The silence that had fallen over the room was suffocating. The only sound was the sizzling of Eric's burning skin, but judging by the way all emotions had drained from his face, I doubted he even noticed.

I waited for the punchline, but none came. I snorted. My thoughts struggled to rev back into gear, but the blood loss made it difficult. Instead of a coherent response, I started giggling.

"So, wait... does that mean Thor is my daddy now?"

Countless inappropriate images of Chris Hemsworth, with and without a shirt, flashed through my mind, swinging his hammer—his literal hammer, of course. Although...I giggled again. "Oh yes, he can definitely be my daddy!"

My mind was still playing catch up, so it took my brain some time to catch up with my mouth. When I did, I wanted to knock myself out. Both Eric and Tom shot me irritated looks, Monroe seemed confused, and James rolled his eyes.

"Let her sleep it off," James suggested, narrowing his eyes as he studied my face. "Might be better if she doesn't remember any of this anyway." He pointed at Eric. "Also worth noticing." His hand pointed between Eric and me "Those two have some weird connection. It could get in our way."

I really tried to follow James' words, but I was missing so much crucial information. This should have been the moment for answers—answers to the questions that had been haunting me for years.

Who am I? 

What happened to me? 

What really went down in New York? 

What's the backstory?

And why the fuck was my dead boyfriend running around, kidnapping me and little girls for some weird dude, called Monroe?

More questions had piled up in the last few hours, but I was so dizzy and so, so tired. Maybe I should take a quick nap. And I was hot. Maybe I could just lie down on the floor and cuddle with Eric. Half-asleep, I stumbled toward him. Eric was always so cold, just perfect to snuggle up to—A loud whistle snapped me back to reality. 

"Hey, Romeo!" James shouted, pointing at me while glaring at Tom. "Your girl is making a move on her lover boy. You might want to do something about it."

Like a scolded puppy, Tom stormed toward me, his shoulders slumped, his expression twisted in a scowl. I snorted.

"Lover boy." I glanced from Tom to Eric. "Can you believe he just called you that?" I whispered to Eric—loud enough that everyone could hear, much to my embarrassment. Eric gave me a crooked grin. His gaze was still wary, probably because of the revelations about me, but he couldn't resist annoying our captives it seemed.

"True. Though I prefer just 'lover.'" He winked, then looked past me to Tom. "But I have a feeling he's not too happy about any of this."

It was a blessing that the blood loss had left me so detached from my emotions. Even when I was drunk, I was never this relaxed. I let out a huff and shrugged. I was mad at Tom. Really, really angry, in fact. But with I don't know how many ounces of blood drained, it was hard to hold on to that feeling—hard to even keep myself upright, actually. I swayed again, barely managing to stay on my feet. "I really don't care if he likes it or not", I mumbled, pouting.

Tom's eyes flashed dangerously as he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me away from Eric. Indignant, I pointed accusingly at Eric, while being dragged along.

"If you didn't insist on wearing those ridiculously low-cut shirts, the silver chains would've hit less skin, and you could get us out of here, you know!" I grumbled, making a weak attempt to wriggle free from Tom's grip. God, I was dizzy.

Eric snorted. "You're just mad they didn't completely take off my shirt when they tied me up."Unbelievable. Now I really wanted to punch him, silver chains or not. I tried to break free but stumbled again. Tom caught me and carried me in his arms. 

I'd been in his arms like this before, but that had been a different time, a different situation. I had been different. He had been different... 

Images flashed before my eyes, memories of a Tom who had been holding me, when I was scared. Who'd laughed with me, listened to music with me, had introduced me to carnal pleasures...  The swirl of emotions threatened to break through. Shaking my head, I tempered them down again. My burning head lolled to the side, into his arms. 

"Oh, you're nice and cold too," I d, snuggling closer to him. As the darkness slowly enveloped me, I added, "Wake me when it's all over, okay?"
I wasn't sure if Tom responded. I thought I felt a deep rumble in his chest before everything faded to black, and suddenly, I was at Merlotte's again, waiting tables.

I had just cleared Sookie's table and was carrying a full tub of dishes back to the kitchen when she bounced over and took it from me. She gave me a scolding look."You shouldn't be carrying anything that heavy in your condition."She glanced down at my belly, and I followed her gaze. I was pregnant. Very pregnant. Sookie gave me an encouraging smile."Let's hope she's not as stubborn as her daddy."With that, she sashayed back into the kitchen, ponytail swinging. I looked after her, dumbfounded, when the little girl from Erics home clasped her hand around mine, tugging me to the door. "Time to go, Ashley. Dad is waiting."Then everything went dark again.

I was woken by a low, angry growl, a surge of rage bubbling in my chest. I snapped my eyes open, confused. Was this my new ringtone, or what was that annoying noise? I was exhausted. Had I drunk too much last night? The world felt off, but that was because I'd been laid on a small, ornate chaise lounge—too firm and too small for comfort. It was nothing compared to Eric's sofa collection. Still, I was about to drift off again when the growling got louder, jarring me into sitting up. Who the hell had the nerve to keep waking me?

I looked up and was met with a bizarre scene. I shook my head, trying to clear the blurry edges from my vision. Once, twice. By the third time, I had to accept that what I was seeing was, in fact, reality – even if I hoped it wasn't. 

James, a stranger (Monroe, my brain supplied sluggishly  and, oh God, Tom tood in a circle around Eric, who was still bound in leather, forced to into a sitting position. He was kneeling on the floor, in a posture I'd never seen from him before, with... a little girl in his arms. My vision still refused to adjust. I tried to stand, but my legs felt like jelly. My elbow throbbed. Was that a needle mark in my arm? I squinted.

Slowly, thick like honey, the memories trickled back, sluggish and unclear. My heart pounded harder. I was in deep trouble.

Things started to make sense again. Eric was their prisoner (though that didn't explain why he was kneeling), and the girl in his arms was the one I'd seen at his house. She looked up at him with wide, frightened, pleading eyes but said nothing, offering her neck to him.
I felt sick. But Eric seemed just as conflicted about what he was supposed to do. Hence the growling—it was him, growling at the vampires surrounding him. The sound that had woken me.

 Animalistic, threatening.

They stood around him, confused.

"Wasn't this supposed to work?" Tom asked, looking at James, who pulled another vial from his pocket and brought it to Eric's lips.

"Maybe the dose wasn't strong enough. He's... big."

Eric growled louder, and the moment the blood touched his lips, he drank it greedily, his eyes burning, his growls intonation turning seductive. My heart raced. That wasn't my blood, was it?

My neck prickled at the mere thought of watching Eric greedily drink down my blood, growling and moaning doing so. It was... intimate. 

James ran a hand through his hair while Monroe clicked his tongue in disdain.

"Well, Simmons, did you oversell your abilities?" Monroe asked, head tilted as he observed Eric. 

Then, with a quick movement, he struck Eric's chin, and Eric took the hit without trying to block it. I saw his jaw clench harder when Monroe had called Tom and James by their last name. "Simmons". The name, I had adapted, when living with them and their shitty parents as one of my foster homes. The name I had still continued using, when going of radar to hide from the police, since I had been registered as "Johansson". The name, I had once considered mine for the future, for when Tom would propose and marry me. 

The name that now felt utterly wrong and like a betrayal.  Eric just glanced at me, the pieces seemed to click for him too. 

Shame washed over me, but was shortly replaced with anger. So I had lied. So I had a past. Who was he to judge? He was lying more than he was telling the truth and his past kept dragging me into danger at every turn. He was literally right beside me in this mess, probably because of his past himself, so where was coming from, being all judgmental and shit. 

My anger was boiling over, and I had to resist the urge wanting to leap up and intervene, knowing full well I'd barely make it halfway across the room before my legs would give out. Instead I just glared back and held his gaze, looked at the frightened girl in his arms and narrowed my eyes. 

I have been disappointed in enough people to last me a lifetime. If he would make me watch, when he drained that little girl, I'd kill him. 

You will not bite her, do you understand!

"It worked with Godric, sir!" James assured Monroe. Even from this distance, I saw Eric's eyes widen, then narrow to slits. He was still staring at me, noticing that I had recovered somewhat from the first ordeal, while Tom—his brother—sealed my fate with his next words. "We convinced Godric to meet the sun, thanks to Ash's help."