His hands were twisted in the sheets. He’d been having a nightmare, a rather vivid one. Mikael’s hands were crushing his brother’s throat. Kol had done nothing to deserve it. The unending wrath of his Father. But Elijah had tried to take his place, pushed the boy from his hands and Mikael took a knife to his bicep, slicing through it as if it were nothing. He was still human then, and his blood turned his tunic crimson.
He awoke startled, sweating, Liv’s hand curled over the muscle, over the scar. Elijah was breathing too heavily, gasping for breath as if he needed it. “I’m sorry, I was just…” Elijah cut her off, clasping his hand to her cheek and running his thumb against her temple. He couldn’t explain the sudden pang in his arm, the uselessness he felt when he’d been human. The infinite mistakes.
Sometimes terrible things happen, and you have a choice.
A choice to succumb to them, or to fight as if you’re stone.
A choice to give into a fate, or give destiny a helping hand.
So? What are you going to do?
“Is Elijah Mikaelson FLIRTING
with me?” The blonde cocked her
head to one side as she moved in
closer. Until she stood only a few
inches from him. Close enough to
feel the heat radiating from him.
“Or are you trying to take all the
attention off of what I just told you
because you’re trying not to have
those same thoughts about me?”
“I’ve had one thousand years to hone my
skills at attraction. If you don’t know whether
or not I’m flirting with you then perhaps I’ve
failed,” he grinned wicked and tight, his eyes
narrowing in delight at the prospect of her
i n t r i g u e .
“And any man would be a liar were he to deny
never having imagined you strewn about his bed.
Do you think me a liar?”
He hadn’t known what to say to her when they’d met. Accuse her of being a witch? That lacked any tact and he found himself searching for the possibilities far too long. Long enough for her to sidle up to him instead. Elijah was somewhat stunned. Not often a witch was brave enough to confront him, let alone to make idle conversation. He wasn’t even certain he knew how to respond when she told him to try the artichoke. Instead he raised a brow, curious as to her intention.
“What are you doing in Mystic Falls, anyway?” She asked, already straying a hand back to the table for another taste of something. Elijah had yet to answer her first command and resisted the urge to indulge her question. Instead of shaking her off, however, she became all the more intent. “Alright, I’ll rephrase: What do you want, Elijah?”
Somehow the candor made her more appealing rather than less. It surprised him. Finally his hand reached for something small, a handful of cashews that he could ply himself with in this room full of mortals. “I’m here on my brother’s errand, Miss...?”
“Liv. Everyone calls me Liv,” she smiled before popping her thumb into her mouth, chasing down a wayward drip of butter. There was something inelegant about it. Something charming. Elijah’s lips tugged at the corners and he found it hard to suppress. “Pretty name,” he returned, enjoying the salt that followed the taste of his snack.
“Which brother?” She asked somewhat indignantly. Elijah raised both brows this time, a clever game of “Wouldn’t you like to know” that only deepened his smirk. He took a step closer to her, moving over her small body and trapping her effectively against the table. His eyes were on hers, careful as he reached behind her, grabbed another handful of cashews. “A pleasure to meet you, Liv,” he grinned against her cheek before pressing his lips to her dimple and leaving her as befuddled as he had been before.
