napalm skies <<>> kol mikaelson

10

"i like storms. they let me know that even the sky screams too."

10 | FLATTERY

June, 1865

Charlotte had to admit that Kol knew how to make a girl swoon. In fact, he was quite skilled in the practice, and she had to remind herself to take it one step at a time when he looked at her so heatedly. He stirred a fire in her stomach that didn't want to be quelled, and she wondered if this was how courting was supposed to feel like. She'd only ever had bad experiences with it, but with Kol, she found that she couldn't stop smiling.

They had continued their banter through dinner, talking about sweet little nothings and avoiding any heavier topics. Charlotte was grateful that the conversation remained light, and she thanked the chef when he brought out their food and more wine. When Kol suggested that they take a bite of the man—creating a more bloodier palette—Charlotte declined. She didn't think the man deserved that fate, and she usually tried to keep her feedings to people who were cruel or evil. The few times that she negated this rule of hers was with accidental murders and the one or two rampages she went on after a particular rough night reliving human memories. If she could avoid hurting those that she saw as innocent bystanders, then she would—as long as it didn't take much effort on her part to do so.

The dinner was wrapped up quickly, and Kol was whisking her away again. Charlotte waved goodbye at the chef—Luca was his name—and giggled as Kol pulled her along, his hand tightly wrapped around her own. The night had settled to a quiet reservation, and Charlotte felt content in the empty streets, walking side-by-side with the Mikaelson man as he lead her to wherever he wanted to go next. He had slowly been chipping away at the walls she put up through dinner, and she was surprised that the usually insane and cruel Kol Mikaelson was actually being caring and sweet toward her.

She was waiting for the other shoe to drop—for some big scandal or problem to pop up and ruin all the progress made during their date—but it never happened. She was still happy, still smiling, and still holding hands with a vampire known infamously for his ruthlessness. Kol didn't seem deterred by Charlotte's quiet pondering, turning his head toward her with his lips quirked at the corners. He'd been nothing but generous and handsome and easy to talk to—it was such a culture shock from what Charlotte was used to seeing in other men that she had to remind herself that she wasn't somehow dreaming this all up. She had to remind herself that this was real, and that Kol was more than what the rumors of him painted the Mikaelson as.

She knew from personal experience how easy it was to get caught up in the bloodlust, to crave chaos and to cause the destruction firsthand. She knew what it was like to have a persona that the world saw her as—she had been the Infernal Queen in the supernatural community long before she was Charlotte Salvatore. She just never thought that Kol would land in the same category.

The very same hands that had killed so many were bringing a blush to her face and butterflies in her stomach, and she left her doubts about Kol back at the dinner. For now, she wanted to enjoy this time, without worrying about any consequences that could come from it.

"My turn," Kol's voice interrupted her thinking, and she looked at him with a small smile, waiting patiently for his question. The game between them had been fun and easy to maneuver through, and Kol hadn't brought up any topics that Charlotte was particularly reactive toward—she hoped it would remain that way. "What brought you to the glorious city of New Orleans?" He gestured around the empty streets, and Charlotte giggled at his exaggerated sarcasm.

With a small shrug, she answered him as honestly as she had answered the rest of his inquiries. "I wanted a fresh start," she confessed. When he raised an eyebrow at her—an obvious hint that he needed more clarification—she smiled wider. "What? Is that so hard to believe?"