• A tale of love, pain and hope •
Mikaela Lockwood is the younger sister of Tyler Lockwood, and a recently-turned Hybrid. After being turned by Klaus, she becomes sired to him, and kills dozens of people. Her family send her to the 1994 Prison World...
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Author's Note: This chapter is a little longer than usual - please bare with it!
Kai's POV
"Kai, wake up," a soft voice coaxed me awake the next morning. "Santa's been."
I was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than an extra five minutes in bed, but the excitement radiating from Mickie's entire body was enough to make my eyes flutter open, flashing her a lazy grin.
"Good morning," I whispered, voice husky from sleep.
Mikaela was sat crossed legged and wore a smile from ear to ear, almost bouncing from joy. Clearly it was taking everything in her not to drag my ass out of bed and into the lounge.
"Come see what Santa brought you," she giggled.
I rolled over, wrapping an arm around her petite body as I placed my head in her lap. "Let me wake up first," I mumbled.
"You have five minutes. If you're not up by then, I'm carrying you," she huffed before beginning to play with my hair, earning a hum of pleasure from me.
"That feels so nice," I whispered, eyelids closed once more.
"Don't get too comfortable," she warned. "Clock's ticking."
Five minutes later, Mikaela began tapping my arm. "Okay. Up up up!" she instructed, emphasising each word with a clap.
I groaned but complied, pushing myself to sit up next to her, rubbing my eyes. "Alright, I'm awake."
"Yay!" she squeaked, hopping off my side of the mattress instantly, pulling my hands for me to join her.
Letting her drag me to my feet, I slowly trudged behind her as she led us out of the bedroom and into the lounge, both of us still in our matching PJs.
The moment we stepped foot into the open-plan room, I couldn't help the gasp that fell from my lips as I noticed the pile of presents stacked under the tree.
"Where did all these come from?" I asked in wonder as we approached them, sitting on the floor in front of the tree like a pair of kids.
Mikaela tutted. "Santa, obviously!" she teased.
I shot her a sarcastic look. "He's not real, Mickie."
"Oh yeah?" she said, raising her eyebrows challengingly. "Then who drank the whiskey last night?"
Glancing over my shoulder towards the kitchen, I realised the glass that she had filled with Jack Daniels before we went to bed was now completely empty. The carrot next to it half-eaten.
I tossed my head back to laugh in disbelief. "Wow."
Mikaela scrunched her nose in disgust. "Santa told me to tell you that your whiskey sucked - next year, give him a glass of wine or something. And Rudolph prefers chocolate."
