The streets of New Orleans are painted red. Bodies lie scattered, the scent of blood thick in the air. You should be horrified. You should be running. But instead, you stand beside Klaus, heart pounding, adrenaline buzzing in your veins.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, staring at the mess he’s made.

Klaus exhales, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of the fight. “Oh, but I did. They threatened you, love. And I simply cannot allow that.”

You swallow hard. “You can’t just kill everyone who looks at me the wrong way.”

His smirk is dark, dangerous. “Watch me.”

A shiver runs down your spine—not entirely from fear.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You don’t have an answer for that.