𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

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❝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚...

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❝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬, 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.


˚*•̩̩͙•̩̩͙*˚


Seated on one of the uncomfortable stools at the long wooden tables, Celia tried to tear her gaze away from the group of males in the front. the new noble family of New Orleans who owned a mansion bigger than her family could afford or imagine.

A pair of chocolate eyes lingered on her the entire night, as she waved off the drunk males that tried to steal her away for a night or attempted to force a conversation with her when she wasn't interested in their attention. But one of them, a man at least ten years older than her, didn't take the small hints she was throwing. Head tilted away from him, not answering one of his questions but George didn't give up. He made it clear when his rough and dirty fingertips stroked over the exposed skin of Celia's arm, trying to regain her attention. Giving up wasn't on his plate of dinner tonight.

As soon as she felt the shivers of disgust run up her arm, the sudden touch was gone and whispered words rang in her ears. An outburst of rage, and she witnessed every syllable of the spoken threats. When a male, or a guard, caught the incorrect manner of one of the males after drowning a glass too much, she was always rescued; this time it didn't take as long as usual.

„If you ever find yourself approaching this lovely lady again, I want you to break your own neck." Eyebrows raised in shock, her dark red-colored mouth fell open when she heard what was spoken behind her back. A threat that could not be one at all because who would break their own neck? Whatever the man was intending to do to impress her, no person alive would break their own bones, especially not the neck. A cruel joke was played on her but she couldn't laugh about the manners.

A slender hand placed on the side of her neck, the blonde woman tilted her head to glance over her shoulder. She wanted to at least see a glimpse of the man who happened to be a saviour and a threat at the same time. One man left, and another settled down beside her, a wide smirk on his face while his eyes pathed their way over Celia's appearance. How beautiful the red dress clung to her curves until it scattered across the bench and hid the smoothness of her skin underneath dozen's of layers.

A dance, to celebrate the arrival and get together of the Mikaelson siblings was arranged, and the people that desired to enjoy such a meal, were allowed to enter the mansion. Celia was one of many females that decided to join the celebration, but with other intentions than most women. Eyes focused on the noble males of the family, trying to catch their eye and have a life filled with amounts of money they couldn't count; a rich and comfortable style.

„A slight chance to introduce yourself before undressing me further with your gaze?" A clear but gentle voice rang through his ears, his eyes immediately anchoring on the side of her face as Celia stared ahead. The wooden table of the noble family missed one member, one of the males and she quickly realised who settled himself by her side.

„My apologies, darling." He chuckled, sliding carefully closer to the beautiful blonde and leaning forward to be at least the slightest bit in her view. A challenge was what the youngest brother of the Mikaelson's desired, a woman who wouldn't give herself freely to him because they stated to be the richest people in New Orleans. Nothing physical mattered to him, he wanted the emotional part of fighting for someone. Or maybe uncountable droplets of their blood.

„My name's Kol, Kol Mikaelson. My family is hosting this dinner and owns the mansion." He nodded in the direction of the table, two other males watching their brother closely as they whispered inaudible words into each other's ears with stern gazes. „And who might the lady everyone's smitten with be?"

"Celestina Newton." Soft fingertips danced over her cheek and brushed the small strands of almost white hair out of her face to turn her head in his direction. "But I would like it if you call me Celia." Offering her saviour a shorter form of her name after sharing two sentences of a conversation with eachother, wasn't what she intended to do.

"Beautiful." Kol muttered, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and carefully chewing on it. In a matter of seconds, he would be able to draw blood from his own chewed-up mouth while the sharp ends of his fangs dug deeply through the skin. But he promised his elder brothers to behave for one night only, and Celia could be a rather good distraction for it.

"Is there a chance you'd dance with me?" Stretching out his arm to its full length, he pointed his hand to the few couples that were cuddled against eachother, taking steps from left to right while the slow song of the band played. A kind of music for a pair of people involved in a romantic relationship with eachother. Nothing that she would be fond of.

"Oh, that's an interesting question." Celia turned her body to the side, carefully sliding the dress with her to not rip apart the expensive material. Elbow placed on her knee, she leaned forward to put her chin into her hand and take a long and close up look of Kol.

"I don't dance with someone who doesn't court me, love." The blonde spoke the challenge faster than her mind could control what she was saying. Nothing could stop the words and the smirk that started to grow brighter on Kol's handsome face. The corners reached his eyes, showing a slight bit of happiness and confidence.

He leaned further forward, their faces not even an inch anymore apart as he tilted his head to dodge the chance of kissing her, the warmth of his breath fawning over the shell of her ear, creating a wave of shivers on her neck. But this time, it was a feeling of desire, not disgust.

"If you want me to court you, you could have waved me over instead of staring the past hours at me. We could have been way more productive than sitting around a bunch of people, we both do not like." Heat started to gather in her face, covering the span of her pale cheeks in a tint of watermelon red. Words spoken with such a gentleness but enlightening the flame in her head with filthy thoughts.

Plump lips pressed into a tight smile, she inhaled and exhaled deep breath to stop the sudden trembling of her head. Nervousness spread through her heavy limbs, making it hard to say a word without stuttering or completely speaking with the wrong intentions. A noble man could tell her his fantasies, the dirtiest ones and she would have never reacted. But Kol emphasized his words differently, spoke with such a gentleness, even when the thoughts were occupied with a variety of scenarios that weren't soft at all.

Brushing her flat hands over the crumbled material of her dress, Celia rose from the chair and neatly folded her hands behind her back. Head tilted down to share another look with the man seated in front of her, she could not bring herself to stop the smile that crept its way on her lips.

"I think you offered me a dance with you." As Kol stood up from his stool, leading the beautiful, pale woman to the space in the middle, between the couples who were smitten with each other, a story for an eternity started.

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