delicate

23

I stared at the road, watching it pass as Damon drove.

"Evelyn."

I looked at Stefan in the passenger seat. "What?"

"You know what to say, right?"

"Sure," I answered.

"Evelyn, he could -"

"Kill me. I know." Maybe he can beat me to it. "But he won't. You know that."

"Right, because suddenly he's a saint," Damon remarked. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Don't be a smartass."

"Why would I? That's your job."

He started to speak, but Stefan stopped whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "Just watch what you say, okay?"

"Or else he'll kill me. And if he doesn't, Damon will. I got it."

Damon parked, and we got out. I walked a few steps behind. I kept my arms crossed. The feeling of nervousness made me mad.

Damon and Stefan walked in front of me down the hallway but were a few feet apart, allowing me a full view of the hallway. And Kai's door, which a woman was walking away from.

Her hair was messy, and her makeup was smudged. Her dress was black and sparkly. The strap was hanging off her shoulder. She was carrying her shoes. She walked past the three of us with a giggle and a blush on her face.

I looked at Kai's door again. He was standing in the doorway, staring at us, specifically me. The grin on his face made my blood boil. We walked the distance between where we stood and Kai's door. Kai looked from Stefan to Damon. I stayed a few steps behind them, keeping my arms crossed over my chest.

"We need to talk," Damon stated flatly.

Kai lifted his brows, "Really?" I rolled my eyes and looked to the side. "I'm sure whatever you have to say is of utmost importance, but I'm super busy, so..."

"Unless you'd rather be decapitated, I suggest you let us in," Damon replied.

I looked at Kai, feeling his eyes on me. He pulled his gaze away from me as he stepped back, letting us in. Damon and Stefan found their way into the living room. Kai stepped forward, putting his hand against the doorframe, stopping me from coming in. There was barely room between us for me to breathe. My eyes were forced up to his. His lips were parted as he stared at mine.

"Move."

He looked back into my eyes. A smile spread across his lips as my jealousy registered in his mind. Unfortunately. He stepped back, letting me in. I took a few steps into the living room. He shut the door and walked over. Way too close for my comfort. Obviously not his.

He reluctantly moved his stare from me to Damon. "Talk." His tone simultaneously made me infuriated and my skin hot. He walked to the other side of the room, facing the Salvatores and me. They were a short distance away from me, standing behind the couch.

Damon spoke for the three of us. "You used a cursed knife to stab Jo. She's dying."

He seemed confused. "Okay... I didn't choose that knife. It was given to me."

"By whom," Stefan queried.

"Does it matter?"

I felt like I could throw something at him. "Why would he ask if it didn't?" The sharpness in my voice made me mad. He knows he's getting to me, which is apparent because of the grin on his face.

"I was just curious." The way he dragged on his words made me feel nervous.

The silence was cut by Stefan. "Regardless of how you got the knife, you still used it. You're a siphon, so you knew that knife was cursed. You could feel the magic in it. Who gave it to you and why?"