For a second, Eric stared at me with an intensity that only he could muster, his eyes as piercing and cold as ice. If anyone knew how to drill into someone's soul with just a look, it was Eric Northman.

In that moment, my legs turned to jelly, my heart raced, my hands grew clammy, and I could almost feel my brain screaming in alarm, triggering the fight or flight response.

Then, with what he did next, I instinctively took a startled step back.

Eric laughed.

The shock must have been evident on my face because his laughter grew louder, his booming voice echoing in the room. It got to the point where Eric actually clutched his stomach—a very human gesture, completely unnecessary for someone who didn't even need to breathe.

I had never heard him laugh like that before. Heck, I'd never heard anyone laugh like that before. I hadn't even realized it was possible to laugh that hard. It took an astonishingly long time for him to calm down while I stared at him, dumbfounded, mesmerized by how laughing transformed his face into something almost godlike. Apparently my awestruck face amused him further as his laughter continued.

Did he just wipe a blood tear from the corner of his eye?

"My God, Ash, I'm keeping you," he chuckled, turning back to pour himself another drink from his plastic bag.

I had no idea how to respond. Oh great, Eric wanted to keep me? Glad to know my sincere question was so amusing to him. Was I going to get an actual answer though?

Eric was still shaking his head in disbelief. "A thousand years of murder and mayhem, wars and massacres, and she asks me, a vampire whose sustenance is literally human blood, if I'm dangerous." He chuckled again, and his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Remind me to show you the trick where you can rip out someone's heart and hold it just right so you can use the artery as a straw."

I must have looked as horrified as I felt because Eric nodded, satisfied. "It's really a very entertaining trick," he added, trying to persuade me further, before mumbling more to himself "Haven't done that in a while..."

Note to self: Eric is a dangerous psychopath. Don't be fooled. Got it. 

His words were yet another clear reminder that my plan to kill him couldn't be considered murder. Or at least, shouldn't be. Serial killers got the lethal injection, right? Wasn't this the same? Still, I couldn't help but recoil at the thought of threatening him with an ice pick, let alone an actual stake. Because I liked him.

His brutal, arrogant, overbearing, pragmatic, and honest nature. I liked that. Liked him it seemed. Because with him, I knew exactly where I stood. Of course, it could be the blood he'd given me that made it impossible for me to turn against him. Was that a thing? Maybe it was the absurd attraction that, even in a moment like this, kept pulling me back to him, making me notice how his body moved rhythmically with his laughter. How all his movements were as fluid and graceful as those of a predator—a frighteningly accurate description of him.

It wasn't just that I was unable to attack Eric anymore; it was worse. I wanted... no I actually needed him near me. My nerves tingled, my heart beat faster and harder, and for the first time in a long while, my chest didn't feel so tight and constricted. I could breathe freely. But realizing this in the middle of his confession about his murderous tendencies made me panic.

I cleared my throat, finding it closed up, and watched as Eric placed his glass in the sink before turning back, his phone in hand, glancing at it along with a set of keys.

"Alright, now that that's settled, I have to go. The alarm is on, so stay in the house," his gaze grew intense, and I swallowed hard. The last time he looked at me like that, I ended up in another state, trying to find my way home in just my underwear while still fighting off reoccurring burst of lust that had my knees shaking and my thighs clenching. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It's for her safety."

It took me a moment to realize he meant the girl in the living room, and an odd warmth filled me, a feeling I couldn't quite place. Eric's expression shifted back to smug, and the feeling vanished. He glanced at his phone again, all business. "You take care of the kid. I'll see you later."

Then, pulling me close by the nape of my neck, he kissed my forehead and left me standing there, again, lost for words. Before I could even process what had just happened, he was already out the door.

My posture slumped as I exhaled deeply. I felt like I had been thrown into a bad sitcom, standing in the kitchen, kissed on the forehead by my "husband" as he told me to watch over his kid while he went to work. And then there was the fact that he had effectively placed us under house arrest with the alarm system. For a moment, I considered setting off the alarm just to spite him, to show him that I wasn't his property. But the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned about the girls safety stopped me. If it had only been about me, I would have left a rude message in lipstick somewhere in his ridiculously clean and well-decorated house and headed to the nearest bar. But instead, I just gritted my teeth and walked out of the kitchen, searching for the girl and cursing myself for getting into this situation yet again. It was maddening.

And what was even worse? I already missed him.

Annoyed, I wiped the spot on my forehead where I could still feel Eric's cold lips linger. Then I headed to the living room. The girl was curled up on a dark suede sofa, clutching a pillow like a stuffed animal, her blonde hair a tangled mess around her. She was asleep, the TV playing reruns of Friends in the background. I covered her with a blanket, went back to the kitchen and grabbed an apple and a glass of water. Before heading back to the living room, I took a curious look in the fridge—something I always did when I was new to a place. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. The fridge was stocked. Alongside blood bags and a carafe filled with what was unmistakably a dark liquid, there was bread, cheese, meat, and milk. Even a pizza box and some Chinese takeout containers. And were those pop tards and cheese-strings?

"I'm surely dreaming or something." I muttered to myself, ignoring the warmth that welled up in my chest again. I was touched by how Eric was taking care of the girl. Then I slapped myself on the forehead, trying to banish my thoughts. "Don't be so naive. It's not a good look on you.", I scolded myself.

I slammed the fridge door a little harder than necessary and padded back to the living room. There was nothing for me to do here, and I was more than a little exhausted from the last few days, so I shrugged, settled down next to the girl, covered my legs with a blanket, and watched some Friends reruns myself.

In theory, I knew I could just leave, but I didn't want to leave the girl alone in the house. It felt irresponsible. Plus, I didn't have anything better to do (besides preparing my escape, shaking off James, and ideally getting as far away from Eric's radar as possible before my alledged involvement in Godric's death came to light). So, I let myself sink further into the soft cushions, which might have smelled just a little bit like Eric. But that had nothing to do with why I suddenly felt so content and at ease. It had to be the unbelievably comfortable couch. Did the man have some secret sofa connection where he got these heavenly things? I wondered if his bed was just as cozy...

I must have dozed off while mulling it over, because the next thing I knew, my head wasn't resting on the couch cushion anymore. Instead, it was in someone's lap, and they were gently stroking my hair. It felt nice, and I sighed sleepily. The TV was off, and the girl was still curled up like a cat at the other end of the sofa. Her blanket had slipped, and I was about to sit up and cover her again when a deep voice stopped me.

"Stay where you are, I'll do it."

He stretched his long arm over my body and lifted the blanket, making the girl sigh equally contentedly and stretch out a bit. As he moved, I turned my head and looked up at him. His features seemed to shimmer, and he smiled tenderly.

"She looks like you," I noted, surprised.

Eric chuckled.

"Vampires can't have children, you know that," he explained, correctly interpreting what I meant. Absentmindedly, I raised my hand and stroked his cheek, tracing the contours of his face. Eric froze.

"Then she's picked up your expressions," I said, my thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth that always lifted slightly when he smirked. Even though I'd wanted to slap that smirk off his face more than once, it was still one of my favorite expressions of his. "She likes you."

There it was. The smirk. I felt his mouth curve under my fingers.

"A perfectly natural reaction to my presence."

I was too relaxed to be snarky and reprimand him for his arrogance, so I just laughed. "Yeah, maybe."

His self-satisfied grin widened as he continued to play with my hair. My scalp tingled as warm shivers spread over the rest of my body. This wasn't the hot inferno burning me from the inside as the other times but rather a low boiling, heating me and making me antsy just the same. I swallowed hard, nerves getting the better of me.

"I'm glad you decided not to run away," Eric said, and I froze. I could feel my breath becoming shallow and tense, betraying me, but there was nothing I could do about it. Eric's fingers continued to move gently through my hair. "Aren't you tired of all the death on your conscience?" 

My pulse quickened, and my throat tightened. I wanted to move, but I couldn't. "I..." 

Eric cut me off with a disapproving shushing sound, one that made my heart skip a beat. "Don't answer that. I don't want to hear it."

I blinked in surprise, not quite sure what his intention was.

"I..."

Eric silenced me by again murmuring disapprovingly, "Sh, sh, sh," as he looked down at me, his gaze sad and wounded. Guilt threatened to overwhelm me, and I closed my eyes. Eric continued.

"Innocent vampires, my maker Godric, your own boyfriend Tom... Or should I say my brother?" With that sentence, he took my breath away, squeezing my throat. I snapped my eyes open. 

It was no longer Eric whose lap I was lying in. It was James, his fingers now tightly gripping my hair, pulling me in place and preventing me from turning my head as his free hand kept crushing my windpipe. He wanted me to look at him while he tortured me. "Hello there, Ash. You can't escape me!"

A loud crash jolted me awake.

"No, please...," the girl cried, writhing, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, PLEASE, no. Not back. Not again."

Startled, I jumped up, taking a defensive stance, shoulders tensed. The room spun a little—I'd been in a deep sleep—but I shoved it aside. She thrashed and screamed, panic in her eyes as she looked at me. 

But her gaze wasn't clear. Instead, she looked through me, her eyes clouded with a grayish haze. Confused, I glanced around. There was nothing here. The TV was still playing reruns of Friends, and a small floor lamp lit the room. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had a bad dream. The girl had had a nightmare too. 

Carefully, I reached out, trying to calm her down. The moment I grabbed her arm, she rewarded me with a kick to the stomach, then sprang up like she'd been stung or something and took off running. I groaned, "Ugh, what the hell..."

My stomach churned as I tried to chase after her, making sure she didn't get too far away. "Now I remember why I always avoided babysitting." Were kids always this fast? I had barely made the decision to follow her, and her blonde head had already disappeared out the front door. Damn it.

I didn't even have a name to call after her—she'd cleverly avoided telling me that much—so I had no choice but to bolt through the door myself. She was standing frozen on the front lawn, staring at me with wide, saucer-like eyes. Her gaze had cleared; she seemed present. And terrified.

Slowly, like approaching a frightened animal, I moved toward her.

"Heyyy, it's okay."

This time, I extended my arm more cautiously, slowly. I kept my stomach out of range too—no one could say I didn't learn from my mistakes.

The girl didn't move. She just stood there, looking at me with a pleading expression, tears brimming in her eyes. Her gaze struck me deeply. I recognized that look and the feeling that came with it—the cornered girl, no way out, no future. I'd seen it enough times staring back at me in the mirror. In an attempt to make myself smaller, to not scare her further, I knelt in front of her but didn't get any closer, giving her the space she needed. I let my walls down.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered. "Everything's going to be okay. We just need to get back inside, alright?"

A laugh sounded behind me, cold and all too familiar.

"You have no idea."