For the first time since Elena became a vampire, she was positive she had a hangover. Her aching limbs were fast to heal and she stretched, not bothering to cover up her nude body as she rose from her bed and her eyes shifted to the beautiful landscapes on display from a hotel room in beautiful, beautiful Morocco.
Rebekah, Matt and Elena had caught a ferry to the city of Nador when they were leaving Spain. Nador wasn't as big or as glorious as the previous cities the three had wandered over the last few months but it was calm and peaceful and still culture-filled.
A flickering heartbeat alerted Elena of the other person in the room and she sighed, becoming annoyed in an instant.
That was something she had noticed when she turned it all off. Pesky human emotions still found a way to interweave themselves into her psyche whether she liked it or not. She felt irritation, bloodlust, amazement. She felt it.
She felt Klaus. She felt their bond.
She felt a pinch of pain when he felt agony, a sweeping feeling of happiness when he felt pure, unaltered joy. She felt the familiar feeling of irritation as he felt rage. And damn, maybe that was why she was suddenly clutching the frame of the wide window and crushing it beneath her small hands.
He was somewhere near Louisiana and she was across the world from him (well, across the Atlantic ocean, technically). But she still felt him. Always.
He was like that itch on your thighs you felt when cold air hit your bare legs. If you scratched it, it would burn, it would hurt, it would be unbearable. But even if you ignored it, it would still be there.
She finally faced the man laying on her bed and smiled a little. He must be the best hunt she had over the summer.
Long, lush hair and a stubble on his face. Dark eye lashes, dark skin and beautiful arms laying at his sides. She ignored the feeling of irritation when she heard the flutter of his heartbeat. Her dates never really survived the first night. However, Rebekah was growing tired of burying her prey so Elena sighed a little and pouted before she climbed in the shower in the ensuite and proceeded to block out the moans of Rebekah and Matt in the suite over.
She took a polaroid picture of the view from her window and wished that Klaus was across the narrow Mediterranean sea instead of in New Orleans. She wished that he would write to her. She wished that he would stop leaving her heart-aching voicemail messages once a week (that she could only listen to for a split second before she put her phone away).
She hated them.
She wanted to listen to every one of them.
"I hate you." She whispers, wishing he would hear her.
She doesn't. She really, really, doesn't.
"You've stopped killing your dates." Rebekah noted as she flipped through a magazine. They were back in Paris and Matt was out getting them skim latte's with vanilla favouring and their favourite passionfruit parfaits.
"It's gotten boring. Repetitive."
"Do you feel guilty?"
Elena scoffed. She really didn't. "Don't be stupid."
Bekah rolled her eyes, not approving of the insult but she didn't voice her opinion, having learnt her lesson in Melbourne when Elena put green dye in the blonde girl's shampoo and conditioner because she didn't let her kill that guy with blonde curls and brown eyes and Australian accent.
There was a moment of silence as they listened to the bristling life of the tourists fleeting across the streets and gushing about the view of the Eiffel tower.
