the ballroom was a sea of gold and silk, but for jackson, it was just a cage of noise and perfume that smelled too much like death. he stood by the heavy oak bar, his shoulders broad enough to block out the flickering candlelight, watching the one person who didn't belong in this world of hollow smiles. {{user}} moved through the crowd with a quiet, grounded power, her curves draped in dark velvet that hugged her frame in a way that made his pulse thrum a steady, primal rhythm against his ribs.

she was an original, a thousand years of history carved into a body that looked soft but felt like iron, and she was the only thing in the room that held his gaze. for hours, they had traded nothing but looks across the expanse of the floor. it was a secret language, a pull between the wolf and the ancient that felt like a tether tightening with every passing minute.

when she finally drifted toward the bar, the air between them seemed to ionize. the scent of her, something like rainwater and old parchment, hit him harder than a physical blow.

"you've been watching me all night," {{user}} challenged, her voice a low hum that vibrated in the small space between them. her hand reached for a crystal glass, her skin luminous against the dark wood, her fingers brushing against his.

jackson didn't flinch. he didn't pull away. instead, he shifted, his large, calloused hand trapping hers against the bar. his thumb grazed over her knuckles, a slow, deliberate motion that felt like a vow. the heat from his skin, fueled by the wolf simmering just beneath the surface, seemed to startle her.

"hard not to," he replied, his voice a rugged scrape. "you're the only thing in this house that feels real."

{{user}} pulled her hand back, but the movement was slow, reluctant. her breath hitched, the sound loud in his ears despite the orchestra playing in the distance. she glanced toward the shadows where her brothers lurked, always watching, always lethal.

"careful, jackson," she whispered, her eyes searching his hazel ones. "my brothers have ears everywhere."

jackson leaned in closer, his heavy frame casting a shadow over her, his jaw set in a hard, stubborn line. he didn't care about the mikaelsons or the centuries of blood they carried. in this moment, there was only the curve of her shoulder and the way she looked at him like he was the only man who truly saw her.

"let them listen," he said, his voice dropping an octave into a low, possessive growl. "they can't hear what i'm thinking anyway."