White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Eleven

1872 — Paris, France

   She could still taste something metallic on her tongue as she woke up. Beneath her, there was something soft, like feathers against the skin. She closed her hand around the softness, letting it sink in between her fingers. Eleanor felt as if she were laying on a cloud, soft, wet, and it confused her. She opened her eyes, starring at the darkness for several seconds before blinking. When her vision accustomed to the dark, she noticed that she was in her bedroom in the villa. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, letting out a yawn. Something stirred besides her, making her stop and slowly turn her head. To her surprise, Klaus Mikaelson laid right next to her, naked. She stared at him for several seconds, then slowly stared down at her body. Just like him, she was naked. She let out a gasp and covered her chest with the blankets.

   Eleanor pressed her fingers to her lips as she recalled what had happened, how she ended on her bed naked with Klaus. She recalled feeding on blood to the point where it became euphoric and she couldn't think of anything else, and then Klaus happened. He kissed her, well, she kissed him and he kissed her in return. And then he touched her, and made her whither beneath him and moan his name as if it were some form of prayer. 

   "I slept with Klaus," she muttered, just low enough for her to hear. "My God, I has sex with him in an alley!" She bit her bottom lip and glanced down at the sleeping Klaus, noticing how he was different than when he was awake. 

   While awake, Klaus was intimidating. His eyes held anger, his stand held anger; he was the personification of Anger himself. But, while asleep, it was as if all the anger had evaporated into calmness. His features appeared completely still, trapped in time, as if all the worries and his anger had been pushed into a small bag and thrown somewhere among the room along with their clothes.

   The blanket that covered her fell wet, sticky. A blanket wasn't supposed to be wet or sticky, unless... She glanced down and let out a gasp, seeing how the once white sheets were stained red. Not only the sheets, but both her and Klaus. She wondered what had happened, and immediately recovered her lost memories. After the rendez-vous in the alley, they continued in the bedroom. They drank from each other, more and more with each movement, and their blood now decorated her bed and herself. Eleanor decided to get out of the bed as slow as possible, not to wake up Klaus, and made her way to the bathroom. She drew a bath and sat in the hot water, allowing it to soak her skin and get rid of the blood caked on her. The bath water smelled like jasmines and vanilla, bubbles now floating all around her. Even though it was a calming atmosphere, she couldn't stop thinking about Klaus and what had happened during the night. She slept with him, she fed off him, she did what she had promised herself never to do.

   Eleanor covered her face with wet hands and shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She couldn't believe she did that, and there was a strange feeling surrounding her. There was electricity at the tip of her finger and at the end of her toes, butterflies flying around in her stomach, little bees walking on her arms. It was a strange feeling, but good. Yes, good.

   "I can't believe you decided to take a bath without me." A soft voice broke her away from her daydream. She jumped and looked at the doorway, seeing a half-dressed Klaus leaning with his arms crossed and a smirk around his lips. His chest was covered and blood, just like his chin and neck. She noticed the faded marks of where she had bitten him, faint, erased in a few hours.

   The young vampire almost covered her eyes, but stopped herself and decided to play along with the flirts of Klaus. She leaned on the edge of the bath and stared at him, biting her bottom lip. "You were asleep," she said. "I couldn't wake you."

   "You couldn't wake me or you were afraid?" he asked, almost teasing.

   I was afraid, she wanted to say. She bit her tongue and gave him a small smile. "I couldn't wake you," she repeated.