"You call that gentle, asshole?" I heaved before loudly retching into the flowerbed once more.

I was beginning to doubt my body's capabilities. In my entire life, I'd only fainted about three times and vomited maybe ten, not counting that stomach flu I once had. But the past few days in Eric's presence had thoroughly ruined my statistics.

Eric had lost all patience for coddling me and was already striding towards the nondescript door of a multi-story suburban house.

"What...?" I began to ask what we were doing here but stopped as he opened the door and walked inside like he owned the place.

Wait. Did he actually own this place?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I trailed after him, pausing hesitantly at the threshold. Eric turned around, clearly annoyed. "Planning to take root out there?"

"I... I can't come in," I stammered, completely bewildered. Eric frowned.

"No, Ash, you've got it wrong. I'm the one who can't enter your house without an invitation. I'm the vampire. You don't need one," he explained, as though speaking to a child. And a mentally challenged one at that. Fair enough, I did feel a bit like an idiot.

Of course, physically, I could step inside. What held me back wasn't some magical barrier but my conscience. It felt utterly wrong to step into Eric's house. So... intimate. Especially considering that I still hadn't completely crossed 'killing Eric' off my to-do list. Just postponed it, that's all.

"Eric, who's that?" came a small, squeaky voice. My eyes widened so much I was surprised they didn't pop out of my skull.

"Eric, who's that?!" I hissed back, equally shocked.

"Well, it seems you're already on the same wavelength!" Eric sighed, stepping aside to reveal a girl who had been hiding behind him.

At that point, my jaw practically hit the floor.

"You... you..." In a daze, I stepped into the house and knelt down to the girl's eye level. "You have a child!"

My brain went into overdrive. Not all my thoughts were coherent, or in any logical order, but they descended upon me like a hailstorm.

Eric had a child—did he have a wife too?

Could vampires even have children?

Where was this child's mother?

Was the child a vampire?

Or was she entirely human?

Could vampires adopt children?

Was it discriminatory if they couldn't?

Or should there be laws to protect children from vampires?

Good heavens, did he keep the child as a food source?

"Hi," the little girl murmured, taking a step toward me. I cautiously extended my hand, scanning her from head to toe. At first glance, the girl seemed healthy enough, but I swore on everything sacred—if I found even the slightest hint that Eric had harmed her, I wouldn't hesitate to grab the nearest piece of his fancy, old-world furniture (all seemingly made of solid hardwood, ironically) and stake him with it. Cute ass or not.

"Calm down, Ash, I haven't touched her," Eric grumbled, likely sensing the tension in my shoulders and jaw. "Not that you could do anything about it if I had," he added with a snide smile. Did his lip just twitch in amusement at the thought? Jerk.

While my neurons were still scrambling to process the existence of this little girl, with thoughts like If I sleep with Eric, could I get pregnant? Do I even want kids? Oh God, why am I thinking about kids with Eric? Or maybe it's too late for therapy and I should just be put down? — I wasn't about to let an insult to my fighting skills slide. Usually, I'd let it go to avoid giving myself away, but I was too distracted. If Eric has a child, what else is he hiding?

So, I slipped back into my New York Ash combat stance—a far cry from the Bon Temps Ash I was becoming. At this rate, I figured I'd completely lost her somewhere between Bon Temps and Dallas.

"Listen here, buddy—"

Eric's fangs snapped into place, cutting off my sentence. "Buddy" wasn't a term of endearment he appreciated, it seemed. His entire posture was a clear threat meant to scare me, but it only fueled my anger, which was sizzling down my spine in bursts of energy. I raised an eyebrow, ready to snap back, when I noticed the girl between us, cowering in fear.

I exhaled sharply, releasing the breath I'd been holding.

"We're not done," I hissed, shaking out my shoulders to calm myself. I didn't want to traumatize the kid more than she might already be.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll have something to look forward to when I get back," Eric grumbled, turning on his heel and heading to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the girl. She eyed me cautiously, and I was certain I was doing the same.

"Hey, I'm Ashley," I introduced myself again, more gentle this time, hoping she'd give me her name or some other clue.

The girl shyly smiled. "I know."

That surprised me. "Oh?"

She nodded but didn't elaborate.

"And how do you know that?" I pressed when she remained silent. She looked down. "I'm not allowed to say."

Now, my curiosity was thoroughly piqued.

"Really? I know how that goes, but you don't have to worry about me. I won't tell anyone," I assured her. Unfortunately, the girl seemed smart enough not to fall for it and shook her head. Alright, I'd try again later. I took a closer look at her. Her skin was pale, and her eyes slightly hollow. She looked malnourished. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I reconsidered my earlier suspicion that she might be kept as a food source.

There were faint scars on her arms, suspiciously resembling bite marks. My blood, which only had settled a bit, began to boil anew, and the world around me blurred. A startled squeak from the girl snapped me back to reality, looking around to find what had startled her. She, on the other hand, was staring at me. More precisely,  she was staring at the air around me with wide eyes. I was... sparking.

"Shit."

I quickly tried to calm myself, wrestling my uncontrollable "abilities" back under control. Why wasn't there a handbook titled Twenty, Supernatural, and Completely Nuts with a step-by-step guide to all this nonsense.

That would certainly make navigating this strange new world easier. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply to steady my racing pulse that was starting to give me a hell of a headache. The girl placed her small hand on my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, surprised, she was smiling at me.

"Should I get Eric? He always helps me when I'm scared."

Eric helps her. Those three words were apparently all I needed to hear because my sparking stopped instantly, like a bubble bursting. Relief washed over me, and I took the little girl's hand.

"It's okay now, thank you."

She nodded, squeezed my hand in a gesture so mature, my brows furrowed. Then she turned on her heel and left the room. I found it hard to guess her age. She was so small and delicate, yet her eyes seemed old. She must have been through a lot—trauma makes you age faster.

I followed her, if only to avoid standing there awkwardly. Left to the entry hall, I found a large kitchen, much to my surprise. The girl had climbed onto a chair and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter as I looked around, wide-eyed.

The tiles were dark, glossy granite, the cabinets a matching sleek white with metal handles. The floor beneath my feet seemed to be made of volcanic stone, radiating warmth. Against the wall stood a large refrigerator, the kind you'd want to crawl into on a sweltering Louisiana summer day. Everything looked expensive and high-end, and for some reason, the place smelled like lavender.

"Why does a vampire need such a big kitchen?" I accidentally voiced aloud, only realizing it, when Eric appeared from behind the fridge to answer.

"I let Pam handle the design," he shrugged as if that were a completely obvious explanation. When I still didn't see the connection, he elaborated. "She had a thing for Martha Stewart at the time, who apparently always said the kitchen was the most important room in the house."

Eric rolled his eyes and casually poured himself a glass from a blood bag that looked like it had been swiped from a blood bank. He leaned against the counter, taking a sip. "When the house was finished, I asked her the same thing, but I've grown to like it. The counter is even large enough for my meals." Eric grinned wickedly.

It took a moment for my brain to process his insinuation along with his suggestive once-over. He was assessing whether I would fit on his counter. As his meal.

"Ugh, Eric!" I groaned, shivering at the thought that sent goosebumps racing over my skin—completely and utterly from disgust, mind you. Eric chuckled before downing the rest of his glass and placing it in the sink.

It was so incredibly odd to see Eric in such a domestic and relaxed setting. It made it difficult to keep seeing him as the villain. Like if you caught Glenn Close's character from Fatal Attraction doing laundry and babysitting a stranger's kid—it would be much harder to think of her as the bad guy.

Also, honestly, I was afraid I had stopped seing Eric as a villain quite some time ago...

The girl had moved to the kitchen counter and sat on a stool, gazing at Eric with wide, fascinated eyes, while still glancing at me warily over her shoulder.

"Are you leaving again?" she pouted, while I could only blink at the normalcy—and absurdity—of the whole situation.

"I've got something to take care of. You know where to find everything, right?"

The girl nodded, but her gaze flicked back over to me.

"Is she going to be here the whole time?" she muttered, clearly unhappy about it. It was obvious she'd rather be alone with Eric. Well, it seemed he had the same weird effect on all women, becoming all possessive over him, regardless of their age.

Eric shot me a helpless look. "Are kids always this clingy? I once had a Golden Retriever that was less of a problem."

"You had a Golden Retriever," I repeated flatly, trying to picture it. He might as well have said he used to work as a circus clown, balancing a ball on his nose. It made about as much sense.

I shook my head in disbelief, which Eric took as an answer to his question.

"See? You're clingy." He told the girl who's eyes were shooting daggers at her. "Now go back to the couch and watch TV. Isn't that what kids do these days? Watch TV?"

The girl pouted but headed off when Eric gave her a stern look, flashing his fangs for good measure. She jumped off the barstool, clearly irritated, and stormed out of the room.

"And grab something to eat!" Eric barked with such authority that it was clear the conversation was over. And also that he must have been a dad at some point...

My head was spinning.

Eric Northman, family man with a Golden Retriever, was looking at me now, in his overly neat and inviting kitchen, noticing my expression. I fought back the urge to grin stupidly. He realized what was going through my head and in a flash was right in front of me. "One word to anyone, and I'll feed you your own tongue," he threatened, his gaze fixed on my mouth, where said body part resided. But somehow, the threat didn't carry the same weight it would have ten minutes ago.

I stared into his eyes, trying to see past the arrogance and threats, to catch a glimpse of the real Eric Northman underneath. Before I could stop myself, I heard the words slip out in a whisper: "Are you even really dangerous?"

Judging by what happened next, I realized I couldn't have asked a more foolish question.

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

A/N:
As always, don't forget to vote, follow, share, and please (!!!) leave a comment ;) Anything really. Just say Hi to let me know you're still interested in more chapters. Comment your own kitchen layout. Give me your favorite Eric Northman Quote. Anything and everything will be appreciated! 
As a thank you (or an incentive?), here's a GIF of a half-naked Eric.
Just because it's so nice to look at!