WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

4:04

| FOR HOPE, FOR FAMILY
CHAPTER FOUR |

FRENCH RIVIERA — CLUB ZENITH

The music thundered through the walls like a second heartbeat.

It wasn't just sound—it was sensation. The bass pulsed in the floor, ran up the bones of the crowd, vibrated through walls slick with heat and sweat. Neon lights danced off glass and skin alike, casting the club in a fever dream of color and movement. Humans drank and danced. Vampires fed in corners, their fangs barely concealed, their prey too dazed or entranced to care.

And in the eye of that storm, Kol Mikaelson had his mouth on Rhea Monroe's throat.

They were pressed into the farthest corner of the VIP mezzanine, half-shielded by velvet curtains and too many people looking the other way. Rhea's head was tilted back, exposing her neck with that particular kind of invitation Kol never could resist. His hand curled around her hip, pulling her flush against him as he bit down with deliberate slowness.

Rhea gasped—not in pain, never in pain with him. The bond between them only amplified the pleasure that came with every draw of blood. Her fingers knotted in his dark shirt, her lips parting as her knees threatened to give out.

"You're insatiable," she murmured against his ear, breathless.

Kol chuckled, lips brushing her skin. "Takes one to know one, darling."

When he finally drew back, his fangs retracted and lips stained with her blood, Rhea looked utterly wrecked—in the most exquisite way. Her lipstick was smudged, pupils blown wide, the mark on her neck already beginning to fade. She looked at him like she might eat him alive.

"Bathroom," she said, voice low, dangerous.

He didn't ask. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd with supernatural speed masked by the chaos of the club.

____

The moment the door slammed shut, Rhea pushed Kol against the wall.

She kissed him like a challenge, like she needed to reclaim control after letting him feed. Kol responded in kind—his hands sliding up her thighs beneath her dress, lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the marble counter. Her legs wrapped around him without hesitation, and the air crackled with heat, hunger, and something older still.

"You're lucky I like you biting me," she whispered into his mouth, tugging at his belt. "Otherwise I'd break your jaw."

Kol grinned against her lips, biting back. "Try it, witch."

Clothes were pulled, shoved, torn. Her dress bunched at her hips, his jeans undone just enough. It wasn't careful, and it wasn't sweet. This was teeth and fingers and tension from nights of restraint finally snapping. Kol gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as he moved against her—sharp, deep, and raw.