Chapter Text
Under Night Sky
(Prompt: Au, hybrid!Klaus meets dragon!caroline in Aspen, she hates the cold, bed sharing happens. I didn't quite get to the bed sharing though!)
There were few things that annoyed Caroline more than tourists. Aspen, her current home base, was lousy with them this time of year. They polluted the restaurants, the bars, every single shop in town. She supposed it was good for the economy and she didn't begrudge her neighbors the profits. That didn't stop her from being irritated by it. Even worse was that they were all over her mountain. Humans were everywhere, from sunrise to sunset – with a few stragglers who liked skiing in the dark - severely limiting her opportunities to change and stretch her wings.
She was constantly restless, unable to focus, her skin itchy and tight. Even now, curled up in her favorite chair by a fire with a truly excellent smutty novel, she's cranky. The recent dip in temperature and increase in frigid winds only shortened her already fraying temper.
Seriously, the next drunk frat boy who tossed her a terrible line and expected his stunning wit to earn him a VIP pass into her pants might just get eaten.
Caroline took comfort in the fact that the busy season was almost over. She'd have a couple months to breathe before the summer rush began. That one was slightly more tolerable because at least she wasn't cold in addition to being crowded.
She tosses her book aside in frustration, having realized that she's been reading the same page over and over again. She'd just been getting to the good stuff and it deserved her full attention. A quick glance out the window shows the sun just beginning to set, faint wisps or pink and orange streaking the sky. She usually makes herself wait until it's fully dark before setting out but maybe, just this one time, it won't hurt to go a little early. It was a record low for February, surely most of the tourists had called it an early day, were safely tucked into lodges and cabins with hot chocolate or wine.
She'll just drive slowly, Caroline decides, standing up and stretching out her stiff limbs. By the time she gets to her spot it'll be fine. Deserted and private, just her and the night sky.
Later, Caroline will wonder if the decision to break her routine was among the best, or one of the worst, she's made in her very long life.
It's not until she's transformed, endured the shift of muscle and bone – painful but endlessly freeing – that Caroline notices something's amiss. In her human form her senses are slightly better than average but nothing compared to her enhanced sight and smell that comes when she's let her dragon loose.
Her clearing, deep in a forest, further than anyone but the odd park ranger bothers to go, has been visited recently. She'd seen the tracks, noted that there must be a particularly large wolf in the vicinity, had been vaguely excited at the possibilities of a hunt. Intent on tracking it she sets her nose to the prints, lets out a startled huff as she takes it in. Another scent mingles with the wolf's, not one Caroline knows but there is something familiar about it.
She's met many werewolves, knew which bits of the legends floating were fact and what was fiction. Transforming at will, a solid week out from the full moon, wasn't something they could do. And yet, there was that distinct scent, proof that one had managed the feat.
How very interesting.
Caroline had never been very good at minding her own business.
As much as she longs to push off, to break the treeline and soar until she's exhausted, the mystery of the tracks nag at her. It's a lone wolf, she knows, incapable of being even a hint of a threat to her. She could let it be, make some calls later to friends who are more in the loop to satisfy her curiosity and see if some new kind of werewolf exists out in the world.
That would probably be the prudent choice.
But prudence was so boring and it's been forever since anything has happened to break up the monotony of Caroline's days. It's been months of hanging out in her apartment, only leaving it when she needed something, or for her solitary flights around the mountains.
She's following the paw prints before she can talk herself out of it.
Caroline's not as stealthy as she wants to be, the werewolf is large in comparison with actual wolves but significantly smaller than she is so can't help disturbing the underbrush around her, sending leaves rustling and snapping branches. She considers doubling back to the clearing and the clothes she's stashed, following on foot. Nixes the idea quickly. Transforming took several minutes and her human skin was far more vulnerable than her dragon's scales. She'd heal if the werewolf decided to attack but she'd really rather avoid being bitten and scratched until she could shift and fight back and make the wolf regret attempting to hurt her.
A little burst of fire or one good chomp would do the trick nicely.
The scent's beginning to get stronger and Caroline knows she's getting closer. Anticipation is humming through her and when she pushes through a dense wall of trees and splashes into an icy stream she lets out a guttural sound of annoyance, making a quick leap to clear the water.
Only to be startled by an amused human laugh.
How had she missed the naked man?!
"Finally," he drawls, unbending from the crouch he'd been in. "I've been waiting for you to catch up, sweetheart."
Huh. Not the usual reaction one had, supernatural or not, to coming upon a ten foot winged lizard. Dragons were rare, knowledge of the species closely guarded, and a werewolf shouldn't have the slightest clue that things like her existed.
Maybe, Caroline thinks, tensing in readiness to take off, she should have been more cautious. The man remains unnaturally still, the slightly curled ends of his hair dripping as he studies her. The droplets hit his shoulders and collarbone before slipping lower, trickling down pale skin pulled taut over lean muscles.
She lets her eyes linger on him, feels no shame in doing so. He's not the slightest bit self-conscious, makes no move to hide any of the very impressive parts of his body from her gaze.
Caroline can't help but appreciate his lack of modesty, mentally berates herself for it. Maybe she should have taken one of the frat boy's offers. Surely, if they didn't talk, she could make do and would be less inclined to appreciatively ogle an unknown, if attractive, entity?
Her attention shifts back to his face when he raises his hands slowly, palms up in what Caroline's certain is feigned supplication. Her instincts are sharp, well-honed and never wrong. Her gut's been the only thing that's kept her alive a time or two or twelve over the centuries. She knows when to fight, only does it when she's sure she can win. Faced with the too knowing golden eyes of this stranger she's no longer sure she'd come out on top if things get bloody.
A small part of her is intrigued. Still she eases back a step, takes a deep breath and lets out a puff of air that carries a hint of a threat, the smallest bit of smoke and flame. Not close enough to him to do any damage, she merely singes a nearby bush.
The werewolf's brows rise, his full lips tipping up into a smile, "Ah, you're exactly as advertised. I'm suitably impressed though I assure you I mean you no harm."
This time her snort is distinctly disbelieving and he has no trouble parsing her meaning. He nods a concession, "Yes, I admit that luring you deep into the woods looks suspect. Would it help if I mentioned your friend Bonnie sent me your way?"
It's a surprise but it does the trick. Caroline relaxes slightly though she maintains the distance between them. She's known the Bennett witches for a very long time, Bonnie, the newest of the line, was a good friend, bright, loyal and more powerful than she knew. Caroline was quite fond of her, trusted her more than most people.
He drifts a step closer, palms still slightly raised, his tone warm and beseeching. "Why don't you change back, love? So we can make introductions properly. Discuss a bit of mutually beneficial business."
That earns another noise, a swift denial and she takes her own step away. Did he think she was an idiot? Caroline was tough to kill but that hadn't stopped people from trying over the years. Worse were the idiots who thought to imprison her, the ones who knew how valuable her blood and scales and teeth were. They'd always attempted to strike when she was in her human body, when her strength and speed were manageable, her claws not nearly as sharp.
She reaches out with one, the tip lethally pointed and more than capable of gutting him, and scrawls out a symbol in the snow. It's the logo of a bar in town and if he's not smart enough to figure it out Caroline doubts any business he pitches will be worth her time. He studies it for a second before nodding genially, "As the lady wishes. Tomorrow? Say, 8 o'clock?"
Caroline jerks her head in acknowledgement, stretching her wings and preparing to push off. His eyes light up, turning molten and hot, a greedy fascination clear as they take her in. "Fascinating," he murmurs. "I'll be there."
She's in the air before he can say anything else, high above the tree line with only a few powerful flutters of her wings. He remains still, getting smaller and smaller but Caroline somehow still feels his gaze. She does her very best to ignore the warmth building in her. Her gut told her that those eyes of his were dangerous, that skipping town might be her best option. That he was more than he appeared. She reaches for reason, for cold rationality, but finds it hard to grasp.
She curses her restlessness, her often over active imagination. She wants to know what color his eyes turn when his wolf's safely tucked away, if the impact of them on her body is the same.
Tomorrow she'll find out.