JJJ has something extra special for The Originals fans today!
We got our hands on an exclusive excerpt from the first novel in the highly-anticipated prequel book series!
In this sneak peek at “The Originals: The Rise,” out TOMORROW January 27, Klaus falls for a woman he can’t have! Read below!
“Her. Vivianne glowed; she pulled the light in. It was as if he’d made her appear. No matter what people whispered about the cursed fate of vampires, at that moment, Klaus felt positively blessed.
Luckiest of all, she was unchaperoned. Vivianne stood alone at the side of the high street, gazing into the window of a couturier, who boasted of having just arrived from Paris. There was no one to interfere in their conversation, unlike at that miserable engagement party.”
Click inside to read the rest of the exclusive excerpt…
“The Originals: The Rise” Exclusive Excerpt
Klaus took a moment to brush off his coat and smooth the collar of his loose white shirt. She didn’t need to know how he’d spent the night. As he approached her, he could feel the whiskey mixing treacherously with the blood in his stomach, but he would have bet his never-ending life that she would not be able to tell how deeply their first meeting had shaken him.
“Mademoiselle Lescheres,” he purred, trying to keep his voice from rasping. His throat felt sore and hoarse, which was hard to understand given how many hours he’d spent lubricating it with food and drink. “You are even more radiant in the sunlight than by chandelier.”
She did not bother to conceal her shock at the sight of him, but it was unclear how happy the surprise was. “Niklaus Mikaelson,” she said formally, as if demonstrating a true society girl’s gift for memory. As if he’d made no real impression on her at all. “I would not have thought to encounter you here so early in the day.”
Because sunlight was poison to his kind? Or because she could see the previous night’s excesses written on his face? Knowing that she had bluffed her way politely through several dances without mentioning the blood on his mouth, it was difficult to guess what else she might choose to leave unspoken.
He felt an almost overpowering need to check his coat for telltale stains or tearing.
“My lady Vivianne,” he replied instead, with what he knew was a winning smile, “had I known that you would be here, I would have arrived even earlier so as not to miss a moment of your company.”
Her answering smile was perfunctory, but she seemed distracted. A cart piled high with crates of produce rattled by, and she watched it go as if even carrots were more interesting than Klaus Mikaelson. “That would have been unnecessary,” she explained in a clipped tone, “as recently I can’t seem to turn around without meeting you.”
Impossibly, she didn’t sound pleased by this coincidence. Had his first impression on her really been so unremarkable? It was understandable that the sight of blood might upset a young woman. But in Klaus’s considerable experience with women, upsetting them did not tend to make them any less intrigued. Yet Vivianne’s face showed no fear, no disgust, no curiosity. Could it be that he was drawn to her because of her disinterest?
He ached to gently brush back a tendril of black hair that had snaked free from under her cap and coiled along her collarbone. Then, perhaps, to throw an arm around her narrow waist, pull her to him, and kiss her. And maybe bite her, just a little, as well. Surely she would have to feel some real emotion toward him then.
“Speaking of unexpected pleasures,” he recalled, “I have not yet had the opportunity to congratulate you on your engagement. You must be deliriously happy.”
“Deliriously,” she confirmed, ignoring the sarcastic edge in his tone completely. “Thank you for your well-wishes.”
“I would have offered them more promptly, had you mentioned your situation when we met,” he said. Not that he actually cared, but he trusted her to understand his real meaning—that she had deliberately kept the news from him as long as she could. A woman who avoided mentioning her betrothal usually had a motive, and it was typically one that her fiancé would disapprove of. Vivianne might not show any overt signs of interest, but she had some kind of game on her mind. He felt sure of it. She was far too aware of him to care as little as she was acting.
“I thought you knew!” she said smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “You were attending the engagement party after all.”
“I gate-crashed the engagement party,” he corrected. “I was simply in search of decent champagne.”