Wow! The overwhelming support for this story has actually taken me quite by surprise. Thank you all so much!
Now, I have tried to make Klaus believable. God knows he was impossibly hard to write.
Let me know what you think?
Enjoy!
He marvelled at the shade of her hair splayed against his black satin sheets. So vibrant, so bright against the dark; her curls fell around her like a bloody halo. She was definitely no angel, more a devil made of ivory and fire. A distraction. His respite, as she liked to call herself. He hardly cared to correct her, especially after the stunt she had pulled with Cami. Genevieve was an ivory devil, jealous and impetuous, a necessary ally who was slowly wearing out her welcome.
She was a beautiful distraction, wild in her pleasure. She followed blindly, letting him take the pleasure he craved between her silky white thighs, confusing his lust for more than it was. Klaus didn't bother to tell her any differently. It worked to his advantage to have her simpering and pliable to his every sexual whim. He may not control her, but he knew the effect he had on her swayed her decision in his favour. Having the leader of the witches fancy herself in love with him made Klaus more dangerous, more protected from Marcel and the other street rats that sought to usurp his and Elijah's claim to the city. The dalliance would also prove to protect his child.
Eva.
He could hardly comprehend what the witches had told him. For such a tiny creature, such a small helpless little soul to hold such an immense power, he could hardly fathom it. Wolf, Vampire, Witch; Eva was a conundrum. She represented a supernatural trinity, the manifestation of the most powerful factions of the supernatural world all melded into one tiny creature. He would protect her at all costs. His child. His daughter. Only two weeks old and somehow she had managed to enrapture him so completely that he had to remind himself of who he was. He was Klaus Mikaelson; the original hybrid, not a fool blinded by love.
Klaus was broken from his thoughts as the soft vibrations of his phone rattled on the floor by his feet. He eyed it with disinterest, grabbing his discarded clothes from the studio floor. He knew Genevieve was watching him. He could practically visualise the self-satisfied smirk on her face as she lounged back, unapologetically stretched across his sheets. He could paint her. She would make a beautiful subject, lying as she was, her careless femineity tempered by the seductive heat of her eyes. Soft and sharp, sweet but deadly; oh yes, Genevieve would make a lovely subject.
His phone continued to vibrate on the wooden floor, irritatingly insistent.
"Could be important," the witch offered softly from the bed, smirking as he shrugged on his jeans and turned to face her.
"Probably," he shrugged. It was not like he cared.
Elijah was annoying him of late and Hayley was thankfully absent from the Quarter. She had moved to the safety of the Bayou, the wolves offering to protect her and his offspring until the current threat had passed. She was exactly where he wanted her to be. Hayley wouldn't call. If she wanted or needed him, she would send one of the wolf pups to find him.
With a frustrated growl as the cell rang for a third time, he swiped up the black device and glared at the screen. Genevieve laughed gaily and moved off the bed, sauntering into the bathroom. She revelled in the dark look in his eyes as he watched her close the door. Klaus Mikaelson was still a man after all.
"This better be good brother," he growled into the receiver, swiping a hand through his hair.
"If by chance you happen to have a rather unpleasant witch in your bed right now Niklaus, I would advise you to rectify the situation and remove her quickly," Elijah's superior tone grated at him. He knew that Genevieve was no favourite of Elijah's, there was no secret of the contempt the older original held for the woman, but he did so hate being told what to do, or rather who to do by his big brother.
"She's in the shower actually," Klaus quipped, a sarcastic smirk on his face as he reached for a paintbrush.
He pinched the bristles between his fingers, fanning them out absentmindedly, as he looked at the blank canvas in front of him. He tilted his head, seeing the canvas paint itself in his mind. Black sheets, ivory skin and a bloodied halo.
"Indeed," Elijah's reply was unamused. "I fail to see the appeal myself. Still, it is no matter. I only wished to inform you of something I witnessed earlier today."
"Oh?" his disinterest was plain.
Klaus heard Elijah's suffering sigh and grinned. "I know that for the past few months things have been strained between us Niklaus, but I am your brother and all that I do, I do for this family."
"How noble of you, Elijah," Klaus interjected, jaw clenched. "Tell me, is it your sense of family honour that has you panting after Hayley like some lovesick fool or –"
"Enough," Elijah sighed tiredly. "Hayley has nothing to do with this. I called you because I overheard a conversation on the street. A young woman I believe you are acquainted with was talking of you on the phone and I stopped to listen."
Klaus barely paused in his ministrations, his hand slowly attacking the blank canvas as he painted line after line of black paint onto the empty cover. "I know a lot of women, Elijah. Be more specific."
"I do not know her personally but from memory I believe she was close friends with Elena Gilbert," Klaus dropped the paintbrush in surprise. No, she wouldn't – Caroline would never come to New Orleans. "Blonde, quite beautiful; I believe her name was Caroline Forbes. Last I saw, she was on her way to see you."
No.
That was the only thought running through his head as his mind struggled to comprehend his brother's words. Caroline was here. She was here. In New Orleans. Here and on her way to see him. It wasn't possible. No. Caroline would not come here, she would not come to see him. Their parting in Mystic Falls had made that perfectly clear. Caroline had plans, sedate and boring human plans. She was going to finish college, get a job, live her life as a human. She was shackled by the belief that she could live like that. He had accepted it, accepted her naivety because he knew that in twenty, fifty, maybe even a hundred years she would realise the truth, realise his truth and come to him then. Not now. Not so soon.
"Niklaus?" Elijah's voice brought him back, startling him.
"You are sure?" he questioned, voice irritatingly raspy. His loss of composure would not go unnoticed.
His brother hesitated on the other end of the line. "She spoke of the woods and of changing her mind," Elijah's words were measured, careful. "I do not know what has transpired between the two of you, brother, but it would seem that you care for this girl in some respect and she is here now, in New Orleans, to come find you. I would advise against Genevieve being there when she does."
Klaus swallowed hard. He could hear Genevieve's soft humming in the shower, the tune of a song long forgotten tumbling from her lips as the water warmed her skin. The sound was like white noise as he quickly scanned the studio. He had bought the apartment as a means of escaping the compound, somewhere he could paint in peace, undisturbed by his brother or other unwanted guests. It was not some secret location. Most people knew that if they wanted to find him, he would be here painting or reading, or as Cami liked to believe, plotting world domination.
He grimaced at the thought of the blonde. Genevieve was unpredictable in her jealously. She absolutely could not be here if Caroline was on her way.
Caroline. Could she have really changed her mind so soon? He had prepared for a century, not a few months.
Klaus hastily thanked his brother, chucking the phone onto the bed. He scanned the apartment. It wasn't too out of sorts. He quickly bundled the discarded clothes on the floor into his arms, swiping a hand over the bed to smooth out the wrinkles. It was almost ironic how numbingly blank his mind felt. He moved like an automaton, driven by the simple fact that she was in New Orleans, as he quickly cleaned away any evidence of Genevieve's presence in the apartment. The only thing left was the redhead herself.
A sound outside caught his attention. He froze, hand clutching the bathroom door handle. Klaus used his supernatural hearing to focus in on the sound. His eyes widened at the beautiful voice. You can do this. It's not that hard, the voice mumbled. Just knock on the door. It'll be fine. I can totally do this.
Outside. Caroline Forbes was outside his apartment.
Shit.
Klaus moved then, like a man possessed, as he burst through the bathroom door. Genevieve jumped at the intrusion, her eyes wide as she looked at him through the clear glass. He looked ruffled, unstable, almost manic in his desperation. Klaus wrenched open the shower, ignoring the redhead's answering scowl and turned off the water. He chucked her clothes at her.
"What the hell –" Genevieve started to protest, her mouth twisted in confusion and anger. She clutched her clothes to her chest protectively as she glared up at him.
"You need to leave," Klaus snapped sharply, grabbing her upper arm. He tried to pull her out the door but she twisted herself away from him.
"What is wrong with you?" she yelled, pushing his hand away from her.
Klaus stared at her for what seemed like forever but in reality only a few seconds had passed. He turned his head as if distracted by something. He swore, swivelling around. His eyes glowed yellow as he grabbed her again, yanking her out of the bathroom.
"Be a dear and do as I say. Get out. Now," he pushed her toward the window.
Genevieve scowled. She looked outside briefly, her eyes landing on the outside fire escape. Her back straightened and she turned to look at him, her eyes glinting defiantly as she moved away from the window, dropping her clothes to the floor. She stood before him naked and brilliantly defiant in her rage, a beautiful bloodied ivory devil set on disobedience.
He couldn't blame her. Not really. But he hardly had the time to worry about Genevieve's hurt feelings, not when the object of his affection was slowly making her way up the stairs.
She was so close. Too close.
"Sorry love," he whispered softly, moving too quickly for the witch to react in time. Her mouth opened in surprised silence as his hands found their way around her neck.
As she fell to the floor, Klaus eyed the closet at the end of his bed. He didn't stop to think of the repercussions. He had just snapped Genevieve's neck. He had killed the leader of the witches, completed the harvest ritual and for all intents and purposes broken the treaty his brother had fought so hard to build. He would deal with the repercussions later.
Klaus quickly lifted the dead woman from the floor. Her head fell limply to the side as he placed her almost tenderly inside the closet, covering her body with the discarded clothes he had thrown at her earlier. He felt a pang of guilt as he stared at her. She had deserved better than this. Klaus moved to tuck a wet curl behind the witch's ear, his fingers caressingly gentle as he closed her eyes. He saw too much judgement, sadness and fear in them.
A hesitant knock on the door broke him from his reverie.
He turned towards the door, suddenly anxious. He was Klaus Mikaelson; the original hybrid, not a fool blinded by love.
Who was he kidding? He was absolutely a fool when it came to Caroline. She made him stupid, so stupid that he had just snapped the neck of one of his most powerful allies, a woman whose protection had ensured his child's safety from the other witches in her coven.
He was the biggest fool of them all.
I did tell you I love a good cliffhanger, didn't I?
One chapter to go.
Till next time.