Although I was furious that the onlookers had seen me so vulnerable and humiliated, the sight of Eric standing there – confusion written all over his  half-smirking, dazed face—pulled an unwilling laugh-snort out of me, before I had to hold back tears again. With Eric, it was never just one thing. He made me feel everything.

Which had me lean forward to brush his lips in a quick kiss. "Thank you."

Of course, he and his oversized ego couldn't just take a simple compliment at face value. His chest puffed out slightly, his mouth twitching with amusement before he responded with his signature arrogance."Anytime."

I was mid-eye-roll, ready to turn away, when his fingers caught my chin. This time, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was anything but fleeting. He didn't pull back until my lungs burned for air and Megs' throat-clearing broke through the moment.

"She still needs to stand still if this is going to work," Megs grumbled, biting down on her words like she was holding herself back. "Not go weak in the knees."

I opened my mouth to retort, to mask the blush spreading across my cheeks with something sharp and cutting, but my brain felt foggy, dazed and my knees did buckle. Shit! 

Eric noticed – Of course, he did. His grin stretched wider, wholly satisfied as he took a deliberate step back, leaving me flustered and distracted. Sighing deeply, I heard myself mumble "Is there a cure for this man?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it, but Megs caught it anyway."The moment I find one, you'll be the first to know." Then I heard her voice in my mind, faint but unmistakable: You're not the only one he wraps around his finger.

The weight of her words hit me like a punch. Was she deliberately sharing her thoughts, or had that been an unintentional slip? I glanced over my shoulder at her, but she averted her gaze quickly, focusing instead on straightening my head again. However, before she yanked me into position again, I caught a glimpse at her, noting the exhaustion lining her face. It wasn't just physical fatigue—it was something deeper, a weariness born from carrying too much for too long.

I'd always assumed Megs was here for her own reasons—money, maybe, or some fascination with the supernatural. Perhaps a promise to her coven. What did I know about witches and their sense of duty? I'd only recently come to terms with the fact that there were more things between heaven and hell than I'd ever imagined —and that I was somehow smack in the middle of it all. But even as I physically felt the idea of supernatural existence slip from my mind again, while still actively thinking about it, having a literal witch rummage through my thoughts, I apparently still had difficulty grasping the ... well the magnitude of it all. 

Of the lives, it encompassed. The fates it forged. The longevity of it all.

Seeing Megs now, the pain, the burden, the heartbreak in her eyes, I realized she was emotionally invested, too. And that revelation hit me harder than I cared to admit.

I thought about all the times Megs had been a silent witness to the chaotic push and pull between Eric and me. My cheeks flushed deeper, not from embarrassment over what she might've seen but from shame at how much it must've hurt her. When my gaze lifted again, it met Eric's. 

He was watching me, his brow furrowed as though trying to decipher my sudden change in demeanor probably sneaking another peak at my emotional turmoil. He took a step toward us, but I widened my eyes and raised a hand to stop him, overwhelmed by a fresh wave of shame—and anger.

Did Eric know Megs had feelings for him? Was he using that against her? Worse, was he doing the same to me?

I darted a glance at him through my lashes, testing the waters, using my well trained charm, and his fiery response was instantaneous. Oh, he knew how to manipulate me. That much was clear. But was any of it real? 

"What the—ah!" Before I could drive myself crazy questioning every encounter had with the vampire, my spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, searing pain in my skull. My knees buckled, slamming against the hard floor, and my hands flew to clutch my head as if I could physically hold the pain at bay.

"I've got her!" Megs called, dropping down beside me. Her hands pressed against my temples, and I instinctively fought her off, shoving weakly at her arms. But the diminutive witch was surprisingly strong.

All traces of sympathy I'd felt for her earlier evaporated. Whatever she was doing to me, I swore I'd make her pay. Just as soon as I could see straight and find a way to patch up my fractured skull.

"Oh, humans. So fragile," Pam groaned, reluctantly stooping to support me after Eric barked a sharp order in her direction. "If you puke on my heels, you'll feel my stiletto up your ass!"

Under any other circumstances, I would've snapped back at her, but the words wouldn't come. Pain radiated through every nerve in my body, hot and all-consuming, until finally—mercifully—everything went blank.

When I opened my eyes, the light was blinding. I blinked against it, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Slowly, a figure came into focus—a stern, familiar face framed by wisps of gray hair, hands on her hips, and one foot tapping impatiently.

It was my grandmother.

"Bloody vampires!" she spat, her voice echoing in the void around me.

Then, in a flash of white, she was gone.

When I came to, I found myself lying on the floor, my head cushioned on one of the sofa pillows. Pam, Megs, and Eric hovered over me. The moment I blinked, they all sprang into action.

"I told you!" Megs snapped, her voice a storm of frustration as she shot a scathing look at Eric, who seemed even paler than usual. "I fucking told you, but you just wouldn't listen."

She turned abruptly, pacing a few steps away before collapsing into the armchair with a heavy sigh, massaging her temples as if trying to will away a massive headache.

"'No, it can't be. You must be mistaken,'" she mocked Eric's voice with unsettling accuracy. Then she drained her glass in one go, slammed it down, and grabbed her leather jacket. She was halfway to the door before Eric moved, blocking her path in a blur.

He stepped in close, his expression darkening as he grabbed her arm and spun her around, slamming her against the wall. His hand clamped around her throat, choking the live out of her. "And you still are!"  I sat up with a jolt, disoriented and alarmed. What the hell had I missed?

"ERIC!"

Still shaky and fighting off dizziness, I stumbled to my feet and crossed the room in a few unsteady strides. I threw my full strength into prying his hands off her throat, but it was like trying to move a steel bar. Only when my fingertips grazed his bare skin did he react. A surge of electricity jolted through him, forcing him to release her.

Megs wheezed out a curse, clutching her neck before storming out the door without a backward glance or thank you. Ironically, it was Eric who stood there, breathing hard, as if he were the one recovering. I stared at him, baffled. When he noticed my gaze, he quickly turned away.

Turned away? Eric Northman never turned away. He'd take any chance to flaunt how devastatingly irresistible he thought he was. This was new.

Pam. Pam would tell me what was going on. She always had a sharp tongue and an even sharper sense of humor, but she didn't pull punches.

"Pam?" My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Speaking hurt, and I winced, gingerly touching my sore throat. Pam rolled her eyes but fetched me a drink faster than I could blink. Bourbon. It burned like hellfire, but I swallowed it gratefully.

"You'll need it, sweetheart," she said, her tone blunt as ever. But before I could press her for answers, Eric barked something in Swedish. Pam shot him a glare, muttered a string of curses under her breath then left with equal hurry and without a word, slamming the door behind her.

And suddenly, it was just the two of us.

I felt the weight of the silence pressing in, charged with that familiar tension that seemed to follow us everywhere. It was like the air around us had turned been statically charged which, me being the apparent descendent of some viking gods, made sense, I guess. 

The glass slipped from my numb hands. Wait. I remembered? The buzzing in the air increased with each passing heartbeat. Suddenly, looking back at the last few weeks felt like looking through glasses after a thorough cleaning. Cristal clear. Unsure what to do, I met Eric's gaze—or tried to. He was still refusing to look at me.

I took a deep breath and summoned my courage. "Eric, I—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "Eric."

In an instant, he was in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders. More memories, all muddled before, assaulted me. Eric, holding me. Threatening me. Protecting me. His hands, touch, holding, caressing and fucking choking me.  His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, searching for something I couldn't quite define. My knees wobbled. Great. Just great. Maybe I did have Stockholm syndrome. Maybe I really was falling for my captor. Because that's exactly what he was—my captor. The man who kissed me, whispered filthy promises in my ear, and then kept me at arm's length. I was losing my mind. As his gaze lingered, devouring every inch of me, I realized I wasn't sure I wanted to leave. My body betrayed me, my heart raced, butterflies swirled in my stomach, and a dangerous heat pooled low in my belly.

His jaw tightened, and before I could process what was happening, he was across the room, as if he couldn't trust himself to stay close.

"What the—"

"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. I stumbled, caught me off guard. Eric Northman did not apologize. Ever.

"Okay," I said, slapping myself, "I'm awake. What's going on?"

He started pacing, his movements sharp and restless. My stomach dropped. Eric only acted human when things were really bad.

"Ashley," he began, his voice low and gravelly. My name sounded like a warning. "We need to talk."

The hairs on my neck stood on end. Nothing good ever followed the words we need to talk. I was done. Done with all of this.

Before he could say another word, I was out the door, which, to my surprise, was unlocked. I didn't run; I walked briskly, with purpose. It was a small victory, stepping out of that suffocating house, but it felt monumental.

Eric, of course, was right behind me, matching my stride effortlessly.

"Stop being ridiculous and come back inside," he growled, stepping in front of me to block my path.

I ignored him, brushing past, only to realize the suburban street stretched endlessly in both directions, the identical houses offering no clue as to where I could go. Rain began to fall, soft at first, then heavier.

"Don't be childish."

I merely huffed. Then kept strutting forward, my bare feet (when the fuck had I lost my shoes?!) patting through the icy puddles, splashing water up my legs, soaking my jeans. Eric kept walking by my site for a while. Silent aside from the annoyed sigh every now and then. 

When the rain turned bad enough to have me lose orientation in the middle of the suburbs, I let out a cry of frustration before I stopped, utterly defeated. My head was rolled back as I'd turned upwards, heavy rainclouds obscuring the stars in the night sky. I turned left, I turned right – Nothing familiar, no were to go. 

When I eventually admitted defeat and turned back, Eric stood a few feet away, arms crossed, for once not a smug grin on his face, his hair plastered to his forehead, equally annoyed and exhausted-looking as I felt. I was weirdly satisfying. 

"Where's the nearest bus stop?" I asked, glaring at him through the downpour.

"And where exactly do you plan to go?" His question, laced with mockery, stopped me cold.

"I'll go—" The answer died on my lips. I had nowhere to go. "Shit."

He raised a brow, gesturing toward the direction we'd just come from with exaggerated patience.

"Be reasonable and come back."

I hesitated, looking back down the dark street into the nothingness, trying to guess my chances of success. Was this my last chance to slip away from him? What would happen if I'd returned with him right now? Past adventures hadn't turned out in my favor... 

As if reading my mind, Eric answered for me. "If I wouldn't want you to go, I could have stopped you ever step of the way already. You are just as free in my house as you are out on the street catching a cold." Then, he simply turned, and headed back towards his house.

I kept staying in place, unsure, until the cold of my feet turned into a biting pain and the rain had soaked me to the bone.  Reluctantly, I followed him back. 

Despite my impaired vision, it was easy, finding my way back to Erics house. I would have loved to argue, that it was only, because his front door was the only one open during a blizzard-like rain shower but the truth was I felt something inside my tug in his direction before my eyes could ever have been able to spot anything. 

Which fucking terrified me.

As I reached the threshold, counterpart made an inviting gesture toward the house and raised an eyebrow. I bit my lip.

"Honestly, I think I'd rather take my chances in this weather with my crazy ex, the lunatics in Bon Temps, or that blonde muscle-bound guy who melted your bar," I grumbled, chewing on my lower lip. My life at the moment was difficult, and Eric offered me an easy way out—but the truth was, Eric had more power over me than I was willing to admit.

It wasn't just that he physically had me under his control. My earlier impulse to just run and never look back had an underlying reason: I didn't find it in me, to want to leave anymore.

Being near him made me feel comfortable and safe. He gave me peace and strength at the same time; he was thrilling, and despite his deceitful nature and the fact that he always sought his own advantage, I trusted him at his core. If it were up to me, I'd have run straight back into the house, made myself comfortable again on his outrageously cozy sofa, and let him seduce me, so he could fuck me every way to Sunday and show me his every trick in the book before retreating to sleep, satisfied.

Sleep. Eat. Repeat. 

Which was precisely, where the biggest danger lay: I was a breath away from simply giving up. Giving in. Giving over my life to someone to make every last decision for me, just so I could finally, eventually just rest.  

A life spent being shuffled through foster families had taught me better, and my alarm bells rang loudly when he unexpectedly changed his mind again. I had been on the verge of letting myself fall, giving myself to him—not just physically. The treacherous tug in my heart confirmed what I had been hiding from myself for far too long.

He already meant more to me than was good for me. Or for him.

I had seen it in his eyes, in his posture, that whatever he had to tell me would hurt, which had been my last energieboost to pull me up on my bootstraps and leave. Now I was back, to exhausted for another attempt.

Again, my heart did a weird little flip in my chest. Adrenaline trying to steer me away, the blood-bond tugging me right back towards Eric, having me twisted inside.

I shook myself, feeling completely on edge. Once more, I looked down the long, empty road, my vision so limited by the rain that I could see maybe 15 meters ahead, and tried to muster the final push that had gotten me out the door earlier. I should go: now or never.

I shook my head and stepped back again. The inviting smile on Erics lips faltered.

"Just tell me how to get out of here as quickly as possible," I pleaded, feeling the pull toward him growing stronger again. I wondered if he could hear the double meaning in my words or if it was only me who was so hopelessly emotionally involved.

Let me go, let me go, let me go...

"Ashley, stop acting like a child. Come back inside and leave tomorrow morning when it's light, dry, and you have a plan."

That was the second time he had called me a child. He was also arguing with me instead of imposing his will in his usual charming way – throwing me over his shoulder and man handling me. I had no one see him contradicted him, like I had the last days, maybe no one had,  since he started his one-sided blood diet 1,000 years ago. Maybe even before that. At least, no one had contradicted him and survived, which made it all the more strange and unsettling.

Yet his argument made sense. He noticed my resistance starting to waver and pressed his advantage, his voice as soft as silk.

"Tomorrow morning, a taxi will pick you up, if that's what you want. I'll leave my credit card next to the laptop, and you can buy a plane ticket to wherever you want to go."

Suspiciously, I listened to his words. I felt like a fly about to walk into a trap. And while he offered all I wanted on a silver plater, I had to admit that it stung. Why did he want me gone by dawn? Out of the country? When all he'd done previously was charming me and seducing me with a singular mind. As I stood there in the rain, shivering and running my hands through my hair, it became increasingly clear that I was missing crucial information.

He was right. It would be reasonable to go back inside, which annoyed me immensely. Ultimately, curiosity and pragmatism crept into my mind, and my resistance crumbled. Still debating the pros and cons, I stood indecisively in the street when a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Whatever I thought about the whole absurd Thor-Thundergod hypothesis, storms now gave me a different sense of threat than they had just weeks ago. Eric's expression darkened before he abruptly grabbed my wrist again. His skin sizzled, which he stoically ignored.

"Alright, that's enough. INSIDE!" he thundered before slamming the door shut in my back. I ducked my head, the vibrations echoing in the house. 

Authoritarian streak: check!

 I actually stumbled, now pushed forward by Eric at my back, through the open door.

"Oh-kay, Dad. Jeez."

Like a drowned rat, I shook myself inside the house just as the first thunderclap shattered the silence. Or was that the door slamming so hard behind him that it threatened to come off its hinges? With my shoulders hunched, I turned to deliver a tirade about how human ears were far more sensitive than those of a stoic vampire in his youthful 1,000s, a burst eardrum not healing within seconds, when the look on his face made me fall silent. 

Could vampires pale? I didn't get to ask my question as he delivered his final blow to my already shattered existence. "How about granddad?"