I flew through the window.

Wait a minute, something was wrong here.

I couldn't fly.

And certainly not float gracefully.

Yet, I was doing it. Carefully, almost elegantly, I set my left foot down on the floor after floating through the window landing graceful like a feather. 

Neat! 

The woodenfloor squeaked slightly under my weight. I could feel the structure and grooves in the floorboards with remarkable precision as it was pinching the underside of my feet. Every cell in my body vibrated with electricity, every atom felt like it was vibrating against my skin, making me shiver. Everything felt intense.

My heart raced in my chest, pumping blood through my veins like burning lava, settling low, low, low in my body, turning the excitement into something hotter, more urgent. Cold air tickled my skin and I gasped. 

A quiet, now all-too-familiar humming sounded from the corner of the room. "You got that from me!"

My head jerked up and for the first time, I became aware of my surroundings. The room I stood in was small. Or at least not large. Average. The walls were painted a dull, faded, almost grayish beige. Uninspired oil paintings of mountains and landscapes hung on them in heavy wooden frames. The room's only window was adorned with ugly plaid curtains, and over the bed, the only piece of furniture besides a faded bluish fabric sofa and a sideboard for an old TV, was a yellow-blue patterned throw from the 90s.

And on the bed, dressed only in a towel, sat Eric.

My breath hitched. "What?" I blinked multiple times, but the picture didn't change. This was most definitely Eric Northman in a towel on the bed. 

Seeing him in such an environment was so surreal that even after the frantic blinking it took me a few times to truly focus on him, and even then it was hard to comprehend. While all this was being processed in my brain, Eric stared at me unabashedly, his challenging grin never leaving his lips. It wasn't until his fangs appeared that I snapped out of my trance and stumbled a step back. "Eric!"

He grunted in agreement as he continued to undress me with his eyes. I would have liked to say I was stronger, but I felt flattered and my traitorous body responded to his advances – hence why I snapped at him unnecessarily bitchy. "Put your fangs away and cut the nonsense!"

His grin widened, and he rose from the bed with such grace that it took my breath away. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was a damned Viking god. Watching him, wrapped in nothing but a white towel, slowly approach me was by far the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Everyone of his countless, well-defined muscles worked in fluid harmony as he moved toward me with the grace of a lion. There was no doubt who was the hunter and who the hunted in this scenario. 

"Eric, I warn you. Sit back down!" My voice did not sound as firm as I would have liked. It was slightly husky. I fought the urge to place my hand on his chest to see if it felt as good as it looked. Instead, I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, and my heart pounding as if it would burst out of my chest.

Of course, he did not stop but came even closer, until finally, only inches separated us and I stared directly at his firm, perfectly sculptured chest. Unless I tilted my head all the way back to look at his face.

Which was no less dangerous.

Because Eric, being who he was, knew how to use the situation, he had put us in, in his favor, to  turn me into a drooling mess at his feet – without even touching me! With an intensity that sent hot and cold shivers down my spine, his glowing gaze from his bright blue eyes pierced me. In them, a hunger like I had never seen in another.

"Or what?" he whispered, his cold breath tickling along my sensitive skin. Instinct had me leaning forward, where he lowered himself to murmur into my ear, lightly brushing my earlobe with his extended vampire fangs. "You like what we're doing."

His voice was rough and so full of undisguised desire that from the point where his breath touched me, shivers wrecked all over my body from the sole of my feet to the tip of the head. The throbbing between my legs grew immeasurably. Desire had me tongue-tied. It took a lot of willpower not to throw him onto the bed and give myself to him here and now in submission to the magnetic pull. A word I usually banished from my vocabulary. I closed my eyes and froze like a statue, focusing entirely on regaining control.

Eric, feeling my distress, laughed hoarsely next to my ear. His scent and presence enveloped me, confusing my senses. I was already dizzy. Blood rushed loudly through my body as if it wanted to present itself even more attractively to him. My neck longed to feel his mouth on it, first lovingly kissing, then his teeth breaking the thin barrier of skin. Penetrating me... like other parts of his body...

Another wave of lust washed over me and I heard Eric inhale deeply.

Embarrassed by the realization that he could probably sense my arousal, my heart skipped a beat before galloping away again. Heat rose to my face, surely turning it bright red.

"Open your eyes!" he groaned into my ear before unexpectedly licking up my throbbing carotid artery to my ear, playing into my fantasy.  My knees buckled and my eyes snapped open.

Darkness.

Gasping, I lay on his damned sofa and stared at the ceiling.

My whole body was on fire, begging for release.

A dream.

A dream?!

It was all just a damned dream?

In disbelief, I touched my neck where Eric's tongue had driven me crazy just seconds ago. It was actually moist. Like the rest of my body. I was completely drenched in sweat and lay in the torment of my own arousal.

Frustrated, relieved, and incredulous, I groaned and slapped my hand against my forehead in the dark room.

A shower.

An ice-cold shower was what I needed.  So I took it.

It took a full 20 minutes and countless gallons of cold water before I could think clearly again that night.

In the process, I solemnly swore to get rid of that damned sofa by morning, to be taken away, regardless of its resale value. I needed Eric out of my life like yesterday! A look in the bathroom mirror revealed my still heated state. A silly grin was plastered on my face and my breathing was shallow. My skin looked flushed while a noticeable glaze had taken residence in my eyes. However, the most noticeable connection to Eric was still how good I looked for the moment, in the middle of the night, all ... itchy!

My hair shone, my skin glowed, and despite my (nightmare) dream, I looked more relaxed than ever. Did everyone in Hollywood know about this beauty secret?

Frustrated, I threw my head back and waddled to my bed. I was completely exhausted and yet didn't want to risk falling asleep again. So I immersed myself in my ever constant guilt I felt towards Tom. 

Et voila, there he was next to me.

Arms crossed behind his head, he looked at the ceiling and whistled the tunes of  "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Miserables. My brain had a twisted sense of humor.

"You called for me, Mrs. Johnson."

Normal people would probably have jumped up in shock at this point. But since it wasn't the first time I'd had a visit from my dead boyfriend and I had wished him here, I crawled into bed next to him, mumbling to myself.

"You know, the fact that I can conjure you up so realistically doesn't exactly speak well for my mental health?"

Facing him, I snuggled into the pillow, hands tucked under my head. He kissed my forehead. I could immerse myself enough in the fantasy to trick myself that I thought, I'd felt it.

"Mental health is overrated."

"True, I guess." Then he did the same and lay down on my pillow facing me.

"I miss you!" I confessed to him and a tear rolled down my cheek. Tom leaned forward and wiped it away. I closed my eyes.

"I'm always near you, whenever you need me!" A knot formed in my throat, sadness and guilt taking my breath away. Tom, sensitive as ever, smiled sadly and pressed his forehead against mine. "It's okay!"

Now I really sobbed. Being so close to Tom and yet never truly having him was so bittersweet that I wasn't sure if the pain was worth it. The protective wall I had built around my heart in the previous months began to crack.

Tom comfortingly wrapped his arms around me, moved closer, and let me bury my head in his chest while our legs tangled together. With closed eyes, I noticed how I slipped more and more into the realm of dreams and Tom's presence became more real. My head grew lighter, my heart unburdened, and the darkness of my room transformed again into a lake with an air mattress on which we drifted. A part, a tiny part of my brain knew the pain my little fantasy trip would cause me in the morning, would be excruciating. But I gladly accepted the pain of tomorrow for the small moment of peace.

I lifted my head from Tom's now bare chest and looked at him. He smiled, though still with sad eyes, down at me and pressed me closer to him.

"You know you'll have to let me go one day?"

I didn't know which of us had asked the question. But it could have been either of us. Stubbornly, I shook my head, causing Tom to frown.

"Johnny..." At the mention of his nearly forgotten nickname for me, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Johnny, short for Johannson, as for my real last name.

He wanted to continue speaking, but I placed my index finger on his lips. I couldn't bear any more from him at the moment. He paused, his gaze softening. Tenderly, he kissed my index finger before leaning forward and pressing his cheek against mine. His slight stubble tickled me. His unique scent of fresh aftershave and simply Tom filled my nose and I breathed heavily.

"You need to go back. Not everything is as it seems. Open your eyes!"

His breath tickled me as Eric's had before, as he spoke the words Eric had also used. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head stubbornly. I didn't want to compare them. He stroked my cheek and pressed me even closer to him before kissing me. Gently and carefully. Lovingly. Sighing, I gave in until he pressed his lips firmly against mine. I gave in, kissing him back. But something in the way he kissed, how his lips pressed against mine, felt wrong, Hurt. 

My eyes snapped open. Instead of Tom, James howered over me, a murderous grin plastered on his lips, blood dropping from the corner of his mouth. 

"Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty!"

With a loud thud, I landed on the floor, my sheets tangled around me like a cocoon, trapping me.  It wasn't the first time I had rolled myself out of bed. That I had dreamed of Tom where dream and reality had started to blend together in a confusing mix of maladaptive dreaming. Even nightmares of James had happened before. 

The reason why shivers wracked my bodies, while I frantically tried to free myself from sheets was the message scribbled in red on my mirror. 

"Did you dream of me?"

-----------------------

Wondering about the song Tom was humming earlier? Here is a rendition of "Empty chairs at empty tables" sung from Eddie Redmayne: 

https://youtu.be/0BM-Q3BDrkw