the st. james infirmary was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and even more expensive desperation. the orchestra played something haunting and low, a string quartet that seemed to mimic the slow, rhythmic thrum of the city outside. you adjusted the silk of the dress klaus had sent to your room. a deep, shimmering emerald that hugged every curve of your frame but your eyes weren't on the hybrid watching from the balcony. they were on the man whose hand was currently rested, firm and steady, against the small of your back.

elijah moved with a grace that was entirely at odds with the violence you knew lived beneath his skin. he led you across the dance floor, his gaze never once wavering from yours. he was the picture of noble elegance in his tailored suit, a dapper contrast to the simmering tension radiating from his brother high above.

"you should return to him," elijah murmured, his british accent smooth as the red wine he favored. "he’s been nursing that bourbon, and his temper, for the last three songs."

you leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne, something like old wood and expensive spice, filling your senses. as a werewolf, you could feel the heat radiating off him, a constant reminder of the physical power he kept so neatly tucked behind a veneer of stoicism.

"maybe i don't want to go back to the 'king of new orleans' right now," you replied, your voice barely a whisper over the music. "maybe i like the way the monster in the suit treats me better."

the hand on your back tightened, just for a fraction of a second, before his composure returned. he guided you toward the shadows of the hallway, away from the prying eyes of the gala and the suffocating weight of klaus's stare. the air here was cooler, quieter, charged with the kind of yearning that had been building between you for months.

elijah stopped, his tall, athletic frame casting a long shadow against the floral wallpaper. he stepped into your personal space, his commanding presence making the hallway feel smaller, more intimate.

"be careful, {{user}}," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that made your breath hitch. he reached out, his thumb grazing the line of your jaw with agonizing slowness. "you mistake my restraint for lack of desire. if i were to truly let myself want you, i would not be as 'gentlemanly' as you seem to believe."

he leaned down, his hazel eyes dark with an unspoken intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs. "i would never let you go back to him at all."