The Guily Ones // 2 // Eric NorthmanxOC

Catching up...

A/N: Had myself a merry little Christmas. Hope you guys had great holidays or some time off as well. Now let's get this story finished, shall we?

That was it. Megs and I would never be friends again—clearly.

I woke up disoriented.

Again.

Eric was beside me.

Again.

And I had a splitting headache.

Again!

Only this time, the memories came rushing back faster. And with them, a seething rage. Yet I did... nothing.

I was just so done with it all! The same loop, over and over. Eric would whisk me away from some event, and I'd wake up groggy and aching in some dimly lit room. Damn vampires and their ridiculous aversion to daylight.

Grimacing, I buried my face in the pillow, imagining Eric being catapulted out the front door by one of my recurring electric bursts—right into the sunlight.

Arms crossed tightly over my chest, I kept my eyes stubbornly shut, feigning sleep.

"You do know I can tell you're awake, right?" Eric's voice broke through, amusement lacing his words.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.

"You do know I don't give a flying fuck, right?" I growled back. So much for staying calm. Great job, Ash.

Eric made a sound—was that a suppressed laugh? I barely lasted another ten seconds before my temper got the better of me. His smug calmness and clear enjoyment of the situation drove me up the wall.

"What the fuck, Eric!" I snapped, sitting up abruptly to glare at him and, if the urge hit, maybe jab him with my elbow. Sure, it'd hurt me more than him, but it'd be worth it. The sudden motion made me dizzy, though, and I had to pause to focus on him again.

To his credit—or perhaps due to sheer indifference—Eric didn't reach out to steady me. Probably for the best, since in my current (and completely justified) mood, I might have tried to bite his arm off. Unlikely to succeed, but oh, so satisfying.

I glanced around, and then it hit me.

"Meegs?"

Blinking hard, I struggled to clear my vision. All those head injuries, fainting episodes, and supernatural enchantments couldn't be good for me—regardless of how much of Eric's blood was pumping through my veins. When the black spots finally faded from my sight, I froze in surprise.

"This is your house!"

That explained the cozy couch. Damn it, where did he always find this kind of furniture? Eric, who was seated in an armchair nearby, not in the bed as I'd assumed at first, lowered his book and raised an eyebrow.

"Your powers of observation remain as sharp as ever," he remarked dryly before turning back to his reading.

Under normal circumstances, I'd have wanted to rip the book out of his hands and hit him with it, but there was something about the way he lounged there, so calm and content, that it made my anger dissipate. Not even a full minute after I'd flown off the handle like a petulant child.

Was this it now?

Was this, who I'd turned into?

It was worse than being an overly emotional teenager all over again.

One minute I felt like crying, the next I was flying off the handles. Not to mention the uncontrollably burst of hormones, making me climb that viking like a fucking stripper-pole!