White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Twenty-seven

 1952 — Suffolk, England

   The table was filled with every delicacy she could imagine, a mouth-watering sight for everyone except Eleanor Fraser. She nibbled on the mealie pudding, took a single bite of a buttery croissant, drank two cups of Assam tea, and bit off the fat end of some crispy bacon. The reason why she ate so little was sitting right in front of her—a man. It wasn't any other man, but Klaus Mikaelson, the man that she had been smitten with for the past 131 years of her life and the man that made her feel of kinds of strange. Her eyes went from the half-eaten meal in front of her to the man, making sure that he wasn't looking back at her. 

   She bit her bottom lip as the thoughts of the night before immediately became vivid in her mind. Fingers pressing everywhere, lips brushing against skin, bumps rising on their skin and minds filled with nothing but each other. It caused Eleanor to suck in a breath and look away, her cheeks stained red from the thoughts. She wondered how could she think of him in that way, as if he was the only thing that made her half-dead heart actually keep beating, made her feel all nervous when he was near. 

   "Wow," she heard Gianni say from his seat on the table. "You can cut the sexual tension in this room with a knife." He sliced his knife through the air and laughed.

   Eleanor glared at him. "Be quiet and eat," she ordered him, cheeks flushing as red as the strawberry jam in front of her. 

   Gianni laughed again. "You gonna send me to my room if I keep talking about how loud the two of you were?" He glanced between the woman he called his mother and the man he called a Devil. "Honestly, do you two know that this is a house full of vampires with specific hearing?" He wiggled his fingers at them as if he were pointing. "I understand that this has been brewing since Eleanor was with you, but couldn't you to have se—"

   "Gianni!" Eleanor groaned, glaring at him. "Shut up, please."

   The redheaded boy gave her a teasing smile. "Sex," he finished. "For God's sake, Eleanor, I'm twenty, not seven."

   "Oh my, God, Gianni!" she groaned again, slamming the fork in her hands against the table. "Stop it!"

   The teasing look in Gianni's face disappeared. A flash of anger appeared behind his blue eyes, his knuckles white from the hold he had on the fork. "Stop?" he questioned, voice full of anger. "Eleanor, Thomas just died and you're having sex with Klaus! It's..." He paused and look around, a look of uncertainty filled in his eyes. "It's wrong and repulsive!"

   Eleanor stared at the boy for a couple of seconds, realising that maybe he thought of her and Thomas as his parents. They had raised him ever since he was seven, taken care of him as if he were their own son, loved him like no one ever before. She was sure she loved him more than anything in her life, would give up her own life for that redheaded boy with bright blue eyes. Never did she think that he actually thought of her as his mother, but her heart swelled up at the thought and tears welled up at the corner of her eyes. Did he think that she was cheating on Thomas with Klaus?

   If she thought about it, her relationship with Thomas Cummings was not specific. They kissed, but they had kissed many people in their time together. They had sex, but other people were sometimes included. They loved, and she was sure it wasn't exclusive to just each other. She loved Thomas, and he would always own a part of her heart, but she wasn't in love with him. Never had she acted the same way she acted with Klaus, and that made her think about her own feelings for the Original. 

   Eleanor sighed and frowned, glancing back at Gianni. "Thomas died three months ago," she tried to reason, but was immediately cut off. 

   "So, you just jump onto the next man that shows affection to you?" he snapped, eyes hard.