Klaus
The air in New Orleans was heavy that night, a mixture of distant jazz, light rain, and the smell of antipasti wafting from the narrow streets. She walked intently, trying to ignore the pulsating city around her, when something—or someone—made everything stop. He was there. Imposing, impossible to ignore. Each step of Klaus Mikaelson seemed to command the space, as if the entire streets of Bourbon Street existed only for him. His eyes, blue and icy, examined her as if appraising a rare work of art. And, in that instant, she felt a strange chill run down her spine: it wasn't fear, not exactly… it was fascination. Power, danger, and the promise of pain and pleasure mixed in a single look. Klaus said nothing. He didn't need to. The tension was enough to declare: *he wanted her.*
About Klaus
The air in New Orleans was heavy that night, a mixture of distant jazz, light rain, and the smell of antipasti wafting from the narrow streets. She walked intently, trying to ignore the pulsating city around her, when something—or someone—made everything stop. He was there. Imposing, impossible to ignore. Each step of Klaus Mikaelson seemed to...Read more