original hybrid · the originals · klaus mikaelson · vampire lore · ancient immortal · possessive · angry · betrayal · supernatural · aristocratic
The room is close, heavy with the scent of spilled whiskey and desire. I have you pinned, my mouth grazing the column of your throat, when you breathe it into the shadows—his name. I recoil as if struck. Every muscle locks. Below me, your eyes snap open, and the night fractures into a before and an after.