I'm Still Yours, Klaus (Book 4)

CH. 7

SEVEN:

Thursday, January 25th
8:26 PM

• KLAUS •

I stared at my phone as Danielle was calling me, again. Freya and Elijah had taken forever to drag Marcel's unconscious body back to the compound. It was Freya's idea, but I wasn't stopping her by any means. A little karma was in store for him. Except when I get revenge, I one up 'em.

Unlike when I was prisoner, Marcel has people who will come for him. My family was under a magical slumber and couldn't save me for five years. Danielle pregnant with triplets? She couldn't save me. She could visit. And Hayley? She was just one person against Marcel and his city of lackeys.

Elijah walked over to me at the lopsided desk in the rundown room that used to be our downstairs den. My brother took a swig from a bottle of bourbon before offering it to me. I shook my head, waving it away with one hand and sending Danielle's call to voicemail with the other before shoving my phone in my pocket. "I prefer my mind remain unaltered for the time being," I told my brother.

"Weird. I feel the exact opposite," Elijah commented back, drinking from the bottle once again. I didn't care that he was a bit unhinged since he had awakened. I had enough to worry about. His unknown—albeit, probably stupid—problems could wait for my attention.

"Rest easy, brother," Freya chimes in, coming in the room with her typical mission oriented approach. "My spells have Marcel bound and cloaked. Even more, I can find no trace of the Hollow's magic in either of you."

"So where has it gone?" Elijah questioned, gathering the desk I sat at and now Freya was leaning against.

"It's a ghost. It could be anywhere, and since we know that it still wants to sacrifice someone powerful, we have to be prepared," our sister said, reaching for the mystical blade that I had resting on the desk. The only weapon, in which could kill Marcellus—my wayward son.

I grabbed Freya's wrist before she could snatch the blade up. "I think I'll hold on to it for now," I told her, narrowing my eyes on her.

"This wasn't a gift," she quipped, staring me dead in the eyes, not backing down. "Today proved Marcel's a threat, whether used as a sacrifice or possessed."

"Regardless—"

"What good is having a weapon if you won't use it?" Freya snapped at me, shutting me up.

"Niklaus, give it to her," Elijah chimed in.

I let go of her wrist reluctantly and let her take the blade. "Having a monopoly of power makes you a target, sister. Remember that," I warned, standing up from my seat to come face to face with her.

"Target for sure," a new voice came right before Freya went flying back through the room, sliding onto the floor before crashing into the chandelier that used to hang from the ceiling.

Elijah and I were both too stunned to move or pick our sister up. However, I had a second motive for staying still. My wife walked in, hair blowing in the wind she created as she whizzed pass us towards Freya. My eyes widened as I looked her up and down.

I barely registered her grabbing the blade that Freya dropped. Nor did I comprehend the threat she gave my sister. All that mattered was the pink satin pajamas she had on. The shorts too short. White lace on edging, moving in the breeze, leaving the bottom of her perky arse out. No bra either so her nipples—hard as rock—were shining under the light.