✓ | Violet (Klaus Mikaelson)

Chapter Two

I never thought I'd meet you here
In the middle of the night,
So simple and sincere
Fever when you give into your wishes
I want to stumble over these bridges,
But only with you
And what a lovely way it is to burn
Underneath your touch when I'm your only view
It might go straight to my head
But I would want nothing else instead

❀

His footsteps still echoed behind me, perfectly in sync with my own. I admired his promise to bring me home more than he probably knew.

Every move and sound he made had me on edge. It wasn't until we reached the door of my apartment that I decided to actually look back at him and say, "You didn't have to walk me all the way to my front door. I'll survive from here. Thank you, Klaus."

He showed me a frail smile as he watched me search for my keys in my bag. His sight never left my presence, and I wondered where his mind had wandered to. He had been so voluble and charismatic at the bar, but now he was showing me a rather quiet side of his— almost tense. I had to admit he had me highly strung, too, unusually so, and it felt so uncommon I had to inhale deeply to realise I was portraying myself as such an open book. Even around handsome strangers like him, I feared to be the predictable and tedious version of myself I knew I could be. Somewhere I felt shamefaced to be wanting to impress him, because I knew who he was. I knew what he was.

"Well, you never know what creatures could be haunting the night, love." He said jokingly, as if wanting to speak truth in an unnoticeable way.

I unlocked my door, but strangely hesitated to walk right inside. Looking back at him, I caught almost the same aspiration in his eyes as there was in mine. Was I waiting for something that would never come, something that was unbelievably wrong and suicidal, yet thrilling? I was desperate to hide my hesitation and my stalling, which resulted in avoiding his gaze as best as I could, but remained waiting for something I knew we both wanted.

Although, just when I decided to tell him good night and thank him for getting me home, he was the one to act on his feelings. His mouth was on mine in a flash, kissing me deeply with his hand resting on my jaw, pulling me in perfectly. I had a peculiar feeling burning inside my chest. I tried to make sense of it, but I realised I did not want to pull away from him no matter what it meant. Instead, I found myself craving more when his delicate kiss deepened in a way I could no longer deny. He'd officially won me over, because I had fallen into that kiss with the words of my ambitions.

It was short and sweet. He broke our kiss carefully, never parting away from me too far. I watched the desire burn on the edge of his lips, and as shameful as I should feel, I couldn't hide the fact that I wanted this to happen again.

I gave myself no time to figure this out. I mindlessly acted upon my desire to feel loved and wanted, and somehow I knew he was doing the same thing. I brushed past him, denying an attempted second kiss from him. I invited him inside with the look in my eyes, showing him how desperately I wanted his company as I knew he wanted mine. "Please, come in?" I asked, proving my consent.

Klaus stepped inside my apartment, closing the door behind him. I appreciated his polite and slow movements, because I knew it could be difficult to predict men like him; men that would rather act on feeling than thought.

And I stood there, waiting. I wondered what it would be like to be loved by him, and since that he'd given me a hint of his flirtation, I perceived it must be one of the greatest things on earth. Not because he reeked of risk and unimaginable possibility, but because he had evinced himself to be warm-hearted— in spite of the fact that I'd heard the stories that portrayed him as heartless. And now that we both realised we'd already crossed the line, it quickly became clear that neither of us had the desire to get back behind it. He was back into my space, and I kissed him back as passionately. He relieved himself off his coat, returning to my lips through the course of removing my own. My hands were on shoulders, at times on his cheeks, and I realised I wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, despite knowing who he was, and without him knowing that I knew. All I wanted was to feel his hands on me, because I'd never had a man touch me and look at me the way Klaus did.