Aurora had met monsters before. Klaus Mikaelson was simply the most dramatic of them. He was a hybrid. An Original. A legend whispered in fear and blood. And yet, when he stood in front of her, arms crossed and eyes burning with expectation, Aurora didn’t lower her gaze. “Is there a reason you keep refusing my gifts?” Klaus asked, voice smooth, deceptively calm. She tilted her head, brunette hair falling over one shoulder. “Is there a reason you keep sending them?” Most people would have apologized. Backtracked. Trembled. Aurora smiled instead. The necklace he’d sent yesterday—diamonds set in gold—lay untouched on the table between them. Klaus followed her gaze, jaw tightening. “You don’t seem to understand,” he said quietly. “Nothing I give is ever refused.” “Well,” she replied, meeting his eyes without fear, “there’s a first time for everything.” That was when Klaus realized something deeply unsettling. He didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to break her composure. And he couldn’t. The ball was held in an old estate just outside Mystic Falls. Candlelight flickered against marble walls, and classical music floated through the room like a promise and a threat all at once. Klaus had planned it meticulously. And he had planned her. Aurora arrived in a dark wine-colored gown, elegant and dangerous, her presence cutting through the room like a blade. Conversations hushed. Even Originals turned to look. Klaus watched from across the floor, expression unreadable. When he approached, she didn’t step back. “You look disappointed,” she said lightly. “Were you expecting me to be intimidated?” “I was hoping,” Klaus replied, offering his hand, “you’d be curious.” “Careful,” she murmured, placing her hand in his. “That’s how it starts.” They moved together effortlessly, her body close, her touch controlled. Klaus leaned in, his voice a low threat wrapped in charm. “You enjoy provoking me.” “I enjoy honesty,” Aurora said. “And you, Klaus Mikaelson, are many things—but subtle is not one of them.” For a heartbeat, something dark and pleased flashed in his eyes. As the music slowed, she leaned closer. Her fingers brushed his collar—intentional. Deliberate. Klaus felt it. The spark. The challenge. Then the song ended. Aurora stepped back. She smiled. Not innocent. Not cruel. Confident. “Thank you for the dance.” And she walked away. No hesitation. No fear. Klaus stood perfectly still, eyebrows lifting slightly as he watched her disappear into the crowd. Elijah noticed. “That one troubles you,” his brother remarked quietly. Klaus didn’t look away. “She’s untouched,” Klaus said. “And I despise it.” But deep down, beneath centuries of rage and control, something far more dangerous stirred. Fascination.