Author's Note:

Made it this far? In that case I want to give you all a big, digital hug. Thanks for staying with me in and this story, the whole (kind of repetitive) will they, won't they of Eric and Ash ( I swear to you, I'm as anxious as you guys, but those two have their own mind and didn't exactly follow my plot, because I swear to you, I had their story planned in a completely different way, but they evolved on their own and now we are here...). 

Thanks for your consistent voting and letting me know you enjoy my writing, my jokes and my story. Because of you, I was just invited to become a member of the Wattpad Creative Program. Something, that wouldn't have been possible without you. So pat yourself on your back now, maybe hug yourself and imagine it is me, thanking you. 

 😉

In a blurry motion, Eric grabbed me by my neck, holding me in place like one would a cat. To be fair, I was reacting just as feral, snarling and trying to twist free. Electricity simmered over my skin, reaching him... and not burning him.  Again I twisted my head in exorcism-like manner only to catch a glimpse of a deep purple glove that shimmered again. 

Fucking magic!

"Let go, you fucking bastard!"

Eric just clicked his tongue. "Manners, lover." His grip tightened further. "I want answers and if you were less stubborn to begin with, you'd admit, that our goal actually align." He shook me for good measure. I coughed before kicking back, hoping to hit his leg. It was like kicking a big rock. Nothing happened an my foot hurt. 

"Stop being a brat and comply. I only like brats when I fuck them."

I choked on my spit. 

The room buzzed, tension simmering like a live wire. Pam's smug smirk grated against my already frayed nerves, and Eric watched me with that insufferable twinkle of amusement in his eyes, like I was the punchline to some thousand-year-old joke.

Megs, meanwhile, was still muttering about how "nobody appreciates what it takes to be a witch" as she rummaged through a bag that looked suspiciously like it had once belonged to a Victorian apothecary. She pulled out a vial of something iridescent and held it up to the light.

"I'm not drinking that," I said flatly, taking a cautious step back only to bump into tall, blonde and dickish. Immediately, I stepped forward again but he just followed, now glued to my backside.

Megs rolled her eyes. "It's not for drinking, Einstein. It's for..." She trailed off, waving the vial vaguely in the air. "...you know. Mystical purposes."

Pam leaned in, her grin wicked. "By all means, Megs. Mystify her."

"Yeah, not happening. The last time you did that I was..." Wait, where was I then? I tried to remember, but my memories slipped away the moment I tried to reach for them, much like a dream in the morning.

"Told you, lover. Same goals."

"Ugh."

His low chuckle reverberated against my ear. 

As Megs stepped closer again, I felt my skin crackle. "I'm serious Megs. Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged." Pam lunged at me, however Eric grasped her mid jump, holding her down. 

"Remember last time? She fried your favorite Chancel costume right of your bones."

"Hence the murder attempt", Pam growled but stayed put, merely shooting daggers with her eyes. 

I eyed her suspiciously, ready to strike at a moments notice, if necessary. Well... I think... I still didn't understand the sparkling bit my skin did, but it seemed to work on instinct, so I was placing my trust in it... not that I had any other options really. 

While I was still contemplating my abilities (or lack thereof) another low buzzing started trailing down my skin. Cursing, Eric stepped back again, his hand still in my neck, holding me firmly in place. "Ashley, we are running out of time." Eric pushed again. I eyed him over my shoulder suspiciously. His gaze caught mine, his blue sucking me in, in an attempt of glamour. The electric buzzing turned louder.  Eric's voice cut through the rising chaos like a blade, smooth and commanding. "Enough."

Everyone froze, including me, though my fingers still tingled with the remnants of my earlier electric outburst. He stepped around me, his movements so deliberate, so predatory, it made my skin prickle.

"Let's try this a different way," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Ashley, you're clearly not going to cooperate with Megs." His lips curved into a smirk that sent both shivers and irritation skittering down my spine. "So I'll have to handle this personally."

"Oh, no, you don't." I crossed my arms, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "You're not rummaging around in my brain, Dracula."

Pam barked a laugh. "Dracula? Eric wishes he were that flashy."

Eric's eyes never left mine. "Pam." One word, sharp as a whip crack. She fell silent, though the grin on her face suggested she was enjoying every second of this.

"Let's make one thing clear, lightning bug," he said, stepping closer until I could feel the cold aura that always seemed to follow him. "You can try to resist. You can even make a scene if it makes you feel better. But you will let me in."

I glared up at him, defiant. "I think this is a good starting point to repeat myself: Over my dead body."

His grin widened, teeth glinting like a predator who had just found a particularly entertaining meal. "Don't tempt me with a good time."

"Ugh, could you two just fuck already?" Pam drawled, examining her nails. "The sexual tension is giving me hives."

"Shut up, Pam!" we both snapped in unison, eyes never leaving one another. 

Pam was right, however. The tension was so incredibly thick, that it seemed to weave nets through the air, binding us, trapping us. "You're wasting time, Ashley", he purred.

I didn't answer, but I could feel my resolve faltering. The problem wasn't that Eric was dangerous, or even that he was infuriating. The problem was that he was right.

Something was wrong inside my head. The fragmented memories, the constant sense of déjà vu—it wasn't normal. And deep down, I knew Eric might be the only one who could help.

But that didn't mean I had to make it easy for him.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "But Megs will be the one getting access. And if either of you messes with anything that doesn't involve this specific issue, I'll electrocute your fangs straight out of your skull."

Eric raised a brow. "Intent to get all close and personal with my fangs again, are you?"

Despite everything I couldn't stop my body from remembering how I had enjoyed his fangs the last time he'd bitten me, a shiver running down my spine for entirely different reasons now. 

Eric smirked knowingly. 

"Ooookay then, I guess" Megs cleared her throat " So no frying the helping witch, right?"

My eyes narrowed. "I still don't trust you. You double-crossed me. Once you're done, I never want to see you again."

Her shoulders slumped, but she nodded. Shaking out her hands, she stepped closer again, her fingertips dipped in whatever powder she'd pealed out of her bag, glowing. Her voice was back in my head the second she touched my temples.

Sorry, Ash. I'll be quick, I promise.

I tried to push her out of my thoughts again, but Megs only gave me an apologetic look.

This won't work, Ashley. I just want to help all of us and see if you might have missed something. So please, do me a favor and think about your grandmother again, okay? Then I won't have to dig around and maybe open drawers you'd prefer to keep closed.

I could almost hear my grandmother's voice whispering admonishingly: "You alone decide what you want! Never forget that!"

With that thought, almost on instinct, I shoved Megs out of my mind harder this time. She grunted—half impressed, half annoyed.

"She's not particularly cooperative, people!" she ground out between clenched teeth. Then, turning to me, she added, "I'm only trying to help, you stubborn ass."

I shook myself, and a crackle of electricity shot over my skin, a big one. Instantly, all hands fell away from me. At the same time, I felt alive, alert, and euphoric. Despite myself, I grinned.

"Whoa!" Megs gasped.

"Bitch," Pam muttered.

Eric simply raised one eyebrow in a way that somehow managed to convey more disapproval than the others' words combined. Maybe a thousand years of life experience gave you that kind of presence.

"I liked her better before, when she was shellshocked" Pam grumbled. "Come on, tell her more about your past, maybe we can calm her down again!"

"I used to be a Nazi" Eric said, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. He looked at me, clearly expecting a reaction.

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. He was an ancient vampire who'd been killing for centuries—so, honestly, the revelation didn't exactly floor me. Then again, I strongly doubted he'd ever seriously aligned himself with any human regime or fought for one, especially one so pathetic and misguided. He was too smart for that.

Eric shrugged. "Looks like I've lost my touch."

I snorted. "You can only lose what you actually had."

Megs ignored the banter entirely, tilting her head back with an exaggerated groan."Sometimes, I enjoy sleeping at night. I know—it's a weird, unorthodox habit in my line of work, but still..." she muttered, more to herself than to anyone in particular.

I studied her more closely. She did look exhausted. Her hair stuck greasy to her head, and as for the dark circles under her eyes—I could only hope she just hadn't gotten around to taking off her makeup properly, otherwise... yikes. Something like pity stirred in me.

Being distracted, I only realized Eric had moved, when I felt his cold hand – not the glove – holding my neck again. Gentler now, caressing the skin. And my prickly demeanor and electric sizzling just... stopped. 

Traitorous body!

Megs noticed, of course, and seized the opportunity. Her eyes glowed purple again, her fingers back on my head. "So, if I rummage through her brain now, I get to call it a night?" she whispered hopefully, looking past me. Eric must have nodded, so before I could properly agree to her invasive head-search hex, I heard her voice in my head again.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! I swear I'll be quick and only share what's absolutely necessary! she gushed, practically vibrating with relief.

"Too loud!" I hissed, recoiling slightly.

"Oh. Sorry!" she mumbled. She managed to turn the volume down. Carefully, she began sifting through the depths of my mind. The sensation was strange, and I had to fight the urge every few seconds to shove her out again.

It felt like someone was standing directly behind me, watching, but I wasn't allowed to turn around. And all the while, I waited for something terrible to happen. My jaw clenched.

What exactly are we looking for? I asked Megs quietly in my thoughts. I still don't get what all this drama is about.

Megs glanced at Eric, then Pam, before answering me hesitantly, clearly keeping her response hidden from them. Believe it or not—you, or at least your grandmother, seem to have some connection to one of the Norse gods...

I rolled my eyes. Not this again.

Megs gave me a warning look. Just accept it as fact. She hesitated. Honestly, though, from what I've seen lately, he probably would've had me dig through your mind for more answers regardless. Those gods have more bastards running around than you'd know. However, since finding out about your lineage... Your grandmother and him... something about that really got under his undead skin.

Hmph. As much as I wanted to deny it, I'd come to the same conclusions. Eric's behavior had been, to put it mildly, uncharacteristic. Snarky and sarcastic and all the Eric trademark behavior but with an edge, a sharpness, that betrayed his calm demeanor.

And you know him well enough to have noticed...

To the discomfort of having Megs in my head was now added a sharp headache. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Sorry," Megs said. "The longer I search, the worse it feels—for both of us. I'll try to hurry!"

"Eric?" I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Don't you want to finish your story?"

He turned his head toward me, interrupting his conversation with Pam. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken promises. A warmth spread through me. Doesn't he know a girl likes to be bought a drink before getting a look like that?

Megs, clearly overhearing my thoughts, chuckled. I shot her a glare, and she flinched slightly as a tiny spark shocked her.

"What story?"

I rolled my eyes, but my skin started a low humming again as annoyance washed over me. "Of you and Annie."

Was it just me or did he flinch at that? My mood soured further. 

"What's the matter, Eric? Suddenly shy?" Megs grumbled. "Distract her before she fries me to a crisp."

She resumed her probing, her hands placed on either side of my temples. Images from my childhood and youth that I'd spent years trying to bury surfaced, flashing by like a bad slideshow.

My first day of school. A foster child, watching as the other kids unpacked colorful school cones filled with treats and trinkets, gifts from their parents. In contrast, I sat staring at the empty desk in front of me, enduring the pitying glances from the teachers, holding onto the last candy bar my father had given me, that I had never been able to eat, because it was the last thing remaining of them. It was just as painful watching this scene replay, as it had been living it.

I swallowed hard.

A multitude of other memories crashed down. My first foster home, my hope for normalcy, my attempt to fit in only to be send back on my birthday. The second and third and forth home, each with stricter rules and nastier "parents". Then the leering looks started. From boys my age... and men that were suppose to protect me. 

The times I ran. I tried to hide. In old buildings and between containers near the docks. Among homeless people and people with addictions. 

The memories kept piling up, higher and higher, until I felt like I couldn't breathe. Until I felt like they suffocated me. When they started to glimmer, I was almost relieved, the pain, the electricity making them unrecognizable like a migraine was able to blur your vision.

Another image popped up, this one sharp.

Tom. My Tom. The real Tom – only twelve years old. My heart squeezed painfully. He'd been so young himself. His limbs still gangly, his clothes ill-fitting for his quickly growing body, the fabric ripped, his overall appearance dirty. Not because he hadn't cared for hygiene but because his parents, the Simmons, didn't want to spend any money on utilities when it could be spend on drugs and gambling. 

Yet he'd smiled a real, carefree smile, when he'd first laid eyes on me. A smile so blinding, so captivating, I had wanted to stay. Even after I'd met his brother James. Even after the abuse started on me, Mr. Simmons hitting me, like he'd done his sons. I had stayed, to stay with him. And he left, to leave with me. 

Images overlapped. The smiling boy growing into his handsome features turning into harsh lines around his eyes and mouth, the suffering building up to a man that lost his innocence to soon – to die his human death in a dirty elevator in New York before his real life could even begin. As the last, harsh image faded, numbness creeped back into my limbs: Numbness, I could so easily hid behind again... 

Cold lips brushed my cheek, soft and fleeting, moving toward my ear and neck. A warmth spread through me, chasing away the bitter memories, the numbness, leaving me feeling almost... content.

Startled, I opened my eyes to find Eric watching me intently, his blue eyes sharp and inquisitive. He licked his lips.

"Salty," he observed, sounding oddly surprised.

I blinked, raising a hand to my cheek where I'd felt his touch. A single tear had traced its way down my face—my pain, caught by Eric in a rare moment of tenderness.