Edited by myladyelise.
Re-edited August 2015
.
.
.
.
.
.
Klaus sipped cognac from a delicate crystal glass, swirling the slightly sweet liquid over his tongue. A minuet by Bach played in the background and he leaned back on his leather couch. Closing his eyes he succumbed to the rich flavor of the one hundred and fifty year old fine French liquor. It was a long time since he tasted a vintage this superb. It reminded him of the moonlit fêtes that he and Rebekah threw from their chateau in Lorraine. A lovely home they had appropriated from a social climbing middle-aged industrialist. Unsurprisingly, the upstart tasted sufficiently nasty, but gaining the chateau made up for the unpleasant experience.
Tonight he was celebrating, hence the drink. After a long and frustrating chase, he at last made progress with Caroline. He managed to get her to agree to three dates with him. Most importantly, he at last got her confirmation that their attraction was not entirely one sided. With only a simple touch from him, her resistance wavered, her eyes darkening with want. Her body, if not her soul, seemed to recognize him and while he didn't want to press his advantage in this manner, he would if he had to.
He would be lying if he didn't acknowledge the affect she had on him. While he prided himself on his self-control, it took considerable will power to keep from kissing and claiming her as his. When he touched her, pressed his lips to her soft skin and inhaled her intoxicating scent of roses and lilies, he knew a pleasure unlike any other. The rampaging beast inside of him calmed and his ever-present ache of emptiness receded. He wanted her, needed her. Klaus always took what he wanted without any considerations or regret. Caroline would be different. To be completely his, he was going to have win her heart and her mind. This kind of weakness towards her was enough to make him want to go out and massacre a village. Holding him in check was the knowledge that such an act would risk Caroline's affections and upset the current peace that existed in Mystic Falls.
Opening his eyes, he raised them to gaze at the portrait that now hung in honor above the fireplace. When he awoke from his dream the other night, he located it in his storage vault and flown it in overnight. He stole it centuries ago and always assumed that he wanted it because he was present when the picture was sketched. Now, he knew differently. Moving to stand in front of the portrait, he studied it again. The artist, barely remembered now, was known for his rich colors and tiny brushstrokes and this picture was one of his finest. The centerpiece was Queen Elizabeth I, seated on her throne, resplendent in a scarlet and gold gown, wearing her favorite pearls. In the background were the ladies and gentleman of her court and in the foreground were players from the Lord Chamberlin's Men. They were performing Henry V and if he remembered correctly, the title role was played by Shakespeare himself.
It was the small figure seated at the Queen's feet which held his attention, haunted him. She sat with several other young maidens, but something about her made her stand out. It wasn't that her gaze held the artists boldly, that she was beautiful or even her sweet smile that set her apart. The artist, while managing to capture her dimensions, also caught the inner light within her. Staring hard at the golden figure dressed in dark green, Klaus knew the artist caught and revealed a part of her soul in his paints. He tore his gaze from her to to his own figure at the far left. There he was, his face half-hidden in brush strokes of painted shadows. Still, one could see from the tilt of his head where his gaze lay. Was he that fascinated from the beginning? Had he known without even speaking to her, that she belonged to him and the loss of her would be his greatest punishment?
Klaus bowed his head, letting his newfound memories wash over him, lighting a way in his darkness. Decades and then centuries passed and it was 1599. Elizabeth I had been on the throne for 41 years and he had spent the last few decades living the life of a French Vicomte. Since his inability to age and the mysterious slaughter of aristocratic Huguenots was beginning to cause minor talk at the French court, he chosen to join the delegation accompanying the new ambassador to England. It was his intention to stay on in England until enough time passed that it was safe to return to France.
The English court had changed a lot since he last visited during the reign of the Queen's sister, Mary. The country then was ruled by religious chaos and with the blood of Protestant martyrs running in the streets it was all too easy to hunt without the fear of getting caught. Under Elizabeth, things changed drastically. England knew a peace and prosperity not seen since the beginning of her father, Henry VIII's, rule. It was reflected here at the Presence Chamber in Whitehall Palace where court was currently in residence. The oak paneled walls were covered in rich tapestries, paintings and ornamental plates of gold. The courtiers were dressed like flamboyant plumed birds of paradise and the Queen, herself, was covered in a king's ransom of pearls and jewels.
He missed meeting Elizabeth I at the ambassador's formal presentation at court due to the lovely daughters of a baron he met crossing the channel. They made a delicious snack, and when he finished, he made sure to have the baron sign over his very comfortable London house before ending the man's life. He would need a place to stay close to court. That night, he arrived late to Whitehall only to the find the Presence Chamber packed for a performance of Shakespeare's Henry V presented in the French Ambassador's honor. As the chorus for the play assembled before the Queen, Klaus found a place towards the back of the chamber, just out of reach of the light coming from the hundreds of flickering candles mounted in iron chandeliers. From the moment the chorus began to speak, Klaus was captivated. It wasn't hard to see genius in Shakespeare's words. While the Henry he knew differed from the Henry of this play, he knew that through the power of the written word and the magic of the theatre that this king would attain an immortality and God-like status that even history couldn't give him.
Perhaps, he would never have met Caroline if not for her sweet laughter. The sound, like the tinkling of melodious church bells, forced his attention away from the comedic courtship scene between Katherine of Valois and Henry V and towards her. Seated at Queen Elizabeth's feet and bathed in soft candlelight, her eyes were bright and shining with laughter. She looked ethereal. Staring at her beauty, the light and innocence that radiated from her, he knew he would have her. Such perfection could not be allowed to exist. He kept his gaze on her, willing her to turn her head and see if she could glimpse her death in his face. To his annoyance she stared steadfastly at the play in front of her. The scene continued and he no longer knew what words the actors spoke, he only watched her. The play of emotions on her face fascinated him and Shakespeare's skill was once more proven when the laughter in her eyes gave way to tears. They glistened like diamonds and when one rolled down her pale, ivory cheek, he knew the unwelcome urge to wipe it gently away with his silk handkerchief. Queen Elizabeth noticed the girlss emotions state and she bent down from her chair to squeeze her charges shoulder in support. From the way the girl smiled back at her monarch recognize a bond between the two. He would have to be careful killing this one.
When the play ended, he rushed to find the elderly and nearly bald French Ambassador to demand an introduction. To his pleasure, he found Monsieur Andre Hurault-Sieur de Maisse, already at the Queen's side with the rest of the French delegation. Oblivious to Elizabeth's boredom, he pontificated on the great friendship between the French and English that he wished to continue. At Klaus's approach, her attention wavered and the ambassador was forced to recognize their visitor.
"Ah, Beaumont." de Maisse waved his hands to beckon Klaus to come forward. "Your Majesty, this is Monsieur le Vicomte de Beaumont. A most valued member of our delegation."
Klaus swept her his courtliest bow, flashing her a practiced smile that aimed to charm. "So it is true, the moon does outshine the sun," he said in flawless French.
The look of ennui on the Queen's face quickened to one of interest. "What is this, young man?" she replied back in the same language.
"You are truly the goddess, Diana, reborn, Your Majesty." Klaus knew the Queen would never refuse a comparison to the Goddess, Diana. The deity, associated with the moon, was known for her beauty, hunting skills and chastity. These were all qualities Elizabeth prided herself on.
The Queen offered him a coquettish smile. "You would flatter an old woman?"
Klaus took a step towards her. "Never. I speak only the truth." He laid a hand over his heart passionately. "If I lie, let me be struck down here and now before you."
Silence reigned as several courtiers crossed themselves and others looked on superstitiously. One did not tempt fate in such a manner, even jokingly. When nothing happened, he grinned widely, pleased at the spectacle he was causing.
"It seems you speak the truth, Monsieur le Vicomte and you shall live for another day," Elizabeth teased.
His smile faltered, excitement sweeping through him. The blonde vision from earlier walked towards them. She was even more beautiful up close. Tall and slim, her gold embroidered green velvet gown had a tight square cut bodice that flared at the waist into a voluminous skirt. Her skin rising above her décolleté was pale and milky, tinged with hints of pink and owed none of its color to the white lead paints and rouges that most of the women of the court wore. She wore her hair without a wimple. It lay loose over her shoulders and down her back with strands of pearls twined and braided in her curls to create a coronet. It was her eyes. They captured him, sealing her fate. Like windows to the soul, her innocence shown bright as stars on a clear night. Desire roared inside, his blood an inferno. His whole being demanded a satisfaction that only her blood and death could fulfill.
The young girl, held his gaze for a moment, a soft flush blooming in her cheeks at his bold appraisal. Then shooting him a stern look as if chiding him for his boorish manners she held out a gold, jeweled goblet to the Queen with a curtsey, speaking up in English. "Your tisane, Your Majesty."
The Queen wrinkled her long, aristocratic nose and switched to English. "Give it to the dogs. Maybe they will drink it."
"You must take it. The royal physician made it especially for you. If you don't drink it he will take the most dreadful offense," she coaxed.
"Let him."
"That will never do, Your Majesty. Just think of the revolt you will cause when people hear that even the Queen will not do as her physician tells her," the pretty blonde teased. "Everyone will follow your fashion and you will be responsible for all of England growing weak and unhealthy." She eyed Klaus and the French delegation with barely veiled disdain. "Then when we are at our weakest, the French will take their advantage and attack."
Monsieur l'Ambassadeur de Maisse shifted uncomfortably, unable to understand what she said, but very much aware that she was talking about him in some fashion. Like many Frenchmen, he had not been taught to sufficiently speak English since many in the French court considered it a backwater language.
"Surely not." The Queen's hand fluttered to her chest, her eyes mocking. "The French would never behave so ungentlemanly, would they?" While she spoke playfully in French, there was a hardness in her tone that caused all conversation in the room to cease.
The ambassador waved anxiously for the interpreter to come forward and explain the Queen's meaning and Klaus wanted to laugh. With a single comment the young girl before him managed to undue an entire evening's worth of diplomatic niceties.
The blonde held up the cup once more to the Queen. "Please, You Majesty?" she pled and Klaus saw that this was not a mere duty for her. She was generally worried about the consequences if her monarch did not take the drink. He turned his gaze to the Queen, quickly assessing and at last seeing what the others did not. The yellow-tinted skin she masked with white paint, the tremor in her left hand that she hid in the folds of her skirt and the slight irregular beat of her heart. She was not well. She had maybe five years at the most left.
"You're as bad as a fishwife with your nagging, Caroline," the Queen grumbled, yet she took the goblet offered, draining it with several swallows.
So that was the girl's name. Caroline. It was a unique name and when spoken was as melodious as Caroline herself. He wanted to whisper it in her ear, roll it over his tongue intimately again and again until it brought a blush to her cheeks.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Caroline's eyes sparkled with laughter, but she bowed her head obediently when she took back the cup. A curl drifted loose from her coiffure, falling seductively against her cheek. Clenching his fist, Klaus fought the urge to touch those errant strands of hair, feel their softness between his thumb and forefinger, before tucking them at last behind her ear. He didn't realize he was staring, until he heard the Queen chuckling.
"Do you enjoy the Volta, Monsieur le Vicomte?" Her Majesty asked Klaus in French. "With your strapping, young limbs, I assume you are an excellent dancer." The Queen cast a sly look in Caroline's direction. "Don't you think so, Lady Caroline?"
"I have never had any complaints, Your Majesty," Klaus answered in the same language, his lips curving into a smirk at the look of annoyance on Caroline's face.
Caroline gave the Queen a forbidding look, yet she answered her sweetly in French, "Maybe his partners are too polite to complain."
"I think a test is in order." Her Majesty gestured for Klaus to step forward. "Monsieur le Vicomte de Beaumont, my goddaughter, Lady Caroline Forbes, happens to love the Volta." The Queen grinned widely at her goddaughter, clearly pleased with her meddling.
Klaus could hardly believe his luck. He did not believe in God, but it seemed fate favored him. He would not need to hunt this prey. It was delivered to him on a silver platter by royal command. He swept Caroline a bow speaking in his politest French, "Lady Caroline would you give me the pleasure of partnering me for the Volta."
Caroline's whole body vibrated with displeasure and it gave him perverse satisfaction that he should have so profound an effect on her. He knew she would have already refused him outright if it weren't for the Queen's blessing.
"I would be honored," she answered in his language.
The Queen clapped her hands together with eagerness. "The Volta!" The crowd of courtiers that surrounded them quickly partnered up for the dance and those not wishing to participate grouped themselves in the corners of the room. The Queen, now past her dancing days, returned to seat herself on her throne.
The music began and Caroline turned to hand off the empty cup she still carried to the group of the Queen's handmaidens behind her and he heard her exclaim in English, "Upstart French frog! I shall dance with him if only to prove that a Frenchmen could never dance better than one of our own good, English gentlemen."
Klaus bit back a laugh. She had no idea he spoke and understood English. She assumed, like the Queen and everyone else, that he spoke only French.
He held out his arm, his palm upturned for her to accept. With a tight smile she placed her hand in his. The second her skin touched his, a burst of flames set him afire. She gasped, her hand withdrawing from his as if she had been scorched and he wondered if he truly burned. Caroline looked up at him, her big blue green eyes wide with wonder. He would kill her quickly. No one should ever have this kind of power over him. With a tentative movement, she returned her hand to his and he walked her to the head of the line of dancers.
Once more Klaus swept her a bow, his gaze intent on her face. He left her no choice but to gaze back at him when she dropped into an elegant curtsy. Again, they joined hands, moving together to perform the intricate dance steps.
"Must you stare at me so?" Caroline asked in exasperated French.
"When one is as beautiful as you, yes." Klaus drawled in English.
"Well, stop it!" At his words, she slowly blinked, her cheeks reddening at the realization that he hadn't replied in French. "You speak English."
He smiled, flashing his dimples at her embarrassment. "Oui, my Lady."
"You heard me then? What I said?"
"I have been called many things before, but never an upstart, French frog," he teased and Caroline blushed even more.
"You must forgive me, Monsieur le Vicomte." She lowered her eyes, her lashes like black lace against her skin. "You won't say anything to the ambassador? I would not wish my foolish words to embarrass Her Majesty."
The dance steps changed and he released her hand so she could circle him.
Klaus touched the tip of his fangs barely hidden with his tongue. "It shall be a secret between us that we take to our graves."
Caroline offered him a smile as brilliant as the sun. "You are too kind."
"It is easy to be kind to you." To his surprise, it was true.
"You are not French are you?" She asked, cocking her head at the thought while she completed her walk around him.
They joined hands once more and again the heat in her touch jolted Klaus. "Why do you say that?"
"Your English is too perfect and while you speak excellent French you do not have their mannerisms, that air about you."
"You mean I do not act like an upstart French frog?"
Caroline laughed and once again the sound enchanted him. "No. Tell me of your family? Where you are from?"
Klaus became still, his face-hardening and his smile stiffened. Did she suspect something? Looking into her upturned face he saw no guile, only natural curiosity. Still, he struggled to answer. He thought of his family, his mother - her blood wet and shiny on his hands, the look of rage in Finn's eyes when he daggered him. The beatings from his unnatural father whose entire existence focused on hunting and killing him. While he still spoke to Kol and Rebekah, he worried if he turned his back on Elijah for even a moment, his brother would have to join Finn in eternal slumber.
"Calais," he forced out. It was the most plausible location. There were still English settlements there, though the land was lost to the English in Mary's reign. As for his family, he would pretend he never heard the question.
She sensed his conflicted feelings from the compassionate and thoughtful look she gave him.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to be impertinent," Caroline said, her voice soft and kind. "I understand what it is like to have lost family." She squeezed his hand with what he could only imagine was sympathy.
"You understand nothing," Klaus snarled. That he should have her pity infuriated him. Humans were not supposed to feel sorry for him; they were supposed to fear him. For her presumption he would make her suffer, beg for her life, before he allowed death to release her.
"You wouldn't know this, but I have been a ward of the court since I was 10. My father died in France in service to the Crown and my mother served as lady in waiting to the Queen until she was killed during a royal hunt. So you see, I recognize the anger and sadness that grief brings."
The music changed tempo and he stepped forward, roughly encircling her tiny, corseted waist with one hand in front and the other in the back above her hip. Caroline followed, placing a hand on his shoulder. So close to her, he could hear the rapid beat of her heart, see her pulse in the light blue vein in her swan-like neck. Her fragrance, a mixture of roses and lilies, surrounded him and his body tightened painfully. Klaus wanted not only her blood, but her body as well. He had never known such a dark lust before and he hated it. His want overwhelmed him and in frustration he yanked her tightly against him. She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulder when he lifted her high into the air.
Klaus lowered her slowly, until her mouth was a breath away from his own. He wanted to ravish her lips, kiss her until she was speechless, until he had driven every thought out of her head. At the same time, he wanted to plunge his fangs so deep into her neck he no longer would know where he ended and she began.
"You go too far, my lord," Caroline breathed.
"I don't go far enough, my lady."
A shiver ran through her slight form and the blue of her eyes deepened to that of a stormy sea.
Inhaling deeply, Klaus attempted to cage the emotions she wrought in him. He needed to reassert his control of the situation, but it was like she bewitched him. The dance continued and Klaus lifted Caroline once more, only this time it was gentle.
"I should apologize, my lady." He swung her in the air again in time to the music and when he lowered her, he held her gaze, willing her to see the truth. "You are right. I have lost family and the grief of it possesses me still. I realize you were trying to be kind, but I am not used to such compassion and generosity."
"No, it is I who should apologize. My tongue runs away from me at times. It was most improper of me to pry."
The music reached the last refrain of the dance and Klaus took Caroline's hand and together they began the promenade that signaled the end. Time was running out. Within minutes he would have to return Caroline to the safety of the Queen. He needed to get her alone or he feared that it would be days before he would be able to get this near her again. He had to have her tonight.
"Tell me you don't feel it too?"
Caroline shyly tipped her head. "I don't know what you mean."
"You lie and not very well." Klaus ran his thumb over the inside of her palm, knowing the affect such a delicate caress would have. What did not count was how this touch would affect him. It stoked the fire that already burned inside him , leaving him yearning for more. "There is something between us."
"My lord, I —"
The musicians were bars away from the final notes of the song and anxiety leapt in Klaus. He was frantic to keep Caroline with him. "Where can we go to be alone?"
Caroline stiffened and she would have thrown off his hand had he not sensed her movement and grasped it tightly. He knew he offended her, so he rushed to charm her and set her at ease. "I mean no insult to you. I seek only minutes, an hour of your time." Klaus turned his head to look at her and trapping her gaze with his, he deepened his voice. "Give me a chance. Let me know you away from the suspicious eyes and gossip of the court."
She looked uncertainly to the Queen and then back at him and he moved in closer to her. Already his pupils dilated, his mind focused on harnessing the power he needed in order to compel her.
Then with a flourish, the song finished and Klaus bit back an oath. The room erupted with applause and his concentration was lost. Courtiers who watched the dance from the sides flooded the center of the room. Shutting out the noise and commotion, he prepared to attempt compulsion once more.
"My lady Caroline!"
Caroline startled at hearing her name called and Klaus thought he had lost. A short, squat, woman dressed in black widows garb with a starched white ruff around her neck bore down on Caroline. Then to his shock, Caroline tugged his hand.
She led and he followed. She moved like they were being chased. Weaving in and out of the crowds until they reached the doors that led from the presence chamber into the great hall. Caroline stopped at the threshold and turned to look back at the Queen and Klaus sensed her hesitation, the gravity of the decision she was making.
"My lady Caroline," the woman called out again, running towards them, fast as her thick feet would allow her.
Frustration peaked in him at his surety she meant to return to the Queen. Laughing mischievously, she shocked him by taking off running, pulling him with her. Their feet flew over the white marble floor. They passed palace guards stationed at various strategic places in the great hall. Klaus prepared to shed blood if they so much as stopped them. Even with the the risk. He would have Caroling this night.
Passing the Queen's guard his it became apparent he had nothing to worry about. They smiled; some of them even waved at Caroline. Arriving at a set of open doors on the left that led outside, Caroline stepped through them and rounded the corner. She stopped abruptly, flattening herself against the outside stone wall and he followed suit.
Breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, she turned to him and held a finger to her lips. Her face and neck flushed pink above her tight bodice. He eyes glowed bright and shiny, her golden curls a mess about her shoulders and she looked like perfection. He wanted to kiss her, possess her mouth with his. Would it be enough? He doubted it. Not with the siren song of her heart pounding in her chest and her blood pumping furiously in her veins, It was enough to make him lose control.
Footsteps slow and plodding echoed down the grand hall. "Have you seen, Lady Caroline Forbes?"
"I'm not sure which way she went, Mistress Blanchard," one of the Queen's guards answered in a gruff voice.
There were a few pants and Mistress Blanchard's spoke again, "I was sure she came this way."
"If she did, she is gone by now." Metal armor clanked as the guard shifted his position against the wall. "If I see her, I will tell her you are looking for her."
"You do that," Mistress Blanchard demanded.
At the sound of her receding footsteps several of the guards broke into laughter.
Caroline moved, motioning for Klaus to follow her into the darkness of the night. The full silver moon, high in the sky, lit their way to a stone path hedged with bushes. Alone at last, he thought of seducing and killing her quickly. The idea gave him little satisfaction. He was curious to see where she took him, what would happen next. They retraced most of the steps that they took down the great hall outside until they were close enough to the Queen's Presence Chamber that he could hear the strains of music coming from the open windows. An iron gate that swung open at the lightest touch from Caroline and they were in a garden. The heavy scent of roses perfumed the air and hundreds of candle lit lanterns hung from the trees, swaying in the breeze. On large oak planked tables refreshments were laid out and waiting for the evening's guests.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Caroline asked wistfully.
The roses, the silver moon and the glowing candles all disappeared when Klaus looked into her shining eyes. "Yes," he murmured.
"The garden…it is the Queen's favorite." She moved away from him shyly and he followed with predatory grace while she walked among the plants. "The roses were planted by the Queen's royal mother and they are most delicate. They must be pruned twice yearly and Nat, that is the head gardener, he covers them whenever there is the slightest bit of frost in the air. He complains incessantly about how much care they take, but he knows all their names and he speaks to them as lovingly as if they were his children. I think —"
Caroline's aimless talking stopped when he touched his hand to hers, lifting her fingertips to his mouth. Her eyes were huge in her face, her lips parting at this simple kiss. As practiced at seduction as he was, even he was taken aback by the touch. Flames leapt inside of him, spreading burning heat through his limbs.
"You are too bold, my lord," she whispered, withdrawing her hand from his.
The loss of contact, her warmth, left an ache inside of him. Klaus considered compelling her so he could have his way with her. Except, the thought left him strangely cold. He was enjoying their dance of seduction too much to end it now "Am I? Shall we speak of the weather then?" He looked up to the sky, peering intently at the clouds. "Do you think it will rain tomorrow, Lady Caroline?"
Caroline giggled at his sudden formality and took a seat on one of the marble benches that adorned the garden. "I think we can be more familiar than that."
"Then let's talk about you." Klaus seated himself next to her. "Tell me about Mistress Blanchard and why she chased you."
"She is one of the Queen's ladies and I fear her goal in life is to make all of us miserable," Caroline answered with a huff. "Her Majesty put her in charge of chaperoning the younger ladies of the court and she takes her job duties very seriously. I have no doubt she had an unpleasant task for me tonight. She delights in making me miserable. She even punishes me for the slightest infractions. Can you believe last week, I was a few minutes late for chapel and she had me read aloud the book of Matthew for an hour on my knees?" Caroline paused for a moment, her cheeks reddening at her confession and before he could answer she rushed on, "I can only imagine her glee if she caught up with us. Thankfully, the Queen's guards hate her as well for she has had their pay docked for the most ridiculous things. Father Leonard says she offers an opportunity to learn patience and compassion, but I would rather not know such virtues if it means having to be nice to her," Caroline paused and peeped through her lashes up at him, "I'm rambling, aren't I? That is another character trait that the good father thinks I need to work on."
Klaus chuckled and the unfamiliar sound startled him. He couldn't believe it, but he was utterly enchanted. How was it possible that such a slip of a girl could so effortlessly entertain him? He felt an odd fluttering in his chest, a tingle of warmth in the place where his heart used to lay. That wasn't supposed to happen. Couldn't be allowed to happen.
With a finger he lifted her chin up, forcing her to look deep into his eyes, deep enough she could see his power, feel his compulsion. "Lady Caroline, allow me to kiss you."
She slowly blinked as his power took effect and when her eyes opened again he saw his own desire reflected back at him. Lowering his mouth to hers, excitement raced through him. Her lips were lush and sweet beneath his. He hungrily pressed another kiss to them, opening his mouth to slide his tongue into her velvet heat. Caroline tasted of sunshine and honey and the effect intoxicated him. He boldly stroked her tongue, mating his mouth to hers with a fierceness that shocked him. His craving for her was not sated. The kiss only further enflamed his lust. Insatiable with need, he didn't recognize himself.
Caroline made a small sound and clutched his shoulders. Obsessed with the need to see her passion, her desire for him on her face, he opened his eyes. Hers were tightly closed, her lashes dark against her pale skin.
"Open your eyes, love" Klaus commanded.
Still like death in his arms, her eyes were glassy and dazed. He wondered if she could see into his mind. See how he wanted to lift her skirts, thrust his hips into her and plunge his fangs into her neck. It would terrify her, but he told himself he didn't care. Unsettled by these thoughts, he let his instincts overtake him.
Sweeping her hair from her shoulders, Klaus parted his lips to suckle on the taunt skin of her neck. He kissed and laved the flesh, until he could hear and feel the drumming of her heart beat faster and faster with each touch. He lifted his head to blow cool, air over the now highly sensitive skin. The fragrance of her passion-laced blood mingled with her awakening arousal in a scent that left him weak. His vision blackened, blood rushed in his ears. All that existed was his need for her.
Raising his head, he curled his upper lip back to expose his fangs. Rather than attack, he paused to look once more into her face. She stared up at him with the fear of a lamb to the slaughter. Gone was the essence of what drew him to her. Her laughter, her kindness and compassion, her light - it was gone. She existed only as any other of his victims. The wrongness of it struck him hard and fast and he couldn't bear the sight. He swooped in to pierce her neck with his teeth. Except he couldn't. His mouth snapped shut and he inhaled hard shut against her milky, white throat. He wanted to take her without any thought or control. Except, she deserved so much better than this. So did he.
Caroline was a treasure, the corruption of her innocence and light best savored slowly. Not taken quickly from her like a common back alley whore. He would take his time with her, introduce her to the erotic delights to be found in the flesh and when he bored, then and only then, would he kill her. Pleased with his decision he captured her terrified gaze, hoping she understood the reprieve, the gift of time he gave her. He tapped once more into his powers, his pupils dilating. "It is time for you to go back to the Queen. You will remember only our conversation here in the garden."
Caroline blinked, her glazed stare clearing as she looked around her. "Monsieur le Vicomte? I must get back to the Queen."
"So soon?"
"Yes." She rose to her feet, shaking her heavy skirts out. "If Mistress Blanchard hasn't tattled by now she will soon and I do not want to recite more of the Bible on my knees."
Klaus stood to walk her back to the great hall. He wasn't about to have her fall prey to any other dangers that might be lurking in the night. "Tell me when we can meet again?"
"I don't know. I hunt with the Queen tomorrow."
"I will be there.
"It requires an invitation, my lord," Caroline said doubtfully.
Klaus held out his arm for her to take. "If you will be there then so will I."
Together they walked back the way they came until they reached the doors that led back into the great hall. Before Caroline entered, Klaus caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. He watched through lowered lids, her skin slowly flush from her décolleté to her cheeks when his mouth touched her fingertips. "Until tomorrow, my lady."
When she walked down the grand hallway, back to the Presence Chamber, Klaus noted with delight the way she held the hand he kissed to her lips.
With the departure of Caroline, the dream of the past faded, giving way to the present. The music of the minuet floated in the air and the warmth of the crackling fireplace soothed him. Lifting his glass of cognac, Klaus toasted the beautiful girl in the painting.
"Soon, Caroline. Soon you will remember everything and you will be mine at last."