We walked down a long corridor. It turned out that they had, in fact, been holding me captive in the underground parking garage of some skyscraper  building. But once we stepped inside the structure via the fire escape, it felt as if we had entered the grand foyer of a Russian diplomat's residence. The floors were draped in lavish blood-red carpets, and the walls were lined with cream-colored wallpaper adorned with gold ornaments and expansive oil paintings.

A receptionist stood behind a desk, her jet-black hair styled in an elaborate updo, her makeup flawless, and more gold jewelry hanging around her neck, ears, and wrists than I could have lifted. She greeted us with a wide, indulgent smile.
"James, there you are again," she cooed, batting her lashes, which seemed to weigh at least two pounds each. James winked at her. "I told you I wouldn't be long. Snagging the girl was a stroke of genius. Well done, Tina," he praised. 

Tina, as she was apparently named, flushed with pride and waved his compliment away, though clearly pleased. She strutted around her desk on heels that looked lethal and walked toward a heavy metal door, which I realized was silver as we got closer. With purpose, she drew a key from her cleavage and unlocked the door, swinging it open for us. A vampire-proof door.

James pulled Tina to him in a swift motion, planting a deep kiss on her. She melted into him while I fought to keep my last meal down. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Tina fanned herself, utterly dazed by James. "Anytime, honey." But then she seemed to remember they weren't alone and turned her gaze to me.

"You're not getting one of those from me, honey" I said dryly as her eyes lingered on me. That did the trick—Tina huffed and stalked away in a flurry of indignation.
James chuckled. "Well, look who found her snark again," he teased, sighing dramatically. "Are you sure you don't want to give Tina a try? I'd love to watch."

I could already feel the nausea rising, and I decided that if I did throw up, it would be on James' shoes, which looked like expensive suede. The next room they dragged me into was a stark contrast to the corridor. The ceiling was tall and elaborately decorated with ornate plasterwork, and the floors were covered in pale marble tiles. Every frame on the walls was a massive, gilded monstrosity. Everything about this space was meant to intimidate.

At the far end of the room sat a man, immaculately dressed, likely in his thirties. His hair was raven-black, his eyes piercing blue. Even from what must have been at least 50 feet distance, I could tell with my human eyes that he was beautiful. 

Beautiful, dangerous, and arrogant.

We moved closer, James making it a point to shove me forward every few steps, his hand often lingering inappropriately on my lower back inbetween. I had a pretty good idea what motivated that particular move. When we were about five 10 feet from the massive, gaudy, gold-trimmed desk, the man finally looked up properly. His blue eyes lit up when they fell on me, though it was far from a friendly light.

"Ashley Johannson," he purred. "At last."

He spoke as if we were old friends, but I was certain I had never seen this man in my life.I instinctively tried to take a step back, but James was right behind me. In one fluid motion, the man stood and crossed the space between us until he was less than a foot away. A vampire, then. Not surprising. What was surprising, however, was the inappropriate and revolting kiss he suddenly forced on me. His cold slimy tongue invaded my mouth, similar to eating a snail I imagined, making my body break out in hives.

Reflexively, I bit him. I tasted his blood. The man—Monroe, I gathered—leaned back, laughing, a drop of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth. Then he slapped me. Heat rushed down my spine, and I fell into a defensive stance.

"You're right, James. She's defiant," Monroe said, speaking over my head as though I were nothing more than a pet or a child, to be ignored by the grown-ups "Maybe you weren't wrong about Tom, after all," he mused, causing my ears to perk up. I still wasn't entirely sure if Tom's presence was real or a product of my increasingly questionable sanity. After the past few weeks, I wouldn't be surprised if I was starting to finally lose it.

Before I could voice my questions, the man in question appeared from a side room. His expression was stone-cold, his movements rigid. He avoided my gaze entirely. I wanted to call out to him, but I felt like my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth while my blood was rushing through me almost painfully, making my hearing 

Tom approached Monroe whispering in his ear: "Everything is prepared in the next room" 

Monroe clapped his hands in delight, rubbing them together like a Bond villain. "Wonderful."With a sudden yank, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me along behind him like a dog. "You're quite the cute little thing, you know that?" he chattered casually, leading me toward the back door. "No wonder Tom was so taken with you."

Pain shot through my scalp as he shoved me through the doorframe and let go. I collapsed to my knees only getting a mere moment of reprieve before an unsettling tingle crawled up my neck, followed by an inexplicable sense of satisfaction. I froze.

That feeling—that eerie, bone-deep sensation—could only mean one thing. Slowly, I raised my gaze and saw what I had feared. Eric, chained at the far end of the room in silver restraints.I lunged toward him but was instantly yanked back by my hair and thrown to the floor once more.

"Oh great, now they've brought me Mrs. Sunshine, too," he muttered sarcastically. "As if I wasn't being tortured enough already."

"What are you doing here?" I squeaked. He was supposed to save me, not end up shackled next to me.

"Oh, you know, the usual. A bit of silver, a bit of torture," Eric growled as the chains bit further into his skin. "Getting tangled in things that have nothing to do with me..." He sighed dramatically. "God, when I've torn all of you to pieces," he glanced at me with an annoyed expression, "yes, even you, Ashley, I'm so taking a week off in Sweden. Winter solstice and all that."

Monroe chuckled.

"It's always good to have aspirations, Mr. Northman."

"What the hell is going on?" I scream-whispered into the room, but the only response was a series of smug grins. Since when was Eric this hostile toward me? I was clearly missing some key information. Panic and rage swirled inside me. I had no idea what was happening around me.

"Now, now, don't be hysterical and all that, dearest Ash," James purred. Anger surged through me again, and I felt a familiar energy racing down my spine. James cleared his throat. "Tom, brother, I think it's your turn. Your girlfriend starting to glow."

The air left my lungs as James referred to me as Tom's girlfriend. Reflexively, my eyes darted to Eric, who was staring at me intensely from across the room. 

"Well, that explains a lot," he muttered, cocking a brow in challenge. 

I felt vulnerable, but only for a moment. There were more pressing matters. When Tom laid a hand on my shoulder, I nearly jumped out of my skin. He was really here. Holy fuck. He was with us in this room, not just another figment of my fucked up, guilt ridden imagination.

"Ashley," he said calmly, which only made me angrier.

How could he say my name so casually, so calmly, while placing a friendly hand on my shoulder as if we hadn't been through hell? A tidal wave of emotions crashed over me: hatred, love, disbelief, disgust, shame, rage, lust, fear, pain, joy... I couldn't keep track of them all. And I was running out of air. The room tilted slightly as I struggled to breathe. I could only stare at him, and he stared back, expressionless.

His jaw was so tight that the vein in his forehead stood out, visible even through the dark hair that had fallen over his face. On instinct, I reached out and tucked the strand behind his ear. I froze as his gaze intensified. The air between us seemed to crackle. Then again, maybe it was just me being electrically charged as of new. 

However, his brown eyes seemed to burn into mine like fire. "Ashley, everything's going to be okay," Tom whispered softly, brushing his fingers against my cheek. For a fleeting moment, I believed him. Thought I'd found my Tom again. 

The Tom who had died in my arms in an elevator two years ago, covered in blood. The images I'd tried to bury hit me like a truck. I stumbled back, nearly on my feet before I even took another breath. 

"Don't touch me," I snapped, retreating another step.

Eric, still chained up and visibly in agony from the silver restraints, laughed.  "Well, even I got further than that, buddy. Keep at it, you might be getting there. Not the best technique, but enthusiastic." He winked at me then and I nearly choked on my words. 

Tom growled menacingly, but James burst out laughing. Everything was happening too fast, too confusingly. 

What were they hinting at? What was all this? How had I even ended up in this situation that I barely understood? I needed a moment to think. Just a moment. Why wouldn't anyone give me that?

This energy, the buzzing in my head intensified.

James was back at my side already. I swore, if he even thought about touching me, I'd forget everything at stake and tear him to pieces. My glare must have been enough because he didn't move closer, just sighed and rolled back on his feet. Monroe, watching to whole spiel from the other side of the room, just clicked his tongue. 

"Alright boys, enough foreplay. Time to put your money where your mouth is." Monroe barked, head inclined with a gleam in his eyes, as he roamed my body. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, stepping further away from him. Which put me closer to James again. I looked from James to Tom and back again, bewildered. James was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, while Tom looked almost ashamed. He sighed heavily.

"Ashley, I need your blood."

I blinked, thinking I'd misheard. "I'm sorry, what?!"

Behind me, James clapped his hands together, looking far too pleased with himself. "Oh, this is going to be amazing."

Tom's expression grew more desperate. He reached out, holding a needle attached to an empty blood bag. He was serious.

"Ashley, please," he begged, stepping closer. I just stared at him in utter disbelief. This was about my blood? Tom kept moving toward me, but I stayed frozen. His eyes watched me intently, tracking every movement I made. I did the same, but while I was filled with confusion and disbelief, his gaze was full of fear. When his cold fingers brushed my arm, I jerked back, startled by the chill. Something flickered in his eyes.

"Tom, don't," I whispered. "Please."

He hesitated, meeting my gaze. "Don't make it harder than it needs to be, Ash.", his voice wavered ever so slightly. Something inside him was fighting. I reached up, brushing my fingers across his cheek, my thumb tracing his lips like I had so many times before. I looked deeply into his eyes, looked for the boy who at fourteen years old stole my heart. My first kiss. My love. My everything!

"Why?" The question came out in a breath. He didn't answer.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Monroe groaned. In less than a second, he was beside me, roughly jabbing the needle into my arm. He missed the vein, of course, and continued to poke around while James held me in place from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

I screamed in frustration and pain, cursing under my breath.

"Stop with the theatrics, Ash," Eric growled from his corner, his voice laced with irritation. "Try dealing with silver as a vampire—it's a bit more unpleasant."

He shifted slightly, the sound of sizzling following his movement. He groaned in pain, but I didn't care for his smug comments at the moment.

"Oh, so it's your what's  reeking like that," I snapped. "Next time, I'm asking for a torture room with a better ventilation system minus the sizzling vamp baby!"I was beyond done with this. My voice dripped with venom as I shot back, "And to think, I had to endure endless lectures from the great Viking warrior about how invincible and flawless you are." I let out a bitter laugh. "Who's the one trapped in a backroom with a helpless little girl now?"

Eric blinked, clearly thrown off. He looked confused.

"You're right."

Three words I never expected to hear. My mouth snapped shut, and my heart began to race. Something was very, very wrong if Eric Northman was admitting fault. It was enough to make me pause.

"What do you mean?" I asked warily.

"I don't know why I came here...", he uttered, confused.

Monroe burst out laughing, his harsh, grating sound causing me to flinch with whatever energy I had left. I felt drained, exhausted. My vision blurred.

Monroe rubbed his hands together, sounding almost delighted. "Oh, this is getting interesting, boys. I'm starting to feel hopeful again."

I wasn't sure I could even follow the conversation anymore. My thoughts were sluggish, and I frowned as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

"I don't understand," I mumbled.

Monroe clapped Tom on the shoulder. "I think we've got enough blood for now. Any more, and we'll risk killing our little golden goose." He pulled the needle from my arm, and I winced at the sharp pain, growling lowly.

"Unbelievable, she really has no idea," Monroe mused, staring at me with a mix of amusement and condescension. "No idea of the power she possesses..."

He leaned in closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear. The contrast between his handsome appearance and his rotten soul couldn't have been more jarring.

"You, my dear," he said, his voice dripping with malice, "are the descendant of a Viking goddess."

Great, because I really wasn't already fed up with Vikings...