The Guily Ones

Dream a little Dream of Me

I flew through the window.

Wait a minute, something was wrong here.

I couldn't fly.

And certainly not float gracefully.

Yet, I was doing it. Carefully, almost elegantly, I set my left foot down on the floor after floating through the window landing graceful like a feather. 

Neat! 

The woodenfloor squeaked slightly under my weight. I could feel the structure and grooves in the floorboards with remarkable precision as it was pinching the underside of my feet. Every cell in my body vibrated with electricity, every atom felt like it was vibrating against my skin, making me shiver. Everything felt intense.

My heart raced in my chest, pumping blood through my veins like burning lava, settling low, low, low in my body, turning the excitement into something hotter, more urgent. Cold air tickled my skin and I gasped. 

A quiet, now all-too-familiar humming sounded from the corner of the room. "You got that from me!"

My head jerked up and for the first time, I became aware of my surroundings. The room I stood in was small. Or at least not large. Average. The walls were painted a dull, faded, almost grayish beige. Uninspired oil paintings of mountains and landscapes hung on them in heavy wooden frames. The room's only window was adorned with ugly plaid curtains, and over the bed, the only piece of furniture besides a faded bluish fabric sofa and a sideboard for an old TV, was a yellow-blue patterned throw from the 90s.

And on the bed, dressed only in a towel, sat Eric.

My breath hitched. "What?" I blinked multiple times, but the picture didn't change. This was most definitely Eric Northman in a towel on the bed. 

Seeing him in such an environment was so surreal that even after the frantic blinking it took me a few times to truly focus on him, and even then it was hard to comprehend. While all this was being processed in my brain, Eric stared at me unabashedly, his challenging grin never leaving his lips. It wasn't until his fangs appeared that I snapped out of my trance and stumbled a step back. "Eric!"

He grunted in agreement as he continued to undress me with his eyes. I would have liked to say I was stronger, but I felt flattered and my traitorous body responded to his advances – hence why I snapped at him unnecessarily bitchy. "Put your fangs away and cut the nonsense!"

His grin widened, and he rose from the bed with such grace that it took my breath away. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was a damned Viking god. Watching him, wrapped in nothing but a white towel, slowly approach me was by far the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Everyone of his countless, well-defined muscles worked in fluid harmony as he moved toward me with the grace of a lion. There was no doubt who was the hunter and who the hunted in this scenario. 

"Eric, I warn you. Sit back down!" My voice did not sound as firm as I would have liked. It was slightly husky. I fought the urge to place my hand on his chest to see if it felt as good as it looked. Instead, I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, and my heart pounding as if it would burst out of my chest.

Of course, he did not stop but came even closer, until finally, only inches separated us and I stared directly at his firm, perfectly sculptured chest. Unless I tilted my head all the way back to look at his face.

Which was no less dangerous.

Because Eric, being who he was, knew how to use the situation, he had put us in, in his favor, to  turn me into a drooling mess at his feet – without even touching me! With an intensity that sent hot and cold shivers down my spine, his glowing gaze from his bright blue eyes pierced me. In them, a hunger like I had never seen in another.