Holly Apparated them to the outskirts of New Orleans. She had never been to the city before, and the safest way to Apparate to an unfamiliar place was to land near the town's border, close to the welcome sign. Once they reached the city, Holly could get her bearings and find a more secluded spot that would serve as a reliable "bus stop" for future travels.
Kol, ever the opportunist, had "borrowed" someone's car, ensuring they could reach the city relatively quickly. At Holly's insistence, they left an anonymous tip with the local authorities, reporting that two suspicious-looking individuals had abandoned the car in a hurry by the side of the road. She figured it would help the police trace the stolen vehicle and return it to its rightful owner.
As they drove through New Orleans, Holly peered out the window, her eyes wide with curiosity. The city was a vibrant, living thing—pulsing with energy as musicians played in the streets, artists displayed their work, and bars spilled over with patrons. The entire atmosphere felt like one continuous party, and Holly couldn't help but be impressed by its charm.
"It's fascinating," Holly remarked, almost to herself. "Like a never-ending carnival. I can see why the Originals set up camp here. With so many tourists, feeding would be easy, wouldn't it?"
Kol smirked, his gaze flickering between her and the road. "One of the many advantages of New Orleans, darling. The city hides our kind well."
Holly nodded, lost in thought, before turning to Kol with a question. "Where do we start?"
Kol didn't hesitate. "Lafayette Cemetery. It's sacred ground for the local witches. I need to reacquaint myself with them. The white oak we're after—it's hidden in my old playhouse within the cemetery. But there's a problem. It's sealed by a blood spell from the Claire witches' bloodline. We'll need to… acquire some of their blood and offer something in return. What that is remains to be seen."
Kol's fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and take Holly's hand, but he resisted. He wasn't about to show weakness in a city he hadn't stepped foot in for over a century. Holly was far from a weakness in his eyes, but he knew their enemies—because there would be enemies—would seek to use any sign of affection against him. Just because he hadn't fully defined his feelings didn't mean he was blind to them. If it came to it, he'd let himself be exploited if it meant Holly's safety.
They hadn't walked long when they were found—not by choice, but by the witches themselves. Apparently, Kol's reputation still preceded him. A witch named Sabine recognized him almost immediately and, without much preamble, invited them to the cemetery.
At first, Sabine insisted Kol come alone, leaving Holly behind. Kol, however, was unyielding, spinning an excuse with practiced ease. "Holly's my newest pet," he said dismissively. "She doesn't leave my side. So, either we go together, or not at all."
Holly wasn't offended; in fact, she was amused. It was refreshing not to be the one constantly under scrutiny, allowing her to stay in the background and play the role of an unimportant accessory. She could already imagine how amusing it would be when she and Kol finally revealed their true capabilities.
They soon found themselves standing at the entrance to Lafayette Cemetery. Kol deliberately paused just before the boundary line, unsure if he still needed an invitation. The recent events had shaken his certainty about what rules applied to him. The daggers no longer worked on him, and he had endured magical exhaustion. If he had somehow changed and no longer required an invitation, he wasn't eager to reveal that particular card just yet. Besides, though he had frequented the cemetery in the 20th century, the witches may have cast new protective spells in his absence.
"This is hallowed ground," Sabine said, her eyes narrowing. "For vampires, invitation only. Can I trust you to behave?"
Kol's eyes glittered with amusement. "You have my word—as long as you don't play me or betray me."
With that, they stepped inside, where a group of witches was already waiting, clearly forewarned of his arrival by Sabine. The witches watched him with a mix of awe and wariness, and a woman who introduced herself as Josephine stepped forward.
"Kol Mikaelson," she greeted, her voice steady but tinged with reverence. "Your reputation precedes you. It's been a century, yet our ancestors never stopped whispering your name. I am Josephine, Regent of the Nine Covens."
Kol smiled, his charm as sharp as ever. "I trust those whispers were all good things?"
Josephine didn't answer directly, merely offering a cryptic smile.
Kol's amusement faded as he got to the point. "Why am I here, Josephine?"
"We need your help," she began, her tone growing serious. "Since you've been gone, the balance of power has shifted, and not in our favor. The so-called 'King of Vampires' has banned magic in the Quarter. You understand how disastrous this is for us, especially for those who practice ancestral magic."
Kol's interest piqued. "And how exactly does this 'King of Vampires' enforce such a ban?"
"He has a girl—a witch, powerful beyond her years. She tracks any magic done in the Quarter and informs him. His lackeys take care of the rest. Many witches have died in the past few months."
Kol raised an eyebrow, feigning polite interest. "Fascinating. Now, let's skip to the part where you explain what's in it for me."
Josephine's eyes flickered with frustration. "You are a friend of the witches—"
Kol cut her off with a sharp, knowing grin. "Let's not waste time. I want three vials of blood from the Claire witches' bloodline. That's my price."
Josephine's lips tightened. "Bring us the girl, alive, and you'll get your blood."
Kol's smile widened. "Pleasure doing business with you."
As they left the cemetery, Holly's expression was one of open disdain. "I didn't like them," she said, doing her best imitation of Draco Malfoy. "They had that air of 'we're so important and powerful; you should be honored just to breathe the same air as us.'"
Kol chuckled. "Quite the impression, darling."
"And the way they looked at you—as if it was some great inconvenience that you were even there. They invited you, for Merlin's sake! Rude, the lot of them."
Kol was still laughing when Holly added, "I hate cemeteries. They're supposed to be peaceful, a place for the dead to rest. But in my experience, nothing good ever happens in a cemetery."
"Next time we see them, feel free to hex their noses green, complete with warts," Kol teased. "And why not a witch's hat to top it off? Maybe a broomstick too."
Holly grinned. "Your idea of witches is rather stereotypical. Maybe I should turn you into a toad, just to teach you a lesson."
They were on their way to Abattoir, the former home of the Originals in the 20th century. There they planned to relax, regroup and plan their next steps - most importantly, how to deal with and find the so-called Vampire King.
As they walked, Holly, now clad in a flowing white dress, continued to chatter, clearly amused by their earlier encounter. "This dress makes me look like a sacrificial virgin in some shady ritual. Maybe I should add a scarf—let all the supernatural folk think I'm your portable blood bag."
Kol raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing. "Are you offering?"
Holly conjured a red silk scarf and tied it around her neck, its bright color a stark contrast to her white outfit. "Maybe I should giggle too. Stupid girls always giggle, don't they? I had this friend at Hogwarts, Lavender..."
Kol listened with amusement as Holly rambled on, her childlike enthusiasm endearing to him in ways he didn't expect.
Soon, they arrived at the Abattoir, passing through the massive gate adorned with an intricate "M" engraved deeply into the iron. The oppressive silence of the night was shattered by the menacing figures that emerged from the shadows—dozen vampires, their eyes glowing with predatory intent. They encircled Kol and Holly with a predatory grace, their snarls and bared fangs a clear indication of their hostility.
"This place is invitation only," the leader of the vampires growled, his voice dripping with contempt. "You and your little snack should head back."
Kol's response was a chilling laugh, rich with danger and disdain. "I don't think I need an invitation to my own home, mate. Your request is denied."
The leader's sneer widened into a cruel grin. "You should reconsider, before your little snack gets snacked on, and you end up heartless."
Before the threat could fully settle in, Kol moved. His speed was a blur, a flash of lethal intent that left the vampires stunned. With a fluid motion, he reached the nearest vampire, his hand diving into the chest of his victim with terrifying precision. The vampire's eyes widened in shock, a mix of pain and disbelief evident as Kol yanked out the still-beating heart. The vampire crumpled to the ground, the organ held aloft in Kol's grip, still pulsing with life.
"You mean like this?" Kol mocked, his voice dripping with cold satisfaction as he brandished the heart for all to see. His eyes were dark and cold, a reflection of the ruthless efficiency with which he wielded his power.
The sight of their fallen comrade seemed to snap the remaining vampires into action. They charged, their fangs bared and claws extended, but Kol was a whirlwind of death. His movements were a deadly dance, each step calculated, each strike precise. He moved with an elegance that belied the brutality of his actions. Limbs were severed with clean cuts, heads separated from bodies in swift, fluid motions. The air was filled with the sounds of ripping flesh, the splatter of blood, and the cries of dying vampires.
Kol's power was overwhelming. His strength was not just physical but magical, each swing of his arm imbued with the force of centuries of experience. He was a force of nature, tearing through the vampire ranks with an efficiency that bordered on artistry. The battlefield was soon littered with the dismembered remains of his foes, their bodies sprawled grotesquely across the ground.
Throughout the carnage, Holly remained a serene observer, standing to the side with a casual ease. She conjured a bag of popcorn with a flick of her wand, munching on it with an amused expression as she watched Kol's display of might. She seemed almost detached from the bloodshed, finding entertainment in Kol's demonstration of power. Clearly, she felt no need to intervene—Kol was more than capable of handling the situation, and perhaps she enjoyed seeing him in action after being confined for so long.
When the last vampire fell, collapsing in a heap of twisted limbs and shattered bones, Holly snapped her fingers. With a graceful wave of her hand, she gathered the scattered remains into a neat, morbid pile. The bodies, now a grotesque collection of limbs and heads, awaited their final fate.
Just as Holly conjured a Fiendfyre to rid the scene of the gruesome evidence, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the aftermath. "What is the meaning of this?" The voice was stern and commanding, its owner stepping into view from the shadows.
Kol turned, his expression shifting from one of cold amusement to a focused intensity. The flames from the fire that Holly had just conjured began to dance and flicker, ready to consume the remains, while Kol stood poised for the next challenge, his eyes flashing with the promise of more violence if necessary.
The figure stepped into view, his face hardening as his eyes fell on Kol. For a brief moment, fear flickered across his features before he managed to mask it.
"Marcel Gerard," Kol drawled, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. "Surprised to see you're still alive and kicking."
Marcel's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "Surprised Klaus let you out of the box," he shot back coolly.
Kol chuckled darkly, the sound full of amusement and a touch of malice. "Ah, well, you know how it is. We might fight like rabid dogs, but in the end, family is family. Something you were never truly part of, were you? Speaking of which..." Kol's eyes flicked disdainfully around the courtyard. "What are you doing in our family's home?"
Marcel squared his shoulders, lifting his chin with authority. "It's my home now."
Kol barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "And what does Niklaus think of this interesting little development?"
Marcel's silence was telling.
"Ah," Kol said with mock surprise, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So he doesn't know. Fascinating."
Marcel's expression darkened. "Your family abandoned this city, Kol. Like the cowards they are. Mikael came into town, burned half the Quarter to the ground, and they left. Left me behind to pick up the pieces. So yes, as far as I'm concerned, this house—this city—belongs to me now."
Kol eyed Marcel for a moment, assessing him, before finally shrugging. "We'll see about that. Lucky for you, I have more pressing matters in the city."
"Like what?" Marcel asked, curiosity tinged with suspicion.
Kol considered his options for a heartbeat. Marcel was clearly the so-called "King of the Vampires" the witches had spoken of, and the weapon they mentioned was likely in his possession. Kol would need Marcel's trust if he was to find out the whereabouts of the mysterious witch.
"The witches summoned me to deal with their biggest problem..." Kol paused for effect, watching Marcel's reaction closely. "Which, as it turns out, is you."
Marcel's eyes widened slightly, though he masked his nerves quickly. Kol Mikaelson had always been a wild card—unpredictable, dangerously clever, and never one to be underestimated.
Marcel glanced at the girl standing quietly beside Kol, noting her long, brown waves and the innocent white dress she wore. There was something unsettling about how calm she seemed, but her appearance—young, unassuming—reminded him too much of Davina.
Tension coiled in Marcel's chest. He needed Kol's help, whether he liked it or not. Davina's situation had grown beyond his understanding, and here stood Kol, who might have the knowledge to save her. Marcel hated it, but he knew he had no choice.
"There's a girl..." Marcel began, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. "Davina Claire."
Kol's eyebrow arched slightly. Interesting, he thought. The witches had already deceived him; they failed to mention that Claire wasn't in their ranks. She was with Marcel.
Marcel continued, his voice tense. "The witches were performing this ritual, the Harvest. They were going to sacrifice four young girls, children really, to restore their ancestral power. I was too late to save the first three, but I managed to rescue the last—Davina. Since the ritual, her magic's been... uncontrollable. I don't know how to help her. I need information about what was done to her and how to reverse it."
Kol leaned back slightly, his mind whirring. This was perfect. Marcel needed his help, and that put Kol in an excellent position to negotiate.
"Take me to her," Kol demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Marcel's eyes flicked between Kol and the girl beside him. He hesitated, then spoke, his tone wary. "I need your word, Kol. You won't harm her or hand her over to the witches." Marcel paused, then added, almost begrudgingly, "I'd like to believe you wouldn't hurt a kid, but we both know how you treated me when I was young."
Kol's smirk didn't falter. "Ah, yes. You were allowed to grow up, weren't you? That's proof enough of my mercy." His smile faded, his tone turning serious. "You have my word. I won't harm her or give her to the witches. In fact, I'd like to make a deal with her."
Marcel frowned. "Of course, it's never out of the goodness of your heart." He scoffed. "After all, you owe me for the men you just slaughtered."
Kol gave a languid shrug. "Your fault for not educating them properly about who built this city. But let's cut the theatrics, Marcel. You need me. And helping me will help you, in the long run. Or..." Kol's eyes gleamed mischievously. "I could always call Niklaus and tell him everything that's been going on in his absence. Your choice."
Marcel's jaw clenched. He inhaled deeply. "Follow me."
They entered the dim attic of an old church, and there, standing defiantly in the shadows, was Davina Claire.
"Marcel, who is this?" she demanded, her voice sharp, her eyes flicking to Kol with suspicion.
"This is my... friend," Marcel said, forcing the word out through gritted teeth. "Kol Mikaelson. Original vampire. He knows more about magic than anyone you're likely to meet. And the other one—don't ask. Vampire business."
Davina's gaze swept over Kol, then to Holly. She dismissed them with a scornful glare. "What could he possibly know about magic?" she said arrogantly.
Kol's eyes flashed with amusement. "Oh, about everything, darling. I was a prodigy long before I became a vampire, and for the last thousand years, I've read more grimoires than you've had hot meals." He tilted his head, watching her reaction. "I also know everything about the Harvest. But in exchange, I want something from you."
"What do you want?" Davina snapped.
"Three vials of your blood," Kol said smoothly.
"Absolutely not!" Marcel growled, stepping forward. "No way."
Kol sighed and turned to leave, his steps slow, calculated. "Well then, I suppose our business here is done."
Before he could reach the door, Davina called out, "Wait! Deal."
"Davina, no!" Marcel hissed, his voice desperate.
Davina's voice wavered as she replied, "I don't have a choice, Marcel."
Kol's lips curled into a victorious smile. "Wise decision, darling. You really didn't have a choice, you know. It was either I get your blood willingly or by force."
"You promised not to hurt her," Marcel growled, eyes blazing.
"I don't need to hurt her to take her blood." Kol's tone was calm. "And be glad I'm not handing her over to the witches. They deceived me, so our deal's off."
Davina stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. "Why do you need my blood?"
"That's my business," Kol said smoothly.
"And it's my blood," Davina shot back.
Kol chuckled softly. "Technically, I need your bloodline's blood. Doesn't have to be yours specifically, but you'll do just fine."
Davina crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Tell me about the Harvest."
"Blood first. Then we talk," Kol said firmly.
He turned to Holly. "Darling, would you mind getting three empty vials and a syringe from your purse?"
Holly nodded silently, retrieving the items from her bag which she had conjured in the purse and handed them to Kol with a grace and precision that belied her role as Kol's supposed plaything.
"Thank you, love," Kol murmured, giving her a playful wink as she handed him the tools.
Marcel watched grimly as Kol approached Davina and drew her blood, filling the vials with swift, practiced hands.
"Start talking." Demanded Marcel, after Kol has finished his task.
Kol leaned against the wall, holding one of the vials up to the light. "The Harvest is a ritual the coven performs every three centuries. Its purpose is to restore the bond between the witches and their ancestral magic. If done correctly, the girls sacrificed are brought back to life." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But in my experience not the same girls who were sacrificed. The coven chooses to resurrect older, more powerful witches."
Davina's face paled, her eyes wide with shock.
"And the most important part," Kol continued, his voice lowering ominously, "is that once the Harvest has begun, it must be completed. Or..." He trailed off, leaving the warning hanging in the air like a death sentence.
"Over my dead body!" Marcel barked, his fists clenching.
Davina's face twisted with betrayal. "You're just like them. You want to sacrifice me."
"Darling," Kol said softly, his voice almost gentle. "You're carrying the power of three witches inside you. Soon, that magic will overwhelm you. You won't be able to control it. And when that happens, you'll be a danger to everyone around you. Your choices are simple—complete the Harvest on your terms, or let the magic consume you, killing you and probably half of New Orleans along with you."
Davina and Marcel stood frozen, stunned by the revelation. Before they could process it, Kol straightened, brushing invisible dust from his jacket.
"Well, I believe that concludes our business here. Good luck with the Harvest."
"Wait!" Marcel called after him, his voice strained. "You can't just leave us like this. What do we do?"
Kol's smile was cold, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Look, Marcel, I'd love to stick around and gloat, but there are far more pressing matters at hand. The entire vampire population is in danger, and if I don't handle things now, none of us will be alive to worry about Davina's little ritual."
Kol handed Marcel a slip of paper with his number scrawled across it. "Text me if anything changes with Davina. I'll be back once I've dealt with... other things."
With that, Kol and Holly swept from the church, leaving Marcel and Davina to grapple with the impossible choice that lay ahead.
As they walked through the streets of New Orleans, the evening air cool against their skin, both Kol and Holly were lost in thought. The situation with Davina had struck an unexpected chord with both of them. A young girl, abandoned, used as a pawn in a power struggle she never asked for. It reminded them of someone they both knew all too well.
"So the witches played you," Holly said after a long silence. "Didn't think you'd figure out their little deception so quickly. I think it's time they were taught a lesson."
Before Kol could respond, his phone buzzed. Rebekah.
"Brother," her voice was gleeful. "Just thought I'd let you know—I've handled our little problem. The Wickery Bridge is currently burning to the ground, along with the last piece of the white oak. You should've seen the look on that Salvatore's face!"
Kol chuckled darkly. "Well done, little sister. We'll continue our hunt here."
He hung up, his eyes glittering with anticipation. "Darling, I think you're right. The witches are long overdue for a lesson. And I've just the perfect idea."
With that, Kol's mind began to whir, already planning his next move.
Kol and Holly reached Lafayette Cemetery, their steps echoing faintly among the ancient tombstones. There was no sign of witches—no flicker of shadow, no whisper of magic on the breeze. Without a word, they headed straight for Kol's hidden playhouse, nestled within one of the grand tombs. Kol, moving with a grace born of centuries, pulled a small vial from his coat pocket—Davina's blood. In one smooth motion, he poured it onto the stone floor in front of the tomb's entrance.
The rune on the wall shimmered faintly as it absorbed the blood, glowing softly before fading back into the stone. The way was now clear. Kol stepped forward and, with a flick of his wrist, ignited the sconces along the walls. A soft, golden light bathed the room in a warm glow, illuminating the space.
Holly's eyes widened in awe as she took in the sight. The room was filled with shelves of ancient tomes, magical artifacts, and rare ingredients. It was a treasure trove for any seasoned witch or wizard—everything one might need for the most advanced of spells, carefully curated and preserved.
But Kol's attention wasn't on the books or the artifacts. His gaze had already locked onto a small, unassuming black box, hidden between two thick volumes of spells. At first glance, it was so ordinary it might be overlooked entirely, but Kol's hesitation as he reached for it spoke volumes. His hand hovered over the box for a moment, as if reluctant to touch it. Finally, he grasped it, and a chill seemed to sweep through him, a coldness that seeped into his bones.
With sharp teeth, he pricked his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the box. A low, metallic click echoed through the room as the lock disengaged. Kol opened the lid, revealing a stake carved from the white oak, resting on velvet the color of deep, blood red.
He gently lifted the stake, his fingers running over the surface. The ancient script he had etched into it a millennium ago was still as clear as ever: "Bound by blood and magic, I break free from the chains that bind me."
For a long moment, Kol stood still, the weight of a thousand years pressing down on him. He had carried this stake for centuries, through countless lives, betrayals, and battles. A thousand opportunities to end it all, to break free from the cycle of misery, longing, and treachery. But he had never taken them. Was he too much of a coward to end his suffering, or too stubborn to yield to it? He wasn't sure anymore. Time alone would decide which was the truth.
Holly approached slowly, drawn to the stake as though it called to her. Her eyes, full of curiosity and quiet respect, traced the shape of the deadly weapon in his hands. The idea that something so simple, so unassuming, could end an entire race—the vampires—was overwhelming.
Her movement broke Kol from his reverie. He blinked, the coldness receding as he realized how unfair he had been to Holly. They had only just met, yet there was something undeniable between them, an unspoken connection that neither could deny. In a moment of weakness, anger at his siblings and despair had driven him to lash out, but now, standing here with her, he felt the weight of his words.
"Darling," Kol began, his voice quieter, softer than usual, "I'm about to do something I rarely do. I'm sorry. I apologize for the cruel words I said to you. I've had this stake for a thousand years and never dared to use it, despite the loneliness, despite the despair. But now, with you here, I realize I don't need it anymore. I trust you with this, Holly. After all this time, I finally have something more to live for. Keep it safe, use it if you must, but know... I no longer need it."
He handed her the stake, and Holly, clearly moved, could barely find the words. Kol was giving her the means to end his immortality—the one thing that could destroy him. To trust her with something so important, so final... it left her speechless. With great care, she took the stake and tucked it into her purse, which, charmed as it was, ensured no one but her could use it.
"Kol..." Holly began, her voice soft.
"Don't," Kol cut in gently. "I just need to grab a few more things, and then we should go. We can come back another time, search through the rest of it."
Kol's thoughts strayed to the books he had hidden. Some of them contained references to the Deathly Hallows, to soulmates—things that had become increasingly relevant. But he didn't want to draw too much attention to them now, not with Holly here. He would sneak them out next time.
They stepped out into the cool night air, pausing for a moment beneath the clear sky. The stars were bright and endless, scattered across the heavens like diamonds on velvet.
"The stars," Kol said after a moment, "they're the only constant in my life. No matter what century I wake up in, no matter what changes, I can always look up and see the stars."
Holly smiled, glancing up at the sky. "They are beautiful. At Hogwarts, the ceiling in the Great Hall was enchanted to look like the night sky. You could look up and see a velvety black ceiling, dotted with stars, so real it felt like you were staring straight into the heavens. Thousands of floating candles lit the hall, making it feel as if there were no ceiling at all."
Kol looked at her with genuine interest. "That sounds... magnificent."
"Kol..." Holly hesitated, a hint of shyness creeping into her voice. "I have one last question."
"Go ahead," he said, smiling down at her.
"Kiss me?"
Holly's heart raced. She wanted her first kiss with Kol to be here, under the stars, the same stars that had watched over her during her time at Hogwarts. The candles in the cemetery reminded her of her first home, and though it seemed odd, the idea of creating new, better memories in a place of old scars felt right.
"You really want to waste your last question on that?" Kol teased, mirroring her earlier words. "I would've given you a kiss for free."
"Kol..." Holly sighed, her voice barely above a whisper, but she didn't have the chance to finish. In one swift movement, Kol closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against hers with a hunger that had been simmering for centuries, a need that could no longer be contained. His kiss wasn't gentle—it was fierce, consuming, filled with the weight of a thousand lifetimes and the raw intensity of emotions too long buried. His hand found her waist, gripping her with a possessiveness that sent shivers down her spine, while his other hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he angled her head back, claiming her more deeply.
The heat of his body pressed against hers, and Holly felt the world blur at the edges, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of him. Kol kissed her as if he were starved for her, as if he had been waiting an eternity for this one moment. His lips moved with a skill honed over centuries, coaxing her, teasing her, pushing her to the edge of control. Her knees weakened, but his strong arms held her firmly in place, grounding her as she melted into him.
Her hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer, craving the heat of his skin against hers. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms, a rhythm that matched her own racing pulse. Kol deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers with slow, deliberate movements, exploring, tasting, as if he were memorizing every part of her. His lips were soft, yet demanding, sending jolts of electricity through her with every brush, every caress.
A low, throaty sound escaped him, vibrating against her mouth, and Holly's pulse quickened. The intensity of his kiss left her breathless, her mind spinning as she lost herself in him. Time seemed to stretch and bend, the cemetery around them forgotten as the kiss deepened into something primal, something more. His hand slid down from her waist to the curve of her hip, pulling her against him, and Holly could feel every inch of him—his strength, his desire, the fire that burned between them.
Kol's touch was electric, sparking heat wherever his hands roamed. He pulled back for just a second, his breath hot against her lips as he whispered her name, a reverent sound that sent a thrill down her spine. Then he kissed her again, harder this time, more desperate, as though he feared she might slip away. The tip of his tongue teased her bottom lip before he nipped at it, gentle but enough to send her pulse racing faster.
Her body responded instinctively, arching into him, every nerve igniting under his touch. Kol's hand left her neck, trailing down her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine, setting her skin ablaze with each soft, deliberate stroke. The world beyond them faded away—there was no past, no future, just the heat of the moment, the feel of his lips claiming hers, the press of his body against hers, the way they fit together as if they were made for each other.
Holly's hands moved upward, finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss until the air between them was searing. His breath hitched as she pressed against him, and he responded by tightening his grip on her hips. Every touch, every movement was charged with the intensity of a storm ready to break.
Kol's lips moved from hers, trailing a path down her jawline, his breath warm against her skin. His mouth hovered at her neck, lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear, and Holly's breath caught in her throat. He lingered there, teasing her, his lips brushing against her pulse before pressing a soft, lingering kiss that sent a wave of heat surging through her.
"Kol…" Holly breathed, her voice trembling as her hands slid down his chest, her body tingling under the weight of his touch. The desire between them was palpable, an undeniable force drawing them closer, sparking in the space where their bodies met.
Kol's lips returned to hers with renewed urgency, a fire that couldn't be extinguished. He kissed her as if he were trying to pour all of his centuries of loneliness, desire, and longing into her, his need for her as fierce and unrelenting as the kiss itself. His hands roamed freely now, his touch both possessive and reverent, as though he couldn't get enough of her, as if he were afraid to let go.
Just as the kiss was reaching a fever pitch, when Holly felt like she might drown in the intensity of it all, a sound broke through the haze—the unmistakable echo of footsteps. Many footsteps.
Kol froze, his lips still hovering close to hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. His mouth brushed against her ear, his voice a low whisper, rough with the remnants of passion. "I think the witches are coming."
Reluctantly, he pulled back, putting just enough distance between them to compose himself, though the fire between them still burned hot. The interruption was unwelcome, but Kol's gaze lingered on her lips for a moment longer, his eyes dark with desire, before he finally turned toward the approaching group.
He was right. A large group of witches appeared, their faces shadowed but their intent clear.
"Kol," said Josephine, the leader, "how's our deal progressing? Have you found the witch we asked for?"
Kol's expression darkened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "About that. Yes, I have some important information, but it's sensitive. I'll share it only with your Elders."
"There's no need for secrecy," Josephine replied coolly. "We'll pass it on to the others."
Kol's smile was ice. "That's your choice, but I'll speak only to the Elders. Take it or leave it."
Reluctantly, Josephine ordered the rest of the coven to leave. Once only a dozen Elders remained, Kol's demeanor changed, the air around him thickening with menace.
"You misled me," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You made me believe you had a Claire witch, offering her blood in exchange for Marcel's weapon. But you forgot to mention that you don't have her. Marcel does. You've played me for a fool, and I do not take kindly to that."
Josephine tried to defend herself. "I never said we had a Claire witch. That was your assumption."
"Oh no," Kol replied, his voice as cold and cutting as the edge of a blade. "You knew exactly what I would assume. You used me. And I hate being used."
The room seemed to freeze for a heartbeat before chaos erupted. With a terrifying burst of speed, Kol lunged forward, his body a blur of lethal intent. His hand shot out, snapping Josephine's neck with a sickening crack that reverberated through the cemetery. Her body fell to the ground, lifeless, a testament to Kol's ruthless efficiency.
Without a moment's hesitation, Kol turned on the other Elders. His movements were a dance of death, swift and brutal. He crossed the cemetery in a flash, fangs gleaming, and with a vicious swipe, he tore through the witches. Their screams were cut short as he ripped hearts from chests with a terrifying ease, their blood spraying in arcs that stained the stone floor a vivid crimson. Each of his blows was precise, each kill methodical, driven by a primal rage that made him nearly unstoppable.
Holly fought in perfect synchrony with Kol, her magic flaring with every incantation. She unleashed a torrent of power, her spells crackling with raw energy. With a wave of her hand, she sent a bolt of lightning arcing through the air, striking down a witch who had tried to cast a feeble shield. The witch's eyes widened in terror as the electric current turned her to ash.
The battle was a cacophony of violence and magic. Holly conjured barriers that repelled spells aimed at her, her focus unshaken even as she deflected curses and hexes. She twisted her wrist, sending a flurry of sharp, magical shards slicing through the air, severing the limbs of one Elder before finishing him off with a burst of fire. The cemetery was filled with the acrid smell of burning flesh and the guttural sounds of agony.
Kol moved like a predator, his every strike a testament to his centuries of experience. He grabbed a struggling witch by the throat and lifted her off the ground, his eyes dark with rage. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped her neck and threw her lifeless body aside, where it landed in a heap among the fallen. His movements were brutal and efficient, each death met with a cold indifference that only fueled his fury.
The Elders, their faces contorted with fear, tried to flee, but it was too late. Kol's rage was a force of nature, and Holly's magic was a storm of destruction. As the last Elder fell, the cemetery was awash in the aftermath of their carnage, the tombstone walls dripping with blood and the echoes of battle fading into silence.
Amidst the chaos, the adrenaline surged through both Kol and Holly, amplifying their senses. Kol's gaze locked onto Holly's, his eyes alight with a fierce intensity. The violence, the energy of the fight—it had ignited something deeper within them, a raw and primal connection.
Without a word, Kol crossed the blood-soaked floor and pulled Holly into his arms. His lips crashed against hers with an urgency that spoke of the battle's aftermath and their shared triumph. The kiss was fierce, hungry, as if they were trying to claim each other amidst the ruins of their enemies. Kol's hands roamed over Holly's body, one gripping her waist while the other tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.
Holly responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed herself against him. Their kiss was a storm of passion and release, every movement charged with the heat of their battle and the electric thrill of their victory. Magic crackled in the air around them, mingling with their shared intensity, making the kiss even more electrifying.
When they finally pulled apart, their breaths were ragged, and their faces were flushed. Kol's lips hovered over hers, his voice a low, heated whisper. "That was... unexpected."
Holly smirked, her pulse still racing from both the fight and the kiss. "Blame it on the adrenaline," she breathed, though they both knew there was something much deeper at play.
Kol's dark chuckle echoed in the silence of the now-empty room, his gaze softening with a mix of satisfaction and affection. But there was no time for further indulgence—they had work to finish.
Holly moved swiftly, summoning the remnants of their fallen foes. With a flick of her wrist, she gathered the dismembered body parts into a grim pile in the center of the cemetry. Her magic roared to life, a swirling vortex of energy as she conjured a Fiendfyre. The flames erupted with a ferocious intensity, engulfing the bodies and turning them to ash. The heat was searing, but neither Holly nor Kol flinched. They watched as the bodies disintegrated, the fire a cleansing force that consumed all evidence of their violent confrontation.
Once the flames had died down and the last of the ashes had been scattered to the winds, Holly and Kol were left standing amidst the smoldering remains, the silence of the aftermath a stark contrast to the earlier chaos.
Kol, ever practical, pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Marcel:
"Just killed all of the Elders. They can't perform the ritual, so I bought us some time. It'll take a while for them to select new leaders. P.S. It's still my home. Start packing."
Turning to Holly, Kol's expression softened slightly. "Darling, I believe it's been a long day. Let's get you home. We'll continue our task tomorrow."
Holly, still feeling the lingering warmth of their kiss, smiled playfully. "No way, we should do it right now. We don't know how many white oak trees are left, and every second your family is in danger."
Kol raised a brow, his tone calm yet firm. "Doing the spell here makes no sense. We should start in Mystic Falls. That's the last known location of the white oak. We need to ensure Rebekah burned it all down. But it's the middle of the night. We should rest and prepare for another long day tomorrow, especially if we'll need to deal with my siblings."
Holly hesitated, then grinned. "Alright. You need your beauty sleep, after all, so you can keep being handsome."
Kol chuckled, stepping closer. "And you need your sleep even more if you want to keep up with me in the beauty department."
With a playful tug, Holly grabbed Kol's arm, and in a blink, they vanished, leaving the smoldering remnants of their enemies behind them.
