Little White Lies | Klaus Mikaelson (1)

Threats

Dark. It's dark. My neck hurts. My entire body is aching. A million questions floated through my mind as I struggled to remember where I was or how I'd gotten there. I opened my eyes but quickly forced them closed when blinding light made contact with them.

Klaus. With that single word, I threw my eyes open, ignoring the pain that shot through my body. I glanced around my surroundings, fear beginning to plant itself in my gut. Ric's apartment. I was in Ric's apartment. I began to stand slowly, urging all my fear down as I tried to move. I was constricted, though, and found my body freezing.

I slowly looked down, already dreading what I'd see. And it was dreadful, indeed, the top binding my arms tightly to the arms of the chair. I groaned out as I tried to readjust my sitting position, twisting my wrists and my body at various angles. It was only when I found there was no way I was getting out of this, I begin to panic.

"No, no, fuck," I cried, panic beginning to take over my better senses, "This can not be happening,"

I ceased my struggle almost immediately upon hearing a door creak open. Pretend to be asleep. Klaus was 1,000 years old. There was simply no way he'd fall for that. But... at the same time, it's either that and buy myself some time, or lose what little advantage I had. And just like that, I tilted my head back, closing my eyes and parting my lips.

One, two, three, four. Four footsteps, all of which were coming closer to me. I couldn't breathe. My heart was beating with panic, and I needed air. Why can't I breathe? A hand brushed against my arm. I tried not to let out a cry, but judging by my shaking breath, he knew I was awake. There was silence. Did he leave? Maybe he left.

"I know you're awake,"

Warm, minty breath fanned across my face. A deep voice spoke, with both confidence and purpose. I quickly deduced this to be Klaus. He had a deep British accent, something I wasn't expecting.

Not even the fear that coursed through my body could make me open my eyes. Perhaps he was just playing me, waiting to see if I was actually awake. So I kept my eyes closed and my breathing steady.

A hand twisted itself in the roots of my hair, before forcing my head back aggressively, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through my head and my neck. I cried out in pain, my eyes shooting open. A tall, blue-eyed man, his brown hair undone, and his plump lips cracked and blistered, his jaw, with budding stubble, stared back at me.

"Ah, so she's awake," He mused, minty breath intoxicating the air around me, "I already knew that. Your heart was beating like a drum," He gasped mockingly, "Don't tell me you're scared of me?"

"I'm not," I spat, struggling to keep my voice straight.

He grinned, leaning his face closer to mine, "We'll fix that,"

I needed the upper hand. I needed something. I needed to test his limits, see how far I could push him. If there was one thing I was going to go home with, it would be that. So, perhaps teetering on the edge would be the way to do that. "Are we about to kiss right now?" I asked him. His face was a few inches from mine.

He chuckled and forced my head forward, letting go of my hair with the same ferocity in which he grabbed it. I sent a glare in his direction, one he most definitely noticed, considering the arrogant smirk across his face. When he made his way to the kitchen, I scanned my surroundings. Sure, I was trapped here now, but should the opportunity present itself, I needed an escape plan. It was only when I noticed a familiar face in the corner of the room, did I get distracted from my thoughts.

"Elena?" I called, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry. She looks exhausted, sporting a blood-stained pant leg.

"Wrong version," She spoke. Kathrine.