Chapter 4 - Wayward Dreams

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Chapter 4 – Wayward Dreams

When Tara opened her eyes, she found herself shrouded in darkness. There was stiffness in her neck and on the left side of her body, but no pain. The last thing she remembered was Nan's fangs tearing into her throat and feeling her life slowly seeping from her veins. Was this what death felt like?

She ran her tongue along the lining of her mouth. It felt as dry as cotton and tasted like copper. Her head was throbbing like tiny soldiers were marching through it. At least she was laying on something flat and soft, which she assumed was a bed.

Groaning with displeasure, she lifted up on her elbows and tried to get in a sitting position. Something whispered across her bare stomach and she froze. Panic gripped her. She was totally blinded and couldn't hear anything other than the sound of her own heavy breathing. Her heart thumped like a battle drum beneath her ribcage.

"Who the fuck is there?" Tara demanded, her voice quivering.

The deafening silence only intensified her fear.

"Pl-Please....tell me where I am," she cried, no longer caring if she sounded desperate or weak. She just wanted to get out of here, go back to her nice little apartment in New Orleans, and beg Naomi to forgive her for acting like a whiney, loathsome, self-hating bitch.

"Answer me, goddamit," she shouted. Her voice echoed back to her. It sounded like she was underground or in a cave of some kind.

A chill slithered up her spine. Maybe I am dead, she thought.

Tara reached out her hand, feeling for the edge of the bed and touched something tepid and hard. It moved beneath her fingers.

What the hell is that?

She jumped back and nearly fell ass over teacup off the bed. Something grabbed her around the waist and snatched her back so abruptly that she let out a yelp.

"Be careful, little rose, you don't want to hurt yourself," said a deep, familiar male voice.

"Eric?"

As if by magic, a single candle ignited a few feet away. She squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. There were four windowless walls surrounding them. She could make out the shapes of furniture spread sparsely around the large room. Eric stood at the foot of the bed staring down at her. His blond hair shined like corn silk under the iridescent flame.

"Where am I?"

"You're in my secret lair," he said, his voice deathly calm.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Faster than she could blink, Eric was sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

"To protect you," he said in a voice so sexy that she felt her sex contract involuntarily.

He set the candle on the stand beside the bed. His pale face glowed under the candlelight, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and those intense cobalt blue eyes. His eyebrows creased as he stared at her. He looked like the devil himself, deciding whether he wanted to fuck her or eat her alive, maybe both. Fear and lust warred inside her.

"I-I don't need your protection." She knew she sounded uncertain and mentally cursed herself for it. The last thing she wanted to do was look weak in front of a vampire, especially Eric Northman. Vampires preyed on the weak.

She caught sight of his fangs, peaking out over his full bottom lip. Their eyes clashed before his heated gaze traveled down from her face. His nostrils flared. There was no mistaking what he wanted to do to her. She could feel his lust intensifying, flowing off his body like signals from a radio tower. The feeling was overpowering. Raw. Threatening. Her instincts told her to get as far away from him as humanly possible, but the wild emotions strumming through her mind rooted her to the spot.

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