A/N: If you're on tumblr, you probably know about Klaroline Gives Back, which is a fundraiser for various charities that the Klaroline fandom does. I'm one of the people organizing it, and I promised a short multi-chapter fic to the person that donated the highest. There were two highest donors, so this is the first chapter of the incentive for unwillingsuspensionofdisbelief. The other one will be an undercover married Spies AU.

Enjoy!
-Angie

The first time she felt it was when Klaus was making Tyler into a hybrid. At the time she had attributed the prickling of her skin to fear, but now…

Caroline watched with interest as Klaus talked to Tyler in the middle of the yard. The party was in full swing, and she was only absent-mindedly chatting with the girls vying for her attention while she tuned into Klaus and Tyler's conversation.

"Elena and Matt, and your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline…"

The way her name rolled off of his tongue made her skin hum, every inch of her succumbing to that electric current that rolled through her. Her entire body seemed to be tense, waiting, wanting... The craving wasn't even sexual, it was just...she wanted touch.

His touch.

She wanted the caress of his thumb against her cheek, his hand against her thigh, and she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes would occasionally dart to look at her, though she'd look away as soon as their eyes met.

The way his lips would quirk in a smirk when he saw that she was watching.

She looked at Tyler, who didn't seem to have noticed the silent interactions taking place right in front of him, instead looking at Klaus intently.

God, she was a terrible girlfriend.

She busied herself with her usual rounds, chatting for a minute or two with every person she recognized (and a few she didn't), before she took a step forward and was colliding with a body that had only appeared when she began to move.

He wasn't much taller than her, and probably wouldn't have been intimidating if the aura of power wasn't rolling off of him in waves. He was inside of her personal space, his smile hinting at the danger wrapped in his handsome skin. She felt herself inhale his scent instinctively, and what hit her senses made warmth bloom in her stomach. Comfort.

"Hello, love. How are you this fine evening?"

She stayed silent, looking at Klaus mutinously. He was hot, had an accent, and smelled excellent, but was still clearly using mind control on her boyfriend (she had a boyfriend!), and as far as she was concerned, that was a perfect reason not to associate with him.

Maybe if she just kept her mouth shut he'd go away.

"Now, love, let's not be rude…"

Apparently, no such luck.

She stubbornly stayed quiet, looking away from him, and she struggled not to flinch when he moved to stroke her cheek. With the first brush of his thumb against her cheekbone, she felt a shiver run through her, his skin hot against hers, just a simple touch igniting something foreign in her, yet so familiar.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked, relieved when her voice didn't shake.

He had pulled his hand away before she finished speaking, and she felt an odd emptiness run through her, though she tried not to show it.

"I'm not doing anything, sweetheart. Whatever you're feeling is all you."

"I'm not feeling anything," she said, and she somehow knew he could tell that she was lying. "I just wanted to know why you were touching me."

"I wanted to," he said honestly, and she felt an odd combination of confusion and anger and safety churn in her stomach, and she tossed her hair as she turned on her heel to walk away.

"Well, don't."

"Noted, sweetheart."

"Good," she muttered before walking away.

Klaus shouldn't be making her feel the way he was. Was it a spell? A curse? Was he trying to play mind games with all of them?

She needed a shower. A cleansing shower.

XXX

He watched Caroline go, the scent of her lingering behind her as she walked away, and once she'd disappeared into the crowd, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned back to Tyler, who was standing next to him.

"Dude, what was that?"

"We were just having a little chat, mate. No need to get testy."

He saw Tyler relax, the sire bond clearly taking its effect at his order. "All right," Tyler said easily.

"You should talk to your guests, mate," Klaus said, gesturing towards the crowd. Tyler nodded and left, leaving Klaus to himself, eventually disappearing with Caroline into the house.

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur, and by the end Klaus was exhausted. Mikael had been killed with the white oak stake, which was obviously a good development, but then he got a call from Stefan saying the other man had stolen the coffins.

This sent Klaus into a rage, fury churning in his stomach, and he was sitting on his leather couch, the rest of the room in ruins, a glass of bourbon in his hand, more to fiddle with than to drink, as he stared into the fireplace.

Caroline hadn't been in on it, he knew, at least judging by Tyler's confession to him earlier that night. His hybrid had been apologetic and upset, and Klaus suspected that he and Caroline had broken up, which was excellent news for him, especially since it would give Caroline more reason to investigate her connection to him without Tyler holding her back from it.

It was clear that Caroline hadn't been given an adequate amount of information on the different breeds of supernatural creatures, or she would have known. She was certainly smart enough to figure out that there was something off, judging by her reaction to his touch. However, he doubted that she knew exactly what it was.

He had done an immense amount of research over the years on werewolves. The only way to stay close to his unknown roots was to learn about the history, and he had gone into the curse-breaking ritual knowing that he would have a mate somewhere that he was destined to find.

That he'd found her so soon was something he hadn't expected. He'd thought that he would have years, if not decades, to prepare for her arrival, but it seemed as though he'd been wrong. He was almost glad she had no idea what the connection really was. He hadn't quite processed it himself, after all.

If his research was correct, and he had no reason to suspect it was not, she would bring comfort with her presence, as he would to her. They would crave each other's touch, each other's company, become irritable and restless when they'd gone too long without each other. He would need her, rely on her.

It was a terrifying prospect, to be quite honest.

Caroline was his mate. His other half.

She was his.

He stiffened as he heard footsteps coming up the front drive of the mansion, and as if summoned by his thoughts, he instinctively knew that it was Caroline about to knock on his door.

"Hello, love," he said, his voice much calmer than he felt as he stood in the doorway, trying not to smile as she fumed in rage.

"What did you do?"

"I've done many things, sweetheart. If you could be just a tad more specific, that might be helpful."

"Fine. What did you do to me?"

He leaned against the doorframe, his hands stuffed in his pockets just to keep from reaching out to touch her. "I haven't a clue what you're on about."

"You're lying to me."

"Perhaps," he said easily.

She didn't seem to expect that answer, her eyebrows raising as she processed that he'd essentially admitted that he was lying to her.

"Okay, no, seriously, what the hell is going on?"

He sighed, deciding he might as well tell her, since it would be horribly inconvenient to have to wait for her to figure it out. He doubted she'd believe him, so it would be best to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.

"What do you know about werewolves?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"What do you know?" he repeated, and her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"The werewolf curse is genetic, and it's activated by killing someone. When you're an untriggered werewolf, you have like, tons of anger issues because your aggression doesn't have anywhere to go, or whatever. Obviously they change at the full moon. That's about it, though. Why?"

"What do you know about mates?" he asked, fighting not to swallow.

It felt oddly vulnerable to ask, as though he was baring a hidden piece of himself that no one knew of, and he barely knew this girl.

And yet, every single fibre of him was itching to touch her, to hold her, to stroke her hair and stroke the soft skin of her waist while she trembled in his arms…

"Like, wolves mating, you mean?" she asked slowly, her tone suspicious. "They're serial monogamists."

"No. Werewolf mating."

"Nope. I only recently found out about this whole supernatural thing, and between not dying, cheerleading practice, and homework, I haven't exactly had the time to study up."

"Well, werewolves mate for life."

"Okay. Good to know," she said slowly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

He could tell that she had the sneaking suspicion of what exactly it had to do with her, but he suspected that she was in denial (and most likely would be for a long while).

"Werewolves don't necessarily mate with other werewolves," he said mildly. "And we don't choose our mates."

"Okay. Extra-fun facts. What's your point?"

"I think you know my point, sweetheart. You're my mate. My soulmate, if you prefer that sort of romanticization of the concept. Two halves of a soul and all that rubbish."

She scoffed. "Soulmates? Seriously? Is that your angle here?"

"It's not an angle, love."

"So you honestly expect me to believe that werewolves have soulmates, and that I'm yours?"

"I couldn't care less whether you believe me or not, but that doesn't make it any less true."

She was silent for a few seconds, her eyes narrowed as she pinned him with a calculating gaze, and he could almost sense that she was having a hundred thoughts a second, her mind racing through the new information, considering the possible truth in it.

"Assuming that this mate thing is...a thing, where would I find information on it?"

"I'd assume that your little witch friend has a grimoire or two that might mention it. You could also search for it on the internet."

"Just say 'Google it'. God, how old are you?" she snapped, seemingly without thinking before her mouth snapped shut with a click.

"1048, and your search engine preference has been noted," he said dryly. "Now, I'm sure you're just itching to do your research, so I'll leave you to it, shall I? Do have a safe walk home."

She glowered at him before turning on her heel to stomp back to her car, no doubt to drive straight to the house of the Bennett witch.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm aiming for weekly updates with this. Please let me know what you thought :)
Hugs!
-Angie