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Klaus's POV
It's pathetic and weak that all it took was Elijah spreading word about my white wolf to draw me here. This is precisely why I've maintained my distance from her—she's a vulnerability that my enemies could exploit against me. I can only imagine how she must have grown into a woman, shielded from the world's cruelties in a small, protected family.
Has she triggered her werewolf curse yet? If not, her supposed incapability could only drag me down if I ever entertain the idea of associating with her, which I never plan to do, ever. Alexander mentioned she's a witch, but I doubt she holds a candle to the witches I've encountered in the past. I can only hope she's wise enough to protect herself.
"Well, your brother is certainly dramatic ," a soft voice interrupts my thoughts, pulling me from my reverie.
"Niklaus," Elijah calls out as if expecting me to come running.
"I'm pretty sure it's Niklaus," she corrects, catching me off guard and I surpress a smile.
"Don't play games in my house, brother. Show yourself."
"I'm pretty sure you mean 'our house,' don't you, Elijah?" I retort, relishing the familiar look on Elijah's face—earned many times before. But right now, my attention shifts as she turns around.
"Hello, love."
She meets my gaze, and the air seems to leave my lungs at the first sight of her. It's as if I've stumbled upon a hidden gem in a shadowy forest. Her dark brown, bewitching eyes hold a depth that echoes the secrets of centuries, like ancient manuscripts penned in twilight ink. They draw me in, as if I could decipher the universe's mysteries with a mere glance.
Her long, black hair cascades like a silken waterfall down her shoulders, each strand weaving a tapestry of enchantment around her. Above those eyes, her arched eyebrows form graceful arcs, leading into uncharted realms of her soul. Her lips, soft and full, curve gently like the wings of an angel, whispering promises of unearthly bliss and tender caresses.
