Author's Note:
Klaroweek indulgence on Tumblr made me a little slower about updating this week. I also hit a hard wall of writer's block and needed to re-configure a few things before I felt confident enough to post. There's been a lot of drama in the previous three chapters, so I ventured for something a little lighter-toned in this one. Maybe? Maybe not?
I guess you'll just have to read to find out...
Disclaimer: TVD/TO material is not mine.
I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
And our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
-Scars, Papa Roach
Caroline refused to play the role of the pouting princess locked away in a tower by the big, bad beast. Without a door—which Klaus so courteously tattered to scraps—she couldn't mope in privacy anyway. Besides, if Klaus insisted on branding her a (demanded) Mikaelson house guest for an undisclosed amount of time, the least she could do was acquaint herself with this bizarre, bubbling city of New Orleans. No tour guide necessary.
Exiting the house through a door would make her too conspicuous, however. And Caroline didn't want any more questions from the Originals. She'd had enough of those today. She'd have no more of them tonight. No—tonight…tonight she wanted freedom.
And so, similar to Rapunzel (minus the ladder of hair), Caroline bounded from her balcony to the busy sidewalk with an effortless thud. Armed with nothing but a wad of cash tucked into a cute clutch, she'd made her escape into the City of Distraction. Alone…and without detection.
She devoted the next two hours to engrossing herself in the vitality of the French Quarter. The music. The art. The culture. Caroline nibbled on beignets, the yeast melting on her tongue in sugary mouthfuls; she visited voodoo shops and dark magic booths, wondering about the truthful mythology behind witch ancestors' trinkets; she danced, she clapped, and she hummed along with the somber notes of that solitary saxophone playing there, just beyond the next corner.
Caroline disappeared into the bustle of the city. Just another pretty vampire face deserted among the crowd—with no desire to be found.
A small, secret part of her whispered that this felt wrong. That this wasn't how it was supposed to be. But did that matter now? No. Caroline ambled through the ancient, animated streets lost in everything except the nothing of his words.
Off-key singing prompted her to enter the next bar she passed. The sign outside dangled the words Live Karaoke: 10-12 P.M. And although Caroline wasn't in the mood to belt out a ballad herself, she figured it'd be entertaining to watch other people try.
Besides, her shit day needed to end. And for that to occur she required two things:
1) Amusement
2) Alcohol.
A karaoke bar would ply her full of both. Hopefully.
"Three tequila shots, please," she said as she collapsed into an open bar stool.
The bar, though dim and noisy, retained a French flair that added to its rustic charm. A young redheaded couple populated the stage in the back corner; and sharing the microphone, they serenaded the place with a spirited rendition of "Summer Nights" from Grease.
Caroline snapped her fingers and waved to alert the bartender of her presence—not to be rude, but to get the young girl's attention. Alcohol was needed. Pronto!
The bartender, who was tall with shoulder-length blonde hair, looked to be a few years older than Caroline. Early to mid-twenties probably.
Thank God, Caroline thought. A woman will understand.
Pretty, though in an understated way, the bartender approached Caroline with an appraising look in her green eyes. "Could I see some ID?"
Crap.
Cranky, not to mention thirsty, Caroline huffed. She was in no mood for this.
After rummaging through her clutch, she withdrew a one hundred dollar bill and slammed it face down onto the counter, allowing an aggravated hiss to escape her throat as her fangs descended.
"I asked—" Caroline pounded her fist onto the counter, and leaned over it…glaring. "—for three tequila shots. Please."
Though the bartender stiffened, she didn't back away. Reaching beneath her, she extracted three shot glasses.
"What is with you vampires and large bills?" she asked. Adding the tequila, she pushed them across the counter with three limes. "Bad day?"
Apparently this chick knew about the supernatural. Stepping closer, Caroline could hear the strumming of her heart; she could smell her sweet caramel blood—human. Yep, this girl was undeniably human.
Curious.
Conceding, Caroline sat back.
"You have no idea," she mumbled, taking her first shot.
The tequila burned as it passed down her throat, against her tonsils, but it dulled her aching frustration. She relished in the numbing taste. Tonight, Caroline welcomed any chance to forget.
She downed the next two shots. Sucking on a lime, she shrugged and added, "But I guess that's to be expected when you're staying with dysfunctional people."
"Dysfunction is rampant in New Orleans," the bartender said, nodding her head in understanding, "I'm surrounded by it."
Caroline looked around. Drunken laughter, clinking glasses, and bellowed karaoke filled the place.
"Occupational hazard?" she asked.
The bartender smiled, and then leaned forward on her elbows. A friendly openness characterized this gesture, which Caroline found refreshing in this strange place and on this strange day.
"Probably," the girl replied, "but that's what I get for wanting a PhD in psychology."
With her head resting in her palm, Caroline squinted at her. "What's your name?"
"Camille. But please," she said, wiping the counter with a rag, "call me Cami."
A new performer took to the stage as she said this. The melody to Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" reverberated from the speakers.
"I'm Caroline."
"—ooh baby, I'm hot just like an oven. I need some lovin'—"
Facing away from the performance area, Caroline couldn't see the man singing, only hear him. His voice, clear and playful, carried a well-balanced pitch that infected the smoky air with harmony for the first time all evening. In other words, the guy could sing.
"—and baaaaaby, I can't hold it much longer. It's getting stronger and STRONGER—"
Despite this, Caroline groaned. She hated this song. Not because it was old, but because it was tacky. A desperate ploy to attract female attention.
"Well, Cami," she exhaled, "how about I buy you a drink?"
She extracted another one hundred dollar bill from her clutch and tucked it into the girl's open palm. It's not like the Originals needed it. And really, neither did she.
"With so many dysfunctional people in our lives, we girls need to stick together."
Cami arched an eyebrow in surprise. Or was it suspicion? Then, with her face breaking into an amiable smile, she poured them each two shots of tequila.
Though Caroline didn't know her, she liked Cami. Sure, she was ordinary—being human and all—but she seemed sweet and empathetic. And those traits came in short abundance, no matter what type of world people knew of or inhabited.
"Cheers," Cami said, toasting her.
They clinked glasses.
"Cheers."
Caroline downed both shots in two quick gulps. The alcohol alleviated the neurotic hammering of her thoughts immediately. She could just be. She could just listen. She could just enjoy.
Who cared about tyrannical witches? About bickering Originals? About Klaus' despicable words?
"—if you don't know the thing you're dealing…oooh, I can tell you darling, it's sexual healing—"
Music from the end of the second verse floated through her ears as the crowd erupted into clapping whoops with every reiteration of the words sexual healing. Whoever this guy was, he riveted the audience.
Caroline bobbed her head to the beat. Might as well take part in the merriment, right?
"Speaking of maladjusted people," Cami paused, pointing at someone behind Caroline, "…I think this one wants your attention."
"—Get up, get up, get up—" The singer's voice became clearer. Nearer. "—Let's make love tonight—"
Before Caroline could turn, before she could react with anything besides a crinkled forehead that asked "what," a hand swiveled her around on her chair to face him. He, the lively performer, gripped a black microphone and serenaded her from beneath a baggy grey hood that covered his eyes, casting his face in shadow. The only feature Caroline could perceive was this: a naughty smirk.
"—Baaaby, I got sick this mornin', a sea stormin' inside of me—" He traced circles along the exposed skin of her right shin, his fingertips climbing her knee like a ladder. "—Baaaby, I think I'm capsizin', the waves are risin' and RISIN'—"
Up, and up, and up his fingers went…until she promptly smacked his hand away. Today was so not the day to mess with Caroline Forbes!
Springing from her bar stool, she stormed at him with outrage licking her veins. Who did this handsy asshole think he was?
"Hands off, American Idol!" she snarled.
Just as she cocked her fist and aimed to clonk him in the face—a broken nose and a trip to the hospital would fix this jerk just fine—the man lowered his hood. Unruly brown hair and an impish grin greeted her.
"—and when I get that feeling, I want sexual healing—"
It was Kol.
"—Sexual healing is good for me. Makes me feel fine..."
Caroline lowered her fist and re-assumed her seat, muttering the word rascal under her breath as he skirted away with practiced evasion.
With one last wink at her, Kol maneuvered back to the stage to finish his song.
"I wouldn't pay him any mind," Cami said, gesturing at a gyrating Kol, "He enjoys rousing the crowd. He's mostly harmless."
At this, Caroline couldn't help but remember his Boyfriend exclamations of earlier. "Trust me," she scoffed, smiling, "He's a regular troublemaker—always and forever."
Jumping up, Caroline didn't see the look of realization pass across Cami's face as she said this.
"Tell the Joker I went to powder my nose, would you?" she asked.
The hearty applause fell silent as the bathroom door swung shut. There was no escaping those Originals, was there? Caroline splashed cold water on her face and released an exasperated grunt. No matter how many miles of distance she placed between them, no matter how meticulous or inconspicuous her dodging, there they were—blocking her in like giant beams of consistency. There he was. Always. Why?
Alcohol swirled her head in a halo of tipsy; and ironically, instead of making her forget, it made her inquisitive. Caroline didn't understand this boomerang effect of gravity. This fateful tug that placed her in the orbit of the Mikaelsons, more specifically, of Klaus, over and over again? Why did Bonnie send her here? Where was Bonnie? There must be an answer…
At this, almost as if on cue, the door opened. The redheaded girl who sang "Summer Nights" earlier walked inside.
"Caroline Forbes?"
"Yes?" Caroline asked, startled by the stranger.
"This is for you."
The girl handed her a note. Without waiting for a "thank you" or a dismissal of any kind, she turned and exited the same way she came.
With trembling fingers, Caroline opened the note to reveal a cryptic message:
Tell Kol I know how to locate Bonnie.
Come to me Friday at 9 P.M.
No Klaus.
—D
Exiting the bathroom, Caroline found Kol poised at a table in the back with his arm draped around the back of a brunette's chair, his lips whispering flirtatious morsels of dialogue into her ear until she giggled.
She marched over and grabbed him by the ear. "Kol! You missed curfew again? Mom says you're grounded. Let's go," she said as she yanked him upright, "Now."
"Oy!" he yelled, batting her hands away. "I don't have a—she's just—" he stammered at the girl. Hanging his head with embarrassment, he cleared his throat and said, "I have to go."
Caroline patted him on the back as he left the table.
"Good boy."
As they made their way back to the bar, Kol pouted while Caroline giggled. She savored the amusement. It'd been in short supply since she'd arrived here.
"Was that necessary?" he frowned.
Though he sighed, he seemed more diverted than upset.
"After the day I've had…absolutely," Caroline laughed. She hopped up onto a bar stool, "That was payback for earlier."
She sighed. "Besides, I needed a bit of fun."
Kol smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "If fun was what you wanted, darling…all you had to do was ask."
He waved at a bartender, urging him to approach. When the man stopped before them, Kol gripped him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes with dilated pupils, waiting for the compulsion to take root.
"My not-as-perky friend here has had a bad day," he said, "Make us some tasty drinks to cheer her up, mate." He smiled, clapping the guy on the shoulder. "Something…explosive," he emphasized with a wink.
While the bartender wrestled with bottles, ice, and ingredients, Caroline scrutinized her bar companion suspiciously.
"Why are you being nice to me? You may not know me, but you hate my friends."
Kol shrugged.
She poked him with her finger. Prodding.
For a second, he remained detached. Aloof. Then, all of a sudden, he cocked his head to the side and fixed her with a look of gravity.
"I've always liked Bonnie, you know," he mused, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "She was good company on the Other Side."
Whatever Caroline had expected him to say, it wasn't that.
Did Kol and Bonnie know each other well? If so, how was Caroline insensible to this fact? She scratched her head at the mystery of it all…
True, since her return from the Almost-Dead Bonnie hadn't been exactly elaborative about her time on the Other Side, but she'd just assumed it was because her friend didn't want to re-hash the horror of it all. Caroline had respected that.
But this…this was blatant omission. Bonnie had never mentioned Kol since she'd been back. Not once! Given their complicated past with the Originals, wasn't his presence in her life kind of best-friend-essential information? Seriously.
Could he be the reason Caroline was here?
Kol perked up as the bartender returned with their drinks.
"Besides, I nicknamed you sunshine for a reason," he said, handing her a drink with an umbrella, "Let's restore that smile, shall we?"
Caroline bit her lip in hesitation. Could she trust him? Could she confide in this Original prankster she barely knew?
Detecting her reluctance, he placed the drinks back on the counter and sighed. "Out with it, sweets."
At this point, what did she have to lose? Caroline removed the bathroom note from her clutch and handed it to him.
"Someone gave this to me earlier. I don't know if it's a trick or not—" she gestured at the note "—but I had to say something. For Bonnie." She shrugged. "It's the only clue I've had and I'm desperate. Does this message mean anything to you?"
His eyes crinkled in laughter as he read the words. Kol seemed pleased, so pleased that he raised the paper to his lips and kissed it. Repeatedly.
"Yes," he replied, "yes, I know precisely what it means."
He flicked his eyes up to meet Caroline's and shook his head as if in disbelief.
"It means that Friday—" he took a swig of his whiskey "—we find Bonnie. Friday, we bring our friend home."
Kol slid a fruity drink into Caroline's hand.
"Bottoms up, sunshine," he encouraged, his eyes twinkling, "for tonight we celebrate; tomorrow we conquer."
Ignoring the fact that Kol had that expression backwards, Caroline did celebrate. Wild, young, and free. The bar became their personal playground for fun.
Surprising though it was, she found him to be charming company—you know, when he wasn't attempting to fondle her in that frisky, only-Kol way. (He found himself with a chair leg in his kidney every time he tried.)
In fact, in a lot of ways, Kol reminded her of Enzo. (And who didn't appreciate familiarity in a new place, okay?) He was such a carefree goofball that Caroline couldn't help but loosen up around him. Kol prompted her to do all the things she knew she probably shouldn't—drink more, think less; feed on a human, misogynist though he was, in the darkness of the back alley; express, don't repress; and laugh so hard she howled at the moon.
Oddly enough, she liked him. For tonight, anyway. Not only did he distract her from her distressed thoughts (*ahem* dead mom and Klaus *ahem*), but he restored her laugh as well as her smile.
Despite the supernatural chaos that abounded, Caroline felt cheerful and alive for the first time in months. She glowed, unaware, in the sunshine of her own perkiness and basked in the fluffiness of her slowly recovering heart, nonsensical to the brooding world around her. Dance, dance, dance! Love, love, love!
She was so full that a dim golden light beamed from her hands like sun rays. It felt warm and deep and sincere.
Entranced, this is why when Klaus first entered, Caroline didn't see him—she perceived him.
Klaus' stare bore through the back of her skull as she and Kol twirled to an energetic, yet dissonant, version of "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Why was she so freaking conscious to his presence all the time? It was annoying.
Worse, his sulky attitude polluted the air as he perched himself at the edge of the bar near Cami and observed. He penetrated Caroline with X-Ray intensity.
He'd make Superman proud, she thought.
Swept up in laughter, she ignored him. At least at first.
"Ah-ha!" Kol exclaimed as he spun them to the bar, "I was wondering when Grumpy Klaus would make an appearance."
He offered Klaus Caroline's hand. "Have a dance with my little sunshine here," he proposed with a wink, "If that doesn't perk you up, nothing will."
Klaus peered straight ahead, not looking at her.
"I'm tired."
Kol rolled his eyes. "You're no fun, Nik. No fun at all."
"Aww, well, better get to bed then, Grandpa," Caroline mocked, laughing.
Coming to stand by his shoulder, she drew nimble circles across his back and lowered her head to his left ear. With her head cocked indignantly to one side, she said, "It's obvious there's nothing here for you anyway..."
Klaus pursed his lips as she uttered these words. They both knew what she meant. She'd dealt a harsh blow—purposely cruel.
Rigid, he clenched his fists and turned toward her with an excruciating ambiguity hidden behind his glowering blue-green eyes. He said nothing.
"Hey, there's always Bourbon," Cami said with a shrug, attempting to lighten the mood.
This interference broke their eye contact. Klaus looked away from Caroline again and smiled weakly at Cami.
"True," he replied.
Caroline watched as the bartender's hand ghosted (affectionately?) over Klaus' forearm as she handed him an ample glass of liquor. Was that a touch of hope…or reassurance?
Klaus swallowed it in one swig.
Strong and pungent. That was the effect—not only of the alcohol, but of Caroline's realization at that precise moment. Looking at Cami, the way her eyelashes flickered in flirtatiousness, the way she beamed as her name rolled off his lips in that sexy accent, the way she leaned in closer…breathing in the freshness of his cologne…Caroline understood. Clarity waterfalled over her despite the head-spinning intoxication. And here it was: Klaus was the dysfunctional demon in both of their lives.
The degree of separation between them was nonexistent. It was zero. Fucking zero!
The worst part? She couldn't hate Cami. She just couldn't do it. Yes—Caroline Forbes may be many things in this world, but a blind fool would never be one of them.
She saw the allure of the bartender, the attraction Klaus probably felt for her. Much like Caroline, Cami was blonde, sociable, and approachable. More than that, though, she retained an innocence that made her considerate and compassionate without premeditated design. Goodness—the light of goodness shined from within her, too. It beamed. Clear and bright and pure.
The similarities were too marked to be mere coincidence here: Klaus had a type. The complication? Both Caroline and Cami fit the description.
Backing away, still a little stunned at her epiphany, Caroline felt Kol wrap an arm around her shoulder and tug her into his chest.
"Let him mope," Kol said into her hair as they walked away, "He hasn't slept in 5 days. You know, camped out by your bed and all."
Caroline stiffened. Was Klaus seriously that anxious about her awaking to kill him?
He yanked her back towards the bumbling crowd.
"You and I—" he catapulted onto the stage in one leaping bound "—will close out this party with a bang."
It was late at this point. Compulsion and excessive alcohol had stretched karaoke well past 2 A.M., bubbling Rousseau's bar in a wild, tangible energy.
Though enthusiasm still infused her body with adrenaline, Caroline anticipated that inebriation would take over her wits soon in favor of sleep. In other words, it was almost time to bid adieu to her enchanting night of New Orleans fun. But not quite.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
With his eyes crinkled in amusement, Kol crouched down and extended his hand.
"I have the perfect thing, darling," he said as he tugged her next to him, grinning, "The perfect thing."
Kol badgered her for all of two seconds before Caroline agreed to do the one thing she'd vowed she wouldn't do tonight—sing.
What was she singing? Not a duet, that's what. No, no, of course not. Kol explained that in order to end the evening on the remarkable, unforgettable note he desired, Caroline needed to serenade the audience. Alone.
And so, thanks partly to liquid courage and partly to momentary insanity, Caroline found herself rummaging through a list of titles under the stage spotlight while Kol shushed the audience in preparation.
What to sing, what to sing?
Pausing in her search, she chanced a glance at the bar only to wish she hadn't. There, huddled close together in a corner, seemingly lost in whispered conversation, Cami held Klaus' right hand. There, separated from everything and everyone, the bartender caressed him with a tender sweetness of expression that Caroline dared not hear. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Wait…why couldn't she?
A microphone switched on. Kol cleared his throat.
Turning away, Caroline's stomach knotted, making her want to vomit. Fire torched her lungs and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't fucking breathe!
What the hell was wrong with her?
"Ladies and gentleman," he crooned, stepping to the middle of the stage, "Before we return Rousseau's to the lovely Camille for the night—" he raised his hand to silence the boisterous boos "—we have a special goodnight treat from my little sunshine—"
My God. Caroline's head snapped up. The thought of Klaus fancying Cami made her physically ill. She was…she was jealous. Irrevocably, irreversibly, insanely jealous!
Kol stepped aside and ushered her towards him with a wave. "Please welcome…" he paused for emphasis, "…Caroline Forbes."
This announcement seemed to intrigue Klaus, for he abruptly halted his conversation with Cami and maneuvered nearer to the stage. Poised against the wall with a cocky dignity, he smirked up at her.
"I'm new to the city," Caroline said delicately into the microphone, "so I guess you can call this my New Orleans debut."
Looking up, she saw him watching her. A defying mix of curiosity and challenge twinkled at her from his eyes.
Challenge accepted, Mikaelson. Challenge accepted.
She'd toiled about which song to choose, but now she knew. Meeting his smug, sharp gaze, she knew.
The speakers ticked and thundered as the melody gained traction, engulfing the room in an angsty rock beat. Caroline closed her eyes and allowed the music to vibrate against her skin, to tap within her veins, and to transcend her to a place of feeling…so raw and so deep…that it bruised her from the inside out.
She raised the microphone to her lips and tumbled into the first verse.
"—Please baby can't you see, my mind's a burnin' hell—" Her eyes flickered to Klaus, arresting him with an imploring glance so fiery that he caught his breath. "—I got razors a'rippin' and tearin' and strippin' my heart apart as well—"
Caroline skipped to the left and making a visor out of her hands, peered out into the crowd. "—Tonight you told me that you ache for something new…" she shrugged nonchalantly in Cami's direction "—and some other woman, is lookin' like something…that might be good for you—"
Waving her hands in "goodbye" dismissal, she continued.
"—Go on and hold her until the screaming is go-one. Go on, believe her, when she tells you…nothing's wro-ooong."
Caroline swayed her hips and snapped her fingers as the crescendo of the chorus continued to build.
"—But I'm the only one, who'll walk across the fire for you—"
Riveted, with Kol at the forefront, the audience clapped along.
"—And I'm the only one, who'll drown in my desire for youuu—"
Striding to the other side of the stage, Caroline extended her arm and pointed outwards. Bolstering Klaus with the force of her meaning.
"—It's only fear that makes you run…the demons that you're hiding from—" A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she wiggled her fingers at him in tsk-tsk. "—When all your prom-i-ses are go-one—"
Bending her head into the microphone, she placed her hand over her heart and gripped the sun-and-moon pendant dangling from her necklace. It plucked her with the courage, to once again, meet Klaus' stormy eyes as she delivered the last line of the chorus.
The world lulled into a trance and excluded everyone but the two of them. A shared moment of profundity—it was a meeting of the hearts, not just the eyes.
"—I'm the o-o-o-only oneee."
Caroline's heart bled with every strum of that electric guitar, with every resounding, percussive thud of those drums, with every raspy, harmonious note that carried from her throat and into the air. Her open heart breathed little pieces of her soul into every word she sang. Into every movement she made.
This is why, by the time she neared the end of the second chorus, emotion—jealousy, dejection, passion, fervor—it took over, racing through her in a torrent of must-act-now feelings and radiating the palms of her hands in a gorgeous, shimmering black-and-golden light. It diffused around her like dim sunshine. But more importantly (or should she say oddly?), it was within her—it literally scalded her hands.
Jumping down, still singing, Caroline pushed her way through the crowd in a bounding, bouncing kind of determination.
"—It's only fear that makes you run…the demons that you're hiding from—"
Klaus stood with his back against the brick wall in a mesmerized daze as Caroline approached him with provocative yet contemplative steps. Tantalizing fingers ran across his chest and down his arm as she lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder.
"—When all your promises are go-one—" With her eyes blazing, brimming with a brutal openness she could no longer control, she leaned into his face with only a microphone poised between their faces. "—I'm the o-o-o-only oneee."
After holding the last raspy note, Caroline peered into his eyes—hard—searching for a shred of something, anything, that'd give her an indication of what the hell he was thinking. Feeling.
Klaus' eyes were transfixed on her. He squeezed her shoulder amid the generous applause from the audience.
"That was quite the performance, love," he said, his voice low and calm.
His expression, though steady, was unreadable.
Vexed, Caroline clunked the mic against his chest and watched as it crashed to the floor.
"Who says I was finished?"
Klaus quirked an eyebrow.
Suddenly, she zoomed at him. Caroline pressed him back against the wall like a flayed fish. Forcing him to surrender to the powerful delicacy of her straddled arms. Tonight, right now…she wasn't afraid to take exactly what she what she needed. Without asking.
Before he knew what was happening, and before soberness threatened to crash over her in rational hesitation, Caroline's arms wrapped around his neck and tugged him down…close…tight…against her. Her hands were in his hair, fingertips tangled in the curls at the back of his head. With her body pressed flush against his, eliminating not only space, but oxygen, her lips ravaged his—angrily, savagely, greedily—requesting—no—demanding—in an unspoken desperation, for him to respond.
In this moment, Klaus was hers. Hers alone. Lip-to-lip and heart-to-heart.
The crowd erupted into hoots, hollers, and howls so deafening that the room vibrated with palpable clamor. Nearby, Cami gasped. As for Kol, he snickered, undoubtedly amused by the public spectacle.
Nonsensical to everything and everyone except Klaus, Caroline didn't care. She heard nothing; but she felt it…she felt it all. Everything.
Fireworks exploded across her stomach the moment he reciprocated. Tingles prickled her skin, causing goosebumps, as his arms finally encircled her waist and drew her hard against his chest, his lips quivering in a strong yet insistent urgency as they collided against her own.
Not enough, they seemed to say. Never, never enough!
As Klaus' hands groped her body with the kind of bruising tenderness that elicited a pleasurable moan, his tongue slid into her mouth with a delectable dominance. His plump lips, his hot, salty breath, his slithering snake tongue, they became the irresistible candy of Caroline's heart. A craving impossible to satisfy. Each new touch, each original taste—they made her hypoglycemic. What could she do except tremble her way back to the start?
Klaus' kisses apologized with an enamored passion so potent that Caroline swore she'd swoon at his feet if he didn't stop soon. And unfortunately, he must stop. Now.
Already drunk, not to mention dizzy as hell, she figured that the absolute last thing she needed was to regret a tequila headache and a Klaus hangover in the morning. Besides, it had been indignant for her to kiss him like this—drunk and wounded—it wasn't fair. Not that she particularly cared right now. But tomorrow…tomorrow she would care.
Therefore, after counting to three (might as well savor a few extra seconds, right?), she pulled away.
Klaus staggered backwards, breathless. He looked mystified, perhaps a little deranged. Her kisses had rendered him speechless—at least momentarily.
Caroline, who recovered faster, smirked at him with a triumphant sparkle in her blue eyes.
"Now, sealed with a goodnight kiss," she said, wiping at her mouth with her thumb, "my performance is complete."
Whistles and applause tore through the crowd in a contagious fury of delight. She bowed.
Stirring somewhere behind her, Kol plucked the microphone from the ground and addressed the audience.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen," he chuckled, "is precisely how Sunshiny Caroline ends a spectacular night with a bang, bang, BANG!"
With that, after blowing Klaus one last parting kiss, Caroline vanished into the night.
And she never looked back. There was no need; for she already knew—a hybrid shadow, blond and brooding, followed close behind her along the streets of New Orleans. Caring.
Additional Note:
Remember how I mentioned writer's block? Yeah...so, crafting not one, but two separate karaoke scenes in this chapter proved to be a lot more challenging than I'd originally anticipated. (Really, what was I thinking?) I did my best to convey the instrumentation/musicality of each of the songs, but alas, it's difficult!
Also, I know a lot of people don't like Camille. (I'm pretty apathetic to her on the show myself). That being said, her character actually has a lot of potential for development and I enjoy attempting to make characters like that intriguing.
Anyways, thanks for reading! Leave a review and let me know what you think. :)