wear when she was finished.
After she removed her black camisole from underneath, the overbearing presence of the two large mirrors dawned on her.
Becoming self conscious, she tossed her camisole beside her sweater and stepped outside of both mirror's sight.
She struggled to pull off her jeans. They were wet from being in the snow and they stuck to her skin like glue.
Her lacy black bra and matching boy shorts were the easiest to remove.
From her purse, she grabbed a hair tie to pull her hair back. Her hair didn't need to be washed, and wet hair was the last thing she wanted to deal with here.
Wandering over to the shower, she eyed it with intimidation.
Inside it was a complicated combination of various shower heads, buttons, and knobs.
She frowned. Perhaps a bath would be easier.
Although she hated how wrinkly her skin got from bathing, dramatic images of her fighting with various shower heads, and scrambling to find the right buttons convinced her that a bath would be the less potentially embarrassing route to go.
Once the tub finally filled with hot water and bubbles, she stepped in and sat down eagerly. Although she really didn't feel cold as a vampire, the warm water still had a soothing quality about it and she slid down until the water was up to her neck.
She closed her eyes and hung her hands over the edges of the tub to prevent them from turning to prunes. If this luxurious bathroom had been anywhere other than in Klaus's mansion, she probably could have fallen asleep like this.
As she soaked in the tub, she tried hard to rid her mind of the original hybrid, but this proved to be impossible. All she could think about was their day together thus far. He had bought her lunch, they talked candidly about various topics - interestingly avoiding the topic of their 'relationship' - he took her riding, they played like school children, and he kissed her again.
Despite her resistance, she could feel herself smiling at the thought.
She touched her lips with her index and middle finger as she recalled the kiss. This time they had kissed completely sober. No longer did she have intoxication as an excuse to hide behind. She had eagerly kissed him back.
Exhaling sharply, she hoped the action would temporarily remove the guilt and the conflicted feelings she was experiencing, but it didn't.
Now, here she was, bathing in his spa-like ensuite, while he and his personal chef prepared her a meal.
It didn't make any sense.
Certainly, their actions toward one another didn't make any sense. One minute she was conspiring with her friends to have him killed and rejecting his advances, and the next minute she was hanging out with him and making out with him. She shook her head at herself.
He was no better. On the one hand he had almost killed her in addition to killing Elena's Aunt, and making everybody's lives hell. On the other, he had basically treated her like a princess, something she never would have believed he was capable of.
"What are you thinking about, love?" his accented voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Her eyes shot open and she nearly jumped out of the tub before remembering her current state of dress - or lack thereof.
She gasped and leaned forwards, gathering bubbles to cover her front.
"What the hell are you doing in here!" she nearly screamed.
Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a death glare.
It was only at this point that she realized that he had also taken a shower, noticing the long white towel hanging lazily on his hips and his damp hair.
"All of my things are in here. This is my room after all. Plus I wanted to bring you these," he told her, holding up what looked like a new pair of jeans. "I owe you, remember?" he grinned deviously. "I noticed the door was ajar and I didn't hear the shower running, so I assumed you were finished," he explained nonchalantly.
"Well you assumed wrong," she said sternly crossing her arms in front of her.
He laughed at her as he set the jeans down on the chair, before turning to the bathroom counter. He began rummaging through the drawers for whatever he was looking for, while she scoffed and rolled her eyes at his audacity.
"Do you mind?" she groaned.
Turning his head, he looked at her from over his shoulder.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"I'm in the middle of bathing. I'd like some privacy," she seethed.
"Oh come on Caroline, it's nothing I haven't seen before. No need to be self-conscious," he told her.
He turned back to face the mirror, placing what appeared to be some sort of hair product in his hands before running it through his hair.
She sat back in the tub, ruminating over his behaviour, hoping her bitter glances would catch his attention.
Next, he put on deodorant and some cologne and she braced herself for the enchanting smell.
As the scent danced under her nose, she couldn't help but stare longingly at him while he was occupied washing his hands.
She took in the sight of his back and upper arm muscles, instantly recalling how they felt under her fingernails the other night.
Her sigh of sexual frustration is what finally captured his attention, catching her at her most vulnerable moment, as if he had planned it.
She quickly attempted to regain her composure, hunching forward once more.
"There, I'm done. Sorry to interrupt you," he said apologetically.
His one sweet gesture was quickly met with a countermove.
Her jaw dropped in surprise as he removed his towel and hung it on one of the towel racks.
The smirk on his face was obvious, and she knew he was only trying to make her more uncomfortable. It was working, and for some reason he took pleasure from that.
After staring for a split-second too long, she looked to the wall from embarrassment.
She could hear him head for the door and she watched him leave through the mirror, just in time to be embarrassed once more as he stepped over her bra and underwear that she had carelessly left lying on the floor.
The thought of drowning herself in the bathtub from the humiliation she felt crossed her mind. He made her want to scream at the top of her lungs, from a variety of emotions. How could one person make her feel so angry yet so sexually charged at the same time?
Once she was sure he was gone from the doorway, she jumped out of the tub quickly, rushing for a towel to throw around her torso. After that, she promptly shut and locked the bathroom door, scolding herself for not doing so earlier.
Next, she picked up her undergarments from the floor, placing them with the rest of her clothes.
She drained the tub, and then dried herself off.
Dressing quickly, she put everything back on save for her sweater, jeans, jacket and, boots. The jeans she replaced with the jeans Klaus had brought for her in lieu of the other jeans he had damaged. What he didn't know was that she had already fixed the button on them.
She grinned at the thought, deciding she deserved the new jeans for the traumatic experience he had just put her through. Admittedly, the jeans he had bought her were a designer brand and much more expensive, but she wasn't about to allow herself to feel guilty. She ripped the tags off and threw them in the garbage, not giving her the option of reneging on her choice. They had fit her perfectly.
After she was dressed, she fixed her hair, pulling it back into a messy bun, and then tried her best to fix her makeup with what little supply of cosmetics she had in her purse.
Folding her now damp socks and jeans, she tried to shove them haphazardly into her oversized purse, along with her sweater.
She took this time to also check for new messages from her friends, but her inbox had no new messages. It didn't alarm her, but at the same time she felt nervous. They had less than six hours now to find that stake.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she noticed the light on in one of the closets. Considering the possibility he may still be naked, she walked past the room hesitantly, looking in from the corner of her eye.
She stopped when she saw that he was dressed. He was clothed simply in jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt.
"It's not polite to stare Miss. Forbes," he snickered, likely referring to her earlier voyeuristic transgression.
'Miss. Forbes.' the way that rolled off his accented tongue made her shiver.
He tightened the belt around his waist and looked up at her with that intimidating, yet seductive stare of his.
"Well it's not polite to walk in on a lady while she's bathing Mr. Mikaelson," she chastised him.
Turning, he smirked at her.
"There was no lady bathing in that room."
She scoffed at his insult to her respectability.
"Shut up."
He winked at her and she could feel herself go flush.
"I see the jeans I got fit you...very nicely," he spoke, quite obviously checking her out.
She nodded insecurely.
"Thanks...you didn't have to," she said politely.
"I told you I would," he reminded her as he walked past her in the doorway, just in time to respond to a knock at the door.
She tensed and decided to stay hidden in the corridor, unsure of who was on the other side. The last thing she needed was Damon or Stefan to see her in Klaus's bedroom.
"Thank you, you can go home now," she heard Klaus say before the door shut again.
Stepping out from the corridor, the smell of pizza met her nose.
Sitting at the door was a cart holding what she presumed to be their pizza on a covered tray. In addition the cart held glasses, a pitcher of water, and a bottle of wine.
"The pizza is ready," he said obviously, as she entered the room. "We'll eat in the sitting room," he told her as he pushed the cart towards the French doors.
'Sitting room'? She thought. She laughed under her breath at his old fashioned choice of words.
She followed him to what he referred to as the sitting room.
"Help yourself," he urged, nodding his head towards the pizza, before turning towards the TV.
Grabbing herself a plate, she then removed the tray lid revealing the hot and delicious looking pizza.
She put a slice on her plate.
Instead of sitting down right away, she decided to be polite. Taking another plate, she placed another slice of pizza on it.
"Here," she said, handing him the plate.
"Thanks," he acknowledged, taking the plate from her. "Would you like some wine?" he asked.
She nodded as she sat on the floor, placing her plate on the coffee table in front of her.
"I hope you don't mind," he said motioning his head towards the TV screen.
There was a black and white movie playing that seemed familiar to her.
"I just pulled my DVD collection out of storage. I know it's ironic, but Night of the Living Dead is one of my favourite films," he admitted as he poured the wine.
She laughed, getting his note on the irony.
"I'm more of a Breakfast at Tiffany's kind of girl...er vampire. But I like horror movies too," she revealed.
He seemed amused as he brought her a glass of red wine.
"I met Audrey Hepburn at a party in London once," he told her.
Her eyes widened.
"Why am I even surprised by that?" she shook her head.
He laughed.
"She was really nothing like Holly," he explained, going back for his own plate and wine.
He set his glass on the coffee table beside her, but sat on the chaise instead.
She sat there in awe for a few moments, realizing how much he has probably seen of the world in his centuries of life and the hundreds of interesting people he's met. She was envious of that.
She gasped as she took her first bite of pizza.
"Oh my god, this is delicious," she mumbled with her mouth still full.
"I told you," he replied from his seat behind her.
Washing her first bite down with a sip of wine, she quickly took another bite.
Turning her attention to the movie, she couldn't help but fall into the memory of when she watched it last.
"I think the last time I watched this Elena, Bonnie, and I were nine years old. It was Halloween and it was on late night TV. I don't think I slept for a week after that," she remembered.
"There was no TV to give kids nightmares when I was young," he mused.
"What did you have nightmares about then?" she asked curiously, taking another bite of pizza.
"Nature's wrath, I suppose," he answered, before biting into his own slice.
She paused when mention of his childhood reminded her of his newly dead brother, Finn.
Looking at him wearily, unsure if she should bring up the subject, she cleared her throat.
"Hey, um...I didn't say this before, but I'm sorry to hear about your brother," she finally said.
He stopped eating and gave her a serious look, before smirking slightly.
"I'm sure you are," he spoke sardonically.
She sighed, knowing she was treading lightly with him.
"If it means anything, I had nothing to do with it. My friends thought you were all still linked when they staked him. It was nothing personal," she said flatly, eager to defend her friends; hopeful he would understand her position.
He laughed at her comment, likely noting the similarity to his own defense with respect to the lengths he had taken to secure the doppelganger. 'It was nothing personal.'
"It was probably for the best anyways. Your friends did me a favour," he told her.
She was shocked by his lack of remorse.
"But he was your brother," she said in disbelief.
"He's better off this way; a prime example of my love makes you weak theory," he explained before taking another bite of his food.
Deciding it was best now not to argue with him, sensing his growing annoyance, she followed suit and continued to inhale the delicious pizza.
"While we're on the topic of 'loved' ones, I've been meaning to ask you where Tyler disappeared to?" he asked casually, waiting anticipatorily for her response.
She gave him an unsure look.
"I have no idea," she said.
He didn't look like he was buying it.
"Oh come on, this boy is supposed to be in love with you and he's vanished into thin air...not even here for you when your father died. That's just peculiar to me," he commented, clearly believing she knew where he was.
She glared at him, hoping he got the hint that her father was still a touchy subject for her.
"He left after he bit me. I haven't heard from him since. If you don't believe me, then that's your problem," she said boldly.
Contrary to what she told him, she had heard from Tyler in a brief phone message, but other than that she was being honest. She truly had no idea where he was.
"Why do you want to know? Do you miss your hybrid slave?" she asked sarcastically, knowing full well she was pushing her limits with him.
When he chuckled, she was surprised and relieved, even though she knew that he was fuming under the surface.
"Just curious, I suppose," he answered.
That was the end of their serious conversation for the time being. Any discussion was limited while they ate and watched the movie. She hadn't been very hungry before, but the pizza was addicting. By the time they were done eating, the entire pizza was nearly finished, as was the bottle of wine.
When the first movie was done, the awkward silence between them returned. Having not heard her cell phone sound, she knew that her friends had not found the stake yet. She needed to...and wanted to stay longer without making that blatantly clear to him that that's what she wanted.
The buzz she was beginning to receive from the wine pushed her to speak.
"Do you have the sequel? Dawn of the Dead? I've never seen it before," she asked curiously.
His eyes seemed to light up at her enthusiasm for one of his personal interests.
"Of course. We can watch it if you like..." he suggested.
She nodded.
It's not like she was lying to him. She hadn't seen the sequel to the movie. However, at this point she was using it as more of an excuse.
"I'll be back in a minute," he said after he was done changing DVDs.
She knew why he had left before he even had a chance to re-enter the room. She could smell it.
Her sense of smell proved to be right. When he returned, he was holding a decanter of blood.
"I almost forgot desert," Klaus grinned as he poured the viscous liquid into their now empty wine glasses.
She did the best she could to hold back her vampire urges and the physical signs of it.
Once she had her glass, she stood up to sit cross-legged on the chaise.
The first sip instantly calmed her hunger and her nerves. The coppery liquid was to a vampire what the most scrumptious sugary desert was to a human.
"It's best served at room temperature," he said before indulging in his own glass.
He sat down beside her, his legs lounging comfortably off the edge. His closeness made her want to get up, but she fought her instincts.
"Mr. Davies?" she asked boldly.
"What about him?" he retorted dumfounded.
She motioned her head towards her glass.
Quickly understanding, his eyes widened in realization before he erupted into laughter.
"Oh no...this is strictly donated. I've been on my best behaviour as of late; staying low key," he assured her, taking another sip.
"Do you miss it? ...Hunting?" she blurted out.
He seemed intrigued instantly by her question.
"Yes," he answered quickly. "There's nothing like the thrill of the chase," he added. "Nothing like the feel of a human pulse against the tips of my fangs," he elaborated.
His description of it all reminded her of her own underlying urges.
"Do you?" he asked her.
She nearly choked on her drink. The question was fair since she had asked him. However, she was uncomfortable answering. She glanced at him with uncertainty above the rim of her glass as she took another sip.
He grinned.
"Come on Caroline, you can be honest with me," he urged. "I'm not like your friends. I won't judge you," he reminded her.
Maybe that's why she felt so at ease talking with him.
She nodded.
"Yes. I miss it," she practically whispered admission.
"Of course you do. You're a vampire; it's your nature," he assured her.
His words were oddly comforting.
They shared another knowing glance with each other before she turned towards the movie in an effort to distract herself. What exactly she was trying to distract herself from she wasn't quite sure; temptation, perhaps?
The movie played out while they both remained in silence beside each other.
She kept one ear out for her phone, but it never sounded. What was going wrong now? She wondered. The possibility that her friends had not located the stake and had decided to sacrifice her to Klaus had entered her mind, but she had faith that Elena wouldn't allow for something like that. She trusted her.
As the movie drew to a close, she knew more stall tactics were in order.
She expected him to get up and remove the DVD from the player, but he just let the credits roll, preferring instead to stretch and lean back against the high part of the chaise.
"So I guess the fact that you're still here means that you don't completely hate me..." he thought aloud.
Glaring at him, she scoffed in response.
"If you want, I can leave," she said annoyed.
He smiled.
"If I wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to," he said sternly, provoking her to arch her eyebrow at him. "But, I enjoy having you here," he admitted.
Her sour frown and furrowed brows instantly relaxed.
She fell silent and turned away from his persistent attention.
"Tell me what you're thinking about..." he pressed as he had before in the bathroom.
His ability to get under her skin amazed her.
She decided to be honest.
"I'm wondering why I'm still here," she revealed.
He gave her a questioning look.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I mean...I shouldn't be here since every fibre of my being is supposed to hate you..."
"But..." he interrupted her.
She paused and hesitated.
"But obviously I don't, as you already pointed out..."
He attempted to reach for her hand, but she stood before he could.
"Ever since the other night all I can think about is you. It's confusing and annoying," she exclaimed.
"Good thoughts I hope?" he asked, trying to be cheeky.
She scoffed at him and turned to one of the paintings on the wall.
It was a cityscape. She noted that the other painting alongside the first she noticed was also a cityscape.
"Did you paint these?" she asked, desperately trying to change the subject, caring little about how obvious she was being.
"Yes," he answered from behind her, still lounging on the chaise.
"Where were they painted?" she asked.
She heard him turn off the TV and then stand up and walk around towards her.
"I painted these at the turn of the twentieth century," he recalled. "Paris and Amsterdam," he revealed. "I have a few other cityscapes in storage, but these are my favourite," he told her.
"Why?" she asked readily.
"Two of my favourite cities...but mainly because the paints just flowed together so effortlessly and effectively on the canvas when I painted them," he decided.
"What about the woman in your bathroom, did you paint her?" she questioned, eager to hear his answer.
She heard him smirk behind her.
"Marianne? Yes, I did. From life," he added, likely for her reaction.
"Was she your girlfriend?" she asked, as she moved in front of the second painting.
He laughed again.
"No. No. She was just a chambermaid I had an affair with," he admitted.
She swallowed hard at his last comment.
"A compelled one, I presume," she retorted.
She heard him step behind her and snicker.
"From time to time, women do give themselves freely to me," he countered. "If there's anyone who shouldn't have trouble believing that, it's you," he said smoothly, causing the fine hair on her arms to rise.
She sneered at his comments, keeping her back towards him. There was no way she was giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he had impacted her.
"Could it be Caroline that perhaps you are jealous?" he pushed, chuckling under his breath.
This time she couldn't prevent herself from turning around to confront him.
"Jealous? Are you insane?" she groaned. "Why would I be jealous? I already have two drawings that you did of me without my consent, thank you very much. One of which was on the back of a math assignment that I had to completely redo..." she said scornfully. "Trust me, I'm not jealous," she finished, before turning away from him once more.
She couldn't believe his presumption. Part of her wanted to slap him across the face, another, more rational part of her, wondered if he had a point.
"You have nothing to be jealous of," he said. "Marianne was a means to an end," he assured her. "You're different..." he trailed off.
His last words tied her stomach in knots. What did he mean by that?
Before she could ask him, he continued to speak.
"To be honest, I'm wondering the same thing as you Caroline," he said. "What I'm still doing here with you? I mean, you've tried with your friends to have me killed; you're my sired hybrid's girl; you've rejected me on numerous occasions; and yet, I still can't seem to keep away from you," he explained, almost angrily.
Silence dominated, save for both of their consistent breathing.
"I should be focusing on not getting myself killed, but you are proving to be quite the delightful distraction," he said in a deep voice that rumbled across her skin.
He was standing directly behind her now; she could feel his bated breath on the back of her neck.
"You consume my thoughts Caroline," he confessed.
She inhaled sharply in response. She was surprised and beguiled by his words. Nobody spoke to her like he did. Nobody's words had ever had such an effect on her like his.
When his hands danced lightly on her bare shoulders, she flinched with excitement and trepidation.
"Klaus..." she whispered meekly, in secret hopes that he would ignore her protests.
Her breath stopped in her throat when she felt his lips press lightly against her neck.
That one gesture had planted a spark within her; one she knew would ignite if he dared to go any further.
"Ever since the other night, there's not an hour that goes by that I don't think of you...your charm; your laugh; your infectious smile; your lips..." he paused and kissed her shoulder as he slid one of the straps of her shirt down her arm, "the way they taste; the perfect curves of your body; the feel of you writhing against me," he described. "Caroline, you're intoxicating," he concluded breathily.
At this point her chest was heaving and she was quivering under his touch.
She knew she had brought this on herself by deciding to play the role of Klaus bait for her friends...and for herself. If she was being completely honest with herself, deep down she had hoped their day together would end like this. However, no matter how delicious his soft enticing kisses felt against one of her shoulders, her persistent conscience was still resting on her other one. Had she been here strictly as Klaus bait, perhaps there would be no second guessing. She was here as more than Klaus bait though, and thus, she was betraying her friends and Tyler.
"Klaus...stop," she said, peeling herself away from the hybrid.
She stepped towards the entrance to his room, her back still turned to him.
He sighed in frustration.
"We don't have to do this. I'll stop if you want me to," he said.
"I want to do this; I don't want you to stop, that's the problem," she confided.
As if her confession had given him renewed confidence, he approached her from behind once more.
"It doesn't have to be a problem," he told her. "If it's what you want, then shouldn't that be all that matters?" he asked her.
She scoffed at how simple he was making a complex situation.
"But what about my friends? Tyler?" she thought aloud.
She recoiled when his hand coasted up her arm.
"Caroline, you need to start living life for yourself; you need to do what you want. Your feelings are the only truth in life; abstract morality is only theory. Do what you feel, not what you think. You'll find life becomes more exciting that way," he advised.
Taking his words into consideration, only led her to think about what he had asked earlier: what was more preferable, betraying her heart or betraying her friends?
When his lips grazed the skin of her back she jolted forwards, nearly tripping over her own feet, but he held her in place.
"Give it a chance, love," he whispered as his hands tightened around the hem of her camisole.
She repressed a moan and closed her eyes as his lips continued their path along her back.
All she wanted in this moment was for him to continue.
His words and touch were powerful enough to take her away from reality; to subdue her nagging guilty conscience.
This felt too good to be shameful, she thought, as his hands pulled her shirt up and over her head.
Before her shirt fell to the ground, his hands were already on the clasp of her bra.
He pushed the straps slowly off her shoulders, and she straightened her arms so that it joined her shirt on the floor.
She arched her back at the sensation of his fingertips running down her spine as he tugged gently at her hair tie, releasing her wavy mess of hair.
"I like your hair like this," he said, nuzzling her hair.
Her lips curved into a smile.
All his subtle teasing was becoming too much for her.
"Kiss me," she whispered, turning her head to the side to meet his lips from behind her.
Their lips met hesitantly for the second time that day.
She deepened the kiss, desperately needing to feel him; needing a distraction.
Brought on from the same desires, she placed her hand over his on her hip, dragging it upwards so that she could feel his palm against the flesh of her stomach and then her breast.
"Look at me Caroline," he spoke, urging her to turn around.
She hesitated, knowing that if she faced him, there would be no going back.
Biting her lip, she followed through with his request, turning to meet his seductive gaze.
She could feel the freshly consumed blood rushing through her veins at top speed towards the apex of her thighs.
If it was possible, he had made her even more anxious an aroused than the last time they were together.
Drunk off the smell of his cologne, freshly washed clothes, and the sight of him staring at her like he wanted to completely ravish her, she made the next move.
Grabbing the loose fabric of his shirt she pulled him into her, kissing him intensely.
She was addicted to his lips and the lightheaded feeling kissing him gave her. No other lips did that to her.
Instinctively, his hands framed her face, tangling themselves in her loose strands of hair.
She let their kissing linger for awhile, nibbling his bottom lip before he returned the favour.
Eager to feel his naked flesh against hers, she did as he had earlier, and tugged at his t-shirt.
Raising his arms, he allowed her the satisfaction of dragging her hands up his bare chest as she removed his shirt.
She wasn't quite sure what came over her when she was with him, but she had never been more attracted to someone; so enthused about sex. Sure, she had been horny for Tyler, but this was different. With Tyler it was only the release he could help provide her with that she was after. With Klaus, it was more than that. She couldn't get enough of him. She wanted to feel him all over her. She wanted to do all she could to please him. She wanted to make it last as long as it could. Most of all, she didn't feel shy or ashamed about expressing any of these desires with him.
She licked, bit, and sucked at the newly exposed skin of his front, while raking her finger nails down his back fulfilling her tiny fantasy from earlier.
This elicited some low groans of appreciation from him, and this only intensified her wanting. She had never felt so lusted after.
Knowing that he had issues with surrendering control, she wasn't surprised when she felt his hand grasp a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back forcefully.
With one hand holding her head in place, and the other digging its fingertips into her lower back, he gave her a taste of her own medicine.
His lips attacked the skin of her neck, provoking a pleased shriek from her in response.
While he was distracted, she took the opportunity to play with his belt buckle.
"Someone's eager..." he noted in that delicious accent of his.
"I want you," she admitted bluntly as his lips worked their way up the side of her neck and cheekbone to her ear. "I want to feel you."
She could feel him grin against her face.
"Love, you don't know how fucking sexy that sounds coming from your mouth," he whispered.
His dirty talk along with expletive she wasn't used to hearing from him turned her stomach into the most delightful of knots.
When she heard the metal of his belt buckle clink against his pants, she sighed in relief, quickly undoing the button, exposing more of the trail of soft hair that led to his growing erection.
Next, she pulled at his jeans, enough that they fell and rested on his thighs.
She loved that he went commando. Tyler would never consider it.
"Feel me then," he dared her before kissing her lips hard.
Happily complying, she ran her fingertips over his abdomen and then along the shaft of his manhood, recalling how it had more than satisfied her the other evening.
As they continued their heated kissing, she gripped his erection and began to stroke the velvety skin.
His hands began to wander over her breasts while she continued to jack him off, as if he was trying to distract himself. The vibration against her lips from his soft moans suggested that he was enjoying himself.
She parted the kiss, trailing her lips down his neck and onto his chest, endeavouring to go lower, until one of his hands grabbed her hair again and prevented her from doing so.
"You need to stop that," he said almost regrettably as his other hand held her wrist, preventing any further stimulation on her part.
"But I want to continue," she said disappointedly, as he pulled her back up to his level.
"Another time; I want to taste you," he growled.
Noting the vampire features on his face emerge, she readily tipped her head to the side, ready for him to puncture her skin with his fangs.
"No, no, sweetheart," he smirked, before kissing her. "Not like that," he admitted against her cheek.
She froze when she realized what he wanted to do.
Before she could hide her nervous look, he had already seen it cross her face.
"Has anyone ever gone down on you before, Caroline?" he asked her with great intrigue.
"Tyler tried once," she said meekly. "It didn't go so well," she added with a red face.
Tyler had tried once and it was a disaster. Either he was talentless or her body had been unreceptive. She suspected the former was the case.
His smile widened as he stepped out of his own pants.
"He obviously wasn't doing it right then," he said self-assuredly.
Her knees almost gave out with his words.
In an effort to calm her nerves, he started slow, kissing her lips, while patiently undoing the button of her jeans this time.
Much like she had done earlier, he pulled the jeans down to her thighs, revealing her black boy shorts, which he stopped to admire.
"Sit down on the bed," he instructed her.
His demanding tone surprised and excited her. She walked shakily over to his bed, sitting and sinking into the large comforter that blanketed his bed.
He followed her into his bedroom with an almost predatory look on his face.
Her chest was heaving again out of anxious anticipation.
She could feel evidence of her arousal pool between her thighs as he approached her.
From his standing position in front of her, he was looking down at her. He lifted her chin with his hand and leaned down, placing another rough kiss on her lips.
With that, he dropped to his knees and brought his hands to the edge of her pants.
He pulled her pants down the rest of the way, never once losing eye contact with her.
His hands ran up the length of her legs, warming them and giving her goose bumps at the same time.
When his fingertips reached the hem of her underwear, she sat up obligingly and allowed him to remove the last piece of material she had on.
She admired the sight of him like this. Never in a million years did she think she would ever see Klaus Mikaelson on his knees for anyone. But, here he was, on his knees in front of her, with his hands inching up her legs.
Gripping her hips, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed.
He kept his eyes fixed on hers, while his soft lips made contact with the equally soft skin of her legs.
As his kisses inched their way up to her thighs, the fact that he was really going to go down on her began to sink in.
She struggled to prevent her legs from shaking. Sure, she was curious to know what it could really feel like, but the thought of any man between her legs like this had made her nervous and self-conscious.
He nipped lightly at the insides of her upper legs as she watched him move closer to her centre.
The stubble on his cheeks tickled her skin there in the most pleasurable way.
Her legs tensed when his hot breath glided over her sensitive folds.
"Relax, love," he smirked as he gave her a quick glance. "Lie back," he told her.
Deciding it might be more comfortable, she complied with him.
She fell back into the soft comforter and sucked in a breath as she waited for him to make his move.
Two of his fingers spent time tracing the length of her slit up to the sensitive nub tucked behind equally sensitive skin. She grew wetter with every touch.
When he repeated the same action with his tongue, she could barely suppress her verbal appreciation.
He continued, swirling his tongue agonizingly slow around her clit, as he used his index finger to penetrate her.
With this, she moaned loudly, surprising the both of them.
Her cheeks reddened and she tried clenching the fabric of the comforter to displace her need for verbal expression.
"Be as loud as you want, sweetheart," he encouraged as he inserted another finger inside of her aching womanhood.
"Don't stop," she begged, frustrated by the loss of his oral attention.
He smirked at her before returning his mouth and tongue to her centre.
While he continued, his remaining free hand snaked its way up to her breast, serving only to enhance her pleasure.
She moaned gratefully in response to the added stimulation.
The pressure that was building between her legs was almost unbearable.
Every movement of his tongue and thrust of his fingers was bringing her closer and closer to that edge she was so eager for her body to fall from.
Desperate for all the contact she could get, she boldly ran her hands through his hair as a means to hold him in place.
Her legs were shaking almost uncontrollably at this point and she draped them over his shoulders, digging the heels of her feet into his back in an effort to contain herself.
She was breathing sporadically now, and her body was tense and hot all over.
"Please, don't stop," she begged again, knowing she was at his mercy for her release.
She had probably gave his ego an unnecessary boost, and she knew that he would probably use this moment of weakness against her, but at this point she could care less. All she wanted was to slip over that edge.
When she opened her eyes to see his looking back her from between her legs that was the final push she needed.
She cried out as the familiar and intense feeling of her orgasm began to ripple through her body.
He continued to pleasure her, prolonging the yummy aftershocks she felt as she tried to come down from her heavenly high.
She couldn't believe his tongue had the power to make her come undone like that. Any orgasm was enjoyable, but this would be her newest guilty pleasure; a guilty pleasure that she knew only he could grant her. She shuddered at the thought.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she caught him licking the evidence of her orgasm off of his fingers.
"You taste delicious," he observed. "Better than blood," he added.
She blushed and laughed at his remark.
"I'm completely serious, love," he told her as he climbed onto the bed in between her legs.
He kissed up her torso, before arriving at her lips.
"How was it?" he asked, as if he didn't already know what her answer would be.
She couldn't help but grin.
"It felt...amazing," she beamed.
He mirrored her pleased expression.
"We can do it again, if you'd like," he offered, in between the kisses he was planting along her neck and jaw.
He stopped and looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her response.
She felt like she was having another out of body experience as she looked up at him. In this moment she wasn't Caroline Forbes, and he was not Klaus Mikaelson; bitter enemies. She didn't recognize him as Klaus anymore. They were free from the reality of who they were and the circumstances surrounding their tryst when they were like this.
"No," she replied.
He seemed surprised and worried by her answer.
"I want you inside of me," she whispered, as if her confession was a secret to be kept between them.
In a way, it was.
He gave her no reply, except for a hesitant kiss.
She kissed him back forcefully, needing to feel his lips and the burning passion that seemed to emanate from them.
As their frenzied kissing continued, he eased himself inside of her unexpectedly.
She gasped into their kiss and wrapped her legs around his hips as he continued his welcome intrusion.
His actions had surprised her. But as much as she would have liked some warning, she reveled at his boldness; that he would just take her as he pleased.
She knew he could take her as he pleased, because she would let him. At some point during their short time together, a part of her had become his.
As he licked and fondled her sensitive breasts, she wondered if it worked both ways. Would he allow her to take him as she pleased?
She decided test him.
Taking advantage of his distracted state, she used her vampire strength and speed to turn the tables so that she was now on top of him, straddling his hips.
Uncomfortable with being submissive, she fully expected him to flip her back over so she was beneath him once more.
Instead, he remained underneath her, staring up at her intensely and longingly.
She disguised her smug grin of success with a smile of pleasurable satisfaction.
Resting her hands on his chest, she pushed herself off of him before grinding her hips back down against his.
He grunted loudly as he dug his fingertips into the skin of her thighs.
She moved her herself in a steady rhythm, concentrating both on how he felt inside of her this way, and his response to her movements.
His eyes were shut, and his lips were parted slightly, allowing unsuppressed moans to escape.
This was the only opportunity she really had to study him without him questioning her intent.
She leaned forward, putting her chest against his, so she could reach his lips with hers.
"I want you close to me," she whispered.
She felt him tense instantly with her admission.
His eyes opened and he looked up at her with a glint of vulnerability.
He lay under her for a bit longer as she rode him, almost in hesitation, before he sat up, taking her into his lap.
They had been like this the last time they were together, only the last time they had just finished. She recalled how strangely comforting it had been then...and noted how strangely erotic and intimate it had become now.
She wrapped her arms around his neck for support. Her legs were around his waist, while his hands were under her thighs, assisting her as she continued to envelop him.
Their torsos were pressed against each other's, and their faces were mere inches apart, while their eyes stared intensely into one another's.
The only noise in the room to be heard was the natural sounds of their bodies moving in sync with one another and their laboured breathing.
As much as she wanted to focus on him, she was becoming lost in the delicious sensation of him inside of her.
He didn't seem to mind, as he kissed his way from her lips to her neck.
She was practically panting at this point as her entire body clenched around his in build up to another much anticipated release.
Her face was buried in the crook of his neck as she concentrated on chasing another high.
His hot breath crashed sporadically against her ear.
She curled her fingers in his hair tightly and whimpered against his neck in pleasurable frustration as her orgasm loomed just above her grasp.
"Kiss me, Caroline," Klaus said hoarsely.
His request bewildered her, as it seemed out of his character to ask or demand beforehand.
However, she acquiesced to his desire and kissed him fervently.
As they kissed, the delectable waves of her orgasm began to surge out from between her thighs to the rest of her body.
The feeling was so overwhelming and she had to break their kiss to gasp for fresh air.
While her walls began to spasm erratically and gratefully around him, she could feel the result of his own orgasm release within her.
His fingers dug into the small of her back as he groaned blissfully against her shoulder.
She held him against her as his body shook from his climax.
As they both slowly recovered from the euphoria they had shared together - another first for her – she kissed his cheek and ran her hands through the short waves and curls of his hair.
Pulling back from him, she noted the look of interest and uncertainty he was giving her.
With time drawing further away from their intimate moment, the thick air of sex and passion in the room suddenly gave way to a thick air of awkwardness and ambiguity.
In an instant she went from being completely confident in her decision and so connected to him, to feeling self conscious and unsure.
She climbed off of him and fell back against the pillows on the bed. Sighing quietly, she looked up at the ceiling, ignoring his persistent stare.
He huffed and slid off the bed before heading towards the bathroom.
She cursed herself for not thinking about disappearing to the bathroom before he did.
Closing her eyes, she tried to enjoy the softness of his bed, but there were a million thoughts rushing through her mind.
Turning on her side, she noticed the clock on his nightstand. Although it was in roman numerals, she quickly realized that it was just past twelve thirty. The deadline Klaus had set for them had passed without word from Damon.
Her stomach quickly tied itself into knots and she began to worry.
When the door to the bathroom opened once more, she tried hurriedly to regain her neutral composure.
He stopped at his closet, before returning dressed in sweatpants.
"Wow, now I feel under-dressed," she remarked, hoping her comment would lighten the mood.
Laughing, he climbed back onto the bed beside her.
"I think you're very suitably dressed," he replied, as he lay down on his side.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
Things fell quiet again as he studied her.
Her body tightened when his fingertips touched the side of her stomach.
Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, and anxious about the time, she decided to bring it up.
"You know, it's past twelve thirty..." she said hesitantly, looking away from him, favouring the ceiling again instead.
His touch promptly ceased and he fell onto his back, sighing loudly.
He seemed conflicted and frustrated.
"I know," he answered, swallowing hard.
She waited for him to say anything else. She couldn't gauge his mood from his vague response.
His head draped to the side so that he was facing her.
Sighing, he finally spoke. "What are you doing to me, Caroline Forbes?"
She froze with his words.
She didn't know what to say. She didn't think she was doing anything to him, and if she was, she wasn't sure what. She was busy trying to figure out what exactly he was doing to her.
He sat up and leaned forward so that his back was towards her.
After a lingering moment of silence, he decided to elaborate.
"Why is it so difficult to remember my original purpose for coming here when I'm with you?" he scolded himself.
Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him, and the other wanted to leave and wallow in her guilt.
He lied back down beside her; leaving a generous distance in between them, as he studied her expression.
They both realized they had hit a touchy subject for the both of them; the contradiction of their 'relationship' (whatever that relationship was at this point).
A change of topic was in order.
"So when you do get the stake, what do you plan to do?" she probed, wondering if perhaps he would give her any useable information for herself and her friends.
He looked up at the ceiling, ignoring her pressing stare.
"Well, I'm gonna burn the stake, take the doppelganger and get the hell out of this town," he said bluntly.
She tensed, knowing that he had clearly just told her that he would be taking Elena when he was ready to leave. However uncomfortable she was with that admission, she was even more uncomfortable with the disappointment that settled inside of her when he didn't beg her again to go with him.
The look on his face suggested he had told her his plans for Elena and his departure purposely to fluster her.
She too looked up at the ceiling and scoffed.
"Why do I forget that you want to drain my best friend of blood when I'm with you?" she whispered shakily.
The presence of the contradiction had returned. The reminder of the other part of him had unsettled her. There was a gnawing pain in her stomach. Her throat was throbbing and her eyes began to sting. For some stupid reason she felt like she wanted to cry.
Biting the inside of her cheek hard, that pain removed the urge to spill tears.
They met each other's eyes, and for a second she thought she could sense some guilt in his almost emotionless expression.
In an instant, he turned away again and so did she.
Lying there naked on his bed beside him in dead silence for what seemed like hours was killing her.
Noting the frames on his wall again, she decided to speak up and change the subject once more.
"Can I ask you something?" she wondered as she sat up.
He turned so she could see the side of his face, acknowledging that she could proceed.
"Those frames on the wall...the letters...what are they? I mean...what's their significance?" she asked.
His face contorted into a combination of interest and hesitation.
"They're letters..." he trailed off.
"To you? From who?" she asked quickly.
He chuckled at her.
"Not exactly. Are you sure you want to know?" he confirmed.
That question made her nervous, but she nodded anyways. She was more than curious now.
"They're love letters; stolen love letters," he confessed as he removed himself from the bed.
She looked at him confused. Why would he steal love letters?
"Who's stolen love letters?" she asked as she sat up.
"They were written by women I slept with to the men they were in love with," he admitted.
Her face dropped and she paused to consider what to say or ask him next.
"What? Why?" she asked. "Jealousy?" she demanded, horrified by his revelation.
She could tell that her judgmental tone had displeased him.
He laughed contemptuously.
"No, no. I wasn't jealous. Those women meant nothing to me," he said coldly. "If I cared for them at all, then I wouldn't have killed them," he said bluntly.
Goose bumps rose on her skin and she sat up immediately in response to his admission.
"You killed them? Why would you do that?" she asked critically.
"They were nothing to me. I would seduce them. Take them home. Fuck them. Feed from them. Kill them, and then steal their most personal possession," he confessed.
She noted the darkness in his eyes, and for once in a long time, she was genuinely frightened of him.
"You wanted to know," he reminded her coldly, as if he was purposely trying to make her angry and push her away.
It was working.
He was mad now. How could he not expect her to react this way? This was completely wrong. They were completely wrong. She was completely wrong. She had to leave.
His revelation had brought her back to reality; brought her conscience back. She had forgotten who he was, but the last few minutes had reminded her.
"How could you just kill innocent women like that?" she accused, as she slipped on her clothes.
"Just like you killed that carnival attendant. Don't be so disapproving," he growled.
How did he know about that? She wondered.
"You knew who I was a half hour ago when you were fucking me so what's with the sour mood now, love?" he demanded.
"I guess was fooling myself," she barked, as she began to collect the rest of her things. "And don't even try to compare my lapse of judgement with your disgusting murder plots," she said angrily, pointing her finger at him.
"Sweetheart, you need to calm down," he said sternly, as he moved towards her.
She backed up, suddenly afraid of him.
"Don't call me that," she muttered under her breath. "I should go," she decided.
"You're trembling. You're scared of me now?" he observed.
"Of course I'm scared of you!" she yelled. "How do I know I'm not going to end up like those women?" she interrogated, picking up her purse.
"That phase of mine happened centuries ago. It means nothing now," he said defensively.
She sneered at him.
"Then why the hell do you keep those letters on your wall like some sick memento?" she hissed.
This was the last straw with him. She had set him off.
He lunged towards her at vampire speed and slammed her into the bookshelf behind her, causing two of the shelves to break and piles of books to fall.
She screamed and was crying at the top of her lungs. This was it. She was going to die. He was going to kill her. She knew she should have followed her conscience.
"We're monsters Caroline, it's what we do!" he spat at her.
If she was going to die, if he was going to kill her tonight, she decided she wasn't going to back down without a fight.
"Don't hide behind that excuse," she chastised him. "Don't lie to me," she demanded. "These weren't the random acts of a monster," she stated boldly. "You killed them and kept their letters for a reason!" she cried, unfazed by his frame towering over her as they stood in the debris of their physical confrontation.
He shouted mindless nothingness, as he slammed his fist into the wall beside her.
"I did it because I resented them! I wanted to feel anything! I wanted to remember!" he shouted, his voice nearly shaking the walls around them. "There! Are you happy now?" he exclaimed.
She had never heard him yell that loudly before, and it almost put her into a state of shock.
As if he just realized what he had done and admitted to her, he let her go instantly and backed away.
She remained against the damaged bookcase. She was shaking violently and she could feel hot tears sliding off her cheeks and onto her neck.
"I shouldn't have invited you here. This was a mistake. You need to leave," he said in a more controlled voice.
"Klaus..." she whispered.
"GO!" he shouted once more, before turning his back on her.
Before he could finish the word, she grabbed her boots at vampire speed and was gone. Having quickly left the house, she took a moment to collect herself in the driveway.
As she calmed herself, she realized she had forgotten her coat inside. She also realized that she would have to head home by foot. There was no way she was going to demand that Klaus drive her home now.
Her phone sounded as she started down the drive. Taking it out, she read the received text message.
"I'm coming home tomorrow." It was from Tyler.
She tried to smile at the news, but right now it was impossible.
Noting a missed text message from Damon, she opened it.
"No sign of stake. Plan B tomorrow. Klaus hasn't killed any of us yet, where are u?"
She responded quickly, telling Damon she was on her way home, knowing that if Damon wasn't really worried about her, Elena probably was, and she knew he would pass the message onto her.
When she looked up, she saw a vehicle coming down the drive, and she grew anxious at the prospect of who it was. She could never be sure if she was running into a friend or a foe these days.
As the vehicle drew closer, its familiar loud noises signalled to her that it was Matt's truck.
Perhaps the whole gang panicked about her safety and decided to come save her, she thought.
She waited for it to pull up and stop.
Both Matt and Rebekah climbed out.
"Care, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" Matt asked worriedly as he approached her.
He had obviously noticed her red cheeks, dishevelled hair, and the makeup stained tear streaks under her eyes.
She heard Rebekah snort.
"That's what spending a day with my brother does to women," she remarked unsympathetically.
Caroline was ready to fall into Matt's arms, but in a quick twist, a force brushed past her and grabbed Matt instead.
It was Klaus.
A/N: So I have a bunch of random things I want to clear up:
I forgot to warn you all that in line with Give Me Love Mystic Falls still has a bit of snow lying around. My fic takes place sort of around Winter/Spring as of right now. I just find it odd that they live in Virginia and have never had snow in three seasons of the show. Whatever.
That specific lap dance video does not actually exist on YouTube, but there are lots of similar videos in case you are interested, lol.
Mr. Davies is a sort of ode to Matt Davis (hence the last name similarity). His death on TVD as Alaric saddens me :'(
In terms of incorporating those love letters Joseph Morgan has made mention of hanging above Klaus's bed, I hope I did them justice. I think they are significant to his character, so I wanted to use the idea. In terms of the French, I took Canadian French up to grade 12, but that felt like a million years ago, so I apologize to any French speakers if I completely obliterated your language.
Please do not expect another update so quickly. After this update, I have nothing new written. I have a busy week coming up, so I will not have much time to write. Please stay tuned for another update though!