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chapter eighteen. nothing breaks like a heart ════ ⋆͛♡⋆͛ ════
STRESS SEEMED TO be the only Eliza could feel. As the hours dwindled down, it came closer and closer to the time where Elena would would be sacrificed on an altar and Eliza be performing one of the most intricate and oldest spells to exist.
After Alaric had dropped the bomb that the curse was going to be broken tonight, Eliza felt overwhelmed and couldn't take anymore of Damon's whining and Stefan's brooding. It was suffocating her. After driving around, she found herself parking outside the Grill.
Entering the Grill, she strolled over to the bar and sat down. She folded her arms and dropped her head on top, sighing softly.
"Eliza?" Matt's voice entered Eliza's ears. "Hi Matt. What do you want?" Eliza muttered angrily, groggily lifting her head up.
"Are you alright?" Matt gestures to her neck, only confusing her more.
"I'm fine." Eliza replied bitterly, the small building pain in her head making her cranky.
"You don't look fine. In fact, you look dead." Matt pressed.
Eliza had a confused expression before a sudden wave of pain hit her. She hissed, holding a hand to her forehead. Suddenly, the room was spinning and it was hot, too hot. "My fucking head. Bye Matt." She exclaimed quietly, dizziness starting set in. Eliza began to sweat profusely and a ringing settling in her ear.
"I'm told you two fancy my doppelgänger. Just here to tell you not to mess anything around." were the only words that seemed to pierce through the ringing her ears. The voice was British and deep, something about it was seductive and made things twists in her that shouldn't be twisting.
She looked up and saw Damon and Alaric sitting together while some tall dude looked down on them. Eliza was in too much pain to deal with Damon right now. She powered through her pain and made it through the exit.
Eliza let out a breath of relief, the pain ceasing as soon as she entered the cold and dark embrace of outside. She froze when she heard someone exit behind her, "What a beautiful sight you are." There it was, the luscious and deep British voice that sounded like pure silk. The pain started all over again but worse.
The feeling made her feel drunk, the world spinning and pain shooting up her back. She slowly turned around, her eyes meeting the British man's. "You're hot." She smirked weakly before her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Her knees buckled and her legs gave out, her body caving in. Klaus ran to her rescue, catching her before she could hit the ground.
The British man's face was one of confusion, his mind trying to find logical reasons as to why the Charmed One had just collapsed in his arms. He shook it off and swept her off of her feet, carrying her bridal style. Her hair fell from her shoulders, dangling in the air. The man's eyes fell to her neck, a certain mark etched into her skin. It was a marking with the initials, N.M.
