Reckoned With✔️| 𝐾𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑠 𝑀𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑜𝑛 {2}

8|Finer Things

|nora's pov|

I slowly circled the car, and covered my mouth in shock.

It was beautiful, and definitely an upgrade compared to my last one.

I screeched, and turned around to look at him, and then back at the car.

"Holy shit." It was like my convertible, but better. It was the sleekest black color, with leather purple interior. And of course with the top down, I saw a bottle of bourbon lying in the passenger seat. "This is ours?"

"It's yours." He said, dangling the keys in front of my face. I looked at him for a second, before fumbling with them, and sped in the drivers seat. He walked and got in the passenger seat while I grabbed the bottle and took a chug from it.

"So, where is Chicago?" I honestly decided that I would just kill him after he got me my car, but he made the Chicago life seem so interesting, I was up for it.

"About, a twelve hour drive west." I looked at him with raised eyebrows, and then got out of the car.

"I'm not driving." I smirked, slamming the door. About five seconds later he got out of the followed me, and we traded places.

"You know spent a lot of time in Chicago?" Instead of saying anything, I turned my head up to look at him. "The ripper of Monterey." I kept a straight face, thinking. I met him, once, at one of those bloody balls. I don't remember which one, but I do..remember.

"I thought Monterey is in California." He nodded his head.

"It is, and that's a thirty one hour drive from Chicago. But he isn't called the ripper of Monterey because that's the only place he was a ripper, that was just the place he did the most damage."

He turned and started the car, while I grabbed the bottle again before reaching at the top of my head, and pulling my sunglasses back over my eyes. I didn't know what I was doing, or really was convinced that whatever it was, was a good idea, but oh well, I guess. I had nothing better to do. Regardless of what we had in the past, he is still Klaus Mikaelson, a thrill in himself. 

I got comfortable in my seat, and after a few moments I started to glance between the road in front of us, and him. "What are you waiting for, put your foot on the gas." I urged him on, but he only gave me a filthy grin.

"I have been desiccated in a box for eight years...parched." I felt his hand somewhere in my hair, but I was too drunk to feel in which exact spot. "...drained of any blood in my veins." My dilated pupils shrunk when I focused back in on his face, and blinked a few times. Eight long, agonizing years. I could barely contain my vampire side when I had to go without blood for five days, let alone years.

"Yeah, there's a town just down the road.." I used my hand to point in the direction, but he snatched my chin in his hands, and pulled me close to his face. I couldn't really feel my body much, perhaps that's why I didn't flinch. When I was an inch or so away, I saw a slight trace of veins web under his eyes.

"Maybe I cannot wait that long, and I've been craving a specific trace of blood?...I don't trust myself, I'll loose control." He whispered, trying to convince himself, rather than inform me. I was confused, it was like he was having a mental conversation with himself out loud to me. He let me go forcefully, my body slouching back in the passenger seat. I smiled.

Oh yeah, we weren't strangers to blood sharing, and once you started, that kind of thing was hard to stop. I liked seeing him this, messing with his emotions, Klaus Mikaelson, he barely even knows what an emotion is, let alone how to regulate them. He's the biggest monster of all, the son of the monster who hunts monsters, The Great Evil. I new the last thing that he wanted to do was drive for hours, while he could feel his veins rubbing together like sandpaper.

I knew the monster was in there, all I had to do was pull it out. Maybe if he gets trapped in his own downward spiral, he'll be too caught up in himself to worry about me. 

I flipped my hair out of my face, and looked at him through the mirror. I reached both of my hands up, and rested them on either sides of my neck, and I slid them down, scratching until I got to the base of my neck. I only furrowed my eyebrows in pain, as I felt the blood ooze out of the cuts, and I slowly glanced at my fingertips, that were laced with blood too. I watched his face turn from man, to beast in the rear view. But he didn't do anything, he just starred. I reached my hand out fast, and swiped my bloody fingers his lips, and drug them down slightly.

I caught a glimpse of his sharp teeth, but my eyes were as wide a saucers when he grabbed my wrist, and stopped me from pulling it back. I didn't even see him come at me.

The only thing I felt, was the skin on my neck being torn. I wasn't scared, so I didn't try to stop him, but after a while I could feel my body become weaker and weaker. After he lost control, everything went black.