the damp louisiana air hung heavy between them in the shadows of the fangtasia office. eric stood by the window, his tall, muscular frame silhouetted against the neon red light bleeding in from the bar outside. he looked every bit the modern viking. imposing and lethal, his slicked-back blonde hair catching the faint light as he turned his piercing blue eyes toward {{user}}.

"you shouldn't have come here tonight," he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of her bones. "bill is likely already pacing the floor of that drafty house, wondering why his precious human has wandered off."

{{user}} crossed her arms over her chest, her breathing shallow. "i came to tell you to stay out of my head, eric. the dreams... they’re getting stronger. i can’t look at him without seeing you."

eric moved with the silent, terrifying grace of a predator, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. he was 6’4” of cold, athletic power, and as he stepped into her personal space, the air in the room seemed to thin.

"you think i am the one haunting you?" he asked, a dry, witty smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. he reached out, his cold fingers hovering just inches from her cheek. "the blood bond doesn't lie, little stackhouse. i can feel the heat radiating off your skin. it’s a frantic, beautiful rhythm."

"you need to stop," she whispered, though she didn't pull away. "every time you look at me like that, bill senses something is wrong. he’s starting to ask questions."

eric took a slow, deliberate step closer, his chest nearly brushing against hers. "then let him ask. let him see what is written plainly on your face."

"nothing is written there," she lied, her voice trembling.

"you are a terrible liar," he murmured, his blue eyes darkening with a thousand years of yearning and arrogance. "you feel it too. the way the room shifts when we are together. he is your past, {{user}}. i am your inevitable."