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Elena’s hands smack against an invisible thick wall. Pressing hard against it, she sighs as she finds she’s boxed in once again. It’s almost an annual occurrence these days. If she’s not barricaded inside the comfort of her own house, it’s somewhere she would love to be lost in for a few days.
Her temporarily prison could be a lot worse.
The Mikaelsons’ library bursts brightly beneath the small chandelier hanging above her head and the candles in their holder burning on the wooden coffee table. It’s magical; she almost feels as though she’s in a completely new world. Elena appreciates the quiet of the library, even if she can still hear the thumping of the music from outside.
She’d snuck away from the Christmas party set in the brightly lit and overly decorated backyard in the hopes of finding somewhere quiet to seclude herself. It felt rude to leave an hour after arriving, but since she had no luck hiding in a corner and waiting for the only person she wanted to see and hadn’t found, Elena had been eager to find a reason to take her leave and retire for an early night curled up in her bed with one of her favourite books. She’d ignore the disappointment she felt at not finding him by burrowing into a world that was far from her own.
She’d only come for him. Their budding friendship was the only reason why she ever tolerated the Mikaelson gatherings.
Instead, her curiosity had gotten the better of her again, and she found herself trapped once more because of it.
She sighs, withdrawing her hands from the invisible barrier guarding the door. She should’ve suspected the threshold would be magicked. Nothing ever went as it should when she found herself dealing with more than one Mikaelson. If her phone wasn’t in the car, she’d be calling Bonnie with a magical 911 that would see her in her bed with a book tucked in her hands within the hour.
"I see you’ve been caught, too."
Elena jumps, pressing her hand against her chest and feeling her heart race heavily and hard. She turns around, trying to compose herself the best she can. Exhaling roughly, she smiles at him. "I didn’t see you there."
Elijah shrugs with his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his black dinner jacket. It doesn’t surprise her to see him in a suit. His short hair’s brushed and he dresses in a sleek dark suit that doesn’t wrinkle despite how relaxed he stands against the frame of the library’s arch. The room is bigger than the first floor of her family home. Easy to hide within, easy to get lost inside. Easy to feel free to be herself in.
"Yes, well," he begins, bowing his head and lips curving into a smile, "vampires excel at loitering in the shadows."
"Is that what you were doing?" Elena cocks her brow, her smile widening despite her wishes. The tension that had coiled itself around her is gone. Elijah has a funny way of making her feel relaxed by simply being near. "Loitering?"
He pauses for a moment, his gaze gliding over her. Then, he lifts a shoulder and offers, "Something like that."
She ducks her head to try and hide the flush warming her cheeks at the sight of his smile. Elijah pushes away from the arch and steps into the room of the library she occupies. He’s a good distance away, but even she can feel his presence. Everything stops. It’s as though the world around them forgets to breathe. She doesn’t blame it. He’s a vision no matter what he wears.
"You look lovely," he says.
Elena’s brows furrow as she looks down at herself. She’s in an emerald green dress with a strapless bodice and a wide tulle skirt. It’s something that she’d worn at the passionate insistence of Caroline. Her hair’s french braided and sits against her back. She feels too made up, too unlike herself.
She’s grateful he can recognise her still.
"Thanks," she says, pressing her lips together. She gives him a once-over, ducking her gaze. "You do, too. This is your best suit yet."
He chuckles, peering down at himself. Fingering the lapel of his jacket, he exhales quietly. Elena doesn’t lift her head, though she watches him carefully, noting the way his dress shoes shine. Everything about Elijah is so immaculately put together. She likes seeing his right cufflink left undone. Imperfection suits him, even if he doesn’t agree.
"Thank you," he says, peering up at her. She ducks her gaze immediately, clasping her hands in front of her.
Her brows furrow. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this unsure in his presence. It has to be her own doing; she shouldn’t have had those two glasses of wine. The room feels warm because of that and nothing more. Clearing her throat, she tilts her head up and gestures with her thumb over her shoulder and asks, "Do you know why…?"
"It’s magically barricaded?" Elijah looks beyond her shoulder, his gaze unfocused for a moment. He licks his bottom lip and nods. "I do," he says, his sharp gaze shifting to her. Elena inhales deeply, quietly, not wanting to move too noticeably. He makes her want to stand taller and remove every little crease in her skirt.
If this was something to worry about, she knows Elijah wouldn’t be so composed and unemotional. He’d be riled up in his controlled way. Easily taking charge, making her feel at ease. She doesn’t fret; he doesn’t seem to be worried.
She licks at her teeth when he approaches the deep red love seat, brushing his fingers against the straps of her black shoes. She’d slipped them off and placed them against the top of the love seat’s arm to relieve her feet and tuck herself into the corner with a book.
He sighs and slips his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. "The machinations of my sister."
Her brows crease. "Rebekah?"
He nods. Lifting his hand from the pocket of his jacket, he gestures around the library. Elena follows his hand, but she finds nothing out of the ordinary. "She wanted to not only trap someone she wished to keep from leaving too early, but she wanted to corner me."
Elena narrows her eyes, her brows knitting even tighter together. A burst of possessiveness washes over her. The desire to storm out of the library and poke Rebekah in the chest for trying to trap Elijah burns hotly. "Why?"
Elijah doesn’t look at her, keeping his gaze down. He walks towards the bookshelf and brushes his fingers against the wood. "She thinks I need a little nudge."
She watches him, admiring the slope of his nose. He pushes gently against the spine of a book, pressing it back into place. Gliding his fingers along the shelf, he studies his fingertip before brushing his thumb against the pad of his index finger. She doubts he’s found any dust in this room. Like the Mikaelsons, it’s well put together and kept.
She tries to think of why Rebekah would want to give Elijah a nudge. Despite knowing him for a couple of years now, she’s always presumed Elijah never needed help. He was always so well put together, always possessing the answers. He was always there when she needed him, even in the moments he hadn’t realised she wanted him at all.
"Why?"
Elijah doesn’t look at her. Elena’s lips part before she rolls her shoulders back. Her bare feet are quiet along the wooden floor, although she can suspect he can hear her every step as loudly as the clop of a horse’s hoof.
"She thinks I need some encouragement to stop hiding away in the library," he says. "Apparently, it’s a habit of mine when she throws one of her parties." It tells her nothing other than the fact Rebekah seems overly concerned (or overly meddlesome) about him.
She scoffs, smiling at him kindly. "You? Elijah Mikaelson? Hiding? I would think everyone and everything should be hiding from you."
He smiles, ducking his head. She thinks she spies a blush blossoming nicely on his cheeks.
"You’ll find looks can be deceiving, Elena," he says, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
She approaches him, standing in front of the neighbouring set of shelves. He looks at the shelf he almost leans against, brushing his fingers against the top of the books. He’s not looking at her. It’s something she had noticed several months ago, his penchant for wanting to watch her, his gaze never wavering from her even when she was embarrassed and flushed and turned away from him.
He’s not looking at her now. She feels strangely abandoned.
Boldly, she brushes her fingers against the lip of the shelf. "How so?" She tilts her head to the side as she observes him.
Elijah looks at her, his expression slightly difficult to read despite the upward quirk to the corner of his lips. She follows his gaze towards the centre of the ceiling. Hanging beneath the bright chandelier is a twig of noticeable mistletoe. It’s thick and dark against the light. She wonders how she hadn’t noticed it.
She smiles, shaking her head. "Mistletoe."
"Rebekah wanted to catch Marcel underneath it," he explains. Her lips part as it all falls into place. The man she’d seen Rebekah trying to pull into a dance, the man Rebekah had stormed away from in a huff had been the very one this elaborate scheme had been for. It’s cute in a strange way.
"That would explain a few things," she says quietly.
From the corner of her eye, she can see him looking at her. Elena keeps her gaze determinedly fixed on the mistletoe. "She asked a witch to spell it so that no one who found themselves beneath the mistletoe would be able to leave without doing what the mistletoe wanted them to do."
She licks her lips and notices his gaze drops to them. She should remain still and not try to draw any more attention to herself, but she parts her lips purposefully and smiles. She peers up at the small bundle of mistletoe and wonders how something so small can hold such power. "What does it want?"
"What does anyone want to do beneath mistletoe, Elena?"
She flushes. Looking away from the mistletoe, she peers down at the ground before turning gently on the spot. She doesn’t want to turn away from him, not when he’s so close she can see the different shades of brown in his eyes. But she thinks about the mistletoe hanging sadly up against the chandelier.
When she peers up at him, she brushes loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Does it wear out?"
He nods. "It does."
"Let me guess," she teases, "at midnight?"
He smiles. "Right as the carriage turns into a pumpkin."
She nods, humming thoughtfully. Her heart races. Although she knows he can hear it pick up in pace, she doesn’t try and slow her breathing. She doesn’t want to. Instead, she rides a blooming surge of adrenaline and turns away from him, walking slowly from the shelves as if she’s a predator about to begin circling her prey.
"What happens if you don’t kiss beneath it?" Elena turns to look at him, clasping her hands behind her back. She likes the way he looks down, pursing his lips thoughtfully. She likes the way he doesn’t look at her. She much likes the way he’s taking her question seriously, mulling over his answer.
With his hands behind his back, he departs from the shelves, his pace as slow and predatory as hers had been. "I did hear you turn into a pumpkin," he says, peering up at her with a sombre expression. "A very rotten one."
She smiles, then bites at her lips to try and pull it from her face. She wants to be serious. She wants the emulate him—unwavering and in control. But she can’t help her smile.
Clearing her throat softly, she tilts her head up and unclasps her hands, holding her arms in front of her. She doesn’t move despite wanting to. Willing herself to stay put, she watches as Elijah walks towards her, his hands behind his back, his expression both readable and guarded.
He comes to stand in front of her. She peers up at him and wishes she had chosen to keep her heels on her feet. Wiggling her fingers, she glances at the strong line of his throat before shyly looking up at him.
"That’d be horrible," she says, the corners of her lips quirking upwards, "especially since you’d make a very ugly rotten pumpkin."
He smiles, chuckling softly. She likes the way his gaze drops bashfully before he looks her again. His gaze lingers on her necklace. "I don’t think you’d make a very pretty one yourself."
She gasps in mock offence. "That’s horrible to say."
"It’s the truth, isn’t it?" Elijah smiles cheekily. "You taught me that. The truth is a lot better than a well-formed lie."
She nods. Quietly, she says, "It is."
His tone softens considerably as his gaze lingers on her face. "And we deserve better than that."
She bites her bottom lip and notes the way his gaze focuses on the sharp pull of her teeth. She’s slow to release it, liking his attention on her. "You deserve a lot more than a well-made lie, Elijah," she says. "You always have."
Elijah looks up at her, his expression one that’s sincere and open. "And what truth do you think I deserve tonight?"
Her heart pounds in her chest. She wishes he would make a gesture that tells her he can hear it. His unfair advantage makes her long to hear his own heart race. She wants to know if she affects him. She wants to know if his blood is rushing through his body and heating up his skin to the point where he feels like he’s on fire like she is. She waits to burn.
Elena shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. "The one thing that you want," she says quietly, not tearing her gaze away from his. "The one thing that would make your night. That might be riding one of the horses your sister has outside," she says, smiling, "but I don’t think overdone parties are your thing."
He shakes his head. "They’re not."
"I think you deserve that," she says, peering up at him sincerely. "The thing that would make you happy for tonight. It think you deserve it for longer than that."
"What if I don’t know that that is?"
"I think you do," she says. "I think you know exactly what you want. I just think you’re too afraid to take it."
He studies her for a long moment. Despite wanting to turn away and unfurl from beneath his watchful gaze, Elena remains in place, tilting her chin up slightly. She likes the way he looks at her, his gaze taking in the slope of her jaw, her neck, her collarbones. Her skin flushes as his gaze seems to dip to her bodice.
Elijah shifts on his feet as he regards her with a furrow to his brows. "Why did you come?"
Ignoring the way her pulse pounds sharply in her throat, Elena swallows thickly and braces herself. It’s a simple answer. She’d wanted to see him. As always, she wanted to be in his company. But the idea of confessing she craved his presence, a mere two minutes of being beside him and seeing if she could get him to laugh, is more daunting than trying to face down a ravenous vampire.
Rolling her shoulders back, she peers up at him and stands as unwavering as she can. "I wanted to see you."
"Why?"
"Because you’re my friend." She fingers the tulle of her dress before she stops herself. She wants to be perfectly still, composed in a way only he’s taught her how. She doesn’t want him to read into a single movement and think she doesn’t mean a word. "Because you’re the only person here that I like."
His lips quirk upward. "You didn’t need to come here and make yourself uncomfortable for me."
"I did," she says, nodding. Elijah ducks his head almost sheepishly, though it’s hard to say if that’s the reason why. She wants to believe it is. Her read on Elijah Mikaelson has grown sharper over the years of knowing him. "Maybe I wanted to kiss you beneath the mistletoe, too."
She catches his smile as he keeps his head bowed. "You did?"
"I do." She stares at him, willing him to both peer up at her and keep his gaze away from her. When he doesn’t look at her, she feels bold. Bold enough to press her hand to the small of his back when he accompanies her to a cafe. Bold enough to brush her hand against his when he hands her a glass. Courageous enough to fake not understanding how to complete an assignment and needing him to help her. "I’ve been wanting to do that time for some time, actually."
He’s quiet. She bunches her hands into her dress, her heart trying to escape through the thick muscle and skin. She feels the compulsion to run like Cinderella, but she refuses to give in to the midnight chiming. Her carriage can turn into a pumpkin if it means the man she came here for remains standing in front of her.
"I’ve never been kissed beneath the mistletoe," he says. Elijah looks up at her, a small upward quirk to his lips. "I’ve always avoided it."
Elena lets out a small breath. "Do you want to avoid it now?"
He shakes his head. "No." He inhales deeply, relaxing before her. She likes the way he’s beginning to unravel. It’s always a sight seeing Elijah take what he wants. "I had been hoping you’d come in here."
She smiles. "Because of the mistletoe spell?"
He smiles, licking his lips and peering away from her sheepishly. "Perhaps."
She laughs loudly. "Wow. Elijah Mikaelson’s a dishonourable man? I can’t believe it."
He brushes his fingers roughly against his chin, his skin turning pink. She bites her lip, enjoying the blush on his cheeks. She wants to reach out and touch his skin, to feel it burn beneath her palms as proof that she’s made him blush.
She tilts her head and regards him with a smile. "Do you want to know how to become honourable again?"
He looks at her, amused and slightly exasperated. She likes the look on him. "Yes."
Elena licks her lips and steps into him. Standing on the tips of her toes, she gently presses her lips to his. He’s still beneath her. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. It’s almost like he’s afraid to move. When she pulls away, she presses back down onto the balls of her feet and smiles, brushing her fingers against her collarbones. "Like that."
"Oh." He regards her with a strange look, one that makes her wonder if he’s ever seen her before. His lips remain parted; her gaze lingers there. His brows tug together as he feigns seriousness. "Well, I think I have a long way to go before I can be called an honourable man again."
His hand is gentle against the small of her back, his other hand soft against her cheek. Elena doesn’t stand on the tips of her toes as he leans down, sloping his mouth against hers. She brushes her hands against his cheeks, sliding one into his short hair and the other to his shoulder. She grips him, wrinkling his jacket as she opens her mouth beneath his.
Elijah’s slow to pull away. Brushing the tip of his nose against hers, he bows his head and pecks her lips, then the corner of her mouth. Hand falling to her hip, he peers down at her and lifts his other hand to brush a stray strand behind her ear.
"I agree. I don’t think you’re close to being honourable," she says, licking her lips. His mouth is stained faint red from her lipstick. She steps into him and threads her hands through his hair, pressing her body into his. Standing on the tips of her toes, she brushes her lips against his chin. "I think I can help with that."
He smiles as she kisses him again.
