Young Gods

Chapter Eight

Elena rolls onto her stomach, eyes closed as she groans. She felt her stiff muscles flexing at the movement. She could only guess she hadn't moved in a long time.

With that thought, she blinked. Groggy and not even half-awake, Elena managed to push herself up with her elbows, moving to a sitting position on the soft bed. The soft, white bed that ... isn't the one in the cottage.

Looking around her, she found herself in a small room, the bed pushed up against a curved wall. Small windows displayed a bright blue sky. The height of the room couldn't have been more than seven feet tall, the bed barely fitting in the corner. The overall area of the room left only a plush chair and a table.

Klaus rested on the chair, a pencil in his hand as he ogled her. A sketchbook lay open on the table, but she could only see part of whatever he was drawing. Not that it was her main concern, but she was curious to see if it was another sketch of her.

Trying to shake away the grogginess, Elena rubbed her eyes. "Where are we?"

He placed his pencil down, closing his sketchbook. Unlike before, he was more relaxed but a hint of dread was smeared across his face. "On a private plane to Moorea."

Elena blinked.

She threw her head back as she laughed, the disorientation of just waking and the lucidity of whatever room Klaus had put her in caused the inane reaction. Her laughter filled the small room for half a minute, and only when she realized he hadn't joined did she stop.

Her eyes sweep his face, now expressionless, almost cold. Realization washed over her, smile dropping. "You're serious."

"Yes," he states, watching her every movement.

Elena jumps from the bed, pushing past him as she heads towards the small plane-like window. Her eyes widened as she saw white puffy clouds beneath them, the sun shining on her.

Enraged, she turned back to Klaus. She couldn't help the shock that overtook her face, jaw open. "You kidnapped me."

"You're nineteen. I've abducted you." he corrects, leaning back in his chair. Regardless of the blank expression, he had put on, Elena saw apprehension flash in his blue eyes.

His lack of reaction made her angrier. She nearly growled at him. "I'm on a plane to god knows where and you're concerned about my terminology?"

"We're on the way to Moorea." he continues, tone strident. He twirled his pencil between his fingers. "It's one of the most isolated islands in French Polynesia. Sunny, sandy, and has everything you'll need until I can kill my mother."

She shook with rage and disbelief, trying to find where Klaus had found the audacity. "Take me back."

The way he stared at her unnerved her. His eyes were just as cold and unwavering as they had been when he stared down at Stefan before compelling his humanity off. Elena realized she was never the one he'd inflicted that particular look at. His jaw ticked, yet he tried to play off his frustration as indifference.

"No."

Unable to contain her anger, Elena grabbed the closest thing to her—an empty glass sitting on the table—and threw it at his indomitable body. She was still somewhat tired from sleep, and she cared for him, so she shouldn't have been more antagonized when the glass only broke when it hit the floor. His face remained unscathed.

Elena Gilbert was not a violent person. She didn't cause harm for fun, nor did she seek out anything that would provoke monsters, and she didn't retaliate even if it cost her her life. Nonetheless, after spending a year of having her decisions being made for her, and taken away by the people she loved, she wouldn't take the same treatment from Klaus. Not from anyone anymore.