A small landscape of journals filled the brownstone's drawing room, spread out across the sleek wooden coffee table.
The once barren room now wafted with smoke from jasmine incense. Scattered papers and books surrounded Ana as she studied the information with a strange intensity. The on-goings of a television show rife with humanity's struggles against the moral implications of the afterlife and the slow scribble of her fountain pen across paper filled the silence between them. There was the odd Chinese character he grasped from his international travels, but he suspected the modernisation of many languages and their written words left him at a disadvantage. Something he needed to remedy once he returned his place among the living and could manipulate more than small inanimate objects.
Ana's brown eyes reflected the shimmering lights overhead. They reminded him of over-stepped black tea with a splash of milk. A strange comparison of colour, but he couldn't quite think of any other that would quite encapsulate them. They even inspired a strange bitter-sweetness in him.
She took a break from her continuous writing session with her matcha latte in hand. "Well, what do you think of this show?"
"This heaven is rather ridiculous and an unbelievable notion," he said. "I've never seen more discontent people in my life. This includes my siblings and the people they come into contact with. And if you knew them, you'd know that's quite the statement, darling. They're quite the terrors."
She glanced at the screen and a smile tilted her lips. "I'm going to check on the potion. I'll be back, but you should enjoy the rest of the season without me."
Kol remained in the parlour even though he wished to follow her into the kitchen and observe her potion-brewing skills. The show was a rather engrossing tale, albeit ludicrous, and Ana had taken to driving him out of the kitchen when making additions and adjustments to the potion. He had complained about the new and sudden development until she warned him off about causing her to miss the perfect timing for each step. One mistake and the potion was a lost cause—irremediable and a hazard. He wouldn't risk his chances of resurrection for a mere whim of curiosity. After all, he could pester her for the details once he returned among the living.
Ana watched the clock on her phone, waiting for it to strike the magical number of nine. The closest number to heaven—the number of longevity and eternity. Camellia pink steam rose from the simmering potion. Her copper pho pot was half-filled with the thick pearlescent liquid base. She held a pitcher of blessed water at the edge. In the past week, she had already added in the grounded ginseng, dragon blood incense ashes, and agarwood oil. The rosewood powder and fresh peony petals had posed a challenge to source and ground into a fine paste, but she had managed it. In three days, she'd add the secret ingredient that would alter the potion's properties.
The true key to the resurrection ritual.
The time on her phone shifted and she poured the blessed waters in, careful to avoid too much disruption. This particular potion, without the secret ingredient, only prolonged life and healed all inflicted wounds. It wasn't a popular potion by any means considering the expenses and rare ingredients required to brew it when other potions accomplished the same goals at half the cost or with basic ingredients. It was her own creation. A pure accident. She was the sole person capable of this ritual. The possibility of resurrection was an accidental discovery on her part, a misstep that changed everything.
She set down the pitcher for tomorrow and rolled her shoulders. Ana knocked on the door to the drawing room. "I'll sleep now. I'll have an earlier morning than usual tomorrow."
"Oh? And why is that now, darling?" Kol lounged on the sofa, limbs splayed out.
"Family responsibilities," she said. "We all have to contribute to the empire."
His eyes darkened. "Ah, yes. The burden we all must bear when attached to an ambitious brood. One would hope that we can escape such hindrances, but we're always dragged into their troubles."
"You should stay home after our morning run and watch the potion. It needs to turn red before noon tomorrow."
"This potion of yours is rather complex, darling," he said. "Any idea who could have possibly concocted it? Once I return to the land of the living, you'll find me perusing the excess of their works and revelations."
"Only someone nameless and desperate," she said softly, deep in thought. "Well, good night. I'll see you in the morning, Kol."
His eyes and thoughts remained inscrutable as she disappeared into her temporary bedroom.
Against all odds, Kol enjoyed the mornings he spent in partial silence with Ana.
The strange idyllic nature of her routine clashed against the unpleasant city streets plagued by people, debris, and scum had somehow wormed its way into his favour. He had thought himself above such base human habits, incapable of finding a modicum of satisfaction outside of the unadulterated chaos of being a Mikaelson and the savagery he wore like a second skin. Perhaps it was the strange absence of the vampiric thirst and heightened desires. He had not known this kind of freedom before, untouched by baser instincts and fuelled by the pursuit of overindulgence.
It had horrified him to no end when fragments of Ana reminded him of Elijah; the unceasing daily rituals and the seemingly austere mornings. But she tempered it with a softness, a contentment, his brother could never hope to mimic. She wasn't inflexible like Elijah, bedevilled by his innately judgemental and stern nature. Where his brother acted out of rigidity, routine, and a need for control, Ana relished in it like the comfort of a fireplace during a storm. She lived within the boundaries of her rituals like they offered her freedom. Perhaps they did in their own ways.
Ana looked at him through her eyelashes over the kitchen island. Her tea-brown eyes were thoughtful, considering. She had her daily drink in hand, already prepared for the day beyond these four walls they shared.
"What did you think of the show?"
"I suppose it was a rather good twist," he said begrudgingly. "And all that drivel of moral philosophy could have some merit for you humans."
"Not for vampires?
He smirked and leaned over her. "You have yet to meet many vampires, darling. We're all quite… unscrupulous."
"I know a few," she said. "I've met twice as many humans, much more indecent and immoral than the vampires I know. Especially the older humans."
He studied her and that damnable face of indecipherable emotions. "I wonder, darling, how similar are your kind to the witches I know of?"
"What do you mean?"
"Vampires and witches are infamously enemies due to the laws of nature. Abominations incongruent with the servants of nature," he said. "Though, we've been known to ignore such limitations in the past when it comes to satisfaction and selfish desires."
He sent her a roguish and almost smug grin at the end of that statement, the pearled white of his teeth sharp. A brief hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she watched him steadily—almost like it was a reflexive reaction.
"Once upon a time, priests and priestesses believed we were meant to banish demons from this plane of existence," she said. "You might've considered a demon, then, but we've learned that was never the goal of the gods. We're here to enact the will of the gods and their will doesn't include eradication of demons or vampires. If it did, it wouldn't be possible for either to exist in the first place."
"And what were the goals of said gods, o divine emissary?" He leaned closer to her.
She shrugged. "Beats me. Probably not important. They wouldn't tell me if I needed a new head of lettuce if I bothered to ask. I'm not even paid for this."
Kol laughed at her unusually blase response; her plain indifference to the gods, their influence on the world, and the control they might've had over her. He didn't understand her magic yet, but he had yet to meet such an irreverent servant of the divine with proof of their existence. He had met many religious brokers and believers throughout the centuries, all without proof of their faith, and all of them had much more respect than her. Ana wasn't quite defiant—more coolheaded and jaded towards reality, like she was well-worn to the fickle nature of the divine and their dominion. Quite unlike his initial impression of her.
She was too young to be so disenchanted by the world around her, but it was refreshing to see something so contradictory. A harsh angle, a possible imperfection.
"All this talk of morals and humanity. Is it because of the show?" she asked, chin resting on her hand.
"Not at all," he told her, flippant and breezy. "It's pointless, darling. In fact, most people would say I'm their idea of a monstrous vampire. I am the reason why the phrase ripper exists after all. The Original Ripper, the worst of the worst."
Ana looked at him with blank and impartial eyes, surveying every inch of him. Kol wished he could delve into her mind or that she would just say what she was thinking without parsing her words. He wasn't sure why he was saying the things he was, but the words poured forth nonetheless. He wondered what she saw; the view of him through her eyes. Was he a monster? Was he just a man she was saving? Was he merely an obligation charged to her?
"Had I been in my body, I think I would've killed you when we first met. Drained you dry and left you for dead. It was my first instinct while I was alive and I never lacked control. I simply never felt the need to exercise it."
"You wouldn't be the first person I helped who tried to kill me the first time we met." She met his gaze, unflinching, unblinking. Irreverent, as if she were speaking about the weather. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Would you kill me once you discovered I was evil, once? The things I've done?"
"After all this work I put in?" She tilted her head towards the simmering pot in the background. "I don't think the gods would like that."
He paused at her laconic words and the offhand delivery. Something about it upset him, but the reasoning eluded him and frustrated him even more.
Ana sighed. "Are you? Evil, that is."
"The people who murdered me would say yes."
"And what would you say?"
"Yes," Kol said.
Ana sipped her latte and paused, thoughtful. He, then, had never wished to understand the inner workings of someone's mind more.
She had straightened the thick silken blanket of her hair into a sleek look, similar to the style Rebekah favoured when he saw her last. It left her face bare, her gentle features free for all to admire. The sole factor was the polished and proper look didn't suit his vision of her. Ana could never be any less than pretty in his eyes, but such a fashion erased all of her unique features. The wave in her hair, the lone curl at the crown of her head, the way she retreated into the soft knit of her sweater.
That unreadable face of hers was all the more prominent, too.
Each shift, each twitch, it was all much clearer to him.
"You don't believe me?" he prompted when she said nothing.
"No," she said simply, as if it were law.
"No? You wouldn't say that if you knew of the things I've done. The sins I've committed. The lives I've taken. The people I've tortured for pleasure. The things I've done are considered nigh unforgivable, perhaps even to your gods."
The smallest twitch of her brow at the mention of the gods had him pausing, but her expression smoothed. "I wouldn't be so quick to speak about the gods' judgement."
He wished for corporeality in that moment—to touch her, to read her, to understand her. Kol wanted to hear her heartbeat, to feel her pulse under his fingers, to see the truth in her words. He wanted nothing more at that moment.
"But I don't think you're asking about their opinion, are you?" Ana set down her drink and stepped out from behind the kitchen island. She looked nothing like the girl he knew in this skin of stiff black and formal angles. His eyes trailed over the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. "I'd be stupid to think anyone is inherently evil or have a predisposition to violence with the job I have. It's a perspective, certainly, but a western one, and it acts as a form of absolution for someone's actions. It gives relief without the responsibility of seeking redemption or making amends to those who've received the hurt. Vampires were humans, once, and that means they're capable of being better and good. That's why they could never be enemies of nature without cause. Humans, and vampires alike, have a vast potential for great evil and kindness, and it's all borne from our personal choices. The capacity for kindness and goodness is still there."
"And what do mine say of me?" He laughed bitterly and closed in on her. Kol trailed a hand over her shoulder and his fingers sunk in. "You know nothing about who I am, darling. If anyone saw what you planned on doing now, they would prevent you from reviving me."
"Why does my judgement matter?" she countered. "I'm not the gods. I'm not you. You wanted to live, Kol, and you're asking these questions. Why?"
Those sunlit tea-brown eyes rested on him, clear as day and crystalline as a gemstone. He couldn't move, rooted in place and unable to withdraw from her orbit. The gravitational pull she had on him was completely inexplicable. His reflection lingered in her eyes; a stranger and, yet, he never felt more free or like himself in that moment where she held him without her hands.
"Kol," she said, and his name had never sounded more right coming out of anyone's mouth. She looked at him, through him. "I think you're capable of being better than anyone else could imagine. You're holding yourself back—afraid of the possibilities, afraid of your potential. Attaching a label to yourself is a limitation that you cling onto for control, for safety.
"I can't say anything about what you've done or who you've wronged, but I can say this—if you regret it, I think it's enough if you try to make amends, rectify your mistakes, and prevent something similar in the future. Look for your own redemption. If you don't, well… you'll continue as you are. Whether or not other people agree is another matter entirely. What do you think about yourself? About your intentions and effect on the world? If you're unhappy, you should at least ask yourself why. You can always change."
If the gods had handpicked her as their emissary, their guide for the lost souls evading the afterlife, he could understand why now. This demure slip of a girl, so unfathomably young, but reserved and sagacious, crept beneath his skin and unwound his very soul in ways his own family never attempted to. She delved in and appealed to the remaining sliver of his humanity that he didn't know still existed. That he had forgotten about, lost to the dredges of time—buried under rapacious excesses and unfettered rage from the daggerings. She reached deep into him and brought him forth to the edge of a cliff, but never pushed him into the choppy waters of reality. She had left it in his hands. It was entirely his choice and he had made it several times now. It seems that he would do it once more.
Kol drank her in with his eyes—this deceptive shade of a girl who could disappear with a shift of the light. He lingered there, watching and thinking. It wasn't quite speechlessness, but a reluctance to disturb the peace that had descended upon them while he settled into his thoughts. A nice reprieve from the roiling thoughts that would've occurred when he was alive.
"I have to see my uncle," she said and picked up her drink. "Watch the potion. If it doesn't turn red, you won't be home for Christmas… if you celebrate that."
The quiet and lax sympathy that pervaded her every being, that wise tenderness in her eyes, was a weapon. A blade that she quietly buried beneath your ribs and you would gladly walk further into it as long as she was the wielder. He pitied the poor souls that came before him—the ones that walked into peace at her behest. Before her modest and kind mercy, no one stood a chance.
He hadn't quite understood the appeal to simply disappear into the afterlife, to walk into the light, but he did now. The willingness to move in the direction she pointed in if she rationalised it enough or for a hint of that smile she hid. If Ana had insisted on it, he would've seen the reasoning in her thoughts, in the light etched on her face, in the warmth of her words.
Her magic wasn't the truly dangerous thing in her repertoire.
Ana smoothed out the wrinkles of her skin-tight turtleneck and the silk lines of her slacks. Her trench coat fluttered around her legs as she stepped into the base floor of the central Manhattan skyscraper. She understood the need to impress potential clients and future partners with the statement of wealth and success, but the grandiose waste was beyond irritating even on the best of days.
She observed the pristine lobby moulded from white marble, sparkling glass, and stark metal lines as she wiped off her shoes and balanced a tray of coffee. Her leather messenger bag rested on her hip.
Fifteen men dressed in black suits, strapped and armed to the teeth, dotted the main floor—five more men than the usual count. Ana pulled out her identification card for the receptionist at the front desk to scan and entered the private elevator to the top. The Takatsukasa personal safety teams followed everyone, with a few exceptions, around the world at the behest of her grandfather even if most of them could defend themselves easily in most situations of human conflicts.
The elevator slowed to a stop near the top floor and she exited, hands in her pockets.
Judging by the amount of security guards and her uncle's sudden inability to greet her at the door, another Takatsukasa was visiting her uncle. According to the way her luck was going, it wasn't one of her cousins or relatives that she liked.
She walked across the office to the desk of her uncle's secretary and set down the coffee tray. The girl looked up at her in surprise, big chocolate brown eyes wide and frazzled.
"A caramel macchiato for the beautiful girl dealing with all of today's bullshit," Ana said. "Sachi, which irritating relative is it? And why are they causing you trouble?"
"Thank you," Sachi said gratefully and took the coffee from Ana's hands with her slim hands. "It's Clan Elder Yutaka. Mister Takatsukasa already has his concerns over the cross-negotiations to contend with and Yutaka is not making it any better with the constant emails and this visit."
Ana examined her. She was the perfect secretary; professional, put together, and efficient while remaining amiable. She preferred some form of semi-casual outerwear due to the office's colder temperatures, but kept the typical pressed blouse and pencil skirt combination. There were a few unattended wrinkles in her clothes, a furrow in her smooth brow, and strewn papers riddling her desk. All completely out of place on her.
"I'll solve it," Ana reassured.
"Thank you," Sachi said, relieved.
She picked up the tray of drinks and knocked on her uncle's office door once. Ana opened the door to reveal two men sitting across from each other, separated by a slim wooden desk.
"—honestly, Kentaro, is your secretary aware of the responsibilities of her job? Whoever wishes for your time can wait—"
"I wasn't aware you had any authority on the ongoing affairs of Uncle Kentaro's office."
The man with tightly coiffed hair and bespoke clothing with his back facing her turned his head. Clan Elder Yutaka in all his annoying glory. His greying hair was prominent against the smooth and pale skin of his temples. He was undoubtedly a handsome man in his youth, as most Takatsukasa men were, even with his harsh frowns and wrinkled forehead.
"Clan Elder Yutaka," she said blandly. "An unexpected pleasure to see you after all this time."
"Princess Anastasia," he said stiffly. "What a surprise."
"Is it, now?"
Ana ignored the scowl on his face as she set down the tray on her uncle's desk. Kentaro graciously accepted his Americano and promptly hid a smile behind his coffee cup. He was the third eldest and second favourite in her line of maternal uncles. A mild-mannered and handsome man with enough charm to wade through the politics of business. To her, however, he was a permissive uncle who spoiled her with any luxury asked for as a child.
"I hope you don't take offence to the fact I didn't bring you a drink. After all, you're supposed to be back in Japan with the monks," she continued, just as bland. "Is grandfather aware of this visit?"
"Naomasa is not privy to my every movement."
"Interesting," she said. "Is that why you commandeered Takatsukasa resources that are allocated by the clan head without permission? I recognised a few faces down in the lobby that weren't here a week ago. If I checked, would the family's private jet also be on American soil?"
He remained silent at her censure and pursed his lips.
"Tetsuo informed me of your responsibilities with the monks. It's a shame you were unable to persevere with following through on your obligations despite the fact grandfather charged you with it specifically in response for your overreach in business matters."
Yutaka stood up. "I'll be in touch, Kentaro. As it is, I can tell when I am unwanted. I will be returning to Japan shortly."
"I've already informed grandfather," she called out as he left.
She hadn't, but she would. He didn't need to know that though.
Ana sat down and crossed her legs. She watched him scurry away into the elevator. Sachi glanced in through the glass walls and sent her a small heart with her hands. She winked and turned back to her uncle.
"You should tell him I'm in the country next time," she said. "I'll drown him in the Gowanus. It's disgusting in there and he would deserve it."
"You should be more careful," Kentaro reprimanded with a smile. "The Clan Elders aren't known for their reasonable decision making or lack of retaliation."
"What can they do to me that they haven't already?" She shrugged. "I'm cut off from the Takatsukasa family fortune."
Kentaro shook his head and set down his coffee. "Now, what do you have for me?"
Ana pulled out several colour-coded files from her messenger bag and laid them out for him. She had paper-clipped a short summary page she typed up and printed out to each manila folder. Blood red ink glimmered from the margins of the pages.
"Leverage," she said.
He flipped through every folder, glancing over the summary pages, before he slumped into his leather office chair. "You do not know how much trouble you've saved me from."
"It wasn't much trouble," she said. "You should learn negotiation skills and how to corner people or get someone else to, uncle. Relying on information is fine, but it means nothing if you can't convince people to side with you even if you're right. Leverage is pretty useless if you use it wrong."
"Perhaps," he said carefully. "You can return home and teach someone to take over your role in the company. Your grandfather misses you, he constantly says so."
Ana's lips quirked up. "I call him every two days. He's complaining on the family calls to make sure everyone feels guilty and sides against the elders. Also, because he wants you all to visit him more."
Kentaro rubbed his eyes. "That old man is always playing games."
"That's why our family is doing so well. That and the clan elders are no longer interfering in our business."
"Mina," he sighed. "Please don't tell me you're continuing to antagonise them."
"Uncle Kentaro, you know better than that. I'm too busy and I moved out of the country."
"Try not to anger them too much," he said. "They're acting out of sorts. Stressed by events going on at home."
"Maybe they shouldn't meddle in matters that could incriminate themselves," Ana suggested. "I'm not even bothering them right now and they're being dragged through the mud. Imagine if I got involved."
"Please, do not."
"I won't, just for you," she promised. "Anyway, how did my re-proposal with RENAI Inc. go?"
"Well, when the CEO saw your name signed at the bottom, he immediately folded," he said dryly. "If only the rest of us held so much power."
"It's not power, it's favour," she said.
"Are we rejecting another arranged marriage proposal?" He took a sip of his coffee. "It'd be such a shame to say no."
"Not the case. Saint-Jacques owes me a few favours and he didn't know I was a Takatsukasa. That contract was a complete insult and he knew it."
Her uncle sighed. "Why don't you return to the company full-time?"
"I said I'll think about it, uncle," she said. "Let's not rush it especially when I'm doing much more important things."
"And what are you doing these days besides school?"
"The gods' bidding, surveillance, training," she said. "You should look at the files more closely. There's information on the Chois, Sanadas, Tams, and the developing alliance between the Sajis and Yamaguchis."
He paused and straightened. "The Sajis?"
"Aunt Atsuko told me about her second cousin interfering in her brother's board. Hisayuki went sleuthing. I compiled the information from loose lips."
"And why did my own wife and son avoid telling me any of this?"
"A bit difficult when you aren't home for dinner," Ana said. "So, she went to the resident problem solver."
Kentaro rubbed his face. "Shit."
"You should pick up some yellow camellias today."
"I still know my wife's favourite flowers," he said dryly. "I haven't been on a ten-year voyage and lost my mind, Mina. The memory of everything your aunt loves is embedded into my brain."
Ana pulled out a business card and set it on his desk. "Yes, but did you know where to get any in New York?"
"Dear gods, never mind, you truly are a lifesaver," he said.
"Glad to help, uncle. Now, Tetsuo said something about his parents bothering him..."
Ana hid her hands in her trench coat pockets.
The sluggish streets of New York City passed her by like a drying stream of water struggling in summer. Something about the coming western winter holidays inspired a tedious listlessness in the city, punctuated by the overcast weather and the chill in the air. Others might have detested it, with their perception of the disheartening ambience, but Ana appreciated the bleakness of the city and the briskness surrounding them. Her breath left her mouth in a gossamer-thin cloud.
This time of year in the west roused a desire in her to burrow beneath blankets before flickering fires with a book in hand and a movie in the background. Simple, faint wants from a child's heart.
She wondered if Kol understood such a thing after years of rampant violence and extravagant indulgence. He reminded her of the teenagers at the private school she once attended—lost, restless, and over-satiated. They satisfied themselves with things they didn't truly desire, but deluded themselves into thinking they did and did it while depriving themselves of the things they needed. They were rich, privileged beyond belief, and without direction unless handed to them on silver platters or their authority figures coddled them onto the predestined paths.
She entered the brownstone and hung up her things as she peeked into the drawing room. Something on the television had captured Kol's attention entirely.
"I'm back," she called out. "Did the potion turn red?"
"Looks absolutely bloody, darling," Kol drawled. "If only it didn't have such a glow about it."
"Good," she said. "You'll be home for Christmas, then."
That night, at nine-o'clock exactly, she poured in another pitched of the blessed waters she reserved. Anastasia stretched her hands over the steam released from the simmering pot of pearlescent scarlet liquid, small bubbles forming on the surface of the concoction. Crab-eye water, they called it, just like in tea. She inserted a sewing needle into the skin of her pinky finger and it welled with blood.
Nine drops of it fell into the potion and dissolved as the wound closed with a little magical coaxing.
The solution blackened, thick fish-eye bubble brewing to the top, before it shifted into a rich carmine. The pearlescent nature had become more prominent, almost similar to a shimmer liquid or diamond dust with each sluice from the stirring ladle.
Two more days of this simple addition and Kol could return to the land of the living.
Ana had obstructed him from entering the kitchen, again, but it wasn't over the potion. She had, however, allowed him to speak to her through the parlour door while she worked. He could easily step through the doors, but remained in the drawing room and entertained her with anecdotes from his family.
"Rebekah has terrible taste in men," he told her. "I have never liked a single one that dogged her steps. Nik and I chased most of them off, in the end. She's probably still trying to find love to no end with Nik's interference."
"Isn't that what all older brothers are like?" she said absentmindedly, voice louder than normal.
"Oh, you have some experience?"
"All my older male cousins," she said. "I'm supposed to have an arranged marriage. No man in the country passed the test, apparently. It didn't help that they all had opposing favourites."
"An arranged marriage? Aren't those past practices frowned upon these days?"
"Perhaps in the west, but the west, despite it's reputation, isn't as open-minded as advertised. It's much more efficient, in all honesty," she said. "You can come in now."
He passed through the door and stared at the spread on the kitchen island.
A generous bowl of an autumnal orange soup with thick slices of lobster in the centre sat in front of his stool, steam rising from the low bowl. Chives, thinly sliced scallions, and a crosshatch of creme fraiche garnished the lobster bisque while fragrant and loaded dirty rice rested on the side. In the centre of the island was a variety of cheesecakes—the traditional New York style, chocolate, strawberry, caramel… too many to truly name.
Kol turned back to look at Ana. Her typical unreadable face was obviously pleased as she leaned back and admired her own work.
"I thought your last meal as a ghost should be something special," she said. "I normally don't cook this kind of cuisine so it isn't my personal recipe. I borrowed a friend's, but they were from New Orleans so I trust them."
He stared at her, taking in every inch that he could see as if searching for something else. Kol wasn't sure what he was looking for; ulterior motives? A shift in her character? This was the Ana he knew—she had returned to her usual self with the soft, relaxed clothes and her silky black ocean waves rolling down her back. Her tea-brown eyes laid upon him, expectant but patient.
"I made the New York style one, but I bought the others from the nearby bakery. They're well-known for their cheesecakes," she continued and extended her hand. "Well, Kol?"
He wordlessly placed his hand in hers and sat down at the island.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you."
"No problem," she said easily. "Well, is this your Ratatouille moment?"
"Yes," he said.
Not one spoonful of the food had passed through his lips yet, but he could already tell. Kol looked at her, clad in a knitted sweater and floral apron. A strange sort of light enveloped her, a pale blush of rose, and she released her hair from the silken ribbon holding it all back.
He dipped his spoon into the lobster bisque and raised it to his lips. The luscious and creamy soup glided over his tongue, full yet light. Refreshing yet comforting. Hints of tomato and white wine highlighted the sweetness of the lobster. He closed his eyes at the taste.
It was the best goddamn lobster bisque he'd ever had.
Kol ate in silence, savouring and taking solace in each dish. He had counted the minutes she stayed in the kitchen making dinner, impatiently waiting to see her face to face. Now, those minutes melted away. He could understand now, that relief, that profound delight depicted in a children's film. The sudden rush of memory, the undeniable warmth in each bite.
Ana watched him with a hint of a smile on her face.
A smile tugged on his lips, reflexive, unintended, but there all the same.
Kol had descended into a thoughtful pondering after dinner.
Anastasia had finished the potion off with the last nine drops of her blood. It would simmer away until tomorrow afternoon and she would fit into the giant stainless steel camping thermos she brought with her. The cooler she'd bring to refrigerate it over the drive over would finish the rest of the work.
She massaged her neck and stared at the moon outside of her window. The skies were starless due to the countless amount of pollution from the city.
She opened the drawing room doors. "It's a six hour drive. Is there anything I should bring for you?"
"Blood," Kol said.
"...I hope you don't mean mine. Because I'm anaemic and vitamin D deficient." She sat down beside him on the couch. "I fainted the one time I donated blood and they told me I couldn't do it ever again."
"I guarantee you're delicious regardless." His lips lifted into a roguish grin, revealing pearly straight teeth, a hint of sharpness on the canines.
"Let's not make this weird," Ana said, "or I'll leave you in limbo."
"I'll haunt you forever," he retorted.
"I'll make you find true peace."
He laughed, head thrown back. "Only you could threaten someone with such a thing, darling."
"I guess I'll break into a blood bank tomorrow morning," she said. "Then you can show me around that little backwater town you called the heart of the supernatural world."
i'm not that happy with this chapter, especially the writing. i might come back to edit this, in fact, but either this comes out now or i'll just dwell on it forever. i've been super busy with real life events, so hopefully, this will suffice!
follow me on tumblr and pinterest delicateseraphs. i'll answer any questions you have and i do post excerpts at times! thank you for all the comments, they give me such motivation to write.