20. -DO NOT GO GENTLE

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━━━━Do Not Go Gentle━━━━

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━━━━Do Not Go Gentle━━━━

Bare feet silently tiptoed across the room, peeking around the corner, curious eyes watched as paint splattered onto canvas.

That electric pull wrapped around him like a vice as he felt her presence before he could sense it, she was everywhere all at once, consuming him.

"You don't have to hide," he called as he dabbed shades of blue onto the canvas.

She was admittedly still mad at him for what occurred with Damon, so mad that she avoided him at every turn. Klaus had suggested she sleep in his room which she had refused since the start of her stay, for many reasons.

He was truly the bane of her existence and yet her hearts biggest desire. It was agonizing, feeling so conflicted over a mere man.

She stepped from out of the corner, hands neatly placed behind her back. Her nose turned up at him, as he set his brush down. Every heavy step he took toward her filled her belly with an ache she couldn't describe.

She so desperately craved physical contact with him, her hands itched to feel his skin against hers, to taste him on her tongue, every minute in his presence was painful.

He stopped in front of her, towering over her, forcing her took look up. His hand grabbed at her chin, that intense spark lighting her with euphoria as her skin reddened from heat.

His thumb grazed her bottom lip, tugging it gently. She could feel her very desire pooling between her thighs as his eyes met hers, and suddenly the room became unbearably hot, her clothes felt too tight.

"My little star," he whispered, fingers trailing to her necklace, grazing over the pendant despite the vervain that stung his skin.

She pulled away, quicker than she appeared. Waltzing toward his canvas she stared intensely at it. It was a meadow he was painting from memory, one he'd hope to take her to one day within France.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, fighting the urge to touch it.

"Indeed" he whispered looking at her, making her cheeks redden.

"I wanted to ask a favor," she said, batting her lashes, her voice sweet as honey making him grin.

"What is it you desire?"he asked leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. His shirt riding up displaying his hardened midriff, averting her gaze before she found his eyes.

"A dress, for the dance," she said making his brows raise, it would the first time she would step out since her mothers passing, though the compulsion made her absolutely numb to the pain, to the fact that the event even happened.

He was sure a day would come when she would know the truth but he hoped it wouldn't be any day soon. He was selfish, he was happy she was back to normal after her mothers passing but in a sense it was a facade, one he had to play along with.

Wires ━━Klaus Mikaelson ¹ Where stories live. Discover now