II. The Guessing Game
On the journey to the center,
I asked what I was looking for.
They said, "It's far too easy to explain:
It is what it is. You are what you are. Just try to enjoy your day"
"Really? A private jet? This is a little obnoxious, Klaus, even for you." This is soo not what I was expecting. There was supposed to be tons of people, on a normal, commercial flight, so that I wasn't alone with him, with nothing to do, for three hours. "Calm yourself, Caroline." He says, taking one of my many bags and handing it to a man in uniform, speaking in some language I couldn't understand and then brushing his hands together. "There's nothing wrong with spending a little time together. We are, after all, going to be together for at least two weeks. Might as well get used to it, love." He's wearing his smug face. Ugh.
The quiet man in uniform takes the rest of my bags into some back compartment of the plane and says something to Klaus. He nods and claps his hands once. "That's it then, come aboard, Caroline, it seems we're ready to go." He holds a hand out to me. Last chance. If I go now, there's no turning back. Maybe I've forgotten something, like my favorite earrings, or shoes. Or maybe my mind.
I ignore his hand and stride past him up the stairs, doing my best to not even look at him. Which is way freaking harder than it should be. I hear him laugh, and as I take one of the eight seats in the spacious compartment, I have the sinking feeling that this 'recon' vacation is going to be a lot more fun than it has any right to be.
To my surprise, Klaus does not sit right next to me; instead, he goes and sits by the door that leads to the cockpit, and pulls out his phone. I know I should be relieved, but it feels more annoying than if he had went and sat on my lap. He's calling someone, and I hear him greet, "Elijah!" before everything else is in that friggin language I don't know. He sees me watching him and winks, not even pausing in conversation. How is it that he manages to be infuriating in every way inhumanly possible?
I huff and get out my iPhone. I check the weather in New Orleans—sunny—, check my messages and play silly little games. Time feels like it's passing by quickly, but when I check my phone, it's only been half an hour. I notice that there's no foreign language chattering going on, so I peep my head up to check on Klaus, and he's staring right at me, smiling. Whoa, creepy much?
"Umm, can I help you?" He holds up his hands, as if in surrender and returns to the sketchpad he was holding. Is he drawing me, again? "What?" I prompt, trying to sound annoyed, but even I can hear the smile in my voice. Klaus's eyes flick up to me briefly before returning to his pencil and paper. "Oh nothing. Just a humorous observation, that's all." Is it really that difficult to answer a question? "Klaus." I insist, and he sighs and balances his pencil on his notepad. "You have a little something, there, sweetheart." He says, pointing to the side of his nose. I pull out my phone and turn on the camera, looking at myself in it, and he's right, there's a mascara mark right on the side of my nose, in plain view. I'm horrified. "I just found it funny that perfection herself makes mistakes. Now where's the hope for the rest of us, love?" His voice isn't mocking, at all, he's being sincere. I'd almost rather he was making fun of me. I stop trying to wipe the smudge on my face and stare at him, stunned. His pale blue eyes are spellbinding, and I don't think of anything at all, I can't. He makes it hard to completely hate him. He's smiling at me, and I find myself smiling back.
"What are you drawing, anyway?" I ask, wanting to get into safer territory than praises of perfection. "It's just a sketch of our little house." He answers, and I wasn't expecting that. I let the use of pronoun slip. "Really? Can I see it?" He quickly gets out of his seat and vampire speeds to the one next to mine. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He hands the sketchbook to me. It's beautiful, almost like a black and white picture. It's one of those big blocky houses with terraces, the kind with no space in between one house and the next. He's drawn little white lights all around it, and there's a lovely double doorway right in front. "Oh gosh, this is really good. Do you own this place?" He takes the sketchbook back, and he looks pleased. "I've just purchased it a few weeks ago, when I decided to make this place my home again." He stops smiling and I know he's about to say something I don't want to hear. "It could be your home too, if you'd like." My good mood slips right off my face, and I look away from him. "In your dreams." I scoff. He flips the page in his sketchbook and begins drawing anew. "Not just mine, love." He murmurs.
I spend the rest of the flight stubbornly keeping to myself, and wishing desperately that I hadn't come in the first place. I'm so grateful when we finally land that my soured mood lightens. We've arrived in the early nighttime. It's a quick drive from a plane runway to the heart of New Orleans, and everything's so lively and pretty that I exclaim to Klaus in excitement, "I can see why you'd want to come back. This place is amazing." He grins at me and replies, "Yes, the view is quite spectacular." But he's just looking at me, and I feel like he's talking about something else.
We pull up in front of the real life version of Klaus's drawing, and he takes me inside while the driver gets our bags. It looks impossibly bigger on the inside, and it's made of old, rough stone material mixed with shiny white marble. "Pick any room you'd like." He says and I go bolting up the stairs. I settle on a moderately sized room—I assumed he'd be lurking in whichever was the master bedroom—with dainty white quilts, twinkling white lights and a small terrace that looks over a waterway. I open the terrace doors and look out on the sights, leaning on the balcony. The intoxicating aroma of human blood reaches my nose, my breathing picks up and I'm reminded that I neglected to eat yesterday. I packed some bloodbags in one of my suitcases, I should—"A wee bit peckish, sweetheart?" Klaus interrupts my thoughts; he's somehow snuck up right next to me. I can feel the veins underneath my eyes, and my lengthened fangs. I really should learn some self-control.
He leans into my ear and whispers conspiratorially, "I was thinking of going out to eat, myself. Care to join?" His breath tickles my ear and sends shivers up my spine. "I-I uh, drink from bloodbags." I reply. Why is my voice shaking? "I don't know how you manage it, love." He breathes. He pulls the hair away from my ear and I can feel his lips ghosting my ear. "Too cold, the blood always coagulates, it's unavoidable. I prefer my meals hot, and fresh." I lick my lips, on autopilot. He's tempting me, the prick. "I'm not stupid, Klaus." I hiss. He leans back, "Caroline, you're on vacation. In New Orleans of all places," He says, spreading his arms. "Surely it wouldn't kill you to do what you want for once. I know you must think of it." I do think of it. Often. But the last time I fed naturally, someone got hurt. "You have centuries before you, Caroline. You should take advantage of every pleasure."
He left soon after that, and I dashed around the house, looking for my bags, only to find them sitting innocently on my bed. I had passed right by them. I tear through my suitcases, finding the one with bloodbags and guzzle down a few, trying not to focus on the words 'cold' and 'unsatisfying' that keep bouncing around my head and things that start with K.
I quickly unpack my stuff, set an alarm for the morning and lay down on my new bed, drifting off into a fitful sleep. And I dream.
I'm taking a bath, with lots of lavender bubbles. They smell wonderful. My hair is in an up-do to keep it out of the water, and the bathroom is sparkling white. There's even an adorable rubber ducky beside me. This is like, the best bath ever. I'm relaxed and happy, and suddenly Klaus appears in the bathroom, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. 'It's a shame you like bubble baths.' He says, as if picking up on a conversation we were having. I'm glad he's there, and for once, I don't feel self-conscious or shameful for it.
'But they're so fun, and bubbly!' I reply, tossing some bubbles up in the air and laughing. 'Like you.' Klaus remarked. He's grinning. He has such a nice smile. My heart feels all gooey. Klaus gets up from the toilet and comes to kneel at the side of the bathtub. 'Hey! No peaking!" I giggle. 'Wouldn't dream of it, love.' He replies. His hand does drift into the water close to the edge, and the proximity brings a buzzing feeling to my body.
The strange dizziness turns to lust, and I feel my vampire's mask come on, my mouth aching. 'I'm hungry.' I bleat petulantly. Klaus 'tut-tuts' and murmurs 'Well that won't do.' His eyes glow a vibrant yellow, and his lips part to reveal two sets of sharp fangs. He brings his wrist to his mouth and bites into it, the crunch of flesh giving way audible. He brushes the bleeding wound against my mouth and says 'Drink up, sweetheart.'
The aroma alone makes my world tilt, and I close my mouth around his wrist and suck. The taste is incredible, better than any human blood, bagged or not. I draw upon it greedily, moaning slightly. I have to dig my fangs in occasionally to keep the blood flowing and when I do I can hear Klaus's breath hitch in his throat. I feel like I'm falling, and my vision is fading.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
AN: Now, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. This will not be a fluff story, Klaus is not a cuddly kitten, it will get darker. Please tell me what you think. Much love, Midden.