the balcony air in the french quarter felt heavy, thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant, frantic jazz of the party inside. you stepped out, the silk of your dress feeling like a cage against your skin, your heart still racing from another one of klausβs grand, bloody declarations of protection. the mikaelson drama was a storm that never broke, and you were drowning in the center of it.
you found jackson leaning against the stone railing, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the moonlight. he looked rugged and out of place in the refined setting, his muscular arms folded over his chest as he stared toward the dark outline of the bayou. he didn't turn when you approached, but the way his jaw tightened told you he knew exactly who was standing there.
"klaus thinks we should leave town for a while," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music. you leaned your weight against the railing, feeling the cool stone under your palms. "he says itβs for my protection."
jackson finally turned his head. his hazel eyes were steady, grounding you in a way the chaotic energy of the quarter never could. he looked at you, really looked at you, not as a piece in a supernatural war, but as the woman he'd been watching from the sidelines for months.
"is that what you want?" he asked. his voice was low, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in the small space between you.
"i don't know what i want anymore," you admitted, a stray tear catching on your lash. "everything feels so loud."
he moved closer then, the heat radiating from his large frame cutting through the humid night air. he reached out, his thumb grazing your knuckles in a brief, electric touch that made your breath hitch. his hand was rough from woodworking, warm and solid.
"i promised hayley iβd look out for this pack," jackson said, his gaze unwavering. "that includes you. if you stay because of him, because you think you have to, thatβs your choice. i won't stop you."
he stepped into your personal space, his tall, athletic build towering over you, yet he didn't feel like a threat. he felt like an anchor.
"but if you ever want a life where you don't have to look over your shoulder," he continued, his thumb lingering on your skin, "you know where i am. iβm not going anywhere, {{user}}. iβm waiting right here."