Thank you guys for the reviews. I don't own Vampire Diaries.
Chapter Eleven
I look and stare so deep in your eyes
I touch on you more and more every time
When you leave I'm begging you not to go
Call your name two or three times in a row
Such a funny thing for me to try to explain
How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame
And I still don't understand
Just how your love could do what no one else can
-Crazy in love by Beyonce
Elijah Mikaelson was back in London and between the thighs of another supermodel whose name he didn't remember. She was all breathy moans and whimpers, a practiced cacophony of responses that were grating on his nerves.
The only thing that helped was her averted face and brunette locks that were mockery of what Elena's hair had felt like in his fingers. He kept kissing her mechanically, something he had done incalculable times before like an automaton and he knew if he started thinking he would never be able to do this. He would never be able to touch another again.
So he forgot all those memories, all those accusations that stung like welts on his skin, and he plunged inside the woman who was spread like a feast on his bed. His thrusts grew rougher and yet the woman didn't rake his back with her nails, didn't claw on his shoulders; she kept moaning in that marginally pretending voice of hers. When he came he felt as if he had taken a dip in the lakes of putrid festering sins. He didn't care that he had left her wanting, didn't care that she didn't have a single orgasm. He knew he was a bastard, god he was a monster if he was being truthful to himself, but he had never been a selfish lover.
He had used the women in his bed, but he had never left them unsatisfied, but after his confrontation with Damon he didn't care. He didn't care for anything anymore.
He didn't want to feel, and sex helped him forget or so he thought. It made him forget the way she had kissed him, made love to him. Yes, she had made love to him. Nothing that beautiful could ever be only sex. He would know because no one knew the difference better than Elijah Mikaelson.
'Elijah-' the woman called in a husky whisper, hoping to lure him back in bed, hoping he would finally satisfy that craving he had ignited.
She had heard about Prince Mikaelson's sexual prowess from numerous other models, but experiencing it first hand was something else entirely.
'Get out.'
His reply was curt and she thought she had misheard him. But when he turned his eyes weren't clouded with desire, they were bleak and sad; something she was sure Prince Mikaelson didn't notice or care for anymore.
He was a beautiful man. All lithe lines and ropey muscles; Prince Mikaelson was an epitome of old world handsomeness and class. His voice was an affair of cultured syllables and husky voice; something that made you think of night and the desires it brought in its cloaked embrace.
He was everything a woman could ever desire to have, or so many thought including her.
She knew she was staring. Standing at his window that awarded him a perfect view of his famous gardens, he looked so alone. There was loneliness in the very air he breathed, a stillness she knew no one could penetrate. Foolishly she had thought she might be the one to pierce his infamous stone cold heart.
She had dyed her hair brunette from her natural honey bronze when she had heard through the grapevine that Prince Mikaelson preferred brunettes as his evening companions recently. It was desperate of her she knew, but then if coloring your hair brought you in notice of a man world whispered was richer than Croesus himself, it was worth it or so she had thought.
Lying naked in his bed, she felt cheap and used.
She had never felt like this before.
He had never kissed her on lips or whispered her name. She wondered if he even remembered her name. He had gone through the whole thing as if he expected himself to have sex with her.
'I said get out.'
His voice was cold, as if every emotion was dead; as if he was dead inside.
She got up hurriedly and put on her dress; not caring that she looked like a whore leaving his bed. She ran out of his room with her heels in her hands, and she didn't care if he saw tears slip out of her eyes, or heard the sob escape her throat.
Elijah sat in the study of his London manor, the letter his brother Kol had sent for him clutched in his hands. It said Bonnie's child was dead.
The result of his sin was forever gone and instead of feeling happy, he felt hollow. He should be elated that now Kol would never know how Elijah had made his brother's love nothing but another notch on his bedpost. He should be happy that child was gone.
But all Elijah could remember were cries of another time, a woman shrieking at him to save her baby, his wife begging him to save their son.
He had been a husband ages ago, when his heart had been a little less cold, a bit more malleable than stone. He had been a husband when he had not been jaded enough. He had been an expectant father when he had been naïve enough to think he could change himself.
But the death of his child and his wife had taught him that he had been born to be a monster and there was nothing he could do to change it.
He still remembered every word Damon had hurled on him. Even countless nights with countless unknown bodies had not succeeded in erasing those memories. Nights fueled with sex and alcohol had failed to erase Elena from his mind.
He had never been a man who felt guilt or longed for something he wanted, but dead in the night in his dreams he saw her. Elena, his Elena. Happy, exuberant and loving him. He saw a future that could never be his. He saw a home that was theirs, a bed they shared and babies who called him dad in their lisping voices. Boys who dragged him to play ball in the extensive grounds of his manor, little girls who gave him gummy smiles and drooled on his shirts.
The sun had seen him waking with salt on his cheeks and need in his eyes.
Two months had passed since he had left America.
He had gone to Monte Carlo and immersed himself completely in the night life. He had gambled carelessly, recklessly and yet every turn of the dice had brought him more money than he had use of. He had gone to Moscow next.
From Moscow it had been Paris, Milan and countless other places before he had landed in London yesterday.
He had tried to run far away from the memories, but they had dogged his every step.
He needed to forget himself. He needed to be the man he had been before Elena, because he didn't know how to be anyone else; didn't want to be anyone else.
'Mason bring the care around, we are going to 'Vice'.' He drawled as he locked the door of his study after him, vowing never to set another foot inside in near future.
Two months had seen a lot of change in Kol Mikaelson's life.
He had been out of the country the moment Bonnie had been discharged from the hospital. Thankfully media had not got the wind of Bonnie's suicide attempt. The official story was that Bonnie had miscarried the baby.
He was not angry with Bonnie, he was hurt. And so he had packed his bags and left for U.S the moment she had been back in his castle. He had left detailed instructions with his staff to care for her properly. He talked to her twice a day. Maybe he needed distance to get over the fact that the woman he loved had done something he had never expected her to do.
He was in Mystic Falls, Virginia.
It was a quaint, little town famous for Diablo 99.9 FM or more precisely the show 'The Ugly Truth' which was hosted by lovely Ms. Elena Gilbert. He had not chosen this town only to escape, but also to start righting the wrongs his brother had left in his wake. And no one had suffered more than Ms. Gilbert.
Two months had seen Elena Gilbert befriending one Kol Shaw despite her policy of no friends. Kol had been persistent.
So here he was, waiting outside the building at midnight for her shift to end.
He saw her rushing towards him, a scowl on her face.
'What are you doing here?'
'Waiting for you darling. I thought you would like my stellar company.' He pouted.
She walked muttering non-stop under her breath. He fell in step after her. She was beautiful when she lectured him on all the pros and cons of why they couldn't be friends despite the fact that she spent 90% of her free time with him.
She was a picturesque contradiction.
'Why the drama darling? You knew I would be waiting.' He said as he took her hand and started guiding her towards his car.
'First- I have told you not to call me darling and second, you are an idiot.' She answered as she in turn started to drag him towards her car.
This continued for another five minutes after which they broke down laughing in the parking lot.
She rarely laughed.
She looked so innocent when she laughed.
'Shall we go home or are you interested in sitting here for whole night?' he asked a smile lurking in the depths of his eyes.
She started laughing again as she dragged him down with her again.
They were two lonely souls drowning their sadness in the companionable joy of having someone to share something trivial with…..
'Vice' was abode of sins, an Eden for sinners.
Once he had patronized the black glass doors of this club where he had revealed in the dominant aspect of his personality; a cure for his less than ruthless tendencies if you will. Today he needed to be that Elijah again because there was no place for feelings in his life.
When he entered the room he knew she would be waiting for him.
She had been an eager bed partner when he had frequented this establishment. She could take pain with much more ease than the rest who worked here. His tastes had bordered on cruelty, and she had taken pleasure in his brutality.
She was kneeling in the center of bed. Camille Moreau.
'Strip.' He ordered without further ado as he locked the door of the room after him.
His demons had found him once again and he would be damned if he was weak in face of his past that wore the mask of submission and had kiss of venom…
So what's the verdict? Elijah is continuing on the path of destruction and Kol is doing the damage control for his brother. Review below and let me know your thoughts.
Stay tuned for the next installment of 'The Ugly Truth'.
Love y'all
-Eos