I was yanked out of my stuper so forcefully, my head was spinning and my stomach did a flip. Dry heaving I bent over, trying not to throw up. 

Furious, I got up from the floor and rubbed my aching backside.
How many times had that bastard thrown me out of his bed now?
Eventually, this would have to stop. Even for Mr. Sex-on-legs himself.

"I'm leaving," I growled, striding purposefully toward the door.

Faster than my suddenly night-vision-capable eyes could register, Eric stood in my way. Naturally, he towered over me in both height and width, needing to do little more than block my path to keep me from leaving. Briefly, I considered trying to push him aside, but even before attempting it, I knew how futile it would be. So, I sighed.

"Get out of my way, Eric."My voice was tense. So was my body.

"No," he said flatly, motioning for me to sit back on the bed. I turned my head toward the smoldering bed frame and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? The bed's on fire!" I pointed out the obvious.

"And I'm not even between the sheets..." Eric retorted dryly, his eyes glinting dangerously. "This was the second attempt on my life by your hand. Next time you plan an attack, make it more precise."

Oh... oh fuck no!

The whole situation with Tom had distracted me so much that I had completely forgotten the most obvious danger of all.

Eric. 

More precisely, Eric's awareness of my vengeful intentions. How could I have forgotten that? Slowly but surely, I was beginning to doubt my sanity. Maybe I'd been too close to death too often. Perhaps I'd left the last few brain cells I had on the verge of death—or drowned them in bourbon long before that...

It felt as if part of my memory was missing...like there was a...hole? Suspiciously, I eyed Eric while touching the back of my head, which, miraculously, seemed to have healed. I wondered if Eric had the ability to literally burn holes into people's memories.

My thoughts raced as I tried to make sense of the situation. My instinct for flight grew stronger. While Eric, in a motion almost imperceptible to my eyes, smothered the little flame still flickering from the bed with a curtain, I saw my chance.

With a pounding heart, I turned the door handle and...nothing happened. What the hell?! I tried again. Once. Twice. Using all my strength—and my trademark stubbornness—but nothing happened.

A bad feeling crept over me. Alarmed, I whipped my head around. My suspicion was confirmed.
Behind the curtain Eric had so heroically torn down, there was no sign of the outside world—just thick, opaque blinds. Or...wait, was that concrete? 

Holy shit.

"Where are we?" I asked Eric, who was piercing me with his gaze. My voice didn't sound as steady as I wanted it to. Old fears and claustrophobia crept into my tone. I hated small spaces—especially after the lovely memories of Tom and the elevator, which would likely be etched into my mind forever. Memories that, despite how things had turned out, still made me break out in a cold sweat whenever I found myself in four walls without an obvious exit. I tried not to wipe my clammy hands on my pants in front of Eric.

When his face twisted into a slight grin, my heart sank even lower. This wouldn't end well...
"Really? That's what you're hung up on? Not the fact that the spark between us has literally set the bed on fire?" He shook his head. "Got to admit, that's a new one, even for me."

His question threw me off. Not just the completely inappropriate phrasing (though I had come to expect such remarks from Eric), but also the fact that he seemed, as he put it, "hung up" on that.

Fine by me. If he wanted to talk about anything other than my betrayal and murder plans, I gladly welcomed the change in direction. 

Huffing indignantly, I gestured wildly toward the missing windows to my right. The room might have been nicely furnished, but I hadn't missed the fact that my only exit was currently blocked by a huge viking man and a locked door. My alarm bells were ringing, urging caution—but my temper seemed to ignore them entirely. It was astonishing how quickly I could work myself into a rage again.

"Yes, I'm hung up on that. You threw me out of bed." The more I spoke, the angrier I got, my ego bruised. My hands flailed in the air."Again! I mean, I thought you were an ass when you threw me out in Dallas in nothing but my underwear—"

"And a bathrobe!" he interjected.

I ignored him, glaring angrily. I was on a roll."But to literally fling me out of bed..." I looked down myself. I was a catch god damn it... wasn't I? Tears stung my eyes. 

Nobody ever wanted me. Not really. No family. Not Tom. Not any friends...

My throat closed up. The longer I talked, the more I forgot that I should actually be holding back. That I was supposed to be afraid. That I should pacify him to get out of the room. It felt like I was watching myself lose control without being able to stop it, as if I weren't in command of my emotions. Instead, they took over, clouding my thinking.

I felt groggy.
Groggy yet energized. Buzzing, almost as if I were on drugs. Part of me just wanted to lie back down and go to sleep—but the bed, unfortunately, was still in flames. Frustrated, I growled, tempted to kick Eric in the shin.

"That wasn't me—" Eric interjected to my accusation of his bedside manners.

My pulse skyrocketed as countless other things Eric had done over the past weeks flooded my mind. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit me: my entire personality had changed!
Since when had I become the kind of girl who let a guy lock her in a damned dungeon and rearrange her personal life? I could feel the heat rising to my face as anger overwhelmed me.Images of me kicking, biting, punching, or yanking his stupid blonde hair flooded my mind.And before I knew it, thoughts became actions.

With all my strength, I shoved him, beating my fists against his chest and aiming a kick at his shin. And he... stumbled!

My eyes widened in surprise. This shouldn't have been possible! I wasn't supposed to be able to move him, not even an inch. Unless... but that was absurd. I wasn't that strong. No one was, not even, if they caught him off guard. Or was that wrong? Surely, he was just messing with me, playing some cruel trick. Narrowing my eyes, I watched Eric's expression shift into a similarly furious glare, which didn't exactly help ease the tension. 

"Ashley, can you please let me finish—" Eric began again, his tone edging toward exasperation. But I raised my voice, cutting him off once more, ignoring him entirely—a reckless game of tugging on a dragon's tail.

"I mean, you kidnapped me, for crying out loud! What the hell is wrong with—"

Eric moved faster than my eyes could follow. Again. It was starting to get seriously irritating. Not quite as irritating as what happened next, though: he was suddenly behind me, his hand clamped firmly over my mouth to silence me. My back pressed against his chest, and he held me effortlessly in place.

"Ah, finally. I can hear myself think again," he sighed, ignoring my frantic wriggling like I was nothing more than an unruly pet or a child mid-tantrum. And much to my disgust, I realized that comparison probably wasn't entirely unfair.

"Shhh," he hissed in my ear as I tried—unsuccessfully—to bite him. He caught the irony, chuckling softly.

"Am I going to have to gag you now? I was saving the bondage games for another time, but if you don't calm down, I swear I'll have you tied to those charred remains over there in two minutes flat." I growled. He laughed again.

"Wow, someone's grumpy when they don't get their way," he said theatrically, heaving a dramatic sigh. "This would all be so much easier if I could just glamour you."

In response, I stomped down hard on his foot. He groaned, growled, and shoved me away from his chest, though his grip on me never faltered. The shift left me even more powerless than before.

Eric let out a deep sigh, keeping me at arm's length as I thrashed and swore against his palm. "It's got to be genetic," he muttered to himself.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I tried to ask, but his hand muffled my curses and mumblings. Patiently, maddeningly, he waited for me to exhaust myself. And unfortunately, it took a while. I had a lot of pent-up frustration that needed an outlet. But eventually, my energy gave out.

It became painfully clear, that I was no match for him—not in strength and certainly not in sheer stubbornness. He might as well have checked his nails while I flailed. Defeated, I finally stilled, glaring daggers at him. Sensing I was ready to listen, Eric turned me to face him. 

Finally, he began to explain himself. 

His eyes, a deep blue in the dim light of the bedside lamp, held me captive as he slowly removed his hand from my mouth. I opened my mouth to speak, but his warning glance stopped me cold. One wrong word and I knew I'd be right back in his iron grip. It took every ounce of self-control I had—and more I didn't know I possessed—not to leap at him the moment he released me. Clenching my jaw, I managed to stay still.

"Are you calm now?" he asked, his voice full of infuriating smugness. Grinding my teeth, I nodded, seething. That ridiculous, patronizing question nearly pushed me over the edge again. I had never been the calmest person, but Eric made me seriously consider enrolling in anger management. Otherwise, I might one day burn down an entire city over something as trivial as a parking ticket.

To my relief, he continued speaking without any further taunts, sparing what was left of my self-control.

"Ashley. I didn't set the bed on fire, nor did I throw you out of it," he began, raising a warning finger when I made to interrupt. Begrudgingly, I snapped my mouth shut, muttering under my breath, "If I keep clenching my teeth like this, you can pay for the braces I'll need."

He raised an eyebrow but ignored my comment.

"As you may have noticed, I was in that bed with you. And I'm neither fireproof nor particularly inclined to launch you across the room, as you might have realized while you were fucking riding me." He gestured pointedly toward his lap, as if providing visual evidence. His evidence was... solid. And distracting. Very distracting.

When I caught myself staring too long, I quickly looked away and gave him a curt nod, urging him to continue. Eric smirked at my silent command and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"I really should have noticed this sooner," he muttered, mostly to himself. As I drew breath to ask what he meant, he placed a finger on my lips.

"Shhh. My turn to talk."

A cool tingle spread from where his finger rested, making me crave more of his touch, more of the inexplicable magnetism that radiated from him. I didn't trust it. Not one bit.

"Get your hand off me, or I'll bite," I growled.

His voice turned rough. "Oh, I believe you. But that's my move." He traced my lower lip with his thumb before withdrawing his hand. His gaze lingered on my mouth, and heaven help me, this had to stop. My body seemed inclined to ignore every and all warning signs and melt for his.

"Eric. For God's sake," I said, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. "What do you want? What's the point of all this?"

I couldn't stand the not-knowing any longer. It was driving me mad. My head swam, as if I'd had one drink too many, and every one of my senses felt unbearably heightened.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. It was a genuine question, not an invitation. I simply couldn't figure him out, and my brain had put two and two together. The moment I realized how he might interpret my question, my head shot up.

My eyes locked on his, searching for a reaction. He was leaning against the table, utterly motionless. No reaction at all. That wasn't good. My heart sank. Seemed like a no to me. Well, that was something, I could live with... maybe. My body and brain seemed to have differing opinions on that one. Desperate, I fired off another question.

"Are you going to kill me?"

No response.

"Hold me captive?"

Nothing.

Panic crept in. I swallowed hard, dredging up another horrifying possibility. My heart thundered in my chest as I scrambled for the doorknob, shaking it and kicking at the wood in vain. Eric's piercing gaze was still locked on me, sending a chill straight to my core. Apparently, living for a thousand years taught you some interrogation techniques that went beyond the usual forms of torture. He was playing with my fears—and my impatience.

My heart began to race. The alternatives were, unfortunately, no better. One of my more recent, less pleasant memories clawed its way to the surface. I swallowed hard but still asked, "Sell me?"

Why wasn't the jerk responding? Once again, I rushed to the door, jiggled the handle, and kicked the wood before spinning back around.

Unfortunately, I played right into his hands and started rambling.

"You want revenge, don't you? For not telling you everything? For not being honest about my intentions..."

"Revenge is a strong motivation," he mused in a cold tone. His voice startled me so much, I nearly jumped out of my skin. This wasn't a good direction for the conversation to take. But at least he was talking again, which weirdly relieved me and unsettled me at the same time, enough to make me keep babbling and reveal more than I should have.

"So, I'm not getting out of here alive?" I blurted before I could stop myself. That was a question I didn't actually want answered.

Eric leaned his head back and began laughing—a sharp, unexpected reaction that made me flinch.

"Well, Ashley," he began, propping his chin on his wrist, elbow resting on his crossed knee as he leaned forward, "why on earth would I save your life with my sacred blood—"

Great to know his ego hadn't taken too much of a hit from me.

"—only to let you die a slow, painful death because of your betrayal?" he purred with mock innocence. Then he paused. "Okay, bad example. I actually have done that."

"Oh God, I'm dead?" My voice cracked. "Am I a vampire?"

Eric was silent again, leaving me to stew. For half a heartbeat, I started to panic, but the erratic thumping in my chest confirmed I was still alive. He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"No, not you. Someone else. Someone who didn't deserve the mercy of a quick death." His eyes settled on me. "Not everyone does."

I swallowed hard. The thought of a painful death for betrayal seemed medival... which Eric technically was. It came to no surprise really, that he was probably a fan of the old testament. I stared straight into his eyes, trying to decipher his motives, but his deep blue gaze was an impenetrable fortress. One thing became clear: there was only one way out of this. And this way was currently starring me down and making me panic.

"Eric, why am I here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I made a promise."

Another cryptic answer. My patience was hanging by a thread.

"Whose promise are you keeping?" I pressed.

Eric leaned forward, studying me carefully, as if searching for something in my expression. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it, judging by his flicker of surprise. He locked eyes with me again, scrutinizing my reaction to what he said next. That meant whatever was coming would probably knock me off my feet. He wasn't wrong.

"Well, your grandmother's, of course."

Wait, what?

The confusion on my face must have amused him, because he leaned back in his chair, astonished.

"You really didn't know, did you?" he asked, incredulous. "How fascinating!"

"What?"

He clicked his tongue.

"You're a god," he announced, dropping the bombshell casually.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. He rolled his eyes at my expression. "How many times do I have to say it? What age is it again when your kind starts losing their memory? Are you there already?" He gave me a once-over, his lips quirking in smug satisfaction.

When I didn't respond, he continued, "A descendant of Thor, the god of thunder, I'd wager, if that little stunt of yours didn't completely mislead me."

His gaze flickered to the bed, then back to me with a strange wistfulness. I wanted to protest, to tell him he was insane, but something in my brain clicked into place. I'd been told that before. More than once. By different people. Still, the knowledge evaded me as soon as came to understand it's impact. I felt it slipping away once more, trying to hold onto the facts.

The electricity. The strength. The buzzing under my skin. Even the levitation back in my living room. No wonder I'd always felt different. I was different.

My wide eyes locked onto Eric, who seemed to be reading everything going on inside me right off my face. He was waiting for something, but my thoughts were tangled in a chaotic mess. Did he expect a thank you? How did my mouth work again? It was unusually dry. Eric shook his head subtly and reached toward me.

I flinched, startled.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I literally just told you I wasn't going to hurt you," he muttered, pulling me closer to lean beside him. Had he? That must have gone right over my head.

Then it hit me, and my voice came out high-pitched, strained, and disbelieving. "Wait, did you just say you promised my grandmother?"