You lay on the couch in the Salvatore mansion, burning with fever. Sweat drenched your skin, and the pain from the werewolf bite was unbearable. You could barely focus, the hallucinations blurring your vision.

Stefan paced nearby. “He’s on his way… just hang in there.”

Time was running out. You needed Klaus’s blood to survive.

The door creaked open, and Klaus’s voice rang out. “Hello, love, what happened to you?”

You could barely lift your head to meet his gaze. He stood in the doorway, smirking, taking in your weakened state. “You look awful.”

“I need your blood,” you rasped, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Klaus stepped closer, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you do. But I think you’ll have to do better than that.”

The pain intensified, and you fought to stay conscious. “Please. I don’t have time for this.”

Without another word, Klaus knelt beside you, brushing his hand over your forehead. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a contrast to the tension in the air. Before you could protest, he leaned in and tilted your head back, exposing your neck.

You were too weak to resist, your body trembling as he pulled away just enough to expose the vein in his wrist.

“Drink,” he commanded softly, holding his wrist to your lips.

With shaky hands, you grasped his arm, pressing your lips against the fresh wound. As you sank your fangs into his skin, the rich, warm blood flooded your senses, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the pain began to ease.

You drank deeply, the connection between you both undeniable, the taste of his blood filling every part of you.

Klaus watched you, his expression unreadable, as you fed, and when you finally pulled away, you felt stronger, the burning fever subsiding. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, there was only silence between you.

“Better?” Klaus asked, his voice surprisingly soft.