The air smelled faintly of burning sage as the last of Kol’s spell dissipated, blue light fading from the circle he’d drawn across the floorboards. You leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed, your expression caught somewhere between amused and unimpressed.

“That was supposed to do what, exactly?” you asked, raising a brow.

Kol glanced up at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Supposed to? Love, it did exactly what it was meant to.”

You tilted your head. “Which was?”

He dusted off his hands with unnecessary flair, strolling toward you with that infuriating grin plastered across his face. “To impress you, of course. But judging by the look on your face, I’d say you’re playing hard to get.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Maybe because sparks and smoke don’t exactly scream romantic gesture.”

Kol pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Ah, so that’s how it is? You’d rather I bring you flowers like some lovesick schoolboy?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a mischievous whisper. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t secretly melt for it.”

Your fangs flashed in warning, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed you. “Keep talking, Mikaelson. I might just test how fast you can run.” Kol’s laugh was warm and sharp all at once. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering deliberately. “Run? Darling, you couldn’t catch me even if you tried. But—” he tapped your nose lightly, eyes twinkling, “I do love watching you try.”

You swatted at his hand, but he was already stepping back, smirking like the devil himself. “Infuriating,” you muttered.

“Charming,” he corrected, bowing with mock formality before straightening with that same maddening grin. “And admit it, love you wouldn’t have me any other way.”