Red Passion

Chapter 7

Klaus rolls his eyes from behind the boring newspaper that he had for some reason decided to occupy some of his time with, swirling a tumbler of blood in his right hand.

Lately, he has started keeping blood bags in the house for Caroline, just in case, and realized that, no matter how much more he enjoys the chase and the feeling of the fresh, red liquid flowing directly from the pulsing vein of his victims, the plastic substitutes (courtesy of the Mystic Falls hospital) do come in handy sometimes, especially when he doesn't really feel like leaving the house (he doesn't particularly want the Salvatores to know that he's momentarily back in town, after all) or getting his clothes dirty. It's also a lot easier to have a stash of blood close at hand—he's learning—especially when the annoyance that he's feeling towards the whole bite marks situation is slowly heightening his thirst day by day.

He hates not being in a state of complete control. And, even more, even though he feeds on people's anger and fear just as much as he does on their blood, it's inevitable to be at least the littlest bit on edge when your current enemy is unknown. Invisible. Already dead. Who could possibly find useful or entertaining a bond between him and Caroline? He had known well before Darlene had told them—blood spells are no child's play.

However, his ever-present, smug grin is in place as he focuses his attention on Elijah, who is eyeing him somewhat curiously from his spot on the opposite couch.

"Have you got something that you wish to ask me, Brother?" he inquires, arching up an eyebrow at him with a clear air of amusement written on his face.

Elijah slightly narrows his eyes at his brother, opening his mouth for a second before immediately closing it again, his lips pressed tight together as he releases a deep sigh through his nose. He seems to be carefully pondering what to say.

With a slight shake of his head and a smile of his own, he eventually leans more comfortably against the back of the leather couch that he's currently occupying, and then finally answers.

"Nothing at all, Niklaus. I was just noticing how unusually... chirpy you seem to be."

Klaus has to firmly grind his teeth together to keep himself from grinning. All in all, things have been going fairly well with Caroline after her little, unexpected surprise that previous Tuesday (less hate-filled sneers, more passionate encounters—he would take that, for now), so why shouldn't he be happier than he usually is? He has his kingdom, although momentarily far and forgotten, and he is getting closer to finally having his queen, as well—things couldn't get much better than that for him.

But, obviously, that isn't the kind of information that he cares to share with Elijah—not just yet, at least. Not when the bite marks situation is, after all, still hanging unresolved in front of him, taunting and goading him with its possibly dangerous ramifications. It's already bad enough that Caroline is a part of it, once again collateral damage to something that is supposed to strike him, and only him. Because he doubts that she has ever killed or hurt anyone powerful enough to use that kind of magic from the other side. No, it's all him.

There is always going to be a new enemy to kill or an old one to put back in its place, after all, and Klaus knows no other way to fight than by himself.

Does he, after all, even deserve the help and support of a family that he has spent centuries trying to bring back and keep together in all the wrong ways? Carrying his siblings around in boxes, patronizing them like their father used to do–

–Father. The word sounds bitter even among his own, dispersive thoughts.

And he knows that the answer is no—he doesn't deserve them. Their help, their worry. They would just turn their backs on him as soon as they were given the chance, and he cannot possibly afford that.