Chapter 7 Ch. 7.1
"I..." he began, lifting his hands slightly, only to drop them again in an exasperated manner. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. Finally, he sighed.
"Zara... You never say anything. Trust me, you don’t. Okay?" His voice came out nervous, his eyes searching hers frantically.
She could see a plea in them, begging her to accept whatever this was.
"No..." she replied slowly, shaking her head. "Ethan... I... What is this, Ethan?"
"You don’t have to know, Zara. Trust me, it’s better if you don’t... This—"
"Trust you?" she asked sharply, her voice rising with disbelief, fading into a low, disbelieving laugh. She shook her head. "No, Ethan. Trust? You’re not even telling me a damn thing!"
"’Cause I can’t!" he almost yelled, gripping her shoulders gently. "Zara, this... it’s dangerous, okay? This is a secret that can—and will—get you killed. And hell, you’re not telling me a damn thing either! Because how the fuck are you not being compelled?"
Compelled...
There was that word again. She could swear she had heard it before, but she couldn’t place where or when. A show maybe...?
Fangs...
The Originals...
Klaus Mikaelson...
"No," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat for what felt like the thousandth time that night. "No... They don’t exist..."
"Exactly," Ethan said, though he clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
She chuckled, throwing her head back with laughter—laughter at her own confusion, at the ridiculousness of it all. When it faded, she let out a long exhale, brushed her hair away from her face, and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets.
"It’s late," Ethan said softly after a long silence. "You should head home. I’ll walk you."
"Why would you do that?" she snapped.
He tilted his head. "This is a dark alley. Gangs... dangerous men..."
"Yeah. And vampires."
"I thought we established those don’t exist?" he said, raising a brow.
"Okay. Then explain what you are."
"Drop it, Zara," Ethan said, sighing as he grabbed her arm and began walking.
"I don’t need you to walk me home. I’m fine on my own."
"Why? Are you scared I’ll drain you of blood?" he snorted.
Zara rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. She eventually fell in step beside him.
The alleyway was silent, apart from the occasional distant shuffle of footsteps. As they got closer to the main road, they could hear the revving of car engines as they zoomed. The city was brightly lit, there was loud music playing somewhere, the smell of cigarette in the air and cheap designer knock off perfumes.
Ethan flagged down a cab and opened the door for her, sliding in beside her. He rattled off her address to the driver.
"How the fuck do you know my address?" Zara whisper-yelled. "Other than being a—"
His warm hand clamped over her mouth.
"Your dad’s my coach. I’ve been to your house several times. Forgotten?"
"Oh—"
The rest of the ride was quiet.
When the cab pulled up to her house, her father was pacing on the porch, phone pressed to his ear.
"Oh thank God," he breathed when the door opened.
Zara glanced back as Ethan stepped out, paying the driver.
"Zara, you had me worried. Noah tried lying that you were with him, but I sniffed that right out!" Santiago Castillo scoffed. Then his eyes lit up. "Ethan!"
"Sorry, Coach. We went over to Wendy’s Coffee and, uh... hung at the park. Didn’t realize how late it got."
"I see. Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner, Ethan?"
"I’m visiting a friend for that. Later, Coach." Ethan didn’t wait to hear more. He turned and walked off into the night.
Zara stepped through the door that was slightly ajar, greeted by the warm smell of pasta and grilled chicken, but she wasn’t hungry.
"I made pasta," Santiago said, trying to usher her toward the dining room.
"Already had snacks with Ethan," she lied, her lips tightening.