Pretty Little Things

Kol watches his baby sister dance with the pitiful excuse for a human. Annoyance creeps in with every bat of an eyelash, every coy little giggle Rebekah sends in his direction.

An hour ago she had wanted his head on a pike.

Fickle Rebekah.

She has gotten him all worked up with the thought of some true entertainment and then snatched it away at the last second. He blames the left over rust from his century's long nap for not knowing better the moment she had opened her mouth.

Now he is bored.

This party has never held his attention – even in its inception. He would have preferred to spend his first days out of the coffin indulging in all that he had missed while under. Instead, he has been forced to dress up, sip overpriced champagne and play nice with the locals.

He vows to lure away one of the pretty little things and drain her – Mother be damned.

He'll pick carefully of course. Not just any human girl will do. He has standards as every man should. He will do his best to avoid anything with only half a brain. Married will not do. Those over thirty need not apply – no, what he wants, what he craves is a fresh young thing that will not just scream and wilt at his feet.

He wants a challenge.

He circles the staircase, deciding that must strategize. He needs to go under Mother's radar for now. He ends up on the terrace, the cool air refreshing him immediately after standing in a crowded room full of cloying perfume and body odor for far too long.

When the blonde jock appears a few moments later Kol thinks fate is smiling at him this night – he now envisions doing double duty; proving to his sister that she should not string a man along in any sense and bucking his mother's perfect vision of a family.

He'll kill the jock and then find a bite to eat.

He lures him out with a hiss of his name and appears only after lulling Matt into a state of confusion. He wonders if the teen realizes just how pitiful he looks. Perhaps that is what has provoked Rebekah to change her mind – she always did have a thing for saving wounded animals.

Kol plays the part of the gentleman his mother wishes him to be, extending his hand and feigning the desire to actually want to formally meet this waste of space. He can see Matt's hesitation and realizes that the jock might have a sliver more intelligence than he has given him credit for. However, what choice does Matt really have? He can't very well turn his back on an original vampire. He has to take Kol's hand.

Kol immediately tightens his grip even as he smiles. He can hear the bones crack, and envisions grinding them to dust before he tosses the boy over the railing to the hard concrete blow (hopefully to be discovered by one of those screaming females he wishes to avoid at meal time).

Matt is on his knees when she speaks.

"Let him go."

It is quiet but firm enough to have him tearing his eyes away from the grimaces of pain to see who would dare. He finds himself looking at the determined face of a mere slip of girl. She almost seems lost in yards of green fabric she has chosen to drape herself in. If it weren't for the glint in her eyes he would have dismissed her immediately.

No, there is something about her that demands attention.

So he'll play along.

"And why would I do that?" He asks as he flicks his wrist a little, earning him a fresh moan from the Donovan boy.

"Let him go," she repeats, stepping fully onto the terrace. The moonlight immediately reflects off her darkened locks giving her a bit of an ethereal glow.

She is either very brave – or very stupid.

He is hoping for the former.

"What will you give me?" He asks, watching the confusion momentarily play across her face. She is quick; however, reining it in mere seconds after it first appeared. Brave, he decides. She is brave. "What will you give me to let him go?"

She tilts her head to the side, her face catching the light and he notices that she has green eyes. Green eyes that are currently narrowed at him. Wonderful – she will play along too. He is beginning to think he is about to kill two birds with one stone. "Name your price," she says and there is a groan of protest from the jock on his knees. Kol squeezes to change it to one of pain. It sounds better on Matt's lips.

"Hmmm," Kol begins, appearing lost in thought. "A beautiful woman standing before me – I can think of an infinite number of requests."

She bristles a little and he knows that so has she. Her mind must be racing to narrow down to what he might ask of her. He considers requesting the most profane thing he can think of just to see her face as it falls off his lips. But she beats him to the punch. "Whatever you want – the answer is yes. Just let him go."

Kol almost sighs. This game is going to end far too quickly isn't it? He wishes she isn't so brave so he could prolong the moment. There is really no place left to go but to toss the jock aside, pull her into his arms and bury his fangs in the soft flesh of her neck.

Unless he doesn't drain her right away.

Unless he keeps her alive to play.

Rejuvenated by the last minute addition to his plan, he lets go of Matt's hand and gives his chest a solid kick, watching the boy skid at his savior's feet. She looks down briefly. "Get out of here, Matt."


"Now, Matt!"

And there is no arguing with his shiny new toy now is there?

Kol watches as the jock pulls himself together and pushes off, even though he knows Matt wants to stay, play the role of the white knight and save the fair princess. There will be no saving her now – she is his to do with what he wishes. "Come here, my pretty little thing," he says before deciding to try her name, to get a feel for it on his tongue. "Bonnie."

She takes a step forward without hesitating. The defiant tilt of her chin, even in the face of what is to come, ensures that every polite gesture he has been forced to make this evening will have been well worth it.

He touches her cheek first, feeling the warmth of her skin before his fingers fall away. She meets his eyes and for a moment he wonders just what her story is that she can look death so calmly in the face. "We will have such fun," he promises as he tugs her toward him.

She puts her hands up, perhaps on instinct. The moment they collide with his chest he thinks otherwise. He can feel it now, thrumming beneath her palms – the power that she has so expertly masked up until this moment. He frowns. "Clever witch."

She smiles and before he can move to neutralize her he feels the power flow from her and into him. It is a strong blast, stronger than should be possible for one so young. It propels him backwards and over the very same railing he had hoped to use to dispose of the jock.

Kol hits the ground with a sickening thud and he knows there is enough internal damage to render him useless for the moment. He has no choice but to lie there even as he feels the tissue, the bone begin to knit back together. His eyes are skyward, and he shifts them to terrace where the witch is looking down at him.

She is still smiling.

By the time he can stand, she and the jock are making a hasty exit. He briefly considers intercepting them but where's the fun in that really? He watches from the shadows, knowing she knows he is there, that he is following their retreat.

He hopes she also knows that this is not the end of it.

She is not a screaming, wilting female. She is so much more.

She is a challenge.