❝You play with fire because you want to get burnt.❞
Ever since she was a child, Roseanne Song liked to play with fire. She enjoyed the warmth it spread, how the flames would lick the tips of her fingers as the match became smaller. After the deat...
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When she imagined the home of the infamous Klaus Mikaelson, she imagined something large and lavish. A mansion. She imagined some luxurious house full to brim with treasure from the years he had lived, a reminder of how old its owner was and the lifetimes he had gone through and how many riches he had accumulated. Instead, it was an old house in the middle of the Quarter. She had passed it while walking, not realising that it belonged to the infamous man. Just like she imagined, it was big, but it also appeared abandoned. The majority of the furniture had been covered and the lighting was too dim for any mere mortal to see, and the scent of dust was everywhere.
Roseanne crinkled her nose as he made a face of slight disgust. Not because of the house, but because of the few vampires that stared as she passed by them. She almost growled at them but decided to stay quiet. If she made a sound, a move, they could rip her limbs before she could even register what was happening. She wondered if they were looking at her, sniffing her blood, or the blood of the witch that covered her chin and sweater.
The inside of the house was different from the courtyard. The light was brighter, the atmosphere was heavier. There was a silence in the house that made her feel uncomfortable. Ever since she began to live with Nemiah and Agnes, she never knew silence. Unless she was sleeping. The house had been loud, the outside had been loud—the Deep Water Pack was loud. The silence in the Mikaelson house was uncomfortable.
Klaus Mikaelson led her to the last room in the hallway upstairs. He opened the door and pointed inside with his arm. "For tonight, this will be yours."
She did not dare cross to the bedroom. "Why?"
"Because I intend to find out why you seem to appear when I least expect it."
She rolled her eyes until they landed back on him. "I don't know if you know this, but coincidences exist. I was at the church because that is where you wanted the pack to be; I saved your friends' ass because I just happened to be there at the right time. These are all coincidences."
Klaus shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. It wasn't happiness, or sadness, but a hint of bitterness and curiosity. "No, I don't mean those times..." He trailed off as his eyes fell back on her, eyes squinting as if he were deep in thought. His eyes widened and he inhaled.
Roseanne saw the colour of his eyes. A burning blue that moved with the dim light overhead—a frozen rage. With short lashes that were a mixture of blonde and black. He looked tired, of everything. She wondered if the frozen rage ever thawed out and became the same raging anger she had in her blood.
"Brother, what have I told you about taking prisoners into our home?"
Roseanne turned to see another man staring at her. Tall and handsome, a muscular body hidden underneath a tailored suit, brown hair with soft brown eyes. He resembled the Hybrid in looks but appeared to be more mannered. A stag. She could just imagine a bright halo at the back of his head as he entered the bedroom, the angels singing some hymn as the man tilted his head slightly to the side to stare at her.
