The Guily Ones // 2 // Eric NorthmanxOC

Final Song

Something strange happened when Eric's teeth pierced the thin skin of my neck. It wasn't the first time he'd bitten me. It also wasn't the first time I had to admit—albeit reluctantly—that it was anything but unpleasant. I was beginning to understand why his bar was always filled with people craving that very experience. It was forbidden. It was intoxicating.

What was different this time was that I could feel my blood pulsating through his veins during the connection. Every curve, every corner of his being rushed toward me, summoning images, emotions, and thoughts. For a fraction of a second, we weren't just connected—we were one. We were him. Time seemed to stand still, and for a moment, I was mesmerized. It was so much. So much life he carried within him—all those years, all those people, the history, and emotion. All the pain, the love, the hopes and dreams. It shook me. The Eric I knew had never been one to show depth or emotion.

I had suspected there was a part of him like that, but he masked it well under layers of sarcasm and cruelty. His outer shell was rough, often abrasive, but his core was radiant and vast. Eric wasn't cold because he no longer felt anything. He was cold because he had felt too much for too long. Every emotion he had ever encountered, he carried with him. And each one had hollowed him out a little more.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Driven by a curiosity that should have known better, I carefully reached further into his inner world, searching for the root of his behavior, answers, the truth—when a guttural growl and a violent tear flung me away from him. I tumbled off the bed, lay crumpled beside the bed, the stupid restraints cutting into my skin, biting into my wrist.

"Fuck it. Uncuff me. Now," I growled with a harsh cry, and the next second, my butt hit the floor just before I was yanked up by my arms, face-to-face with an enraged Eric. Blood—my blood—dripped from his fangs, which didn't exactly help with the whole not-being-terrified thing. But instead of yelling, he was silent. Eerily silent.

"Say something," I pleaded, unable to bear the weight of his quiet anger any longer. "What's wrong?"

To my surprise, he did answer.

"What was that?" For a second, I considered playing dumb—but decided against it. What was the point in lying now? He had been honest with me before. Out of mutual respect, I owed him the same.

"I don't know."

"You were inside me," he whispered, disbelief written all over his face.

Lacking a better reaction, I giggled.

"That sounded dirtier than—"

He grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and hurled it against the wall. Clearly, this wasn't a moment for jokes.

"You—" he was breathing hard, "—you were in my head." A full body shiver wracked Eric, his eyes still frantic.

Shit. I was standing in front of an angry vampire who had just realized I hadn't just been in his mind—I'd seen everything. His secrets. His desires. His soul.

Vaguely I recalled a conversation with Sookie, when I'd asked her about her telepathy and who it worked on. When I'd asked if she could read vampire thoughts she'd nearly choked on her spit, murmuring: God, Ash, honey, if I could read vampire thoughts—which, for the record, thank God I can't—I would never, under any circumstances, admit it. They'd tear me apart or lock me in a hole so deep, nothing in world could put me back together.

If only I'd kept walking away yesterday.

I raised my hands in surrender, wanting to step back—but Eric still gripped my arms tightly, and I'd already backed into the bed.