Some portions of the following chapters are from Eric's POV. Please look for the “Eric POV' marker to know when a section is from Eric''s POV.
Chapter Nineteen
A/N: The next two chapters will be back in LA. Look for BadAss!Eric to make his debut in Ch 20.
Greek God lesson: Eros is the son of Aphrodite and Ares (Love and War). His Roman counterpart is Cupid. He is the god of love, sexual lust, and fertility, and he is often associated with both heterosexual and homosexual love. He is believed to be the patron god of love between older men and their younger paramours, and he is often depicted as a boy or young man with angel wings. His mother, Aphrodite is the Goddess of Love and Beauty.
She gulped and took a step back, but he grabbed her arm by the elbow and loomed over her.
“I’m waiting, my lover.”
Her jaw worked but no sound came out; a million thoughts raced through her mind as she scrambled to regroup.
“I…”
‘Have you been reading my mind for as long as I’ve been reading yours?’ he sent leadingly.
“Wh-wha?...” she stammered. “Y-you…”
“What?” He loomed closer, his eyes innocent. “Vampire got your tongue?”
“You knew?” she squeaked, her heart hammering.
He gave a little shrug. “I suspected. I reasoned that if I was catching snippets out of your mind, you certainly might be listening in on me. Am I right, my lover?”
She stammered a bit more, dropping her eyes as the shame made her cheeks flush.
“Yes,” she finally admitted. “How long have you suspected?”
“Only since we renewed our bond. I kept giving you opportunities to come clean, but you never took them. I was so disappointed. Do you not trust me, my lover?”
“Not you. Of course I trust you,” she assured him, reaching for his hands. “But…”
He took her hands, raising them to his lips. His kiss was affectionate, but his grip was iron hard. If she had any thoughts of running, she didn’t have a chance.
“But if you can read my mind what’s to keep you from reading the minds of other vampires? Is that it? Has this already happened, my darling? Have you been seeing into the minds of other vampires?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. She nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, but only for a day or so after I’ve had vampire blood. After that, you’re all blanks again, although Izzy…”
“Izzy?”
“Izzy says the two of us will be able to hear each other. She said it would take a while, but I think she underestimated how strong our bond is because I’ve been hearing you pretty clearly since last night.”
He nodded. “Our bond is very strong,” he agreed. “Stronger than this pettiness. You should have told me, lover.”
He was angry, but not enraged, and his thoughts held no violence in them, only melancholy. If anything, his wounded look did her in more than any tirade could have. She could have handled his anger, but she couldn’t stand to see him so disappointed in her. The waterworks started almost immediately.
“You’re right. I’m horrible. I should have told you. It wasn’t right for me to keep something so important from you,” she apologized, sniffling.
He nuzzled her, holding her hands close to his chest, still in his tight grip.
“Yes, you should have. You should have trusted me.”
“I just didn’t know how you’d react. I know how private vampires are and…” She trailed off, shrugging helplessly, her eyes full of tears.
“If you and I can hear each other, that is a great advantage. If you can hear other vampires, that is an advantage also, but one we must keep an absolute secret,” he stated.
She nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yes. I know.”
His expression turned devious. “But if you could hear Victor… or Sandy… That might be of great use to us. Great use.”
The wheels were already turning, and his thoughts were flying so fast she couldn’t keep up with them.
“You’re not mad at me?” she asked softly.
“I’m not happy with you. I should punish you, although I am at a loss as to what would be an appropriate punishment. Since the issue is trust, if I were to hurt you that would damage your trust in me. But if I were to forgive you without any consequences, then that would set a precedence that I’d rather not have. What do you think, my lover? How should I punish you?”
She stared at him, at a loss herself. Why was he asking her how he should punish her? Was he expecting her to come up with some kind of penalty or reproach on her own? She could think of a couple of things that wouldn’t be particularly pleasant, but that wouldn’t really hurt her. But in the end, knowing she’d done wrong and facing his disappointment was worse than anything he could do to her.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I feel awful. I should have trusted you.”
He sighed. “I could deny you sexual favors, but that would punish me too,” he commented, then looked thoughtful. “Two weeks of showering alone, and I get to tell Bill about us.”
She winced. “I really think I should be present when you tell Bill,” she argued.
He huffed, but she set her jaw. “All right. Two weeks of showering alone, and one night sitting beside me at Fangtasia in the outfit of my choice.”
She grimaced at his added condition of choosing what she would wear, but she trusted him not to put her in anything that would make her look too cheap or slutty.
“Alright, that’s fair,” she agreed.
He nodded and kissed her forehead. “And no. More. Secrets. Understood?” he said in a firm voice, velvet over steel.
“Yes,” she answered, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
“I forgive you, my lover,” he murmured, nuzzling her again as his arms came around her.
She sighed, all of the tension leaving her body as she returned the embrace, hugging him close.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” she replied, feeling it with every cell in her body.
The air in the shrine changed. There was no noise, no outward sign of the change, but the small hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end and a chill ran up her spine. There was Power moving in the room, spreading slowly through the air, and tingling along the surface of her skin. She shivered and pressed closer to her Viking, flicking her gaze to the side. Eric noticed it immediately and his countenance changed. The blip that marked him on her mental GPS turned dull red and throbbed as his thoughts turned dark and dangerous. She gripped his arms tightly and stepped away, turning towards the door, searching for the threat.
Standing there, as still as the statues in the sanctuary, was Elena. She was dressed in flowing white cloth draped over her body in a Greek style, like a fancy toga, and there was a small circlet of gold around her head. She looked every bit the Goddess that she was, regal and awe-inspiring, and Sookie swore that she was glowing softly in the dimly lit shrine.
Eric stepped forward and bowed deeply, but Sookie could sense his confusion. He didn’t know why Elena was there or why she was dressed in her traditional Grecian garb.
“My lady,” he greeted with the utmost respect.
The Presence in the room was almost overwhelming, and Sookie knew something Very Big was happening. She glanced around worriedly, even more convinced that the statues were looking back at her.
“Hlin has answered you, Viking,” Elena said, her voice sending tremors through both of them.
Eric straightened up and cocked his head quizzically. “My lady?” he questioned.
Elena’s dark eyes lifted to peer over his shoulder and the both of them turned around to face the statue of the Norse Goddess.
“Oh,” Sookie gasped when she saw the effigy. Eric was silent, but his emotions were reeling.
The Thor’s Hammer that had been laid at the Goddess’s feet was now around her neck, gleaming brightly against the rich color of carved wood. Sookie had no idea how the pendant had gotten there, but she noticed right away that it was a little different. There was something brass-colored embedded in the silver where the handle met the head of the hammer, and she took a tentative step forward.
“It is for you, Norseman,” Elena stated.
By now Sookie had approached the statue, staring at the silent face and the glowing necklace around Hlin’s throat. She was close enough to see the pendant and it’s new addition, and her hands flew to her mouth when she recognized what it was. Eric was at her side in a heartbeat.
‘What is it?’ her lover asked, sending clearly.
“A bullet,” she replied, stunned. But not just any bullet. She knew down to the marrow of her bones which bullet this was. But how could it be? It was tucked inside a scrap of Eric’s shirt and hidden away at the back of her jewelry box – a macabre memento from her trip to Dallas. “The bullet I sucked out of your shoulder the night the Fellowship attacked Stan’s place in Dallas.”
He looked from her face to the necklace then back to her face. “You kept it?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“A souvenir, I guess. I dunno. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He looked at the necklace with curious wonder and not a little pain. The pendant and chain were silver. He couldn’t touch them no matter how much he wanted to.
“It is for you. Hlin wishes you to have it,” Elena informed.
She patted Eric’s arm comfortingly. “I’ll get it for you,” she said, reaching out to carefully lift the silver chain from around the wooden head of the statue. She avoided looking into the carved eyes, afraid of what she might see there.
Coming free, the necklace felt oddly heavy, and Sookie swore it was pulsing faintly. Her hands shook as she moved to put the Hammer in the box Eric was now offering to her.
“Place it around his neck,” the Goddess commanded.
She balked. “But it’ll burn him. It’s silver,” she argued.
Elena speared her with a Look then raised her eyes to Eric, her face impassive.
‘This is a test of faith,’ her Viking said as he turned to her and lowered his head.
“Eric! No.”
“Put it on me, Sookie. Do it now.”
She cast a pleading glance to the Goddess, but there was no help or reprieve for her in the cold eyes, so she gritted her teeth and obeyed. Cringing as she slid the silver chain over Eric’s head, she placed the Thor’s Hammer around her lover’s neck, sending mental “I’m sorry”s all the while. She squeezed her eyes shut as she released the chain, waiting for the hissing sound and the stench of his burning flesh.
Nothing happened.
Her eyes snapped open to find her Viking looking as shocked as she was, and he slowly reached one hand up to his throat to touch the bright metal.
“It’s not burning you…” she breathed.
“No,” he confirmed, his voice shaky.
They looked at the statue, and Eric dropped to his knees. His was praying again, his voice low and fast, his head deeply bowed.
“What energy She had to manifest, She has placed into this sacred relic, but Hlin speaks through me. So long as you wear this Hammer, you shall be immune to silver. This is Her gift to Her faithful one,” Elena informed.
Eric raised his head long enough to look at the Goddess and place his hand over the Hammer, pressing it over his unbeating heart. There were tears in his eyes, but he would not let them fall so Sookie cried for him, the wetness rolling down her cheeks as she looked at her lover and felt his awe. He bowed his head to Elena and turned once again to the statue of Hlin, saying more prayers. Sookie didn’t need to speak Old Norse to know he was saying thank you in the most heartfelt way he could.
She watched, crouched next to her Viking as he prayed, one hand on his broad shoulder while she kept her eyes on Elena. The Goddess hadn’t moved from her spot, and she was watching them impassively, but Sookie got the impression that she wasn’t done with them yet. When Eric was finished his prayers, she took his arm and stood with him, and they both faced Elena.
“Thank you so much,” Sookie said sincerely.
Elena nodded, then something behind her moved. Sookie gulped and took a small step back, bumping into Eric who was directly behind her, as a new figure stepped out from the Goddess’s shadow.
It was a boy, an impossibly beautiful boy about sixteen or seventeen years old. He had a cherub’s face with round, rosy cheeks and a thick head of dark gold curls. He wore only a pair of white linen pants, leaving his muscular chest bare, but his lack of upper garments may have been because he was also sporting a pair of white-feathered wings sprouting out from his shoulder blades.
“Oh,” Sookie gasped, not sure what to make of the newcomer. That was okay because Eric knew who he was immediately.
‘Eros.’
Eros. Izzy had mentioned an Eros. She’d said something about her and Eric recharging Eros all by themselves with their sexual energy. They’d obviously done a bang-up job because this God looked whole and very “manifested” indeed. Both she and Eric bowed, although Eric bowed deeper. She was still too American to lower her head that much, and she felt Eric’s amusement through the bond. She gave him a mental kick.
“I and my mother owe you a boon of gratitude,” the God said. His voice was honey, smooth and oh so good going down, and Sookie had no more doubts. His voice was pure sex.
‘His mother?’
‘Aphrodite,’ Eric provided.
“You owe us nothing…” she started to say, blushing, but Eric’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“We are honored to have been of service to you and your mother,” her Viking said in his most respectful tone.
Eros held out his hand and they both stood up straight to see that he was offering them a handful of triangular-shaped, bright green leaves. She recognized the plant right away – they were common mint leaves. She could even smell them from where she stood.
“These are mint leaves,” Eros told them. “I have imbued them with power. When placed under the tongue, they will counteract the daytime stupor.”
She gasped, making a shocked sound, as she accepted the God’s gift because Eric was too stunned to move. Eros’s fingers brushed against her palm as he placed the leaves in her hand, and she felt a rush of pure lust. She got a hold of herself enough to bow her head.
“Thank you.”
Eros nodded and looked at Eric, his eyes serious and intent.
“You will still be susceptible to sunlight, but you will remain alert and able to function. Each leaf will last from sunrise to sunset. I have given you five. Use them wisely,” the God informed.
“I am humbled and deeply grateful. Thank you, my lord,” Eric said earnestly.
Eros chuckled and let his eyes roam up and down both her and her Viking’s considerable physiques, and Sookie got the impression that he didn’t distinguish between gay and straight sex. She flushed and fumbled to put the precious leaves in the wooden box for safekeeping.
“Thank you, sir,” she stammered.
Eros stepped back, and Elena raised her hand. They watched as she opened her palm to reveal a ring. It was a man’s ring with a wide gold band and a round signet upon which was carved the image of a Trojan horse set against a black background. Helen’s symbol.
Eric reached up to accept the ring, his eyes full of questions, and Sookie watched him slip it on the ring finger of his right hand. Of course it fit perfectly.
“This ring will protect you from the sun’s deadly rays,” Elena said. “It will not last forever. The more you use it, the weaker it will become. It is all I can give you. We are small gods. We work… small miracles.”
“We are awed by your generosity and forever in your debt,” Eric replied, bowing again.
Sookie started smiling, her mind whirling, and bowed her head a couple of times. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you very, very much.” She was on the verge of babbling, but Eric’s calming influence settled her.
“We guard our faithful jealously,” Elena said, giving them both a meaningful look. “Without them we cease to exist.”
“We are your faithful servants, my lady, my lord,” Eric replied.
“Go in peace until we see each other again,” the Goddess said softly.
“Until we see each other again,” Eric repeated as he reached over to take her hand, and the both of them bowed from the waist towards the two Gods.
The energy in the room snapped like an overstretched rubber band, and they found themselves alone in the shrine again. Whatever Presence had been there was now gone, and the statues were just statues again, silent and empty. She turned to Eric, knowing that the astonished expression on his face mirrored her own, and she started to tremble as she came down from her shock.
A million thoughts were flying through her head as she tried to make sense of what had just happened and what it all meant. Unfortunately, her mind kept landing on the same conclusion, and that filled her with dread.
“Eric, I’m scared,” she blurted.
He’d been silent, deep in thought, but she’d been too busy freaking out in her own head that she hadn’t been inside his.
“I know,” he stated simply.
“A necklace that makes you immune to silver. Leaves that keep you awake during the day. A ring that will protect you from sunlight. Eric, they’re warnings! Our lives are in danger.”
“Yes. Much more danger than I had originally thought,” he agreed, his voice steady, his face hard.
“They know something. They’re trying to protect us.”
“Yes.”
She looked at the Thor’s Hammer and noticed that it had dulled. No longer was it gleaming silver, but a darker gray, and the silver chain now looked like a cord of braided leather.
“It’s faded,” she commented, indicating the Hammer.
Eric lifted up the pendant and held it in his palm reverently. “Yes. It’s cloaked. Anyone looking at it or smelling it will think it’s pewter. The bullet in the metal is soaked with my blood, so that throws the scent off too.”
“Is that why Hlin used it?”
He nodded and slipped the Hammer under his sweater, out of sight yet close to his heart. “That and, because the bullet has such a personal tie to the two of us, anyone who sees me wearing it will assume it was a bonding gift from you.”
She snorted. She wished she’d been so creative. She’d been planning to just get him a wedding ring. Hlin had trumped her but good.
“Don’t be jealous,” her bonded chided gently. “I will wear and treasure anything you give me, and it will mean just as much.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a pair of socks,” she groused, her pride piqued.
He chuckled and kissed her. Her weak attempt at humor had taken the edge off her anxiety, but the underlying dread was still there.
“What are we going to do?”
His face was thoughtful, his eyes intense, as he took her by the elbow and ushered her out of the shrine.
“We’re going to the Internet Café. I need to send an email,” he replied, striding down the hall.
He was walking at his full pace and she scrambled to keep up with him. Finally, he just slung her onto his back, which wasn’t easy to do with her in the long skirt, and carried her as she clung to his shoulders. The shopping tote with her old clothes was hooked onto her arm, and it slapped against his side as he moved through the lodge. She’d put the box with its magic mint leaves in the bag, and she prayed they’d be safe in there even if the box got jostled around.
The Internet Café was on the lower level near the rear entrance to the lodge that patrons used when coming over from Nike’s or the spa. It wasn’t very large, but it had a small business center with wireless connectivity and a handful of available computers. Eric sat at one of the computers and she sat next to him, pulling over an extra chair, as she watched him sign into his email. She choked on a laugh when she saw his username: ErictheGreat1000.
“You have an email address, right?” he asked her. “I want it.”
“Eric, you know I barely know how to use a computer. The only one I have is the one I got from Hadley’s apartment and it’s old.”
“That, too, will change my lover.”
“Good luck getting anything but Dial-Up in Bon Temps,” she countered, certain that her Viking would give up once he knew he would be restricted to 56K.
“I will pay to run a FIOS line to your house.”
“What? Oh no you…”
“Later, my lover,” he cut her off, clicking on a username in his rather short address list: Pam. “I will have to send an email because there is no cell service here, but she should be checking her messages on her phone.”
He sent a brief email: Pam. We are returning tonight. Our flight will land at the old Lucien Airfield at approximately 2:00am.
There was a short delay, then his email inbox blipped. Pam had replied, Understood. Should we expect you in Shreveport?
Unlikely unless my presence is required, Eric typed back, beginning a short email conversation with his child.
No. All is well here. Did you take pictures of the snow? I miss snow.
Sookie blinked. It seemed an odd thing for Pam to ask her maker.
Then I will see you tomorrow. Yes, we took pictures of the snow. Remind me to send you skiing for your next vacation. I must go. I will bring you back something pretty.
He didn’t wait for Pam’s reply as he signed off and closed the program.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Setting a trap. If someone is intercepting my messages, they will know we are coming back tonight.”
She hadn’t even considered that someone might be spying on Eric through his email. Vampires tended to be rather technology challenged, with a few exceptions like Bill. She remembered how shocked Stan had been to discover that someone had bugged his conference table.
“You don’t think it’s someone at Fangtasia?” she gasped, unable to fathom any of “her” vamps betraying their Sheriff. Eric was feared, but he was also deeply respected.
“No. I am certain of my people’s loyalty, but there have been some new faces, vampires from Nevada who have come up to explore the new territory. They do not owe me fealty,” Eric replied, standing to his full height and leading her from the café.
“They’re Felipe’s?”
“And Victor’s. Victor has a strong following.” Eric sneered. “They ride his coattails like jackals, sniffing for weakness.”
She nodded. She knew the type.
They went back to the gift shop, and she picked up a little shot glass with a Trojan Horse on it and a postcard that had a picture of Lake Superior’s shore line for Sam. Eric bought a gold and carnelian necklace for Pam that was very Victorian and very expensive. He tried to buy her a set of ruby earrings, but she gave him such a Death Glare that he backed off with a snitty huff.
It was bad enough that he was already planning to make good on his declaration of having high-speed Internet run to her house, and get her a computer to go with it. He was thinking lightweight laptop, and she was at a loss as to how she could talk him out of it, because he was digging in his mental heels and had no intention of budging on that one.
High speed Internet would be required for real-time monitoring of her house once the security system he was planning to have installed was in place. That also was non-negotiable. Eric already had a company and a system in mind. It was the same firm that had done the security on his house in Shreveport, and they could be trusted with a vampire’s unique defensive needs.
It didn’t matter if she really didn’t want the system. On this she had no say. Where her safety was involved, Eric brooked no argument. There would be no compromising, no negotiating, no complaining – period – and she knew better than to quarrel with him about it. She gave him a suffering sigh and mentally surrendered the point. Eric was openly gleeful.
By the time they had finished their shopping, it was approaching 8:30pm, and they only had a little over an hour before they had to make their way over to the airfield to board the jet that would take them back to Shreveport. She and Eric decided to pass the time down in the game room, hoping that a friendly game of pool would help ease their growing unhappiness and anxiety, but when they got down to the game room, they found Izzy and Maria already using the pool table.
‘Hello, my little padawan,’ Izzy greeted cheerfully.
‘Greetings, Sith Lord,’ she replied. Hey, she knew Star Wars as well as anyone. Bill had been crazy about movies with aliens, and Star Wars was the great-grandpappy of all space movies. That and War of the Worlds.
Izzy’s mental laughter was her answer, but then the woman grew serious. ‘You’re tense.’
‘We’re leaving tonight.’
‘Ah. Yeah, I knew that.’
She wanted to talk about what had happened in the shrine, about the gifts she and Eric had been given, and her fears as to what they meant, but they weren’t her secrets to reveal, and, while she was sure Izzy and Maria could be trusted, there was no telling who they might leak the information to, so she kept silent and put up a shield so no one could peek into her head without her permission. She was fairly certain Izzy would respect the barrier and not try to pry into her mind, and she was pretty sure it wouldn’t keep Eric out because their tie was much more direct.
“Good evening, Eric,” Izzy greeted, giving him a nod.
He took a step towards the small woman and bowed his head slightly. “Good evening. I am told that you were the one who helped my mate today.”
Izzy shrugged. “I didn’t do all that much.”
“Still, I am grateful. It is important for Sookie to learn how to use her gift properly. A poorly trained gift can be used against the wielder.”
Izzy nodded in agreement. “I know. I’ve given her the basics, and some exercises to use in practice to help hone her control, and I’ll do more with her the next time we see each other.”
The notion of seeing the two women again made Eric happy, and Sookie realized that she had forgotten to tell Eric that Maria was planning to come to Fangtasia in the spring.
‘Ooops. Forgot about that. Sorry,’ she sent, quickly filling him in.
‘We had other things on our minds,’ he replied.
“My bonded tells me you are planning to visit Shreveport in the spring?” he said smoothly, addressing Maria.
The Gypsy woman nodded. “Yes. I was thinking sometime in April.”
“Excellent. When the time comes, please finalize the arrangements with my beautiful Events Coordinator,” he told them, indicating her with his hand.
She rolled her eyes and smiled nervously. ‘I haven’t even said I’ll take the job yet,’ she reminded.
‘Of course you’ll take the job. There was never any doubt you’d take the job.’
‘Hey, don’t get all bossy with me. We aren’t even home yet,’ she snapped.
‘And don’t get belligerent just for the sake of being stubborn.’
Okay, maybe this mind-to-mind thing was going to be a real pain after all.
The two women seemed to notice the little exchange and Izzy smiled.
‘You can hear him. I was right.’
She snorted. ‘Yeah. Mr. Bossy’s in my head.’
‘Trouble in paradise already?’
She didn’t answer, but fumed silently. It was private business between her and Eric that would have to be worked out.
Izzy laughed and turned to Eric. “Go easy on her, will ya? She’s not used to this whole acting as one thing.”
Eric looked at his mate and slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “I’ll try to keep that in mind when she is being… difficult,” he answered, giving her a raised eyebrow.
She huffed and refrained from commenting, then her Viking turned the tables on her by giving her a nuzzle and a kiss.
‘I love you,’ he sent, his lips kissing the soft spot behind her ear.
She melted, going all gooey inside. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love you, too.’
He chuckled.
“Did the two of you want to play pool? We’re almost finished our game here,” Maria asked, changing the subject.
Sookie shook her head. “We don’t have to. We only came down here to pass the time before we have to go to the air field.”
“When’s your flight?”
“Ten.”
The clock on the game room wall read 8:54.
“Not much time left,” Izzy commented.
Her heart sank. “No.”
“There you are,” a new voice said, and she and Eric turned to see Toth hurrying towards them carrying a cloth bag. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
The silver-haired demon stopped in front of them and offered the bag to Eric. “Here are your freeze-dried Blood Vine pods.”
“Thank you,” Eric said with genuine pleasure.
“Each pod is individually sealed in a hermetic package. When you’re ready to use one, just open the package, add a little bit of water and wait five minutes. It should re-hydrate, then all you need to do is heat the pod and squeeze it out.”
“Sounds simple enough, and they should be close to full potency?” her Viking asked with a glint in his eye.
Toth grinned and cast her a glance. She blushed.
“Yeah, should be,” the demon confirmed.
Eric grinned back. “Excellent. Thank you, Toth.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Northman. We hope to see you and Miss Sookie again real soon.”
“For our anniversary at the very least,” Eric promised, placing the cloth bag in the shopping tote with her old clothes.
“Great! See you then,” their waiter responded happily, then whisked off with his usual speed. She turned to her Viking, her eyes wide.
“You’re gonna bring me back here next November?” she blurted.
“Of course. Why not?” He seemed shocked that she would object.
“Because it’s effing cold! That’s why.”
“I thought you liked this place,” he countered, offended.
“I do like this place. I’d like it better when it’s not twenty below outside.”
“It’s not that cold,” he corrected.
“I don’t care. Why can’t we go somewhere warm?” She waved a hand towards Izzy. “Izzy says there are Supe Sandals.”
“Supe Sandals?”
“You know… couples places usually on a beach somewhere.”
“Because sunbathing is my favorite pastime,” he replied drolly.
‘Well… I could sunbathe during the day and soak up all those rays and be nice and tan for you. I’d wear sundresses and a bikini…’ she sent coyly.
‘Where everyone could see you and I’d be stuck in a windowless room, dead asleep, unable to defend you from unwanted advances?’
She cast a glance to the ring on his right hand, but Eric’s expression went stony.
‘I don’t think that was what Elena intended when she gave it to me.’
Her face fell, and she felt the dread creeping up on her again. ‘No. I suppose not.’
Eric comforted her. “We’ll discuss it when we get home. I’ll look into what places are available, and we’ll see if one will suit us both. Does that sound fair?”
She nodded, brightening a bit. “Yes.”
Izzy clapped. “See, you’re compromising already. You’ll be like two Old-Marrieds in no time.”
“I should hope not. I much prefer to be more like Newlyweds on their Honeymoon,” Eric quipped back, giving her a leer. She resisted the urge to smack him.
Izzy laughed and winked at her. ‘Everything okay?’
The question came out of the blue, and she scrambled, wondering if her barrier had slipped a bit.
‘Yes, everything is fine,’ she replied.
‘Liar. You should know by now that you can’t bullshit mind-to-mind,’ her teacher reminded.
She blanched, but reinforced her mental wall. ‘I can’t talk about it.’
‘Okay, I get that, but if you need help, you call me. My number is on the card I gave you.’
She choked up a little, grateful for everything both women had done for her and Eric when they’d been complete strangers only five days before. ‘I will. Thank you for everything you’ve done.’
“Pffft. We girls gotta stick together. All this weirdness can get a bit much for just one of us,” Izzy kidded.
She laughed, feeling a bit lighter, and turned to Eric. “We still have forty minutes. Wanna play some air hockey?”
“Or you can try to clobber the kid playing Resident Evil over there,” Izzy suggested, nodding towards where Vincent was playing on the game console. His foxy friends were nowhere in evidence.
“You let a seven year-old play Resident Evil?” she blurted. She didn’t know much about video games, but she’d seen the commercials for that one on the TV at Merlotte’s, and she knew it was rated M for Mature.
Izzy shrugged. “Kid’s seen real zombies in his lifetime. What’s a few fake ones? You gotta remember, for us the monsters are real.”
She flushed at her own stupidity and rudeness. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“Don’t be. You don’t know what we’d give for him not to know what real monsters are,” the woman said sadly.
Sookie glanced over at Maria who was looking stricken, and she felt even worse. She was going to start apologizing again when Eric put a hand on her shoulder.
“Actually, I was thinking that I wanted to take one last tour of the grounds, maybe go down to the lakeshore and say goodbye to Gitchee Gumee herself,” he interrupted.
“Gitchee Gumee?” she repeated.
“Gitchee Gumee is the Algonquin name for Lake Superior,” her Viking explained. “It means All Powerful Lake.”
“Oh. Well, if that’s what you want to do…”
He nodded and took her arm. “I haven’t properly said hello to her this entire trip. I should show my respect. Ladies, of you will excuse us?”
“Of course. You guys have a safe trip home and we’ll see you in April,” Izzy said. ‘And if you need to talk, call me, okay? We’ve seen a lot of badness. Whatever it is that’s got you spooked, we’d probably be able to help.’
‘Thanks.’
“Be safe,” Maria said, giving them a little wave. “Vincent, Mr. Northman and Miss Sookie are leaving to go back home.”
The boy waved between killing zombies. “Bye, Miss Sookie. Bye, Mr. Northman. Try not to make anybody else have wild monkey sex!”
“Vincent!” his mother gasped, her eyes wide, then she narrowed them at Izzy. “I told you he wasn’t asleep.”
“And on that note,” Eric said, grinning. “We shall take our leave.”
He ushered her out of the game room quickly, not that she was complaining because she certainly didn’t want to be around when Maria started in on Izzy for the monkey sex comment.
“Did you really want to say good-bye to the lake?” she asked as he strode towards the rear exit.
“Yes. I think it would be a nice gesture.”
“But it’s freezing out there…”
“That’s why I bought you this warm parka and hat,” he pointed out, tugging on the sleeve of the coat she had draped over her arm.
She sighed and gave him a look as she put the coat on and shoved the hat on her head, trying to glare him into submission, but she had about as much chance of glaring him into anything as she had of making roses sprout out her nose. Then she put on her gloves and followed him out into the night.
The moment the chill air hit her face, she felt that same sense of exhilaration, and she realized that she was feeling Eric’s joy at the wind in his face and the scent of the water. He truly did love it here, even if the water was fresh water and not the salt water of his Scandinavian homeland, and he felt the pull of the Deep tugging at him. They went down to the lakeshore and she stood back as Eric slipped off his boots and socks and waded toe-deep into the water. She shivered just looking at him do it, but she knew from the bond that he didn’t mind, or even really feel, the cold, and she watched as he crouched down and dipped his hands in the water, letting it run through his fingers.
He scooped the water three or four times, each time bringing the water up, then opening his fingers to let it spill out, gesturing out to the deep water somewhere out in the darkness, then he splashed his face once and flicked the remaining water off of his fingers, and returned to her side. His feet were wet, so they sat side-by-side on a nearby bench while he wiped them clean of sand and water, and put his socks and boots back on.
“It’s twenty after nine,” he said. “We should head for the air field.”
She nodded, feeling torn between what she wanted and what she knew she had to do.
“You wanna just say to Hell with it and run off to Timbuktu?” she joked.
“Timbuktu is an even bigger backwater than Bon Temps. I’d vote for Hilton Head or Colorado Springs,” he replied, going along.
She snorted. “Oh, I so do not want to live in a hurricane zone.”
“Colorado Springs it is, or maybe Albuquerque if you want somewhere warmer.”
“Not San Francisco or Los Angeles?” she teased.
“Los Angeles isn’t a city, it’s a holding facility, and if you think vampire politics is bad in Louisiana, just think how much worse it would be when you mix vampire politics with Hollywood.”
She crinkled her nose and shook her head. “Okay, so L.A. is out. What about New York then?”
“Vampire Mafioso,” he replied quickly.
“Ick. How about New England somewhere? I hear the little towns up there are real nice, and we could live close to the water.”
He smiled at her, a gentle smile that said everything she would ever want to hear from him. “That sounds lovely. I can close out some accounts when we get back, sign the bar over to Pam, and we can go.”
It would have been funnier if she hadn’t known he’d do it in a heartbeat… well… one of her heartbeats.
“You’d miss being the boss,” she said.
“And you’d miss Bon Temps, and all you know there.”
“But it’s nice to dream, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, and you know you have but to say the word and…” He made a sweeping motion with his hand like an airplane taking off.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” She meant it.
He took her hand and kissed it through her glove. “Let’s go home, my lover.”
She sighed and stood, glad when he put his arm around her and kept her close as they walked.
“What are we going to do if there’s trouble?”
“We’ll deal with it. We’ve been given the necessary weapons we need to fight the threat. We have to trust that we’ll be able do defend ourselves when the time comes.”
“Yeah,” she said, but she wasn’t completely convinced. Eric sensed her worry, and stopped them long enough to give her a lingering kiss.
“I will not allow any harm to come to you, my lover. Trust in me.”
“I do.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again and picked her up, putting her onto his back and carrying her as he took to the air and flew them to the airfield. They were both shocked to find a large group of Supes waiting for them to wish them bon voyage. She recognized Noria, and her masseuse, Surima, and the librarian, and the cat barmaid, along with several other staff members and guests she had seen in passing. Even Keno and Rori were there, chittering.
“Oh…” she said as Eric set her down. He put an arm around her shoulders, his presence comforting and reassuring.
‘Fear not, my lover, they don’t mean us any harm.’
That was good to know. All she knew was that they were standing between her and the warm plane.
Noria came forward as spokesperson, smiling brightly. None of them seemed to feel the cold at all.
“We came to wish you safe travels home,” the hostess said.
“Oh. Um. Thank you,” she said nervously.
“You have been wonderful guests. We hope that you will come to see us again.”
“You have our word. We will be back,” Eric replied.
He was in his element, being the object of adoration, and he was preening.
Surima stepped forward and gave her a bottle of massage lotion scented with the amber and sandalwood essential oils. “For massages at home,” she said with a glowing smile.
“Thank you, most beauteous lady,” her Viking smoothed accepting the gift for the both of them.
“Oh, he is a charmer. I’d keep him,” the four-armed masseuse commented giving her a wry look.
It was odd, but getting a gift that had nothing to do with possible danger or threats on her and Eric’s lives was a relief.
She snickered. “Thank you. And thank you for the lotion.”
“I know you will use it wisely.”
“Oh, believe me, we shall,” Eric assured her. He was having far too much fun.
The librarian approached next and Sookie held her breath when the woman lifted the bandana that covered her brow. She’d been right and the cloth had covered a third eye in the center of her forehead. It opened, the iris a deep ruby red, and Sookie shivered all the way down to her toes. The woman did not address Eric, but looked directly at her and reached for her hands. Still shivering, Sookie raised her hands and allowed the woman to cup her palms. She felt something being placed into them, and she glanced down to see four nondescript shiny, black stones resting against her skin.
“Bury these, one at each cardinal point around your property,” the demoness instructed. “They will afford you some protection for your house and land. Those who mean you and your bonded harm will find it difficult to pass through.”
She gulped and nodded, then couldn’t contain herself any longer. “What do you see? What’s going to happen?”
Eric gave her a mental rebuke but she brushed him off, and the woman did not seem offended by her question.
“The future is fluid. It ebbs and changes direction,” the demoness answered. “Nothing is set. But there is danger. However, you have been given the weapons you need to fight it, and you have strong allies. More than you know.”
“Thank you.”
The third eye closed and the woman pulled the bandana back over it as she bowed and stepped aside. Sookie quickly put the stones in the pocket of her parka, patting them to make sure they were safe, while she mentally tried to remember if she owned a compass.
The next people to greet them were a mixture of resort staff and guests. All of them had well wishes for them and some had small gifts. It would seem that quite a few individuals felt the need to thank her and Eric for the pleasure they had brought to them, an honor she wasn’t so sure she wanted to have, but Eric was ecstatic and handling everyone with his usual charm. Many of them were potential clients or business contacts, so he was laying it on thick, thanking them and expressing his happiness that he had been of service. There was a financier and an investment banker who both gave Eric their cards, and a florist from Minneapolis who placed beautiful white flower leis around her and Eric’s necks.
“White ginger is for weddings and newlyweds,” the thin, doe-eyed Supe woman told them.
‘Hmm. We come to Michigan and we get lei’d,’ her Viking smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She snorted, but covered up her gaffe with a fake sneeze and a smile. “Thank you.”
More people came up around them, all expressing their appreciation and thanks, and making her more and more self-conscious and uncomfortable as the long minutes passed. Finally, just when it looked like they were going to have to delay the flight home, the crowd parted and let them pass to where the birdman pilot was waiting by the folding stairs. Eric had long since sensed her growing discomfort at being the center of attention and her dislike of the cold, so he had been steadily ushering her towards the jet. They stood on the top step like a couple of movie stars and waved to the crowd who waved back, then they stepped into the plane, Eric behind her, and the pilot followed.
By now, she’d had enough, and she was never gladder than when the pilot closed the cabin door and latched the lock with a satisfying click.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, letting out a sigh. He had a nametag on today and she read it through glazed eyes: Perin.
Eric pointed her towards one of the plush recliner chairs, and she sank into it. The white ginger lei around her neck smelled heavenly, but the sight of a wreath of flowers around her Viking’s neck just seemed wrong. The aforementioned Viking chuckled, slipped the lei from around his neck, and placed it over hers.
“Better?”
She smiled and leaned back into the comfortable seat. “Much. I hate being in a crowd.”
“You really must get used to being admired, my lover,” he chided gently, taking the seat next to hers. “As my bonded, you will receive the same attention as I when we are together.”
She groaned and hid her face in her hands. “Can’t you tell them to express their appreciation by leaving me alone?” she asked.
He laughed softly and shook his head. “They will pay you the honor you deserve, my lover. All of my subjects will bow to you.”
“I don’t want them to bow to me. See, Eric, this is what I was worried about. I don’t want to be the trophy wife of the Big Boss Vamp. I just want to be me, Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid.”
He gave her a sympathetic look. “Too late for that, my lover, but I will let it be known that gross displays of loyalty are unwelcome.”
Knowing vampires, a “gross display of loyalty” would be the head of someone who’d threatened her all wrapped up in a box with a big red bow.
‘Such things would be left to me, and I’d do the killing,’ he sent, peeking into her mind. She thought she might be sick, but he bolstered her.
“That, also, will be something you must get used to.”
“You killing anyone who looks sideways at me?” she asked, feeling nauseous again.
“I won’t kill them for looking sideways at you, I promise. If I did, I wouldn’t have any subjects or customers left. You are a beautiful woman, and everyone will look sideways at you.”
She rolled her eyes. “And half of them will be wondering how I snagged you, and the other half will be trying to figure out a way to get rid of me.”
“Never. I will not allow any harm to come to you,” he vowed. It was the second time that night that he’d made almost the exact same promise.
“You can’t protect me in the daytime, Eric.”
“Then I will teach you how to defend yourself and give you my blood often enough to maintain your strength. I already know that you are not a shrinking damsel, but I will train you to be a warrior like me.”
“ Just call me Sookie Stackhouse, Warrior Princess.”
Eric leered. “I’ll even buy you the leather skirt and gilded bustier.”
“Not a chance, buster.”
He laughed out loud and leaned forward to kiss her. “I do love you. You are an endless source of entertainment and pleasure.” He said the last with a twinkle in his eye.
The jet rolled forward, and she felt it beginning its turn to head for the runway, and she jolted a bit, her retort slipping out of her mind before she’d had a chance to say it. For all she knew, he’d already heard it anyway. She gave Eric a frightened glance, and he reached forward to take her hand and rub circles on her palm to comfort her.
“Do you truly dislike flying?” he asked.
“Not really, it’s just the take-off that makes me a little nervous,” she admitted, gripping the armrest tightly with her free hand.
He grinned and slipped off the seat, kneeling between her legs, and she wondered if she’d ever get used to seeing this magnificent creature on his knees at her feet.
“Then I shall just have to distract you and make you forget why you were nervous in the first place,” he purred, sliding his hands up her legs and under her skirt.
She gasped and twitched as he pushed up the denim and lowered his head to do just that.
Chapter Twenty
A/N: VILOENCE WARNING! SEXY BADASS!ERIC makes his debut. But there’s blood and flying body parts. Read at your own risk.
The flight back was much more enjoyable than the flight to Isle Elena. Eric converted the two loveseats into the bed, then gave her a very long, detailed initiation into the Mile High Club. There were definite perks to having a private jet all to themselves, and she discovered that turbulence while making love at thirty thousand feet could be interesting. Eric had certainly enjoyed the extra gyrations.
Afterwards, he’d laughed and told a story about how he’d been in California at the turn of the last century, and he’d been having sex when an earthquake hit. Since the quake had started during a pivotal moment in their coupling, it had taken the two of them a few moments to realize that the earth really was moving. He snickered as he remembered getting himself and his partner out of the building before it collapsed on their heads. Neither of them had had much opportunity to get dressed, but thankfully they’d gone to her place, and his place had survived the quake fairly well.
Sookie tried to imagine what it would be like to be in the middle of screwing her Viking when the walls started shaking. Yeah, it might take her a bit to realize she wasn’t imagining it, too. He’d roared with laughter when she’d said that and admitted that he hoped there would be more turbulence for them to make love through. She’d just rolled her eyes and stretched out on the convertible mattress.
“May I use your phone?” she asked during one of their snuggle sessions.
“Of course,” he agreed, and slipped off the bed to rummage for the phone in his discarded jeans. He was still wearing the sweater she’d picked out for him, and his gorgeous butt cheeks peeked out from under the hem. She drew a sharp breath, and he noticed her admiration, grinning and presenting her with a better view. She groaned and licked her lips. He chuckled and returned to the bed, carrying his cell phone. She took it from him and flipped it open to dial.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
“Sam. I need to get my work schedule,” she answered, flicking back her hair to put her ear to the receiver.
“Hmmmm,” her Viking replied, and she should have known the sound was bad news.
Sam picked up on the third ring. “Merlotte’s Bar. This is Sam.”
“Hi Sam, it’s Sookie.”
“Hey Sookie, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied.
Eric gave her a wicked look that chilled her to the bone, and she shook her head emphatically, but of course he wasn’t going to listen to her. He leered and shoved her back on the mattress, making her land with a whomp. She gasped.
“Sookie? You okay?” Sam asked.
“Oh sure. I’m fine. Great even,” she managed.
Her evil Viking vamp was pushing up her new sweater and suckling her breasts. He’d taken her bra off an hour ago. She gritted her teeth and yanked at his hair, but he didn’t even pause.
“I’m calling to get my work schedule. We’re coming back tonight,” she managed, squirming as Eric began to kiss her down her stomach. Her free hand was flailing, but he just grabbed it and held it down.
“Oh, they got the runways cleared off?” her boss asked, a sly lilt in his voice.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. Eric was at her center, cupping her under her hips to tilt her pelvis into the right position. “We got almost… two… feet of snow.”
“Wow. Did you take pictures?”
“Y… Yes!” she forced out through clenched teeth. Eric was working his magic with his tongue, and she was finding it impossible to concentrate. ‘Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!’
‘No. No. No.’
“Sookie, are you sure you’re okay. You sound really stressed out.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him breathlessly. Eric was now using his tongue and his fingers.
‘He’s my boss!’
‘And I care about that why?’
“Is that blood sucker mistreating you?” Sam demanded. She almost laughed. Eric did, low and soft, his cool breath tickling the skin on her inner thigh.
‘I dunno. Am I?’
‘I’m going to kill you!’
‘Already dead, lover.’
‘ARGH!’
“No. He’s been… fine,” she answered, bright flashes of light going off behind her eyes.
‘Just fine?’ He punctuated his thoughts with a wiggle of his fingers.
“So, when do you have me scheduled?” she pressed, knowing Eric wasn’t going to let up, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold on to her sanity much longer.
“I have you working tonight and tomorrow night and Sunday lunch shift,” Sam replied.
‘Hmmm. Shifter thinks he can tie you up all weekend, does he?’ her personal demon sent, his irritation coming across the bond.
“But I have Monday off?” she prompted.
“Yep.”
“Okay.” ‘Monday is the day Fangtasia’s closed…’ she offered.
“So, how was your trip?” Sam asked innocently.
“Great. It was… uh… great.”
‘If you’re still coherent, I’m losing my touch.’
Eric used two fingers, his thumb and a twist of his tongue. She couldn’t hold back the moan.
“Sookie?” Sam asked.
Quick as a blink, her Viking grabbed the phone and growled into it. “She’s still on my time, Shifter.”
Then he flipped the phone closed, effectively hanging up on Sam, and tossed the phone across the cabin.
“That was rude,” she scolded, trying to be angry when he looked at her that way, with those blazing blue eyes dark with lust.
“Like I care.”
She would have answered, but he took that moment to thrust into her, making all thoughts fly right out of her head. He rode her hard, staking his claim, as if he was trying to imprint his mark on her enough for even Sam to feel it all the way in Bon Temps. She gasped and writhed under him, lifting her legs up to force him deeper, and that just drove him wild. A few frantic plunges into her brought them both to their peaks, and they both cried out as they climaxed. Eric hung for one moment in suspended animation, then collapsed on top of her.
“Do you think the pilot knows what we’re up to out here?” she mused after they’d rearranged themselves. She was in her usual post-coital position with her head on his chest. He seemed to like that best for après-sex cuddling.
“Birds of prey have very keen senses,” he pointed out.
“So in other words: yes.”
He shrugged. “It’s a good possibility. It’s also a possibility that he’s drowning out any sound from in here by blasting The Eagles on his iPod.”
She let out a choked laugh and looked fondly at him. “You just said that to make me feel better.”
“Of course.”
“So… I’m working tonight and tomorrow night…” she commented with some regret.
“Me too. I’m sure there will be lots of things I need to handle that have built-up in my absence.”
“Does that mean you’ll be going back to your place after you take me home?” she asked, twirling her fingers in his hair.
“No. I’ll stay with you the rest of the night and shelter at your house. If you work the night shift, you don’t have to go in until later, so we’ll have a little bit of time before we have to part, and then, per our agreement, I’ll come back after Fangtasia closes on Saturday morning, and leave again after sunset Saturday night.”
“Then I’ll drive to your place on Sunday after my lunch shift and spend Sunday and Monday with you?”
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll do my best to get all caught up on work so we can have Monday free. I will have to go into the bar on Monday, though, to go through the weekly manifests, but that won’t take me long.”
She sighed, the idea of doing mundane, normal things with him sounded appealing. Maybe they’d stay in Sunday night and watch movies on T.V.
“You’re gonna have to give me directions to your house.”
“And a key,” he added.
“I should give you a key to my place.”
“That would be nice.”
“What’s your house like?”
He shrugged. “Simple. Uncluttered. Full of fine quality furniture and modern comforts.”
“Like a fireplace and a sauna,” she recalled.
“Yes. I have a big whirlpool tub too, and a large shower that I think I will have converted into a double.”
“Do that when you have the mirror installed above your bed,” she teased.
He chuckled. “I wonder who will get the most enjoyment out of that. You do so love to look at my butt, my lover.”
She snickered and let her eyes drift down to the curve of his hip. He was still wearing the sweater, and if anything that made him look even sexier with the warm wool covering just enough of him to give a peek at the treasures beneath. He saw where her eyes were focused and obligingly turned his pelvis to give her a tantalizing side view. She showed her appreciation by sliding her hand down to caress his hip, brushing her fingers along his cool skin. She loved the feel of vampire skin; it was silk and smooth marble. Normal skin felt rough and squishy compared to her Viking’s hard flesh.
“I love this,” Eric said suddenly.
“Hmm?” she asked, coming out of her almost meditative state of stroking his skin.
“You. Me. Just lying here holding each other. I can feel your pleasure at touching me, and hear you compare human skin to mine and find mine more appealing. There’s no urgency, no upset, no stress. It’s so easy being like this with you.”
And she loved it when he shared with her. It made her feel so valued and important. “I love this too. Can we promise that it’ll always be like this: comfortable and easy?”
“No. I’m in the habit of keeping my promises, and I couldn’t possibly keep one as impossible as that. Ask me for the moon and the stars. That would be easier,” he replied, his voice resigned.
She snuggled closer. “Then we’ll have to promise to make it like this as much as we can when we’re together because the rest of the world is going to make this so hard on us,” she said, dread creeping into her voice.
He pulled her closer and nuzzled her. “I think you are worrying too much. As long as we are together, we will be alright.”
“I’m still scared, Eric. We wouldn’t have been given those things if we weren’t going to need them.”
“No. But we have them, and we will keep them close at hand, so when we need them we will know what to do.”
She nodded, not entirely convinced but not willing to fight about it. If there was danger, she and Eric had to be on the same page with each other.
“Maria told me that we are much stronger together than we are apart,” he told her.
“When did she tell you that?”
“The night of the snowstorm, when she and Izzy stopped me on the porch.”
“Oh.” She’d wondered what the Gypsy woman had had to say.
“She said that no matter what issues we had between us, we’d only find comfort from our pain if we were together. She told me that being apart would be more terrible for us so we had to see a way through our troubles.”
“She’s pretty smart, that woman,” she commented. “It’s funny because I don’t think she’s much older than me.”
“There are a lot of rumors about her and her companion. A lot of dark secrets and whispers cloud around them. The boy is the focus. There are a lot of people very worried about him,” Eric admitted.
She snorted. “I’ll say. I saw him blast fireballs right out of his hands.”
Eric nodded. “Yes. His power is impressive, especially for a child, but his father is infamous in demon circles, and there are quite a few individuals who would like nothing better than to kill Zolan and his son.”
“Izzy hinted at that,” she answered.
“Isabelle is the one to watch. She is the bodyguard. In a fight, she would be the one to do the most damage the fastest.”
She nodded. She’d figured as much. Maria seemed so sweet and kind and loving. It was Izzy who had all the rough edges. She reached over and took Eric’s hand, holding it the way the two of them had held hands on that infamous New Year’s night when Eric had been cursed. She felt a sudden rush of contented pleasure through the bond and smiled.
“Of all the sweet things you did for me that night, letting me lie with you and holding my hand brought me the most comfort.”
“I didn’t believe it was possible for someone to fall asleep holding hands with a vampire, but we did,” she said softly.
“You were the only thing that was real to me.”
“You said that you were born the moment you were running down the road…
“And I was a void until you took me in. Yes, I remember,” he said wistfully. “I was so frightened running down that road in the dark and the cold. And then, there you were calling to me, reaching out to me. In hindsight, Sookie how could you have been so reckless? A vampire running barefoot down the road in the middle of the night on New Years Eve? Didn’t you realize the danger you were in?”
She shrugged. The conversation was turning much too serious for them considering that he was naked from the waist down and she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“I wouldn’t have stopped for anyone but you. Well… maybe Bill… or Pam.”
He snorted. “I had no idea who you were, woman. I could have torn you to shreds before you had a chance to flinch.”
“I know, but… but I didn’t think you’d hurt me. You were so scared and pitiful. I believed you when you said you wouldn’t harm me.”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh, and she sighed. “Yeah, I know, it was stupid, but it was you, Eric. I had to stop for you. I couldn’t leave you all alone and scared like that.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. “Like you were determined to save both me and the gas station clerk that night we were attacked on the way back from Jackson. Sookie, we need to work on your self-preservation skills.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my self-preservation skills, thank you very much. I haven’t risked my life for…”
She stopped. Actually, she had. She’d allowed herself to almost blow up in a hotel to risk saving the very man who was lying next to her. She didn’t need to finish her sentence because Eric had already heard and understood.
“I hate Hallow, you know,” he said casually.
“Well, yeah, you would. She cursed you, tried to take your business, drained Clancy, and got Chow killed.”
“That’s true, but I hate her even more now. I hate her so much that, if she weren’t already dead, I would hunt her down and kill her very slowly.”
The rush of predatory glee that arced through the bond was unsettling and she shivered.
“Why?”
“Because not only did she steal me away from myself, she stole you away from me when her curse broke, and I didn’t remember anything that had happened between us. I lost me twice,” he answered.
“Oh.” She’d never thought of it that way.
“There are nights when I am alone and I think on that time. I remember the little, tender things you did. The way you smiled, and the way I felt when I looked at you. She stole that from me: my happiness, my place at your side. I can never forgive her those losses. They struck too deep.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest and squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. We’re back together now.”
“But the time we lost, and all of the things that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t forgotten…”
She shushed him. “We can’t know any of that. We can’t second-guess ourselves. You may very well have hated loving me and humbling yourself like that. Maybe you would have killed me to erase your guilt.”
He kissed her temple fiercely, the very thought of his harming her making him shiver. “Never.”
She had nothing to say to that, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She felt safe and cherished, and she closed her eyes, feeling grateful that he’d never given up on her.
“Thank you for never giving up on me,” she whispered.
“As if I could,” he answered teasingly.
She sighed and tucked her head under his chin. They stayed that way for several long moments, then Eric shifted and gently pushed her away.
“We should get dressed and put the loveseats to rights. We’ll be landing soon,” he said sadly.
She really didn’t want to move, but she knew she had no choice. Still, there was one thing she wanted to do before they had to face reality. She pulled him back and kissed him tenderly.
“Thank you. This trip has been wonderful. You’ve made me very happy, and I’m grateful.”
He smiled and held her close, letting his joy come across the bond to fill them both. “I don’t have words to tell you how happy you’ve made me.”
“It’s okay. We don’t need them,” she replied.
“No. We don’t.” He kissed her long and deep until she was gasping for breath. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He gave her a happy grin and released her, sliding off the mattress to reach for his underwear and jeans. He made sure to present her with an excellent view of his backside right before he pulled up the boxers she’d left out for him. She whistled her appreciation and laughed when he grinned at her, giving her one last wiggle of his hips.
“Anyone ever tell you you’d make a great male dancer?” she commented.
“Numerous times. However, from now on my strip teases are only for you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You strip teased for others?”
He gave her a bland look. “Do you really want me to answer that question, my lover?”
She thought about it and shook her head. “Nope. Don’t wanna know.”
“I thought not.”
“Where’d you toss my underwear anyway?” she asked, locating her bra. It was dangling haphazardly from the back of one of the plush chairs.
Her Viking cast about for the missing bit of clothing and found it crumpled near the minibar. He brought them to her, but unfortunately they were ripped. She gave him an exasperated look.
“What is it with vampires and ripping my underwear?”
He shrugged and looked innocent. “You could stop wearing it all together.”
“You do not want me going into Fangtasia without any underwear on. Every vamp in the place would know I was au naturale in three seconds.”
“True. But seeing their reactions might be fun.”
“For all of two minutes before you started ripping heads off,” she commented, wondering what she should do with the torn panties.
“Allow me,” Eric offered, plucking the panties from her fingers. Then she watched as he brought them to his nose and took a deep, satisfied sniff before shoving them down into the crotch of his jeans with a lascivious look on his face.
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or grossed out, but then she settled for laughter because he waggled his eyebrows at her and gave her a wicked grin that was so rogue and so Eric.
“That doesn’t solve my panty problem. All of my underwear is in my rolling carry-on.”
“You didn’t put a spare set in your garment bag?”
“Why would I? We were headed home. If for some reason, something happened to our luggage, I still had lots of clothes at home.”
He considered her answer and nodded, then he brightened and smiled again. “I think I may have the answer to your problem.”
“I’m not wearing a pair of your underwear, Eric.”
“Now that would be something,” he quipped, going to the storage closet across from the jet’s hatch.
Per his instructions, both garment bags and his sword in its sheath were in there, and she saw him open an outside pocket on the black garment bag and pull out a plastic shopping bag.
“What’s this?” she asked when he handed her the bag.
“Something else I bought for you, but didn’t have a chance to give you.”
She should have known it was lingerie just from the size and feel of the items in the bag, but she wasn’t expecting the delicate silk panties and matching underwire bra. Both were a light pink, almost a blush color, and very soft.
“Oh,” she gasped softly.
“Pam bought them when she was getting your sweaters. She said they were your style.”
“Pam bought them? She bought my sweaters?”
Eric looked miffed as if actually going to the store was beneath him. “She merely picked them up for me. I ordered them from a store in Jackson and sent her to get them. She said she’d passed the lingerie department on the way to parcel pick-up and thought you’d like them.”
Hm. More like she was playing a big joke, but that was Pam for you. Still, she couldn’t fault Pam’s logic. They were just the kind of thing she’d wear.
“Well, they are very nice. I’ll have to thank her when I see her on Sunday. What is she going to think about all of this, anyway?” she said, slipping on the panties but leaving off the bra because she still had the other one.
“About what?”
“Us? The blood-bond? How much are we going to tell her?”
“We don’t have to tell her anything.”
She gave him a look. “Eric, she’s going to know. Do we tell her about what happened? Do we let her in on the fact that we can hear each other?”
His face grew hard and stony, and she stopped.
“We tell her nothing of the mental bond and nothing about the true nature of my Hammer,” he said firmly.
“Won’t she recognize it? I mean, I’m sure you showed it to her…”
“No. Pam never had my confidence or my affection. I never shared anything like that with her.”
“Oh.” Well, considering the circumstances of her creation, that made sense. Eric would have sex with her and share his body, including the little trick with the fingers, but he kept his heart locked away.
“I will tell Pam that we have renewed our bond, although that will be obvious. I will tell her that our bond is very strong and permanent, although that will also be obvious. I will tell her that you are now to be listed as Fangtasia’s Events Coordinator and see about getting you on the payroll and our group health plan. And I will tell her that if you are visiting Fangtasia, and my office door is closed while we are in there, that she will suffer slow, painful death if she intrudes on us unless it is a dire emergency.”
They shared a mutual amused look. Both of them knew how much Pam delighted in teasing Eric, and both knew that, without that edict, she would have done everything in her power to interrupt them.
“You have to let her have a little fun, Eric. She gets so little chance to amuse herself.”
“You are a wicked cock-tease, woman,” he chided.
She spread her legs and encouraged him to kneel between them, taking him by the waist and pulling him closer for a kiss.
“But don’t I always make good?”
He smirked. “Only recently,” he replied, caressing her thigh.
“If you rip this pair of panties, you will get none until tomorrow night.”
He looked sulky, but he did slip his hand under the skirt to wiggle the panties down without damaging them. She gave a brief thought to how she’d just put them on, and how they’d already had sex three times on the jet, and how she wasn’t going to be able to walk if they did it again and he didn’t heal her up with some blood.
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, my lover. I will always take very good care of you,’ her Viking sent, just before he pushed her back to the mattress and claimed her again.
Forty minutes later the Learjet landed in Louisiana with nary a bump or a bounce on the runway. By the time the pilot touched the plane down, the cabin had been restored to order, and they were fully dressed and looking for all the world like they’d spent the last two-and-a-half hours playing checkers – except for the fact that her winter hose had been ripped beyond repair and were now discretely stuffed in the lavatory trashcan. Eric still had her underwear stuffed down his pants. Kinky vamp.
If Perin was aware that they’d been screwing like rabbits for most of the flight, he gave no indication, and he unsealed the hatch and let them out before going to retrieve their bags from the cargo hold. He’d parked the jet in the same hangar it had been in when they’d flown out to Isle Elena, and she was grateful for that because it was cold and, even though her long skirt covered her legs, the lack of pantyhose was chilly.
“Thank you so much for everything,” she said to the birdman as she accepted her cranberry rolling carry-on from him. He hadn’t bothered to shift his appearance this time and she took that as a compliment. He bowed his head and gave her a trill.
“Safe flight back home,” she added.
Eric put his arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the hangar. He had both garment bags slung over his shoulder, and his sword was tucked into the strap on his black bag, which was set atop her rolling carry-on. They smiled at each other as they exited the hangar and made their way over to Eric’s Corvette. He popped the trunk and began putting the bags in while she took a deep breath of Louisiana air. Moist and fragrant, even in winter. Nothing smelled like home.
They had about two seconds of warning. The first thing that happened was Eric’s head came up in alarm. The second was she noted that there were six nulls in her awareness. The third was the Thor’s Hammer suddenly blazing to life, glowing like a signal flare under Eric’s sweater. The next thing they knew, a silver net was thrown over them and they were under siege.
Of course, none of their vampire attackers had any idea that Eric was immune to silver.
His big hand knocked her down as he literally shredded the net. Links and bits of silver fell in a metallic rain all around her head as she curled up, protecting her face.
“What the fuck?...” one cursed.
“Oh shit! He just ripped the net!” another one cried. “How the hell did he do that?”
‘How many?’ her bonded sent, his blip a pulsing ball of bright scarlet and black.
‘Six!’
“Stop babbling and start dying!” her Viking snarled as he threw himself into battle.
The other vamps had no idea what hit them. A head fell at her feet. She tried not to look into the blank eyes.
‘Five!’ her lover announced gleefully.
Her extra-sharp “danger” sense went screaming into overdrive, and she ventured a glance up in time to see the stake flying through the air.
“STAKE!” she screamed.
Eric had enough time to turn, and the wood got him in the shoulder instead of his heart. She gasped and covered her mouth with relief as he grunted and yanked it out almost faster than she could see, turning it around and using it to kill another one of their attackers. His aim was true, but there were still four more, and they were coming at them from all sides, and Eric was fighting barehanded.
His sword. She hopped to her feet, ignoring his command for her to stay down. She saw the hilt peeking out from the sheath there in the trunk, and she lunged for it just as one of the vamps came for her. The moment her hand curled around the ancient handle, she knew what to do.
With an ease that shocked her, she slid the sword out of its sheath and swung, arcing the blade high and to the right. She felt it hit home, heard the disgusting sound of tearing flesh, and was shocked to see her attacker’s head separate neatly from his shoulders in a single slice. Blood splattered on her as the body fell, landing with a dull thud on the asphalt, and she jumped back to avoid the growing pool on the ground.
‘Whoa, this thing is sharp,’ she thought, dazed, her fingers loosening on the hilt.
‘Don’t you dare drop my sword!’
She didn’t. Instead she threw it. Eric’s hand came up – he wasn’t even looking at where she’d tossed it – and snatched the weapon right out of the air. He didn’t even pause as he swung, slicing another vamp clean in two before decapitating him on the backstroke. He let out a war cry.
She’d never felt his battlelust so keenly, but the feeling was overwhelming. He was ecstatic, delighting in the rending of flesh and the heat of war, and she felt the power rushing through her own veins.
‘Two left!’
‘We need one alive!’ she cautioned. To question, to find out why and how they had been ambushed. Her bonded agreed.
‘Silver chain. Bottom of my trunk. Spare tire compartment.’
She frantically dug under the floor covering of the Corvette and found the chain in a cloth bag along with a pair of the necessary handling gloves a vampire would need to protect his skin from the silver. It was heavy, but she was flush with Eric’s blood and his strength from the bond. She turned to see Eric fighting both vamps. One had a large knife, a machete from the looks of it, while the other was wielding a long stake, looking for an opportunity. She gathered the chain and threw it at the vamp with the stake; it got him around the neck, knocking him down.
‘Excellent, my lover. Now bind him!’
She leaped, grabbing the vamp by the shoulders and wrapping the silver chain around his arms, trying to ignore his screaming and the stench of his burning flesh. Another quick glance to her Viking showed that he had sliced off the hand of his opponent that had been wielding the machete, and his assailant was now attempting to fly away.
“Eric!” she cried, and tossed him the stake.
Eric grabbed the weapon and threw it with the same accuracy he’d thrown the darts on Isle Elena. The last vamp was disintegrating before he hit the ground.
It was over, but her Viking was vibrating with rage, the Thor’s Hammer still glowing like a beacon under his clothes. He was standing there, half-crouched, holding his sword, fangs down, free hand curled into a claw as he scanned for more enemies. She cast out a mental net and came up with nothing.
“There aren’t any more,” she assured him.
A shriek resounded from inside the hangar, and her Viking vanished. She made sure the remaining vamp was well and truly bound before running to join Eric in the hangar. There they found what she hoped was Perin in his true raptor form, ripping what was left of a seventh vamp to pieces. The bird was monstrous, perched atop the headless body, talons embedded in the corpse as the wicked beak tore huge hunks of flesh off the dead vamp. She’d seen hawks eating rabbits and squirrels. The image was much the same only the victim was wearing black jeans.
The bird lifted up when it saw them, spreading its wings, and shrieked again. Eric dropped to the concrete floor of the hangar and put up his hand in surrender.
“We mean you no harm, Perin. We only came to see if you needed our help,” her Viking assured.
Yellow eyes blazed and Sookie prayed there was some cognizance in them otherwise they were both bird food, but Perin backed down and went back to picking at the corpse. Thankfully it didn’t look like he was eating the vampire. She didn’t know if she could handle that.
Eric took her by the arm and ushered her out of the hangar, bringing her back to their hapless victim. She could already see some of the things Eric intended to do, and she almost felt sorry for the guy.
“Who sent you?” her Viking demanded.
“Go to Hell,” the dark-haired, ragged vamp spat.
Her bonded picked up a handful of the broken links from the net and held them in his palm, then he ripped open the other vampire’s shirt and slapped them down on the man’s chest. The vamp screamed bloody murder.
“Silver’s not burning you!” he finally shrieked.
“You noticed that. Funny isn’t it? Now who sent you?” Eric demanded again, pushing the silver even harder down. Sookie could see the flesh burning, blackening and steaming. The vamp kept screaming.
“Who. Sent. You?”
The vamp set his jaw, which was hard to do with his fangs out, and glared at Eric, defiant. Eric snarled and moved the silver to the vamp’s navel. The shrieking commenced again, even louder if that was possible. She put her hands over her ears, her head ringing.
“This doesn’t hurt me a bit,” her lover growled. “I can do this all night. Now tell me who sent you?!”
“Never! You can’t break me!”
“I haven’t even begun to torture you. No matter what, asshole, you are going to die tonight. The only say you have in the matter is whether you die fast or slow,” he seethed, then he tore open the vamp’s jeans and slapped the silver links right on his family jewels.
The screams echoed off the trees. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She crawled over to the writhing vamp and clamped her hands on his head, closing her eyes and reaching the way Izzy had taught her.
‘Eric help me!’
She felt his influence flood into her almost immediately, and she felt the barrier yield and break under the assault.
‘I’m in! Ask him! Ask him now!’
“WHO SENT YOU?”
The face appeared in the vamp’s mind even as his mouth refused to answer, and she almost screamed herself.
‘Victor! It was Victor!’ “It was Victor!”
“Victor Madden,” Eric sneered, contempt in every syllable.
“You’re not supposed to be able to read vampire minds!” the vamp cried, his brown eyes accusing.
“Surprise,” she answered weakly.
“Too bad you won’t live long enough to tell anyone,” her Viking added, then staked the poor vamp so hard the wood drove right into the asphalt.
She rose to her feet, and they both stood side by side as they watched the body disintegrate. They were blood-splattered and disheveled, but uninjured. Eric was still seething, but he was calming down, his blazing battlerage cooling into cold fury, and somehow she knew that fury was more dangerous than anything.
The Hammer was still glowing, and Eric reached into his sweater to pull it out and cradle it in his palm. It was still bright silver, the chain around his neck blazing as well, gleaming in the light coming from the lamp above the hangar doors. He brought the Hammer to his lips and kissed it, and she heard him murmur a prayer of thanks to Hlin. Without Her amazing gift, the night would probably have ended much differently and much less happily. As Eric finished his prayer, the Hammer’s glow faded and it once again cloaked itself as a pewter pendant on a leather thong. He tucked it back under his sweater and patted it fondly.
“So? What now?” she asked, shaken and uncertain.
“Now we find out if Victor was acting on orders of the King or if he was plotting on his own. You didn’t happen to get any impressions about that while you were in his head?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry,” she replied, feeling chagrined. She should have thought to look for that.
Her bonded sent comfort to her. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. In fact, he was practically brimming with pride, and it made her feel very good despite her growing fear.
“That would have been helpful, but it is no matter. I’ll find out soon enough,” he said with deadly seriousness.
She took a deep breath and asked the question she didn’t really want the answer to. “What do we do if he is behind it?”
Her Viking’s face went still and hard as marble. “Well, my lover, if that is the case, and the new king is behind this attack… then I’m afraid it’s war.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
Chapter Twenty-One
They had a huge mess to clean up because Eric insisted on not leaving any trace of what had happened for anyone to find. They gathered up what was left of their attackers and burned them, clothing and all. Unfortunately, they also found the bodies of two young men behind the hangar. They were both dressed in mechanic’s cover-alls with a logo for a fuel company. Eric guessed that they had come to deliver jet engine fuel for the incoming private plane, and had been killed by Victor’s assassins as collateral damage. Eric identified both of them as shifters by scent.
She watched as Eric took a scrap of T-shirt that wasn’t covered in gore and used it to carefully wipe the blood off the blade of his sword before sliding it back into its sheath. She remembered all too well how it had felt to wield the blade, and how quickly she had known how to use it.
“Eric… the moment I grabbed your sword…”
“I channeled my skill into you,” he explained matter-of-factly.
“So that’s how I knew how to swing the blade.”
“Yes. My sword is older than I am. It has been in my family for four generations. I wasn’t about to let you handle it without some idea as to what you were doing. You could have damaged it.”
She looked at him through slitted eyes. “Oh, so it had nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t want me getting killed by the vamp who was coming after me?”
“Of course that was part of it, but if you had stayed down like I’d told you to, there would have been no need for you to defend yourself.”
“Eric, you were fighting six vamps without any weapon,” she argued.
“And I was doing quite well.”
She glared at him and crossed her arms. “Fine. The next time we’re ambushed I won’t bother trying to help.”
He rolled his eyes and smiled at her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her. “You were magnificent. I was glad to have you fighting by my side. There is no one I would rather have watching my back than you, my lover.”
He was being serious so she couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when he was kissing her and wishing they could just say to hell with it and go back to her house. She wanted to go back purely to take a shower. Both of them were splattered with vampire blood and guts, Eric worse than her, but her parka, sweater and skirt were splashed with it because she hadn’t bothered to zip up her coat after they’d gotten off the plane. Louisiana was significantly warmer than northern Michigan.
“We need to burn the clothes we’re wearing,” her Viking told her when he pulled away. “There is vampire blood and tissue on them. No amount of washing will get out the scent.”
She wanted to argue because she liked her new skirt and sweater, but she could understand his point.
“I will replace your new clothes. I will take note of the designer and find them on-line,” he assured her. “And, of course, I can easily get you a new parka.”
She sighed and moved to get the shopping tote with her old clothes out of her cranberry garment bag. Eric was already stripping, tossing his sweater and jeans onto the fire they’d set to burn the remains of the vamps. He even burned the boots he was wearing. She made a silent lament as she threw her new parka into the flames, but at least she had access to her old coat so she wasn’t cold. She’d grabbed the four black stones the librarian had given her and shoved them in the pocket of her cranberry coat before she destroyed the parka. She had a feeling she was going to need their protection very, very soon.
Perin helped with the clean up. The pilot was back in his birdman form, and he and Eric seemed to be able to communicate because they had had a polite argument about whether or not Isle Elena should be notified about the attack. Perin was for but Eric was against. He wanted as few people to know about what had happened as possible. Obviously, Victor would know pretty soon that his attempt on Eric’s life had failed, but until they knew how high up the chain of command the order had come from, Eric wanted the details kept a strict secret. Luckily, Perin hadn’t seen Eric break the net without getting burned, so the pilot had no idea that Eric was immune to silver.
“We need to call Alcide about the two shifters. As Packmaster, he ought to know about it, and I’m sure they have kin,” she said wearily. Cleaning up after a bloody fight was always exhausting.
The fire had finally finished burning everything to nothing but black smears and a pile of ash.
“I will deal with Packmaster Herveaux,” her Viking replied, all authoritative and in control.
Yes, Sir.
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I am used to giving orders in these types of situations,” he explained, half-apologetic.
She frowned and gave herself a mental slap. “No, it’s okay. You’re the seasoned warrior here, and you know the proper protocols for dealing with things like this,” she conceded.
“Thank you.”
The emotions across the bond told her that he was acknowledging the progress in her concession, and he was genuinely grateful. Normally, she would have gotten all high and indignant on him, but she was coming to understand the childishness in that. Maybe she was growing up.
She was surveying the airfield, wondering what was next, when she heard Eric on the phone with Alcide. What the Packmaster was doing awake at almost two-thirty in the morning, she didn’t know. Maybe Eric had called on a special line that only rang in emergencies or something, and Alcide had to answer it. Kinda like the Bat Phone or whatever.
The idea made her giggle a little, and she wondered if she was going into shock now that everything was calmed down. Eric was wondering the same thing. He was also remembering something else… Her face on the street after the Witch War, after he’d turned around had found her missing and had gone rushing after her, following her scent like an abandoned dog desperate to find his owner.
The feeling wasn’t that far off. Eric had felt betrayed and deserted when she’d walked out without telling him she was leaving. It still hurt. She hadn’t realized how left-behind he’d felt. He’d been certain that she was going to dump him at any moment. He’d had no idea that she’d been pretty sure she was the one who was going to get dumped.
“Alcide is in Shreveport. He will be here in an hour,” her Viking told her, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’
She nodded. ‘I’m dealing.’
He kissed her temple tenderly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault.’ “So what do we do while we wait for Alcide?”
He dangled four sets of car keys in front of her nose, three with those handy remote controls that unlocked the doors. “We find our assassins’ cars and dispose of them.”
“We have to find them first.”
“I think we will find them nearby. I didn’t recognize any of them, which means Victor must have called them in from another territory.”
“Nevada?”
He nodded. “Possible, or somewhere else. They certainly weren’t local.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He tapped his nose. “They didn’t smell like they’d been in Louisiana for very long.”
She blinked, surprised and impressed. “You can smell that?”
“I have a very keen sense of smell. It’s one of my vampiric gifts, and I’m an excellent tracker. Remember that I was able to find where Hallow’s bitches had buried Clancy from the faintest trace of his scent. None of the idiots who attacked us had been here long enough for the scent of the swamps to permeate their skin.”
“So you’re gonna sniff around for their scents and track it back to their cars?”
“If I have to, but I was thinking of trying something a little more direct.”
He raised his arm and began pressing the “unlock” buttons on the car remotes. At first, nothing happened, so he began moving about the airfield, pressing the buttons, even taking to the air to get a better view, and after about ten minutes or so they heard an answering series of chirps coming from behind a stand of trees on the south side of the airfield. A quick inspection revealed four cars. Apparently, some of the vamps had carpooled.
“Okay, so we found the cars. Now what?” she asked, giving one very nice-looking Chevy a good look.
“Now we take them somewhere where they will never be found.”
“Like you did with Debbie Pelt’s car.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Swamp?”
“Yes, but not where anyone would expect to find a submerged car.”
“So not where there are any roads. How are we going to get them there?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, then demonstrated by picking up the Chevy with both hands and lifting it over his head.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she blurted. She’d always known that vampires were strong, and they got stronger with age, but her lover had just lifted over a ton of American ingenuity as if it were a really big Hot Wheels toy.
He set the car down with a whomp and it rocked on its wheels a bit before settling down.
“Pick-up trucks are a bit harder and minivans can be cumbersome, but I think I’ve made my point,” Eric commented, brushing off his hands.
Oh, he’d made his point all right. “Okay, so I guess we need to make two trips. I’ll follow you as far as the car can go and you take it from there?”
“No. I need to sink them in four separate places. You will stay here. Perin will guard you until I get back.”
She thought about arguing then decided that it would just be a waste of time.
‘Yes, it would have been, and time is something we are running out of. Dawn is less than four hours away.’
She nodded and started back towards the hangar. Eric fell in beside her, and they found Perin refueling the jet from a long tube run from a mid-size tanker truck parked outside the hangar on the side opposite from Eric’s Corvette.
“Perin. I must take our attackers’ cars and dispose of them. Please guard my bonded while I am gone. The Shreveport Packmaster is on his way,” Eric instructed.
Perin didn’t look too happy, but he did nod and she took that to mean he’d do it. Neither she nor Eric were anticipating any more trouble, but it was nice to know she had a huge hawk demon watching her back if she needed it.
“Thank you. I will return as soon as possible,” her Viking said and vanished.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked the pilot, looking for something to do.
The birdman shook his head and she cast about, taking some time to explore the hangar. There was a big stain on the concrete where Perin had ripped the vamp apart so she scouted around for some cleaning agent she could use to wipe up the mess. She found a locker with cleaning supplies including a mop and a degreaser, and she got to work scrubbing the vampire blood and guts off the floor.
Keeping busy helped her focus and keep from fretting about what had happened and what Eric was doing. She was tracking him on her mental GPS, and she’d watched him go out and come back three times already which meant he was now out disposing of the last car. He appeared to be getting tired, although she had never realized that vampires did get worn out. It wasn’t the same kind of weariness humans suffered from, but it was similar. By the time he’d chucked a VW into the swamp, he was getting fed up with throwing cars. The last car was a Dodge Viper, and he was lamenting about having to destroy it because he thought it was a “sweet ride.”
Perin finished fueling the jet then taxied it out of the hangar and out to the runway. When he came back, he splashed some jet fuel on the pile of gore she was still working on, then he had her step back as he tossed a lit match onto the floor, and the whole thing went up in a big plume of flames. Whoosh! No more bloody mess. Wow, that was easy. Once the fire burned out, all that was left was a scorch mark and a little pile of ash she sucked up with a ShopVac that Perin had found.
About fifty minutes after Eric had called him, Alcide pulled up with Tray Dawson in tow. Her Viking vamp wasn’t back from ditching the last car yet, but she was glad for that because the first thing that the Packmaster did was hug her.
“What happened? The bloodsucker was pretty vague, but I know the smell of burning vampire,” he asked, his face worried.
She gulped, not knowing how much she was allowed to tell, and grateful that her Eric-GPS had him almost back to the airfield.
“Eric and I had had just gotten back from a trip when we were jumped by a bunch of vamps while we were loading the car.”
“How many were there? Were you hurt?”
“Seven, and no, I’m fine. Eric killed five, I got one and Perin killed the other,” she replied, nodding her head towards the pilot. Neither Were seemed shocked by the birdman’s appearance. “But we found two bodies behind the hangar. Eric says they’re shifters.”
“Do you have any idea why you were attacked?”
She shrugged and played dumb. “No.”
“If you are truly under the formal protection of the new king, then he’ll take this as a personal insult and consider it his duty to find out who was behind it,” the Packmaster said.
‘Unless, of course, he was the one who ordered the hit in the first place,’ she thought dourly.
‘Say nothing!’ her vampire warned. He was back in mental range which meant he would be arriving any second. He close proximity was making her relax.
“Yeah, maybe, but we wanted to keep this real quiet…”
“Because there might be a traitor among de Castro’s ranks, someone who is unhappy that Northman was left in power,” Alcide commented.
She gave a short nod. “Maybe. The thought had crossed our minds.”
“Or maybe it was that were-tiger. Rumor has it that he’s not too happy with vampires in general right now, and you used to go with him, but left him for a vamp,” Dawson added.
“I didn’t leave Quinn for a vamp,” she argued, getting angry. ‘I left Quinn because he gave vital information about vampires I considered my friends to a bunch of power hungry vamps in Nevada and almost got me and pretty much everyone I care about killed.’ “And I don’t think he’s mad at me enough to want me dead.”
“Word is you’re Northman’s now,” Tray continued.
“Did Amelia tell you that?” she snapped, irritated.
The Were’s eyes opened wide and she saw him blink at her, surprised by her sudden outburst. Both of them were thinking that she was a fool to go with a vampire, and Alcide’s thoughts were turning decidedly darker and judgmental. It pissed her off because he had no leg to stand on. Eric had been there for her and had stood by her. What had Alcide done? Dragged her into a Pack War – twice – and made excuses for that bitch Debbie Pelt who had tried to kill her – again, twice. He’d left her staked and bleeding in Club Dead, and thank God Eric had been there otherwise she would have died. Eric again. Eric had taken care of her when no one else would.
“It’s none of your business who I go with,” she scolded.
“So the rumors are true then,” Alcide said shrewdly, his eyes narrowing.
“Yes. Sookie is mine,” Eric answered, materializing seemingly out of nowhere to enter the hangar.
He moved to stand at her shoulder, looming and glaring at the Weres. She was ridiculously happy to see him, but she knew from his posture, and the slight flare to his nostrils, that he could smell Alcide’s scent on her, and he wasn’t happy about it. He was gearing up to get all possessive and dominant, but she was too tired to deal with his shit.
‘Oh no you don’t. You quit it with the alpha male crap and let me handle this. I’m used to giving orders in these situations,’ she told him, flinging his words back at him.
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he sent back, his thoughts highly amused. She was glad one of them thought it was funny.
“I am my own woman, as always, Alcide, no matter what he says, but I choose to go with him.”
‘Tell him we’re bonded. He knows what it means.’
“We’re bonded.”
Alcide nodded. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I can’t say I’m surprised either.” He turned threatening eyes towards her Viking. “You’d best get your shit together and find out what’s going on before you get her killed.”
Eric bared his teeth, showing a little fang, and put a possessive hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move because she knew she couldn’t belittle him in front of the Shreveport Packmaster, even though his action irritated her. She’d get him back for it later.
“Believe me, I intend to. Now let me show you these bodies so you can take care of them.”
Alcide nodded and the two Weres followed Eric behind the hangar to where the dead shifters were still lying. She trailed along behind, never one to enjoy looking at corpses, but needing to be near Eric. In the distance she heard the roar of a jet engine and surmised that Perin had taken off. He was going back to Isle Elena, back to Helen’s little island of peace and comfort. Sweet Jesus, she envied him.
Neither shifter had been drained, and both had died from a broken neck, probably to hide the fact that they’d been killed by vampires. Alcide and Tray examined the bodies, and they both sighed.
“You know them?” her Viking asked.
“Yeah. They’re Stan and Robbie Heller,” Tray answered. “They run a gas and oil company in Shreveport.”
“Heller’s Fuels,” she commented, noting the monograms on the shifters’ overalls.
Alcide nodded. “Yeah.”
“They’re both members of the were-bobcat community living south of the city. I’ll notify their packmaster,” Alcide said with a deep sigh.
“What will you tell them?” she asked.
“I don’t want to get involved in vampire business, but if there is a traitor among Felipe’s ranks who is after you, Sookie, then I don’t have any choice,” Alcide replied unhappily. “Since you and Eric want to keep a lid on this, I’ll tell the were-bobcats Stan and Robbie were killed in a robbery attempt. Some asshole who didn’t want to pay the high price of gas these days.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t do it if you weren’t doubly a friend of the pack,” he told her.
“I know. And I’m very grateful.”
“I’m only doing this for her,” the Packmaster told Eric.
Eric crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, his face severe.
“You know he’s no good for you, don’t you, Sookie?” Alcide suddenly said, taking a huge risk because Eric was right there not five feet away from them. “Vamps are lying, conniving bastards. It’s their nature, and this one is the worst of the worst. He’s going to hurt you and probably kill you.”
Eric started growling, but she held up a hand. ‘You let me handle this.’
“Alcide,” she began, her tone of voice gentle yet commanding his attention. “What I do with Eric is between him and me, and it isn’t any of your business. But you are my friend, and your opinion does matter to me, and I want you to know that I understand your concern. You are right. Vampires are dishonest, manipulative, devious, and untrustworthy.”
Eric’s fury ripped through the bond but she fought it, forcing him to calm down. ‘You let ME handle this!’
“But this vampire has proven himself time and time again. He’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t want him there, even when I rejected him and all but spit in his face. He’s always been as honest as he can, which is to say that I know he hasn’t always been completely truthful… but only in that he wouldn’t tell me the whole story,” she added quickly to stave off another growl from Eric.
“He’s given me the things I’ve needed. He’s treated me as if I mattered. He’s helped me whenever I’ve needed him. He’s supported me and protected me and saved my life many times. And I love him. It’s crazy and it’s dumb and it’s dangerous, and yes, I will probably end up dead when this is all over, but you can be sure that, if that happens, it’ll be because he’s already dead, because he’d die before he let anything happen to me.”
‘Oh, my lover…’
“So really, I don’t care that you don’t like it. I don’t care that you think I’m insane for bonding myself to a vampire, least of all this vampire. And I would kindly remind you that it was this vampire who stayed by me when I got staked at Josephine’s after you ran off leaving me there bleeding all over the floor, and it was this vampire who made sure I was safe and saw to it that I got the healing I needed, and it was this vampire who rescued me when I was trapped in a car trunk with a starving and injured vampire after your ex-fiancée shoved me into that trunk and locked me in,” she stated firmly.
Alcide had the decency to look chagrined, and he cast his eyes downward. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Eric came and stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. “The lady has spoken, Packmaster, and I think it is getting about time for us to be heading out of here.”
Alcide nodded and sent Tray to get the truck so they could load the Heller brothers into the bed. Eric guided her away from them, taking her back to the forgotten Corvette. He was being gentle and touchy-feely. She allowed it because her little speech had taken the last of her energy and she was plumb worn out. She moved to get into the passenger seat, but Eric stopped her.
“What is it?” she asked, a little dazed.
“I must check the car for explosives.”
She blinked, all of her weariness getting squashed by another rush of adrenaline. “What? Like, a bomb or something?”
“Exactly. One of Victor’s goons may have decided to rig my car as an insurance policy in case they were unsuccessful in killing us.”
She gulped and stepped away from the car, her eyes wide. Eric crouched down and started sniffing the car very carefully, crawling all around it and looking under it, then he reached in and popped the hood, examining the engine very, very carefully. He finally made a little grunt of discovery and reached into the engine.
“Did you find something?” she asked worriedly.
“Yes. A crude little thing wired into the car’s ignition. I thought I’d smelled C-4.”
“Everything okay?” Alcide asked as he pulled up in the pick-up. Tray was following behind in the Heller’s fuel tanker.
“Someone’s booby trapped Eric’s Corvette!” she blurted.
She watched as Alcide put the truck in park and jumped out. Tray did the same with the tanker and joined them.
“What’s going on?” Tray questioned just as Alcide asked, “Where?”
“In the engine, stuck to the back side of the block,” her Viking replied, his voice muffled as he leaned into the car.
“Is it wired into the ignition?” Tray questioned.
“Looks like it.”
“Why are you all being so calm about this?” she squeaked.
“Ignition bombs are real easy to diffuse, Sookie,” Tray answered.
“I’ve got a pair of wire snips in my truck,” Alcide said, going to a big toolbox shoved in the rear of the truck bed. She got a quick glimpse of the two bodies under a tarp and gulped.
Alcide returned with the wire snips, and he handed them to Eric who held out his palm to grab them.
“How deep is it in there?”
“Deep,” Eric replied. “It’s C-4. Whoever it was stuck it way down. Probably thought the oil smell would mask its scent.”
Alcide grunted in acknowledgement, and few minutes later Eric stood up, a mass of white putty balled in his hand.
“Did you get all of it?” Tray asked.
Eric didn’t bother to grace that with an answer.
“Is that the bomb?” she questioned.
“Yes,” her Viking replied, then he offered the putty to Alcide. “You want some C-4?”
Alcide shrugged and took the wad of explosives. “Sure. Thanks.”
“That’s a bomb!” she shrieked.
“Don’t worry, Sookie. C-4’s real stable. Only way it blows up is if you smack it or jolt it with electricity. My dad used to tell us stories of him and his buddies in ‘Nam using C-4 to heat up their rations coz it burns real slow when you set it on fire,” Tray assured her.
“Yeah, until some idiot tries to put out the fire by stomping on it and blows everyone sky high,” Alcide added dourly.
“You’re all taking this remarkably well,” she complained.
“This is our life, Sookie. Someone is always trying to kill the ones in power,” Alcide explained. “I’ve had bombs in my truck before.”
“You have?” she blurted.
The Were nodded and Tray backed him up.
“I am not upset to find a bomb in my car. What upsets me is that they targeted Sookie as well, and that I cannot forgive,” Eric said coldly.
“No,” Alcide agreed.
“You recently lost your own mate in the war with the St. Catherine Weres, did you not?” Eric asked suddenly.
Alcide’s face darkened and he frowned. “Yes. Maria-Star was murdered by a Were loyal to Priscilla.”
“You have my deepest condolences,” Eric replied with complete sincerity.
“Thank you,” Alcide said, looking surprised.
She was surprised too. Eric didn’t usually bother with social niceties.
“Let’s get out of here, lover, it’s after 4am,” her Viking said gently, offering his hand to her. She set her jaw and shook her head.
“I’m not getting into that car,” she refused.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s perfectly safe now.”
“No. What if they knew you’d smell the C-4 and rigged it with something else figuring you’d think it was safe, and it blows up anyway?”
“A mercury switch would be harder to sniff out,” Tray commented.
“I don’t have time to take the car apart looking for another bomb. It’s nearly dawn,” Eric argued.
She could feel his weariness, knew he was getting emotionally tired. Vampires didn’t get physically tired, but they did get hungry if they’d been working hard. Eric had killed five vampires, tossed four cars, and dug a bomb out of his Corvette. He was about at the end of his rope. He needed some TrueBlood, some shelter, and probably some sex, not necessarily in that order.
“I can drive her back home,” Alcide offered.
“And I can come back later with tools and a tow truck. I can give it a good look over and tow it to my place if I don’t find anything,” Tray added.
Both Weres were being unusually helpful, and Sookie wondered why either of them would put themselves out to help a vamp.
‘You have to ask, my lover? It’s because of you. They don’t give a shit if I blow up, but neither of them want to risk your life,’ Eric sent, his thoughts amused but tinged with jealousy. ‘And I’d owe them.’
“Take her to the Shell truck stop off exit 86 on I-20,” Eric said. “I’ll meet you there in forty minutes.”
“Cutting it close, aren’t you, vampire? Besides, you don’t have time to get her home before dawn.”
“We’re not going back to Bon Temps. If they followed us here, then they probably know where both of us live. I’m taking her to a safe place,” her Viking said firmly.
“She’s safe with me,” Alcide argued.
‘Sookie, please…’ The mindvoice was weary, on the verge of pleading.
“I wanna go with Eric, Alcide,” she spoke up.
It looked like he might argue, but then the Packmaster saw Eric taking the luggage out of the Corvette’s truck and he got a good look at her Viking’s big sword.
“All right, Sookie, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, that’s what I want.”
Alcide cast an unhappy glance at Eric. “Exit 86 in forty minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” Eric confirmed and flew off carrying all of their luggage.
“Put Stan and Robbie in the cab of the tanker,” Tray said. “I’ll take care of them.”
“You gonna bring the bodies to their Packmaster?” Alcide asked.
Tray nodded.
“Okay. Tell Bodine I’ll talk to him personally later today,” Alcide agreed.
Tray nodded again and the two Weres lifted the corpses of the two shifters and put them in the cab of the Heller’s fuel tanker. Thank God it was so cold outside, otherwise they would have started to smell by now. When the deed was done, Tray drove off, and she got into Alcide’s truck with him for the forty minute drive up the Interstate.
“So… everything okay with the Pack now?” she asked, looking for something to say.
“Yes. Things are settled. I never realized how many of us hated Furnan. I have the Pack’s loyalty already.”
“Well, your father was well-respected and everyone knew Furnan cheated to become Packmaster, and he didn’t have to kill Jackson, but he did anyway,” she commented.
“Yes, that is true.”
“I’m glad things are working out for you.”
“I’m more worried about you, Sookie. This takeover by the Nevada vamps… I don’t like what I hear.”
She sighed. “I won’t lie to you, Alcide. It’s bad and I’m scared for Eric and myself. After tonight, I’m even more scared. But I have to trust Eric. He knows what he’s doing. He’s kept himself alive for a thousand years. He’s very good at survival.”
Alcide snorted. “Very good at keeping himself alive, Sookie. If it comes down to you or him, you know who he’ll choose.”
She shook her head. “No. Eric and I are blood-bonded. The bond is permanent. If it breaks, he’ll want to die too.”
“You sure about that?” Alcide asked leadingly.
She remembered how Eric had felt when he’d spoken of Svala, and his terrible grief. Eric had said their bond was even stronger.
“Yes.”
Alcide huffed a bit, but backed off.
“So where’d you guys go that you were flying back in to the old Lucien airfield in the middle of the night?”
“Eric took me someplace up north that he knows,” she replied, purposefully not speaking of Isle Elena.
“Nice place?”
“Oh yes, but we got snowed in. We were supposed to come back last night, but everything was shut down because of the storm.”
“Seriously?” Alcide asked, giving her a glance.
“Yeah, we got two feet. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life.”
“Did you take pictures?”
She laughed. “You’re the third person to ask that. Yes, I took pictures.”
“Cool.”
They spent the rest of the trip in small talk. They discussed the weather and the latest gossip. She refrained from telling him that Sandra Pelt was back to her old tricks because that was a situation she was so not willing to deal with right now. Eric would probably take care of her anyway, and a lot less pleasantly than he had when he was rescuing her and Quinn after the Pelts had had them kidnapped.
It was close to 5am when they arrived at the Shell truck stop off the exit, and she was feeling the effects of the long night again. Luckily, Eric had kept his word, and he was there waiting in the shadows when Alcide pulled in. She practically slid right into his arms when he opened the truck door to help her down.
‘My poor lover,’ he sent, nuzzling her as she melted into his embrace. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll be safe soon.’
Eric thanked Alcide and she mumbled a faint “thanks” herself, then she was being lifted into her Viking’s arms and taken up into the chill air.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking her face against his shoulder as he tugged up the hood on her coat.
‘Somewhere safe,’ he replied.
She closed her eyes and let him carry her. Tonight his flight was smooth, the only hint that they were moving at all being the wind against her skin. It was peaceful, quiet, and her Viking was enjoying carrying her in his arms.
‘Rhett and Scarlet,’ she heard him send.
‘Have you finally seen Gone with the Wind?’
‘Of course. It came highly recommended.’
She chuckled and tightened her grip on his neck.
‘I will carry you upstairs to our bed anytime, my lover.’
‘It’ll have to be at your place because my bedroom’s on the first floor,’ she teased.
‘Less distance to travel then, the sooner I will have you naked and under me.’
She felt the rush of lust and shivered.
A few minutes later, she felt him land, and she lifted her head as he placed her on her feet. Things were a little dim because it was still dark, but it looked like he’d set down right in front of a little house. It was single story with a one-car garage, a carport and little porch.
“Where are we?”
“Technically, we’re in Ruston,” Eric answered, guiding her up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.
“Is this your house?” she asked. If it was, it was nothing like what she had expected. But no, it couldn’t be his house. This house was brand new, so new that she could still smell the green wood and fresh paint.
“One of them. I own several,” her Viking replied, taking her through the living room. She got a brief look at a nice fireplace in the corner.
They went past a small open dining room and a kitchen, then down a hallway that ended in a set of three doors. Eric opened the doors to reveal a bathroom, a bedroom, and a larger master suite. The bathroom was small but serviceable. The smaller bedroom was furnished with a Queen size bed and a light colored dresser and armoire, bedside table and a vanity. The master suite was much more masculine with a large, King-size bed and furniture in a deep medium oak. It was into the master suite that he took her. Their luggage was already there on the polished hardwood floor, and his sword was leaning against the high chest of drawers on the far side of the room.
By now she was nearly dead on her feet, and her lover knew that. He started peeling off her clothes for her, kissing her tenderly, but she gave him a muffled “mmmph” and pushed him away to find the master bath. It was huge, with a big tub and shower. Typical vampire fare. She used the toilet – grateful that there was toilet paper – and washed her face, rinsing out her mouth. She needed a shower, but she knew she’d fall asleep in the stall.
Eric was waiting for her, already naked, when she emerged, and he took her into his arms again.
“My lover, I need…” he began, and she felt his desire through the bond.
They’d survived an attack. They were safe. Now was the time to reestablish their connection. She only wished she wasn’t too tired to do it.
“Oh, Eric. I don’t know if I can. I’m so tired…”
“Shhhhh. Let me take care of everything,” he whispered, caressing her arms and sides. “I’ll be very gentle.”
Her body started reacting despite her exhaustion, and she groaned in frustration. Her Viking just chuckled even as he began working on her clothes again. Off came her sweater and bra; off came her jeans and boots. Her panties were last, and he laid her on the bed, pulling back the dark colored duvet to set her on the warmer blanket. He kept his word and was very, very gentle. In fact, if it hadn’t been impossible to ignore his gracious plenty sliding into her, she would have barely known what was happening.
Still, the act of joining with him was a profound and moving event, no matter what circumstances, and she found herself clinging to him as he rode her slowly, bringing them both to a sweet and sublime release. He sunk his fangs into the brachial artery under her arm, in keeping with his habit of only biting her where the marks wouldn’t readily show, and took a few sips before licking the wounds closed.
In the aftermath, he gathered her close, tucking them both under the covers, and held her in a protective embrace. She was floating, drifting on the edge of exhaustion and sexual satisfaction when she wondered if she ought to get up to put on a nightgown.
‘No,’ her lover sent, his voice a sibilant, sultry whisper in her mind. ‘In my bed you are naked. You may, of course, go to your own room just across the hall, and you may put on a nightgown to sleep in that bed. But here, my lover, I want to feel your skin.’
She wanted to argue, but then realized she was just too damn comfortable to bother butting heads with him. He might have enjoyed his victory. He might have even given her nipples a couple of gentle licks to celebrate his win, but she wasn’t certain because she was already asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When she woke the room was dark, but she was sure several hours had passed because she felt somewhat rested. She lay quiet, peering into the darkness, trying to piece together her memories of last night, and she remembered the fight, the clean up, telling off Alcide, and Eric carrying her to a little house in the woods. She remembered having sex with her Viking right before she’d passed out – without getting up for a post-coital wash. Ick. And she hadn’t showered to get the blood and vampire guts out of her hair. Double ick. And she’d slept on the new bed and clean sheets, too. Her Gran was rolling in her grave.
She groaned and shifted, coming aware that Eric was still in bed with her. She was on her back and he was curled against her side, his strong arm resting across her ribcage, just under her breasts. Since it had to be after dawn, he must be in his daytime sleep, but he’d chosen to remain in bed with her rather than seek a safer shelter.
‘Although, this room certainly is dark enough,’ she thought. She could barely make out the outlines of the two windows shrouded in thick, light-blocking curtains and room-darkening blinds. Still, it was a big risk. Pull aside those coverings and the sunlight might reach the bed… ‘He must feel perfectly safe here.’
She yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then she stretched, gently removing Eric’s arm from across her body and placing it next to her on the mattress. Her Viking didn’t budge. Yep, definitely asleep. She could hardly see in the darkness so she rooted around a bit until she found his face and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” she said softly, then rolled to her back again in preparation for getting out of bed. Shower. Wash hair. Brush teeth. Then what? She wondered what time it was.
‘It’s just after eleven.’
She squeaked and nearly jumped out of bed, but Eric’s hand grabbed her arm and held her still.
“You’re awake!” she blurted.
“Yes.”
He moved, she heard the rustling of the covers, then a touch lamp on the bedside table closest to Eric came on to its lowest setting, softly illuminating the room without being too much of a shock to her eyes. Her blue-eyed Viking blinked, as if being awake was alien to him – which, of course, it was – and looked at her, a small smirk on his face.
“How?” she gasped.
He blew in her direction in answer, and she caught the strong scent of mint.
“You used one of the mint leaves Eros gave you.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“How is it working? How do you feel?”
“Odd. My body knows it’s daytime and wants to sleep, but my mind is alert and aware. Eros was right, I am fully functional.”
“Why did you use one? This means we only have four left,” she questioned, worried. If Victor was after them, they would need all the help they could get.
“I deemed it necessary. After last night’s attack, I knew I couldn’t waste eight hours waiting for nightfall. I’ve been on the phone since offices opened on the East Coast. I’m setting things in place that, if we have to run, we’ll be able to get out of Louisiana fast.”
“How do you know no one was listening in on your calls? Someone knew we were getting back last night. We don’t know if whoever it is was intercepting your emails or tapping into Fangtasia’s Internet,” she said, worried.
“One of the things I did while waiting for the Were to bring you to me last night was buy a bunch of disposable cell phones. They’re not traceable,” he told her reassuringly. “Until we know if Felipe is involved, and how deep we’re in, we will use them and not our normal cell phones for conversations we don’t want traced. We should still use our phones, however, for normal conversations. I want us to pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Let Victor stew a bit, wondering what went wrong.”
She smiled. Her Viking was proving why he was a thousand years old while many other vamps ended up dead for good before they reached two hundred.
“Will we tell Pam the truth?”
“Yes. And Bill. We will not tell them we know it is Victor, that is our secret alone, but we will tell them about the attack. They will also have to move pieces into place if we have to run. If I have to abdicate, they will be prime targets. I would not endanger them more than necessary.”
“Pam, I can understand, but why Bill? I thought you hated him.” Not that she was unhappy that Eric was looking after Bill’s safety, but it seemed odd.
“I don’t hate Bill. I hate what he did. He usurped my authority and went behind my back, twice. He lied to you and hurt you terribly, twice – no, three times. But he is my subject, and he is loyal to me. I am responsible for him. His computer skills make him very attractive to other kingdoms. If I have to abandon my Area, I want him to be able to find a safe haven outside of Felipe’s territory,” he said, but she knew that wasn’t all of it.
“And you know I would be unhappy if something were to happen to him,” she commented.
He nodded. “There is that. I don’t want you displeased with me because you can make me suffer more than anyone else. And, if he is dead, then I will not be able to lord my victory of winning you over him.” He added the last bit with a smug smirk on his face.
“You are going to give him a pair of my panties, aren’t you?” she questioned unhappily.
He grinned. “It was your idea, my lover, not mine.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m all scummy. I didn’t even have the energy to clean up after we had sex last night,” she said, setting her feet on the floor. It was warm. It had to have that radiant heat thing installed under the wood. She sighed with happiness.
“I cleaned you.”
“You did?” she asked, looking at him. Come to think of it, she didn’t feel as sticky or dirty as she ought to down there.
He leaned back on one arm and gave her an impish smile. “You didn’t even budge when I washed you. I’ve heard of screwing someone unconscious, but that was taking it to an extreme.”
She snorted. “Consider it a testament to your skill in bed,” she jibed, rising to her feet.
He laughed and grabbed her from behind before she’d even heard him move. He kissed her shoulder and pulled her against him, one hand on her lower abdomen.
“Want company? I can wash your back for you.”
“I thought I was being punished. Two weeks showering alone, remember?” she reminded teasingly.
“I’m willing to make an exception this one time. It’s a new bathroom, never been used. We should… christen it properly.”
“Seriously? You’ve never used it?”
He peered at her over her shoulder and nodded. “My first night here was the night before I came to get you for our trip. Before then I’d only stopped here briefly to make sure everything was to my standards,” he answered, guiding her towards the opulent bathroom.
“This is where you were when you got to my house so fast that night.”
“Yes.”
He turned the lights on, including the warm heat lamp positioned above the shower stall, and showed her another switch. “This one turns on the radiant heat in the floor.”
“Oohh, no cold toes in the morning?” she asked happily.
“Not a single one,” he confirmed with a wry smile.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Hmmmm, I think you’ve neglected to tell me those words for at least six hours,” he answered, reaching into the shower stall to turn on the water.
She sidled up to him, her hands reaching around to cup his butt as she smiled up at him. “I love you.”
He sighed with pleasure and bent down to kiss her. His mouth tasted of mint.
“That’s really interesting,” she commented. “What does it taste like for you?”
“I knew mint from when I was human. We used it in our cooking, and it was good for stomachaches, so this flavor is not unknown to me, but it is still strange.”
“Is it disintegrating in your mouth?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s just sitting there under my tongue.”
“That must feel weird.”
He shrugged. “As weird as having mint in my mouth at all? Yes.”
The water was ready and they both got into the shower. Obviously Eric hadn’t had time to put in the same kind of showerhead they had loved so much on Isle Elena, but it did have a handheld massager, and they made good use of that.
Much to her surprise, while fooling around did happen, they did not make love, and Eric actually rushed the shower a little bit. He explained himself as they were getting dressed, his mood becoming more and more tense as the morning went on.
“There is much for you to do today, my lover. I am going to need you to go to your house and enlist the help of the witch who lives with you.”
“Amelia?”
“Yes. We need something that will disrupt an ectoplasmic reconstruction spell.”
She gasped. “So if Victor sends a witch to find out what happened, all he’ll get is static.”
He nodded. “Exactly. I can’t even begin to tell you the trouble we would be in if Victor discovered the power in my Hammer.”
She gulped, fear making her shiver. Eric’s strength poured into her, grounding her and calming her down.
“Okay. Okay. But how will I get there? Your car is back at the airfield. Do you want me to call her?”
“No. The location of this house is known only to you and me. Not even Pam knows I have this one,” he answered, taking her by the hand and guiding her out of the bedroom.
There were no windows in the hallway, but she could see light coming in from the front of the house. She remembered Eros’s warning about how the leaves would keep Eric awake, but not protect him from sunlight. Elena’s ring was supposed to do that, but they knew it would eventually wear off, and they had no idea how long the ring would last. It was best not to use it of they didn’t have to.
“There are blinds on all of the windows,” he told her.
She was already two steps ahead of him. “I’ll go close them,” she said and moved down the hall.
Now that it was daytime, it was much easier to see the inside of the house. There was a lovely fireplace in the living room with a white mantle, and everything was done in white trim. The walls were papered with a delicate flower pattern with complementary curtains in yellow, blue and mauve. The couch, loveseat and wide, high-backed chair were floral too, plush and comfortable, and the cocktail and side tables were a warm cherry wood. The whole scene looked like something straight out of the JCPenney catalog. Actually, the whole house looked like something out of the JCPenney catalog.
The front and side windows both looked out onto the tall trees that surrounded the property, and she got a look at the diffused sunlight coming through the branches as she twisted the blinds closed. She did the same in the dining room and the kitchen. Both rooms were also picture-perfect representations of a middle-class, Southern home. The dining room set was honey pine with six chairs and a corner china hutch. The kitchen cabinetry was light-colored wood, and the countertops were a tan-colored solid surface. All of the appliances were white.
The more she looked at it, the more she realized that the house had been decorated to her tastes because she could not imagine her Viking picking out some of the color schemes she was seeing. The revelation took her back a step or two, but she rallied quickly and finished securing the blinds.
“Okay. It’s safe,” she called.
Eric came down the hall, his eyes a little wide and fearful. He trusted the Goddess to keep Her word, but the very act of tempting the fates was obviously scary for him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I haven’t been willingly awake in the daytime in a thousand years. No, I am not okay, but I am… alright.”
Still, he kind of scuttled a bit, casting nervous glances at the windows. Maybe he expected the blinds to spontaneously combust and let the light hit him. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just his own inherent terror of daylight. It had been lethal to him for a thousand years, after all.
“There’s no sunlight. You shouldn’t need to use the power in the ring,” she assured him as he put himself into the farthest corner of the kitchen, the greatest distance away from the windows and doors.
He shook his head. “No. One of the reasons I chose this house was because it was surrounded by trees. Very little direct sunlight ever reaches it.”
Okay, that was her opportunity to start asking questions. “Why did you buy this house?”
“I am always looking for new places to nest. I buy and sell property regularly. I wanted a house closer to Bon Temps, and I found this one on the Internet,” he answered.
“You went house hunting on the Internet?” she interrupted, a smile on her face.
“The advent of the Internet revolutionized our lives, my lover. I was able to search for a new house, explore it without ever setting foot inside it, and research its location, tax burden and amenities without ever leaving my office. I was able to contract an inspector, hire a realtor and retain a lawyer to broker my offers, and buy the place pretty much sight unseen.”
He was giving the cabinetry a critical look-over as if the handles on the doors were the most interesting things in the world.
“It smells new,” she commented.
“Yes. It was just completed two months ago. I bought it a week after it went up for sale.”
“Wow.” Two months ago, Eric hadn’t remembered their time together. Was he looking to have a place closer to her even before he’d…
“Yes,” her lover replied, reading her thoughts. “I was seeking to be closer to you even then. To be honest, I was planning it in Rhodes, after we’d blood-bonded again, but the hotel bombing postponed my plans for a few weeks. But that worked in my favor, because I would have missed out on this house if I’d started my search earlier.”
“Did you buy it for me?” she asked.
“Not for you, no. But I did buy it with you in mind. I thought you would like it as a neutral meeting place that was private and secluded without any roommates to worry about,” he admitted.
“I like how you decorated it.”
He smiled a genuine smile and went to the refrigerator where he took out a bottle of TrueBlood to heat up in the microwave.
“There’s also some food here for you. I grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the deli counter at the truck stop last night.”
She stepped around him and peered into the fridge to find a turkey sandwich and a chicken Caesar wrap.
“Thank you, Eric,” she said, reaching for the wrap.
“Anything for you, my lover,” he said, sipping his blood. She didn’t ask him how he was managing to drink and keep the mint leaf under his tongue at the same time.
“So you bought this house without anyone really knowing,” she commented.
“Yes, I bought it under the alias of Tom Collins.”
She choked on a laugh. “You’re joking.”
He shook his head.
“And no one thought that was strange?” she scoffed, taking a bite of the wrap. It was pretty good.
“No. I’ll have you know that I once purchased a car under the name of Brandy Alexander, and not only did they not figure out I wasn’t human, they also never realized that I wasn’t female.”
That got her and she almost snorted her food. Eric yanked open the nearest cabinet as she started coughing, grabbed a glass tumbler and filled it with water from the tap.
“Here, my lover,” he said, offering her the drink.
She accepted it, still coughing a little bit, and took a sip. “Thanks.”
He gave her a little shrug.
“I don’t want to know,” she said, shaking her head.
“It was San Francisco in the 80’s. Need I say more?”
“No,” she answered, still chuckling.
He gave her a smile, finished his drink and rinsed the bottle out in the sink. She polished off her wrap and water.
“So, how am I getting back to Bon Temps?”
He motioned towards the door in the kitchen that led outside. She walked over to it and opened to find that it opened onto the one-car garage where a very plain, four-door, dark blue sedan was sitting – all shiny and new.
“A new car, Eric?” she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.
“My Corvette is too conspicuous. That is a car that will never turn anyone’s head,” he commented. “Everything about this place is normal. No one would ever suspect that a vampire was staying here, and that’s the way I wanted it to look. Not even the lawyer who negotiated the deal for me knew I was a vamp. He thought I was a wealthy businessman looking to buy property in Louisiana.”
“He didn’t have a clue?”
He gave her a look. “Most humans don’t have a clue. How do you think we managed to live among you undetected for thousands of years? The vast majority of you are ridiculously naïve.”
She closed the door and went to stand by him. “If we’d met before the Great Revelation, what would you have done? I mean, I would have known there was something… off about you.”
He dropped his eyes, his emotions suddenly sad and resigned. “Honestly? If I… had suspected that you were a danger to me, I… I would probably have killed you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He looked stricken. “You must understand, Sookie, my lover, that I’d spent centuries in secrecy. I…”
She put her hand on his lips. “It’s okay. I understand. I guess I was really lucky that we didn’t meet until after the vamps went public,” she said, trying to brush it off.
“We both were. If I’d have killed you, I would have missed out on one of the greatest things in my life. I’m so glad…”
He stopped and simply hugged her. She allowed it, feeling his love and turmoil in the bond.
“It’s okay, really.”
He sighed and held her a bit longer before pulling away.
“Now, you must go, my lover. It might take your witch a little while to make up something that can disrupt the reconstruction spell, and it needs to be done before nightfall. I am sure Victor was expecting some kind of confirmation from his people that the deed was done last night, and he will wonder when it does not come. No doubt he will send someone to investigate. He might even come up to Shreveport himself.”
“What do I tell Amelia? What if she says there’s nothing she can do or if she says she has to do it herself? Can I tell Octavia about it too?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Tell them only what you feel is necessary. If your witch needs help, use your best judgment. I trust you.”
Those words made her shiver, and she was reminded of how she’d felt when Pam had placed an amnesiac Eric in her care. She set her jaw and gathered her courage.
“Okay. How do I get to Bon Temps from here and how do I get back to the airfield?”
“There is a map of Louisiana in the car. Bring it to me, and I will show you.”
She went immediately into the garage and opened the car, noting that it was a Ford Taurus and the keys were in the ignition. She retrieved the map from the glove compartment and brought it back in to Eric. When she returned, she found him in the living room, still keeping to the shadows, but scribbling on a notepad that had been kept in a drawer in one of the end tables.
He’d already drawn a crude map for her, and he spent the next few minutes giving her directions and showing her where the airfield was on the map.
“Are you comfortable with where you’re going?” he asked.
She nodded, not completely sure, but fairly confident that she wouldn’t get lost.
“All right. It’s almost noon. You need to go if you are to have enough time to do what you have to do,” he said, clearly not liking the idea of her going anywhere without him, but knowing he had no choice.
She reached out and took his hand. “It’s daytime. I’ll be okay. I’ll also look into what Tray found out about your car.”
“Please be careful. If you sense anything amiss, any hint of danger, run to where you know you will be safe. Either come here or get to your shifter boss’s bar. Both places will be secure,” he said, an edge of concern in his voice.
“Can I tell Sam about what happened?”
“Only as much as you tell the witch. No matter what, we must leave Victor’s name out of it. He must not know that we know he’s plotting against us.”
He reached over to the side table and picked up a little, black cell phone. “Here. Use this if you need to call me. I have already programmed the number for my disposable cell into it,” he said, giving her the phone.
She took it and pocketed it quickly. “Okay. Thanks.”
“We cannot be too careful, lover. Victor and Felipe are cunning and ruthless. We must be smarter and faster to keep ahead of them,” he warned.
“Do you really think Felipe would try to kill us even after I saved his life?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I have no idea what his motivations would be. He was the one who chose to leave me in place. That makes no sense if he intended to kill me after all.”
“So you think it’s Victor acting on his own then.”
“I think that is more likely, although – again – why? He could have rejected my surrender and killed me anyway on the night he had your house surrounded,” he wondered, his brows drawn.
“Witnesses,” she pointed out.
He nodded. “There is that.”
They stood and she took a deep breath, preparing to leave. Eric stopped her and drew her close, his lips pressing against her temple.
“Dear One, I…”
“I know. I’m scared too, but we’re going to be okay. We can do this,” she assured him, feeling his tension and unhappiness in the bond.
“I will give you all the strength I can. I will be with you as much as I am able.”
“We should see how far apart we have to be before we can’t hear each other anymore.”
“Yes, that would be a good exercise,” he agreed, letting her go reluctantly.
She stepped back, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, lover. Be brave. Do me proud.”
“I will. I promise.”
With a final kiss, she slipped out of his grasp and headed out the garage door. She didn’t look back. She knew if she did, she’d never find the strength to leave him. She pressed a button on the garage wall to open the wide door and got into the car. It started on the first try, purring like a contented cat, and handled like a dream as she backed it out of the garage and carport and turned it around to head down the long, tree-lined driveway.
In the daylight, she could see that the little house was pale yellow with a tin roof and white trim. It looked like one of those pre-fab houses designed and sold after the hurricanes ravaged Louisiana; little one-story homes that could be constructed in a matter of weeks instead of months. They were ideal, small dwellings that fit right into the Southern landscape with their pitched roofs and wide porches begging for a rocking chair, and this one was no exception. It was the kind of place she might have bought if she ever decided to sell her Gran’s house and use the money to buy a newer home, and seeing it choked her up. Eric might not have bought the house for her, but he’d definitely had considered her tastes when he chose it.
‘Yes,’ his mindvoice whispered softly. ‘I wanted you to love it. I wanted you to be happy here.’
‘I do. It’s beautiful.’
She guided the car down the driveway and turned left at the end as Eric had instructed her. She kept an eye on the odometer, marking the distance as she and Eric maintained contact, checking in with each other every few moments, even falling back on that stupid cell phone commercial.
‘Can you hear me now?’
‘Yes.’
‘How about now?’
‘Yes.’
And on and on until he started fading out at about the three mile mark, and they lost contact completely after five. She could still feel him, though, humming along at the back of her mind, his strength bolstering her whenever she started to get the jitters. She merged onto the main road and headed for Bon Temps. It wasn’t far, and the house was on the Bon Temps side of Ruston so that made it that much closer. She was turning onto Hummingbird Road in about twenty minutes, and then easing down her driveway a couple of minutes later. She prayed Amelia would be home.
Amelia was not only home; she came running out the moment she heard a car outside the house. Octavia wasn’t far behind her, and both women practically mobbed the car as soon as she got it parked.
“Tray called! He told us everything! Are you okay? Where did you get this car? Is Eric in the trunk? Where’ve you been?” her friend exclaimed, taking personal liberties as she checked her for injuries.
Well, so much for keeping a lid on things. Eric was going to be so pissed, but at least it made life easier for her.
“I’m fine. The car is Eric’s. No, he’s not in the trunk. We holed up in a safe place until after dawn, then Eric told me to come here. We need your help,” she replied, extracting herself from Amelia’s hands.
“What do you need? A reconstruction so you can identify the vamps who jumped you?” Amelia asked.
“No. I need something that will keep someone else from casting their own, something that will disrupt the signal.”
“You wanna conceal what happened,” Octavia said shrewdly. ‘She already knows who attacked them.’
“Yes,” she confirmed, answering both of the older witch’s statements.
“Strong electromagnetic fields can disrupt ecoplasmic signals. Some ghost hunters get rid of residual hauntings by putting TVs and speakers and stuff in the room with the haunting and clearing the ectoplasmic field that way,” Amelia offered.
“The area we need to disrupt is a bit bigger than a room,” she replied.
“We need a big electromagnet and some cleansing herbs to clear the area,” Octavia announced. “There’s a clearing spell we can cast that should wipe out the field completely, so’s anyone trying to do a reconstruction would get nothing.”
She gave the woman a huge smile. “That’s what we need. Where can we get a big magnet?”
“Tray’ll can probably borrow one from one of the salvage yards he works with,” Amelia said. “We need to call him anyway. He has Eric’s car at his place. He says it’s clean.”
“Did he tell you Eric found a bomb in it last night?”
“Yeah, but he also said whoever set it was an idiot, and it would never have gone off.”
“The bomb was a fake?” she blurted.
“Oh no, the C-4 was real enough, but whoever made it didn’t use a blasting cap. C-4 needs more juice than the zap from an ignition switch to set it off,” Amelia explained.
“Oh, so it was a dud then.”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, what do we need? We have to get started. Eric said we need to have the spell cast before nightfall.”
“Before whoever sent the welcoming committee sends someone to find out what happened,” Octavia observed.
She nodded.
“I’ve got most of what I need in the house, but we’ll need to stop at store I know in Shreveport,” the older witch said.
“And we need to stop at Tray’s shop,” Amelia added.
“Then we’ve got no time to waste,” she said.
Octavia and Amelia ran back into the house to get the things that they needed, and they were on the road to Shreveport in ten minutes.
“I called Tray,” Amelia said as she got into the passenger front seat of the car. “He’s going to meet us at the airfield with the electromagnet, but after that we’re supposed to go back with him and get Eric’s car. He says having a vamp’s Corvette sitting at his shop is bad for business.”
“Umm… how about you and Octavia go with him and bring the Corvette to my house? You can drive stick, right?” she answered. “I need to get back to Eric as soon as possible.”
“Umm, sure, if you don’t think Mr. Head Vamp is going to mind my driving his precious ‘Vette.”
She shook her head. “He’ll understand, I’m sure. Thanks Amelia. Thanks Octavia. I owe you both so much.”
“You let us live in your house for a fraction of what you could charge us. We owe you,” Octavia argued.
“Besides, if anything happens to you, we lose our best roomie,” Amelia added cheerfully.
“That’s good to know,” she joked weakly, merging onto I-20 and heading west towards Shreveport. She had to keep herself from getting off Exit 86 as they passed it at… well… considerably faster than the allotted speed limit. Thank God both passengers in the car had Wicca Radar.
“Whoa, Sook, are you channeling Eric or something?” Amelia asked.
“I’m just anxious. We need to get this done before nightfall. And I have to get back to Eric,” she answered, ignoring the digital speedometer on the dashboard.
There was a moment of silence, then Amelia spoke softly, “You renewed your blood bond.”
She clenched her teeth and squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yes,” she finally answered.
Amelia sighed. “It’s about effing time. Pam’s going to be so relieved.”
“You’re probably the only human I know who is going to be happy for me.”
The young witch shrugged. “You could do worse, and Eric’s really hot. Pam tells me he’s amazing in bed.”
She blushed.
“So did he make a big thing out of it or did he just bite you?”
It seemed a very personal question and she almost didn’t answer it, but she owed Amelia a whole lot, and she knew her friend was just curious. She took one hand off the wheel to pull out the necklace Eric had given her from under her sweater.
“He gave me this,” she said, holding up the pendant so Amelia could see. She saw Octavia lean forward to look herself.
“Oh wow. Do you know what that is?” Amelia asked.
“It’s the sacred marriage of Freyr and Gerda the Frost Giantess,” she replied.
“It’s a goldgubbe. The design is ancient. I wonder how old it is,” her friend added.
“I have no idea,” she answered, then pulled into the parking lot of the herbal and natural remedies store Octavia had directed her to.
She parked the Ford and they got out, going into the store. She wandered the aisles, perusing all the aromatherapy products they had to offer, and taking note of some of them that she might want to buy for her and Eric at a later date. Octavia wasted no time in finding what they needed, and they were back on the road by 1:30pm.
Tray was waiting for them in his pick-up when they pulled into the airfield, and she was so proud of herself because she didn’t miss the turn. The Were got out when they pulled up and leaned against the side of the truck while she parked the car. Other than the four of them, the airfield was deserted, and in the daylight, she could see that the runway looked neglected and invaded with grass in all the cracks.
“Did you get the magnet?” Amelia asked.
The Were nodded. “I brought mine from my shop. I have a 12” electromagnet for picking up engines. We need to find somewhere to plug it in.”
“I’m sure there’s power in the hangar,” she said.
“I brought a long extension cord,” he stated, following her into the hangar.
“How did the Hellers’ Packmaster take the news last night?” she asked, scouting out a power source.
“Not well. They smelled vamp on them. Your bloodsucker should expect a visit from one of them at his bar pretty soon.”
She cringed. “Okay. I’ll tell Eric.” It was one more thing she and Eric would have to deal with… later. She found an outlet on one of the walls. “Will this do?”
Tray shook his head. “Need 220. We need to find the box. There should be a 220 near it.”
They scouted around some more and finally found what they were looking for against the far wall. Tray went out to get his extension cord so he could plug in the magnet.
While she and Tray were in the hangar, Amelia and Octavia were setting up outside in the area she had pointed out as Ground Zero for the attack. They had Tray put the magnet in the center of the active area, and then everyone had to remove anything that might be magnetic before Tray turned it on. Once they were set, Tray flipped a switch and all hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end from the power of the electromagnetic field the thing was putting out.
Over the course of the next half-hour, Octavia and Amelia cast their cleansing spells and had Tray move the electromagnet around the area where the fight occurred to make sure that all of the ectoplasmic field was disrupted before calling it quits. Both witches were pretty worn out by the time it was all over, and she felt really bad because she hadn’t been able to do anything to help.
“I’m so sorry guys. Really I am,” she apologized.
“Did you send those dead guys after you?” Octavia asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Then none of this is your fault,” the older witch insisted.
“We need to find out why they were after you, and how they found out you guys were here,” Amelia said.
“Eric and I are working on that, but I want you guys to stay as far away from it as possible, please. Eric is going to have a security company install a new system at the house, and we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. You guys are going to have to be okay with that.”
“Hey, I rented to your cousin, Hadley, and I dated Pam,” Amelia answered.
“And I’m a witch from New Orleans. We were up to our elbows in vampires. You’ll get no flack from me,” Octavia assured her.
She looked at Tray who shrugged. “Hey, I don’t live with you, and I owe you for setting me up with Amelia. I guess the vamp is all right as long he takes care of you.”
She gave him a smile and thanked them all again. “I’ll see you all later back at my house, but it’s going to be sunset soon and I need to get back to Eric,” she said, looking at her watch. It was approaching 4 pm. She’d been gone four hours, and she could feel Eric getting antsy. She gave Amelia and Octavia a hug, then made her good-byes.
“Have fun driving the Corvette,” she called over her shoulder as she hopped into the Ford and took off.
She could feel Eric’s growing excitement as she drove up to I-20, and she pressed a little harder down on the pedal, praying no police officers would try to stop her on her way back to him.
888888
Eric POV
When she is gone, he feels bereft. The bond stretches, desperate tendrils reaching out to find his missing half, but he knows she is well out of range now. Her lifeforce still thrums in his veins, though, that part of their connection can never be broken, and he takes some small comfort in that. Knowing she goes off into potential danger without him by her side… that is an agony he dislikes with a passion.
But Sookie has always gone blithely into danger; even making incredibly stupid choices that put her into even more danger. Like insisting on saving her unfaithful ex even after she’d been staked or trying to save a gas station clerk. Like going to an orgy just to find a murderer and asking an even bigger murderer along as protection. Like holding onto a bomb instead of throwing it at the dead guy or running back into a burning hotel to save even more dead guys. Like coming to get him and Pam instead of escaping herself when the hotel started to blow.
His Sookie has never thought of herself first. It’s what makes it so hard for him to keep her alive. It butts against his own well-honed sense of self-preservation.
She is so much trouble.
But he knew that. Possibly even before he’d ever known her name. What had Bill said that first night in Fangtasia when he’d brought his innocent little bird into the bar? “You look like a white candle in a coal mine.” Oh how right he had been. Bill’d had no idea even then.
‘I should have killed her when I had the chance,’ he thinks. He can think it now. She won’t hear him, won’t sense the despair and hopelessness he feels whenever he thinks of her humanity, her mortal lifespan.
But had he ever been able to kill her or had he been lost the moment their eyes met? He doesn’t know, and it doesn’t bear dwelling on now. He is in love. He has blood-bonded again. He can only hope that this bonding goes better than the last.
His well-developed and cultivated pragmatism has rarely failed him. Now that he has surrendered to his feelings, there is no going back, only going forward with Sookie at his side – for better or worse, til death do they part. Yadda yadda and all that human sentimental crap, but it’s his life now so he’d best suck it up. And really, he wouldn’t change anything anyway.
Sookie is his white candle in his coal mine. She fills the black void Svala left behind, healed the scarred and calloused wound on his heart.
There were days he’d hated her for that, for making him feel again, for bringing all that pain back up to the surface. He’d wanted to choke the life right out of her for causing him so much turmoil and throwing his well-ordered life into so much chaos, but he hadn’t; he couldn’t even before she’d tasted his blood, and once she had… even that tiny drop she’d licked from her lips in Dallas had been the beginning of the end. Once he’d known her heart, it was all over. Nothing left but the crying and gnashing of teeth and the eventual capitulation, the acknowledgement that he was helpless against her. The once great Viking brought to his knees by a silly, mortal girl.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
But it could have been much worse, really. And in the end, he’d won. The little bird is his, maybe not so innocent anymore, but that can only be a good thing. He’ll take the blinders off her slowly so she isn’t too scared when she sees his true face. Or maybe the truth is she’s already seen his true face, and it’s the one he’s kept buried for seven hundred years.
Perhaps he is the one who should be scared.
But he’s too happy to be afraid. For all the danger that now swirls around them, he can only be exhilarated by the prospect of fighting with her by his side. She will be his Valkryie, his shining shield maiden, the one who will not shrink from the danger but thrust herself into it. She is already halfway there. Look at her! She stood up in the midst of battle and reached for his sword. She channeled his skill as if she had been doing it all of her life, and she had dispatched her enemy with a single strike. She will be glorious when he is done with her. Mortals and immortals alike will tremble at her feet.
And on that note, he makes his way back to the darkened bedroom. He knows she will be gone for a time, and, while the magic leaf in his mouth is keeping him awake, his body knows it is daytime and it’s confused. His soul shrieks every time he looks at the windows. He admits to being curious, and even a little daring, when he pulls aside a tiny corner of the curtains and blinds on the window and sticks his pinky finger into the light.
His natural instinct is to run from the brightness, but he makes himself stay still, and he watches in fascination as the sunlight reflects off his white skin. No pansy-ass sparkles here, only the pallor of death, but he laughs anyway, thumbing his nose at the sun and his enemies who are forced to sleep this day in darkness and vulnerability.
‘I win, you spineless cowards,’ he says to himself. ‘I’ll be the last one standing after the rest of you have turned to dust.’
He pulls his hand back and lets the curtains fall into place. He does not know how much power the Goddess was able to infuse into the ring, and he feels he has used it enough for trivial things. He turns from the window and picks up the disposable cell phone. He hates technology, but he loves what it can do for him. He makes a few more calls, moving assets mostly into new accounts under different names – he even sets one up with Sookie named on the authorized users list, just in case. The debit card associated with it will arrive at her house in two days. He’ll explain it to her then. She’ll balk and get stubborn, but she’ll take it once she understands that it is an avenue of last resort. Once he puts it to her that way, he knows she will give in.
He doesn’t care what she does with the money. She could go on a shopping spree and blow the whole wad on shoes, but he knows she won’t. He knows if she uses it, it will be for something she needs that she can’t get any other way, or because the unspeakable has happened and they have become separated. But he is doing everything in his power to make sure that unspeakable thing does not happen.
He manages to get in touch with the security company he wants to hire to put in the alarm and monitoring system at Sookie’s house. He speaks with someone under the guise of being his own daytime man, Bobby Burnham. He’ll brief Bobby later and let him wonder why the call was made in the daytime, or maybe he’ll just glamour the man so he doesn’t ask questions. Bobby, as a whole, is useful, but he’s a bit of a nosy asshole, and he knows from Pam, via Amelia, that the man was rude to Sookie at the airport before the flight to Rhodes. That will be changing very soon.
As soon as he makes his announcement, anyone who speaks badly of his bonded will be harshly dealt with. He knows some women would let their position as his mate go to their heads, but he knows his Sookie will never abuse her power, and for that he is grateful. It will make demanding loyalty to her easier if she isn’t a bitch to his subjects, which she isn’t, and most of those in his retinue won’t bat an eye when he makes their relationship official anyway.
When he is finished making his calls, he fishes a whetting stone out from one of the pockets of his bag, then he picks up his sword and slides it from the sheath. He sits down on the edge of the large bed and begins to hone the blade. The action is familiar and comforting, the act of sliding the stone along the edge of the sword is a meditative process for him.
His father gave him the sword when he became a man. From that moment on he’d been the clan leader-in-training, knowing that someday he would be ruler of their lands. He’d also known, on that fateful day when he and his clansmen had gone off to make war upon the Demon Queen’s lands, that it would be his last season as a bachelor. He knew his father was in negotiations with a neighboring clan to broker an alliance-marriage. He’d seen the girl a time or two, and she’d been alright. Big breasted, large hips. His father had said she’d be good for bearing sons. He’d known better than to argue.
There were advantages to being married, and the alliance would help his father. If he found his wife distasteful, he could always send someone to Birka for a concubine that was more suited to his preferences. So he was willing to do his father’s bidding and marry the girl that had been chosen for him, do his husbandly duty and become a father himself, and take on the mantle of a married man.
He laughs softly. What would his bonded think of all of that? She who loves her freedom so much. She would be appalled to learn that no one had any say in who they married back then. Everything was arranged, and if she thought the world was full of political maneuverings now, well… She had no idea.
A willful girl like Sookie would have had no place in his world, and her father would have beaten it out of her long before it had had a chance to bloom, probably breaking her in the process.
He frowns; the image of his Valkyrie broken is unsettling to him. He hopes he will never have to raise his hand to her. He raised his hand to Pam, but he chose punishments based more on humiliation than actual pain. His child was proud, and it hurt her more to wound that pride than it did to break her skin. He remembers spanking her, putting her across his knee to deliver the swats to her bare bottom. He’d done it in front of witnesses, too. The punishment worked to get his point across, but the effect was disturbing. She began bringing a paddle to bed with her, and he’d had no taste for that.
Individuals who like to be hurt for sex have always bothered him. He will play the dominant if that is what his partner wants, but he takes no pleasure in it. If the punishment ends with a willing feed and sex, then it serves to meet his needs, but it brings him no emotional satisfaction, and he must admit that sex has been disturbingly empty lately.
Sex with Sookie however… He’d forgotten how wonderful it was to actually like the person he was with, to smile and laugh and be with someone for more than a single night of brief blood drinking and rough sex. Sookie has reawakened that part of him, and he finds the transition… rocky.
He knew something profound had happened between them during those days he had spent at her house. While he could not remember the events of those nights, he had felt the difference inside of him. The breaking of the bitch’s curse might have wiped his memory of those few days, but the changes wrought upon his soul were not so easily erased, and he could not reconcile what he was feeling with what his erstwhile blood-bonded was telling him. She’d had him in a terrible state, and it was worse when she was rejecting him and flaunting other men in his face.
Renewing their bond in Rhodes hadn’t been something that he’d planned ahead, but he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t jumped at the chance. By that time, he had already begun to consider Sookie as his in his mind, sifting through his feelings and coming to the undeniable conclusion that she had reached him in ways no one had reached in seven hundred years. He’d already decided that she would be his no matter what he had to do, and binding her to him instead of Andre only furthered his cause.
If that makes him a manipulative bastard, so be it. He’s never claimed to be a nice guy.
The sword gleams, the razor-sharp edge catching the light from the bedside lamp, and he looks at his reflection in the blade. It is the same face that has looked back at him for a thousand years, forever ageless and frozen in time at the moment of his turning. He hates and loves his maker for that. Only his eyes show his years, and even then only when he allows the mask to slip will someone who is observant enough be able to see the weight of the centuries he carries on his shoulders.
He gets tired. He admits it. The decades are like an endless road ahead of him that he must walk upon forever and never get to where he is going. For all too long he has walked that road alone, and he wonders how long his bonded will walk with him. To lose her will be a terrible thing. He might not survive it.
The blade is ready for whatever battles have yet to come. It feels good to hold it in his hand again, and he swings it, putting it through a series of training patterns that have been ingrained in him since he was old enough to walk. He moves with the sword, body and weapon in complete harmony, his muscles straining, his eyes sighted on the tip of the blade. He adds some techniques he learned during his tours of the Orient; flavors of Wushu and Kendo swordcraft that are more like dancing than fighting. His long broadsword is ill suited to the delicate patterns, but he is a big man, and he makes it work with all the vampire grace at his disposal.
No one would believe he could move so fluidly with the ancient blade. He can hack and slash, but he can also Embrace the Moon and Flick the Black Dragon’s Tail, and he does so with a lightness to his feet that belies his large frame. He spins and whirls, cutting off an imaginary foe’s legs, and then brings the pommel of the blade up to smash another’s jaw, before decapitating a third.
The pretend battle is exhilarating and he finds himself breathing even though he has no need to. This is his lifeblood: the life of the sword. His people were the Spartans of Scandinavia… without the severe lifestyle and gay sex. The Norsemen loved their beer, their lives and their women. They lived to drink, to fight, and to feel the blood pounding in their veins before they had to spill it on the earth. His dead heart no longer beats, but he still feels the rush of battle, the lust of war.
He finishes the form with a flourish, imagining Victor’s shocked face as he separates his head from his neck. That kill will be most satisfying, although he doubts it will come at the end of his blade at the finale of a long battle. No. Victor’s death will likely be done quickly and in secret, but he will savor it all the same.
The exercise has left him excited in more ways than one, and his bloodlust has morphed into another form of craving. His lover is far away, but he can easily conjure the memories of her lush, fragrant flesh, and his arousal is heightened by the leaf in his mouth. Eros is a god of sex, after all, and the flavor of desire is laced into the mint. The feeling is not unlike the effects of fairy blood, but perhaps his need is not so keen or desperate.
He remembers the last time he had undiluted fey blood, and what it did to him. He had been at the orgy he had mentioned to Sookie on the night she’d asked him to escort her to hers. He had told her that he’d worn an animal hide, but he hadn’t told her that he’d taken fifteen? Twenty? Women that night, some of them more than once, in his fairy blood spurred sexual frenzy. The fairy that had been served up as the donor had fared much, much worse.
He is well aware that three freeze-dried fae blood pods came home with them from Isle Elena. He knows that they will be almost full potency when they are reconstituted, and he questions the wisdom of that. Perhaps that will be a night when he allows her to bind him so he will not ravage her in his need, although what she could use to hold him down he does not know because his god-touched Hammer renders him immune to silver. Maybe for that one night, he will take it off. If they are safe enough for him to allow her to tie him up, it should be safe enough to set the relic aside.
The very thought of having her while he is high on fairy blood only feeds his growing need. His bonded will be in for a big surprise once she gets back, but for now he touches himself, teasing his excited body as he stretches out on the mattress. He does not allow himself to climax – that pleasure is reserved only for when he is with his mate – but he plays with his nipples through the fabric of his shirt and rubs his crotch in anticipation of her return.
He imagines her next to him, her sweet, succulent blood and hot, throbbing flesh. He moans and closes his eyes, replaying any number of heated embraces they have shared, recalling his favorites: the shower they shared, their First Time, their second First Time (Yes, he considers the first time on Isle Elena as a First Time because it was the first time they had both been in their right minds.), the night of their bonding… so many wonderful memories. It’s hard to choose which one stirs him more.
Sex with Sookie is so much more than physical release. It is the completion and perfection of their union, and cuddling with her afterwards is a pleasure in and of itself. Her soft, warm body next to his is a comfort long denied, and he aches for her like he would ache for a missing limb.
She cannot return fast enough.
He knows the moment she is on her way back. He can feel her joy and growing excitement. It is late in the day, but still well before sunset. No matter. The leaf is still going strong. He rises from the bed and makes his way out into the hall of the new house. The house he bought to be their sanctuary, the house he knew immediately that his lover would adore, with its metal roof and front porch and comfortable Southern Charm. He’d bought it on the day he’d found it listed on the real estate website. He hadn’t even haggled about the price. And he’d used all of his photographic memory of how his bonded had decorated her own home to guide him when he was furnishing the new one.
She comes back into mental range with a tentative touch.
‘Eric? Can you hear me?’
Such a miracle that mental connection. It will save both of their lives; he knows it. ‘Yes, my lover.’
‘I’m only five miles away.’
‘I await your return with bated breath,’ he answers, sending her a taste of his desire. He can feel her echoing need in the bond.
‘I’ll be there soon.’ Even her thoughts are trembling the way her body soon will be under his hands and mouth.
‘I will be here.’
Perhaps it is best to take care of business first, before they are reunited and caught up in their passions.
‘Were you successful in your mission?’ He suspects that she was because she is happy.
‘Oh yes. Anyone trying to reconstruct what happened will get nothing.’
‘Excellent, my lover. I knew you would come through for us.’
‘Amelia is bringing your car to my house. Tray said it was clean.’
‘You let the witch drive my car?’
She feels offended, but her ire only makes him smile. ‘Amelia is a fine driver and Octavia is with her. Your precious sports car will be fine.’
He laughs and he knows she can feel his amusement. ‘I will hold you to that, my lover. If there is so much as a scratch or a ding, I shall have to extract compensation from you.’
‘Oh, I’m sure we can work out some kind of… payment plan,’ she teases.
‘Please do not make me wish the witch has a fender bender on the way back.’
Her laughter is sparkling joy across the bond.
He can feel her approach. The bond is singing, and if his heart could beat it would be pounding, but there is something he needs from her, something precious and sacred. He hears the crunch of the tires on the gravel driveway, and he moves into the living room. The house faces East so the afternoon sunlight will be streaming into the clearing through the trees, but it will no longer come in through the front windows and the porch will be shrouded in shadows.
‘My lover, favor me?’ he asks, daring to approach the front door.
‘What is it?’
‘Park in the sunlight.’
He feels her confusion then knows the moment she understands because he senses the rush of surprise and tender affection.
‘Of course.’
He waits at the door, listening, and he hears the engine of the Ford turn off as the car comes to a stop, then the creak of metal as she opens the car door. His entire body is tingling, fear and the urge to scream and run make him shiver, but he fights it back as his hand closes on the knob. In a rush, he throws open the door and forces himself out onto the porch. His soul shrieks, but he swallows it, making himself stand still as his eyes adjust to the brightness.
She is there, standing in the light, the sun is bright on her golden hair, and he is frozen in the shade of the porch, staring at her. She sees him, and she looks as stunned as he is, looking at him lurking in the shadows. Light and dark. Life and Death. The angel and the devil.
He takes a hesitant step forward, then another. Her eyes open wide with alarm.
“Eric,” she whispers, shaking her head. She is afraid for him, but he trusts the Goddess.
His foot touches the first step; the sunlight begins some few yards away where the shadow cast by the house ends, and he makes his way down to the front walk, placing one foot in front of the other, slow and deliberate. He never takes his eyes off of hers, and she is pinned by his gaze. She starts to come towards him, but he stops her.
‘No. Let me do this. I must do this.’
His soul continues shrieking with every step he takes closer to the deadly light, and he cannot help but feel a little bit of fear. Sookie is horrified, but trying to be brave, and he pauses at the edge of the shadow, his toe right on the brink of the light, then he lifts his arm and extends his hand.
He can feel the power of the ring flaring. It does not change color as his Hammer does, but he can sense a surge of energy as the protective magic envelops his exposed skin. His bonded gasps as he follows his hand into the light, and he sees tears well in her eyes as she covers her mouth with her fingers. He tries to reassure her with a small smile.
In the light, his skin is bleached bone white. He will never pass for human, unless he uses the paint women use on their faces to conceal their flaws. He has used this paint before, but not under so harsh a lens. He is so white, he is almost reflective, and his hair catches the dying light, sending off flashes of gold as he turns his head. He finds he must close his eyes as he moves to face the sun. If he could sweat, he’d be drenched, but that part of him died when he was turned. He steels himself and opens his eyes.
The sun is a golden orb of fire blazing in the late afternoon sky. It should be burning him to a crisp, but he feels nothing more than its warmth on his face. He laughs once, twice, a triumphant laugh as he opens his palms and lets the light pour over him.
His bonded touches him from behind, and he spins to face her. She is a vision, her face shocked as she touches him, and he cannot help but claim her lips in a heated kiss. She tastes of sunlight. He holds her face, mapping the facets of the light across her skin, drinking in the sight of her like her blood, until her pretty mouth turns into a frown.
‘Okay, that’s enough pushing it for now,’ she chides.
‘You are so beautiful.’
She blushes, but places both hands on his chest to give him a shove. He laughs but lets her push him back into the shade.
“We shouldn’t drain Elena’s ring,” she scolds.
“I want to make love to you in sunlight,” he admits, his thoughts turning amorous.
She is there, her warm, sweet blood calling to him, her heartbeat drumming in his ears. It’s a bit too fast. She is still frightened, but also becoming very turned on.
“Another time. After Victor is dead and we’re safe, and if there’s still power left in the ring,” she states.
“Why not now?”
“Because we’re in a heap of danger, and we may need that ring sometime soon for keeping you alive.”
He kisses her again, his higher brain functions quickly shutting down in a red haze of lust.
“When did you become the practical one of our pairing,” he complains.
‘When you stopped thinking with the head on your shoulders.’
He laughs into her mouth, but gives in. He knows that their time is limited. As soon as the sun sets, they must be on the move: going back to Bon Temps, pretending nothing happened, parting to go their separate ways for a few hours. He will hate to leave her, but Fangtasia calls and, if they are to keep Victor guessing, they must uphold the ruse.
He is undressing her before they are even in the door, and he is pleased to feel her doing the same. He grips her around the waist, she hooks her legs behind his back, and he carries her to the bedroom. Her only concession to her “no sex in sunlight” edict is she lets him open the curtains and blinds to allow the filtered daylight in. It does not reach the bed.
But what need does he have for daylight when his own personal sun shines upon him? He ponders this briefly as her skin slides along his own, flushed rose to his bleached white, but then nothing matters because they are one, and all thoughts of daytime fly right out of his head.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When she woke she was in bed, wrapped in her vampire’s arms, and it was after sundown. She had convinced Eric to try to get a little bit of downtime in after they had made love because he had been up all day, and that wasn’t natural for a vampire. She knew from Bill that a common torture method used on vampires was to force them to stay awake during the day, and she didn’t want Eric to feel all worn out when he had to go back to Fangtasia and be the Big Boss Vamp.
He was now lying absolutely still next to her, and she was trying to stay still herself so she wouldn’t disturb him. She knew from experience that any movement on her part would bring him right out of downtime, but unfortunately, she had an itch and the more she tried to ignore it, the more it made itself known. She was practically biting her lip so she wouldn’t move, when her lover made a little noise and scratched the offending spot for her.
“Oh great, now you’re feeling my itches?”
He chuckled. ‘You were thinking so loudly about it that I had to put you out of your misery.’
“I was trying not to disturb you. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s… oh… yuck!”
She sat up, shocked, as her Viking started gagging, then he jumped out of bed and streaked towards the bathroom in a big blur. The next moment, she heard him retching and making all sorts of unhappy, puke-y noises, and she hurried to go check on him. She found him leaning over the sink, rinsing out his mouth and spitting.
“Eric? Are you okay?”
‘I’m fine. That damn leaf disintegrated and left a horrible, putrid foam in my mouth.’
“Oh. Ick.”
He retched and spit one more time. “Ick doesn’t even begin to cover it. Blech. Wonderful. Well, Eros always did have a sense of humor.”
He spit again and the disgusted look on his face was so comical that she giggled.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Your face reminds me of how Jason’s used to look whenever Gran made liver and onions.”
‘Great, now she’s comparing me to her greedy conniving brother who tricked her into having to smash Calvin Norris’s hand.’
She didn’t think he’d meant for her to hear that, but she blanched anyway, and he looked sulky.
“I’m sorry. That was rude and uncharitable. I should not speak… or think ill of your brother,” he apologized.
“It’s okay. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” she replied, but the words had still stung a bit. Jason was all she had.
“No. Jason is not all you have,” Eric stated, and she felt how she had wounded him through the bond. “You have me. I will never leave you, my lover.”
She teared up and hugged him, letting her fear and her worries and her pain flow into him so he could soothe her heartaches and make her feel better. His arms wrapped around her and made her feel tiny and protected. Eric was the only man who had ever made her feel that way.
“If I had known, all those times we talked and never seemed to actually say anything, that if I’d just hugged you and pulled you to me, I would have given you exactly what you wanted, imagine all of the time we wouldn’t have wasted. Who would have thought such a simple thing could move mountains?” he said with a sigh.
“Mmmm,” she agreed, burrowing her face into his chest happily.
“And I like hugging you. I like cuddling and snuggling and entwining my limbs with yours. I like anything that brings your body into close contact with mine.”
“Preferably naked,” she added with a smile.
“Of course,” he answered as if that went without saying, and since they were already naked…
“How about I get that icky taste out of your mouth?” she offered, smiling up at him.
“Hmmm. How do you suggest you do that?” he responded, his own lips curling up at the corners.
She let her hands slide up to cup the back of his neck and urge his lips down to hers. “Like this,” she breathed and kissed him long and deep.
He moaned, and she felt his excitement poking her in the stomach just before he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. He set her down, stealing one more kiss, before giving her a heated look that made her skin flush and kneeling on the floor. A moment later he was kissing her other lips, making her moan and tangle her fingers in his hair. She fell back to the mattress and spread her thighs as he sent her into raptures, and she barely felt his fangs puncture her femoral artery when he claimed his dinner.
Two or three draws, then a few licks to seal the wounds, and then his hardness was pushing into her and giving her a taste of his brand of dessert. She gasped and shuddered and climaxed as he claimed her lips again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He’d bitten it, leaking a few drops of his blood into her as they coupled, and he came a moment later.
In the aftermath, he breathed for her, something he’d only just started doing, probably because he knew she’d like it. He didn’t have to. She was getting used to the particular quirks of dating a dead guy, but she appreciated the sentiment.
“Did you get enough downtime?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Enough, although I think that horrible tasting foam was meant to counteract any tiredness I might be feeling, so there may have been some method to that particular madness.”
She chuckled. “I must admit, I’ve never seen a vampire spit before.”
He gave her a wry smile. “It’s not something we do too often, but I did appreciate your way of getting the taste out of my mouth.”
“Somehow I thought you would.”
They shared another moment of complete contentment where they simply looked at each other, and contemplated how wonderful the other was, before they both came to the conclusion that they couldn’t keep out the real world any longer. It was after five o’clock, and they had to leave their secret hideaway to go back to their “normal” lives, as if anything could be normal ever again after what had happened between them.
“We should go,” her Viking whispered. He always was good at making the unpopular decisions.
“Yeah,” she agreed, looking into his blue eyes. Their heads were on the same pillow, their blond hair meshed together.
“We can come back here any time. It will be our sanctuary. I will never bring my Corvette here, and I will always pick you up to bring you here, or let you use the Taurus. No one will ever know this place exists. It will be only for you and I,” he vowed.
“I’d like that.”
“Yes.”
One last kiss and they both rose at the same time, each of them reaching for clothes and shoes. She went into the bathroom to do her business, brush her teeth and smooth her hair. Eric joined her after she flushed the toilet, and used her brush on his own hair before tying it back in a long ponytail held at the base of his neck.
“When do you have to be at Fangtasia?”
“I left a message for Pam this morning to tell her I would be there by nine,” he replied, giving his hair one last look over.
“My shift at Merlotte’s begins at eight.”
He nodded. “We’ll go to your house and I will pick up my Corvette to drive it back to Shreveport.”
“Okay. You’re coming back to my house tonight.”
“That is the plan.”
She smiled at his use of modern slang. Eric had to be one of the most adaptable vampires she’d ever met. That was probably how he’d managed to live for so long.
“That and knowing who to kill and who to placate until I could kill them,” he added shrewdly.
“Speak softly and carry a big stick?” she offered with a little smile.
“Great words of wisdom from a great leader.”
The way he’d said it, she wondered of he’d known Teddy Roosevelt. She looked askance at him, but he just gave her an impish smile.
They left the bathroom together and gathered up their things. He carried most of their luggage as they headed down the hallway, passing into the living room and out to the front porch. She waited for him as he locked up the house, then they both went to the car and Eric popped the trunk so they could put the luggage in.
Neither of them was looking forward to having to go back to their lives, and she got the nagging sensation that he was silently begging for her to turn to him and say that she wanted to elope to Nebraska. It was nothing concrete, just a little voice at the back of her mind that was whispering: “Omaha is so nice this time of year…” It made her snicker, and he cast her an inquiring look.
“It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.”
“I’ve never been to Omaha,” he commented, obviously picking up on her mental diatribe.
“Me either.”
“We should go sometime.”
“Yeah.”
They got into the car, Eric frowning at her as he readjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs.
“It appears that a midget was driving this car,” he complained.
She snorted. “I’m not that short.”
“If I’d tried to drive with the seat set where it was, you would have had to get me out with a can opener.”
That made her laugh just for the pure stupidity of it, and she couldn’t help but grin at him. He grinned and put the car in gear, driving the poor sedan like it was a Maserati. He left a cloud of dust behind them on the gravel driveway.
The night was clear and chilly, but compared to the icebox they’d just left she thought it was almost balmy out there. Her cranberry coat was almost too heavy for the weather, and she had to smile at that. Eric not only wasn’t wearing a coat, he wasn’t even wearing a sweater. He had a black t-shirt on that read “Carpe Noctem” on it in gothic script. Paired with a set of black jeans, black boots, and a black belt with a silver-colored belt buckle in the shape of a snake eating its own tail, he was dressed to kill – literally. All he needed to do was strap the sword to his hip and he’d be good to go. She pitied anyone who got in his way tonight. He gave her a wry smile and a rush of warmth came across the bond. He was such a paradox – hard and soft, cruel and gentle, loving and ferocious.
‘And all yours,’ he sent with love.
She blushed and smiled, sending love right back at him.
Where it took her more than twenty minutes to make the trip from the new house to her home in Bon Temps, Eric made it in fifteen. They didn’t speak much on the way. She made some small talk about how he’d managed to get the house furnished and supplied, and he just made a comment about hiring a decorator who was willing to be on hand when the furniture and other items were delivered. She knew that had to cost a lot of money, but she was getting the impression that her Viking was loaded. He must have been putting all that loot he’d pillaged over the centuries into some very lucrative investments.
Eric’s Corvette was parked in front of her house when they arrived, and Eric spent a good five minutes going over every inch of it to look for dings and dents, but found none.
“I told you Amelia was an excellent driver,” she commented, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I am,” her roommate confirmed, coming to stand on the front porch.
Eric looked up at her with a small scowl and grabbed the keys out of mid-air when the young witch tossed them his way.
“Here. Tray found this, too,” Amelia added, throwing something else, something small and round.
Eric caught it and snarled when he saw what it was, crushing it in his hand.
“What was it?” she asked, worried.
“GPS tracking device. As I suspected, my car was bugged.”
“So that’s how they knew how to find us.”
“But not when we were coming back,” he commented.
“That means you have a leak at Fangtasia,” Amelia observed, earning her a deep frown from Eric.
She cringed as her lover turned the same frown her way, and she put up her hands in surrender. “It wasn’t me. Tray told them everything before I even got here,” she defended.
“And you conveniently forgot to tell me this?”
She blanched. “Sorry.” ‘We were kinda busy if you remember.’
He snorted. “It would do well for you to forget everything you were told and pretend nothing happened,” he told the witch sternly.
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’m good at keeping vamp secrets, but I’m not the one you need to worry about. Bodine Straley, the packleader of the two shifters who were killed by your vamp attackers, he smelled vamp on the bodies, and he’ll be visiting Fangtasia about it soon.”
He cast her another accusing glance. “Something else you neglected to tell me, lover?”
“Ooops,” she gulped.
He sighed. “Nothing to be done for it now. I will deal with the Packmaster when he comes in. For now, I want to do a careful sweep of the house and property to see if any surprises were planted here.”
“Speaking of planting things,” she said, remembering the stones the Indian demoness had given her. “I should look for a compass and bury these like we were told.”
She pulled the four black stones out and held them in her palm.
“I’ve got a compass,” Amelia offered.
“Great. I’m supposed to plant these at the four cardinal points around my property.”
Octavia had come out to join Amelia, and now the older witch came down the porch steps to examine the stones in Sookie’s hand more carefully.
“What have you got there?” Octavia asked suddenly.
She showed the woman the four shiny, black stones that she had been given, and was shocked when Octavia gasped and took a step back.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Where did you get those?” the witch demanded, her eyes wide.
She fought back her sudden fear, glad that Eric was now at her shoulder, alert and on guard.
“They were given to me. They’re supposed to protect the house,” she replied, feeling a chill creep up her spine. Eric bolstered her with his strength.
“They’re called Dragon’s Tears, and they’re not of this world,” Octavia answered.
They watched as the older witch said a few words and ran her hand over the stones, and they were shocked when the stones started to glow red from deep within their centers when she was finished speaking. Unfortunately, Eric’s Hammer – tucked under his black T-shirt – began to glow red, too.
“They’re Godtouched,” Octavia breathed, then saw the red light coming through Eric’s clothing. “What are you wearing, vampire?”
Eric bared his teeth, his fangs fully down, and growled menacingly. Sookie could feel all of his protective instincts coming to the fore, and she scrambled to get a hold of him.
“Eric. Eric, it’s okay. Octavia and Amelia are on our side,” she reminded, putting a restraining hand on his chest.
His eyes were hard, his face stony, and he growled again, so low and scary that even she shivered.
“Eric.” ‘Eric!’
He glanced her way for an instant, then returned his glare to Octavia who was looking very pale and taking a step back. He began to advance, but she pushed back at him.
“Eric! Snap out of it!” she yelled, smacking him on the chest.
He snorted, but did stop trying to move forward.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Vampire. Who am I to mess with someone who is obviously protected by those far, far more powerful than me?” Octavia assured them.
“Are these real Dragon tears?” she asked, turning to face the witch again.
Octavia looked at the stones with fear. They weren’t glowing anymore, and neither was Eric’s Hammer, but the witch was still obviously deeply shaken.
“No. They are a form of Black Tourmaline. Here on our world black tourmaline is a powerful protective stone, but where those stones are from, their power is much more amplified. Plus they’re Godtouched, like whatever your vampire is wearing around his neck…” Octavia paused as Eric growled again.
‘Where did you go, girlfriend, and what did you and the vamp do?’ Sookie heard Amelia wondering, her thoughts tinged with fear.
“So that means they’re very powerful, right? They’ll do what they’re supposed to and protect the house?” she pressed, needing clarification.
“Is that what you were told they would do?” Amelia asked.
“I was told that they would keep out things that meant me harm, but I had to bury them at the cardinal points around my property.”
“I’ll go get my compass,” Amelia said, turning and going back into the house without another word.
Octavia stayed and kept giving them wary looks. The presence of the older witch made her remember something that she hadn’t thought of before, and she almost smacked herself for her own stupidity.
‘Eric… Octavia is staying in my old room. That’s the room where the…’ she sent to him, keeping her face calm and neutral so the woman wouldn’t suspect that she and Eric were talking.
‘The light-proof space under the closet floor is. Yes, I know,’ her lover answered, his thoughts laced with caution and mistrust. He was still keyed up, his thoughts jumbled as he tried to assess the risks and formulate options. He was thinking so fast it was making her dizzy.
‘So where will you stay after you get back from Fangtasia tonight?’ she asked, trying to get him to focus.
‘I’ll think of something. You have no need to worry about me, my lover. I’ve been hiding myself from the sun for ten centuries.’
She didn’t know if she liked that. The only other place she knew that was safe for a vampire was either at Bill’s or in the cemetery.
‘Maybe we could go back to Ruston…’ she offered, adding a little bit of memory of how pleasantly they’d spent the late afternoon.
Her attempt to distract him didn’t work, and he almost brushed her suggestion aside. ‘It’s an idea. Or just I could. I’m not sure, but I’ll work something out.’
Amelia came back with the compass. “Okay. I’ve got the compass.”
“You should probably start with the East position and work your way South, then West, and then North,” Octavia suggested.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because East is the starting cardinal position in most magics,” Eric replied.
Octavia gave Eric a critical eye. The older witch was thinking that he knew an awful lot about magic for a dead guy. Eric was thinking that Octavia knew far too much about what was going on. She was thinking what the odds were of either one of them trying to kill the other before the night was over.
Sookie shrugged. “Well, okay. Which way is East?”
“That way,” Eric answered, pointing before Amelia could even consult the compass.
“Are you sure?” she asked, earning her a “You Win the Stupidest Question of the Year Award”-look from her bonded.
“I’m a vampire. I always know which direction the sun will be rising from.”
Well, duh. Didn’t she feel sheepish? “Uh, right. That was a dumb question.”
Dumb question or not, it had helped to calm him down some, and he wasn’t nearly so on edge. He even managed to give her a tiny smile.
“You think? I’m going to go sweep the area for anything suspicious. You do your stone burying thing,” he said, waving his hand imperiously.
“You should stay within the perimeter of the stones, Vampire, so the protections recognize you as friendly,” Octavia warned.
Eric glared at the witch, his protective instincts rising again, and she hurried to redirect him.
“Eric, maybe you ought to go tell Bill to come here and be within the protections too. We need to talk to him anyway,” she said, giving him a level look.
“Mr. Compton isn’t there,” Amelia replied.
“He isn’t?” she blurted.
“No. He came over while you were gone to tell you he was leaving for South America again. Something to do with more research. He said to tell you he’d be back next week.”
“Did you tell him I’d gone off with Eric?” she asked.
Her friend shook her head. “I just told him you weren’t home, and that you’d be gone for a few days.”
“He probably already knows you’re with me,” Eric interrupted. “If he was headed out of town, he would have checked in with Fangtasia to let someone know. Ever since the takeover, we’ve been very… conscientious about keeping track of our numbers. I passed down an edict that anyone leaving the territory for any length of time needs to submit an intention of whereabouts with me. If he went to Fangtasia and found me gone as well, it would not have been hard for him to put two and two together and figure out we’d gone off with each other.”
“Or figured that you’d kidnapped me and dragged me off kicking and screaming to the Great White North to freeze my ass off and get snowed in,” she teased.
He gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Both of them were hoping that Victor wasn’t after Bill too. If he was, it might be too late. She got a little choked up thinking about that, but Eric sent comfort across the bond.
‘Bill is too valuable. He makes too much money for Victor to target him,’ her bonded told her with some measure of certainty.
‘I hope you’re right.’
“I’ll be back before you complete your perimeter,” Eric said aloud, then vanished.
Amelia confirmed that the direction Eric had pointed in was indeed East, and the two of them moved out a good hundred yards away from the house before planting the first of the stones.
“Um, is there anything special I have to do?” she asked the two witches. Octavia had come along, too.
“Not if you weren’t told there was anything specific,” the older witch replied.
She shook her head. “Nope. We were just supposed to bury them.”
“Sookie, what is going on? Who gave you these stones, and what was that thing around Eric’s neck?” Amelia asked bluntly.
“I can’t tell you that…”
“Don’t ask questions, girl,” Octavia scolded. “I’ve learned from experience not to go poking around in business like this. It’s obvious that someone very high up has taken an interest in Sookie and her vampire, and we’d do best to forget we ever saw or heard anything.”
Sookie had to agree. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Amelia, but the less you know, the safer you are.”
She bent down and used a garden trowel Amelia had brought with her from the back porch to scrape away the top two or three inches of dirt.
“How deep should I bury it?” she questioned.
“I’d put them in good and deep,” Octavia answered.
She nodded and turned the trowel tip down to plunge it into the soil, carving out a hole about eight inches deep, then she chose one of the stones and placed it gently at the bottom of the hole, covering it up and patting the soil down firmly.
“Okay. I guess South is next?” she remarked, standing and brushing off her jeans.
Amelia consulted her compass. “Yes. This way,” her friend replied and began marching off.
Sookie felt a twinge of guilt at Amelia’s anger, but she couldn’t feel too badly about keeping the young witch in the dark. Judging by Eric’s reaction to Octavia’s spell, he wasn’t going to tolerate any wild cards when it came to his Hammer. If she hadn’t been able to get him to back down, and if he hadn’t listened to Octavia when she’d said she knew better than to get involved, Eric would probably have solved the problems of someone knowing too much and someone occupying her old bedroom in one bite.
He was waiting for them on the porch when they got back from their mission. She’d never been one to get really involved in magic, but something definitely happened when she’d finished burying the last stone in the North position. The moment the dirt covered it she felt a surge of power, like a circuit had been completed and somebody had turned on the electricity. Both witches felt it too, and now they were looking at her with wide, fearful eyes. Octavia was wondering how quickly she could move into her own place, and she wouldn’t be unhappy if the older witch wanted out. The woman was staying in the room that held Eric’s hidey-hole, and getting rid of her would solve a host of problems.
Sookie kept her mouth shut, though, not letting on that she could hear the women’s thoughts very clearly – much more clearly than she’d been able to in the past. Eric’s blood and Izzy’s teaching had really made a big difference in how well she used her Gift, but it was stressful for her, and she had to keep trying hard not to give anything away. She knew Eric had to be feeling her tension. He was looking a little stressed himself, and she had to love him for it. He could show his unhappiness while she could not.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, backing it up with a mental query.
“Yes. I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, and it appears that no one has tampered with your car,” he answered. ‘But I caught the scents of at least two of our attackers at Bill’s.’
“Do you think someone might have put a tracking device in my car too?” ‘Anyone not accounted for?’
“It’s a possibility.” ‘No.’
She looked at Amelia. “Amelia, is there a spell that can be used to see if someone’s bugged my car?” She hated to ask when the woman was mad at her, but she really needed to know. Amelia looked like she was going to balk and say something snippy. Eric stood a little straighter, his eyes two slits of blue and his hand clenched at his side.
“I’ll do it,” Octavia offered. It was obvious the older woman knew when to rock the boat and when to go with the flow.
“Thank you, Octavia.”
The older witch nodded and went into the house, presumably to get the things she needed for the spell. Amelia stayed outside, looking a little sullen, while she went up to stand beside her lover. She was heartened when he immediately put an arm around her. She sighed and relaxed against him.
‘Was Bill there?’ she asked.
‘No. And I called Fangtasia while I was scouting around.’ “I put your luggage in your bedroom,” he said aloud.
‘From your cell phone?’ “Thanks.”
‘Yes, I was calling under the pretense that I was checking in now that we were back from our trip, and seeing if there were any messages for me. Then I asked about Bill because I’d gone to see him after bringing you home and found him not there.’ “I also called Fangtasia. Bill left word with Pam that he had been invited back to Peru and would be going on to Bolivia from there. She confirmed that he will be back next week.”
“How are things at the bar?” she questioned.
“Pam says everything is going well. She is interested in seeing the pictures of the snow.”
“I have some on my cell phone,” she said.
He grinned at her. “Wonderful. Would you send them to me?”
She gulped. “Um. How do I do that?”
He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. She frowned and dug into her coat pocket for the little red cell phone he’d given her, and plopped the thing in his palm. He flipped it open, pressed a few buttons, made the thing make a few noises, then, looking mightily pleased with himself, he gave the phone back to her.
“I like the one you got of me single-handedly fending off five attackers with snowballs,” he commented.
“Oh. That one came out? I thought it would be too blurry.”
He grinned. “I might just print that one and have it framed.”
“You know I’m just worried for you, right?” Amelia piped up, looking furtively at the door.
Eric pressed her a bit closer, but she softened. “I know. And believe me, if I could tell you, I would, but it really is best for you not to know.”
“All that concerns you, woman, is that Sookie and I are bond-mates now. The bond is permanent.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about vampires popping up and trying to kill you.”
“That is an unfortunate reality for a vampire in my position. Rest assured that we are taking strong steps to insure that both Sookie and I will be safe. A new security system will be installed for the house as early as Tuesday, and we are actively pursuing leads as to who and why we were attacked last night,” Eric replied, being far more diplomatic than she’d ever given him credit.
“It can’t be Felipe, right? I mean, you’re under his official protection, aren’t you, Sookie?” her friend pressed.
She stiffened and she felt Eric’s arm around her tighten. “We don’t think so.”
“Another state then maybe, or someone from Arkansas who had it out for you from Rhodes?”
“Those are valid theories, but until we know more, we won’t have any idea who’s behind it,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have crushed that GPS bug. It could have been traced to whoever was monitoring it,” Amelia complained.
“They likely would have hidden their tracks,” Eric countered.
Amelia scoffed. “Not if the same idiots who planted the bug were the ones who made the bomb.”
“What do you mean? Explain,” her Viking demanded, and she realized that there was something else she’d forgotten to tell him.
“Sookie didn’t tell you?”
He gave her an unhappy look. She smiled back sheepishly.
“No,” he answered drolly.
“The bomb was a dud. Whoever set it didn’t use a blasting cap,” Amelia said.
Eric blinked at her, expectant. Amelia stared at him, then clarified.
“C-4 is too stable to be set off by the electric shock from an ignition switch. You need a primary detonator to set off the secondary explosion.”
“You need something that’ll make a big zap from the little zap to make the stuff go boom,” she simplified.
She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he sorted that out. “Ah. I see.”
“You know, we have progressed well beyond pitchforks and torches,” she commented.
He looked offended. “Of course. I’ve used modern weaponry before.”
“Oh yeah, like what? A pistol instead of a sword?” she countered.
“I’ve used flame throwers… and automatic weapons… and I’ve even fired a grenade launcher.”
“You’ve fired a grenade launcher? You couldn’t even use my shotgun,” she answered incredulously.
He snorted. “I can use a shotgun just fine. And a grenade launcher’s firing mechanism is completely different anyway. Besides, you know I prefer a more… hands on approach to fighting.”
“Yes, you like to be looking in your enemy’s eyes when you chop his head off,” she stated.
“Exactly,” he said with a proud smile.
Just then Octavia came out of the house carrying a little bundle of something in a ceramic bowl. She went over to the Buick, which was parked next to Eric’s Corvette, and lit the bundle on fire, saying a few words. The smoke wafted up from the burning herbs as Octavia circled around the Buick, chanting, and they watched, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did, and finally Octavia stopped chanting and looked at them.
“There’s nothing here, or, if there is, it’s not detectable by my magic,” the older witch announced.
“That means you were the primary target, Eric,” Amelia said.
She gave her lover a worried look, but Eric didn’t seem all that upset.
“I’m not surprised, but it does bring me comfort to know that Sookie was not the one they were after,” he replied.
She laughed mirthlessly. “Not that that would have made a difference. They came after me, too.”
“It’s possible that their orders were to capture you. However, we did not give them the chance,” he offered. “Your talents and usefulness are well-known. They may have been sent to kidnap you and kill me.”
‘But what would Victor want with me? My services are already his for the asking because he’s the King’s man in Louisiana,’ she questioned. “And do what with me? Any vamp who knows me, knows I can’t be glamoured.”
‘He may want you for himself. If he kills me, you’d be free to bond with another.’
The thought chilled her down to her soul, and she felt his love and comfort come into the bond to soothe her.
“If Eric’s dead, then another vamp can claim you,” Amelia said, oblivious to the silent conversation going on in front of her.
Eric made a show of baring his teeth again, fangs down. Amelia stepped back, alarmed, but she only felt protected.
“I was only saying…” Amelia stammered.
“I know what you were saying, but Sookie and I are bonded. No one is taking her away from me.”
His firm statement of fact made her feel all warm and gooey inside. It was so much better than him declaring her as “his.”
‘Well… you’re that too, right?’ he asked, a little uncertain.
She sighed. Vamps and their possessiveness.
‘In as much as I belong to anyone, yes, I’m yours.’
The simple statement made the bond vibrate with happiness.
“I understand, Amelia, and I thank you for your worry about me, but I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
“With the power in those stones, someone is doing their best to make sure of that,” Octavia commented shrewdly, giving a wary look to Eric, her eyes focused on the lump under his T-shirt.
She nodded. “Yes. Which is why you don’t need to worry about us so much. Let’s go into the house. I have to change for work, unpack, and I’d like to get something to eat. Have either of you had dinner yet?” she asked, pulling away from her Viking and entering the house.
“We had some left over beans and rice, and I think there’s some chicken left, too,” Amelia answered as they all went through the front door.
“That’ll do. Eric, would you like some TrueBlood?”
“That would be fine, my lover.”
She heard Octavia’s mental wince at Eric’s use of the endearment, and sighed inwardly. Both women were going to have to get used to the fact that Eric was her boyfriend – well, she guessed he was a lot more than that – and that meant he’d be around a lot, and they’d be lovey dovey a lot. And if they didn’t like it, they could just get lost.
She and Eric entered the kitchen, and she noticed that while Amelia came in, Octavia opted out. That was fine with her. She rummaged in the fridge and found the leftovers and the TrueBlood. She popped the TrueBlood in the microwave and let it heat while she made up a plate for herself.
“Want any Amelia?” she offered.
“No, thanks. I just came in coz I want to hear all about your trip… the parts you can talk about, that is. The snow and stuff,” her friend answered, sitting down at the table.
“Do you have a computer?” Eric asked suddenly.
Amelia blinked at him, her eyes wide as if his addressing her meant that she’d suddenly sprouted horns.
‘What are you up to?’ she asked as she set his blood down for him. “Here ya go, honey.”
‘She is your friend, yes?’ “Thank you, my lover.”
‘Well, yeah…’
‘And since she is living here for the time being, it would please you if I was pleasant to her?’
“I’ve got a laptop,” Amelia answered.
“Does it have Bluetooth?” Eric questioned.
“Yeah.”
“Excellent. Bring it here and I will transfer the pictures from our cell phones to your laptop.”
“Wow! Great!”
Amelia was gone in a flash.
“You don’t have to be nice to her,” she said, sitting next to him with a plate of her own steaming food.
He gave her a smile and waggled his eyebrows at her as he drank his blood.
“It will make you happy. And she is not unpleasant. She likes you, she accepts us – which will be a rarity, I’m afraid – and I owe her a kindness because it was her spell that kept out the Nevada vampires on the night of the takeover.”
She smiled at him, genuinely moved by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
He leaned over and kissed her gently, his lips warm from the heated bottle. “Anything for you, my lover.”
She still got the shivers every time he said that because she knew he was absolutely serious. Kill someone? Sure. Help her dispose of a body? Sure. Financially support her? Just try to stop him. Defend her with his life? Already had, multiple times. Give up everything he’d built in Louisiana to go running off with her? In a heartbeat.
He smiled, obviously enjoying her mental musings.
‘Fuck you whenever you want. Go down on you whenever you want. Shower with you whenever you want…’
‘Stop that,’ she scolded, squirming on her chair.
‘Why? It’s fun and it makes you smell wonderful. Finger you whenever you want. Lift your skirt and screw you on my desk. Screw you on this table. In your bed. On your couch. On your back porch. On your front porch. On the lawn. In your car…’
‘Enough!’
He chuckled and let his hand slide down to her thigh. ‘On your boss’s pool table. In my house. On my bed. On my couch. In front of my fireplace. In my sauna. In my shower. In my whirlpool tub…’
‘Eric! Please!’
She was sure he would have continued, but Amelia got back with the laptop, and he turned his attention to beaming the pictures they’d both taken with their camera phones to the computer. She was relieved because any more and her friend would have returned to find her screwing a vampire on the countertop.
‘Pity she came back so quickly…’
‘Eric!’
He grinned, all innocence and charm, and she wanted to knee him in the balls. But then she was smiling, too, because he’d transferred the photos, and they were all looking at them on Amelia’s computer. Even Octavia came in to see the piles of snow. Apparently, Eric had taken quite a few pictures with his camera phone at some point during their stay – maybe while she was sleeping – and he had almost all of the big snow sculptures and the big snow slide, and pictures of the lodge all covered in snow, the warm light from inside spilling out of the windows. Amelia and Octavia ooohhhed and ahhhhed.
The pictures of the snowball fight were the funniest. She had indeed managed to get a really great shot of Maria, Izzy, Vincent and the two foxes all ganging up on Eric, and Eric looking like he had just won the lottery, he was so happy, as he reared back in the snow, fangs down, hands full of snowballs. He was right. They ought to print that one out and have it framed.
“Kitsune,” Amelia commented, but that was all that was said about Keno and Rori’s fuzzy tails.
“I know that woman,” Octavia said, focusing on Maria. “Her name is Maria Piazzi. She is… very Gifted. She was there where you were?”
She looked at Eric and saw him give her a little nod before she answered, “Yes. Maria and her family were there.”
“Did she share her Gifts with you?” Octavia asked carefully.
She nodded. “Yes, and she’ll be visiting Fangtasia in the spring. April sometime she said.”
The older witch looked shocked. “She will?”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to let you guys know when.”
“This place looks really wonderful,” Amelia commented.
“It was. We had a cabin in the woods. It was really private and beautiful. Everyone was so nice and the food was out of this world,” she agreed, and she was off, talking about the island and the lodge.
She didn’t mention anything secret about it. She didn’t tell them about Helen or the chapel or the fact that the place was owed and run by Supes. She only said it was a resort on Lake Superior, and let them make what they would of that. They seemed enthralled by her descriptions of the lodge and the spa, and wanted to hear everything about the roses and candy and the day spa Eric had given her.
Poor Eric was soon drowning in a sea of estrogen, but he was a trooper and stuck it out. He was looking decidedly traumatized, however, by the time it was seven o’clock and she had to get ready for work. He followed her to her bedroom and sat – more like lounged actually – as she changed into her winter Merlotte’s uniform.
“We’ve got ten minutes. That’s time enough, isn’t it?” he asked with a leer.
“Ah, no,” she answered.
“But you’re already partially undressed…”
“No,” she stated firmly, but kissed him as she pulled on her long crewneck shirt. “We’ll have plenty of time later. When we’re both off work.”
‘Did you want to go to the house in Ruston to insure privacy?’ he asked.
She sat on the bed beside him and gave him a coy look. ‘That might be… nice.’
He reached over and took her by her sides, kissing her as he pulled her down on top of him. She moaned as he used all one thousand years of kissing experience to try to get her to change her mind.
‘Is it working?’ he asked.
It took all the willpower she had, but she did force herself to pull away. “No. Sam will be really mad at me if I’m late for work on my first day back from vacation.”
He sighed and cursed her shifter boss, but let her go because she promised to make it up to him later.
“What will you do after I leave for work?” she asked.
“Well, I was planning on bringing the Taurus back to where it belongs, but since we’re going there later, I’ll just leave it here and go directly to Fangtasia,” he answered.
“Okay. And I’ll see you around 3am?”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Earlier if I can manage it.”
She smiled. Knowing him, he’d be at her house within thirty minutes of Fangtasia closing its doors. He smirked and preened a bit.
‘There is a reason I drive a sports car.’
She laughed and leaned towards him as he cupped her face and gave her a very tender kiss.
“I love you, my lover,” he said.
“I love you, too, baby.”
“Hmm, I think I may come to like your pet names for me.”
“How about: my hunka burnin’ Viking and his gracious plenty of luvvv?”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter, and she laughed with him, then got off the bed and put on her sneakers.
“I gotta get going,” she said, looking nervously at the time.
He rose to his feet and walked with her out to her car.
“If you sense anything amiss…” he began.
She stopped him. “I will call you. I promise. I will not take any chances. I will not go out of Merlotte’s by myself. I will tell Sam about the attack. I will be on double guard until we know what we are up against.”
“Or who,” her lover added.
“Or who.”
He kissed her again, and she felt his reluctance in the bond. Neither of them wanted to leave the other, especially with the uncertainty of danger lurking in the darkness.
“I love you. Please be safe,” he whispered.
“I’ll do my best. Please call me when you get to Fangtasia. I want to know you got there safely.”
“I promise. I will make the call all lovey dovey so whatever soon to be dead asshole who might be listening in will have no idea we’re on to him, and he will be so shocked when I rip his trachea out of his throat when I finally hunt him down.”
She sighed. Only Eric could put that particular feeling of excited glee on the prospect of ripping out someone’s throat.
“I’m sure.”
“I will find out who is behind all of this,” he vowed, looking directly into her eyes.
She nodded. “I know you will, and I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“I know. In the meantime, you know what you need to do.”
She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
He kissed her one final time and stepped back. “I will see you in less than eight hours.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“I will make our reunion very sweet indeed.”
His voice was pure sex when he said that, and her knees almost went to Jell-O, but somehow she managed to force herself into her car so she could go to work. She watched him in the rear view mirror as she drove away, standing perfectly still under the security lights, his face serious and resigned, until she turned the bend and couldn’t see him or her house anymore.
His mind brushed against hers a few more times before they went out of range, and she knew the moment he’d gotten into his Corvette and was driving towards Shreveport because she could feel the distance between them getting wider. The bond ached with the pain of separation, but she swallowed her sadness and made herself focus on the job she was going back to. It was Friday night. Merlotte’s would be hopping. She hoped she would be too busy to worry about her Viking, and that the night would fly by until they could be together again.
The last message she got from her lover was an image of him laid out as a buffet for her, covered in h'ordeurves and chocolate sauce. She gulped and shivered, gripping the steering wheel almost hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Two a.m. couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A/N: Don’t read anything into Gabriel’s. It may or may not become a plot issue. In this chapter it is only a plot device and I have no plans to pursue that bunny.
Eric POV
He’s given her even more of his blood, and whether she realizes it or not, every drop he gets into her veins is another thread tying them together. Pretty soon it will be far too late for her to disentangle herself from him, and their bond will be one of the strongest in vampire history. Perhaps even the strongest, but since he has no intention of discussing exactly how strong their bond is with anyone, there is no way for him to really know. Regardless, he knows he is being devious by not being completely forthcoming with her, but that is his nature. She will learn that all too soon.
She thinks him tame. She isn’t nearly as frightened of him as she ought to be, although he dislikes the scent of her fear very much, but fear of him, and of all his kind, is necessary until she joins their ranks. As long as she is human, she is fragile. He will do what he can to keep her safe, but there are limits to what he can do with a mortal body. He fears for her every single night, especially if they are apart.
The downside of her having so much of his blood is he now feels the distance between them all the more keenly, and he wonders how long it will take for her to realize that their “range” has been extended. He was looking at the odometer while pinging her mind, testing the strength of their connection like a submarine tests the depth of the water, and they lost mental contact at seven miles. Earlier it had been five. A few drops of his blood has gained them two miles, and he wonders how much blood he’ll have to give her to make it reach all the way from Bon Temps to Shreveport.
He feels the bond stretch as the tendrils reach for each other across the gulf, and he is rather oddly reminded of the figure skating contest where points are taken off when the pair gets too far apart (back in the days before The Great Revelation, he watched a lot more TV than he does now.) The judges wouldn’t be happy with them at all right now. There is a chasm between them, and it’s getting wider. It makes him edgy. The part of his brain that is pure animal is snarling and trying to force him to turn back. The mate has been left behind, and that is not to be tolerated. They are much stronger together than they are apart, especially when there is danger… and there is such danger. He downplayed it so as not to frighten her, but he knows they are in peril, and his wild side wants her where it knows she can be protected.
He must work quickly and formulate a plan of attack. He already has some ideas, ideas he knows his bonded will not appreciate too much, but she will have to get over it. Their survival depends upon them acting as one. They will have to lure Victor close enough for Sookie to read his mind, and they will have to do it in such a way that Felipe’s henchman doesn’t know what’s happening. He can think of one or two scenarios where such closeness would be warranted. He doesn’t like any of them, but there are sacrifices that must be made, and getting vengeance will be all the sweeter if there are more transgressions for him to extract pain for.
The veneer of civility begins to peel away more and more the further he gets from his bonded, and the closer he gets to his livelihood. He has many businesses, but Fangtasia is his life’s blood, his precious brainchild that he nurtures. It will hurt him if he has to abandon it, but what can be built once can be built again. This is a lesson he has learned many, many times. But for now he is still in charge, and the Sheriff of Area Five is about to make his triumphant return.
By the time he parks the Corvette behind the bar, he is ready to assume the mantle of The Master. He frees his hair from its binding, letting it fall loose like a lion’s mane around his shoulders. Freeing it frees himself, and he shakes his head, setting his jaw as he opens the car door. He can almost feel the earth shudder as he sets his booted foot on the ground, and he scents the air like a tiger sniffing for prey as he unfolds himself from the driver’s seat.
He gives the poorly lit service parking lot a critical eye, all of his senses on high alert, and he thinks he can smell one or two of the stupid vampires who had attacked them, their scents lingering near the employee entrance. His takes another breath, running the air through his nose, picking apart the odors like individual threads in a braid of rope: rotting garbage (rancid milk, moldy bread, rotting deli meat, an infant’s dirty diaper,) stale liquor (beer, tequila, Southern Comfort,) someone has urinated against the dumpster (male, early twenties, deeply inebriated,) someone has vomited on the asphalt (peanuts, crackers, cheap American beer,) a vampire has fed against the back wall (Maxwell Lee on the little waitress - what was her name? Vicky? Vivian? Vixen? Whatever. He’d have words with both,) someone is wearing too much perfume (Tabu – how original.)
He sifts through the scents, cataloging and discarding anything that he associates as “normal,” and concentrating on the unfamiliar. A new dog is digging in the trash. There is a new employee at the card shop. The owner of the beat-up Chevy parked behind the new pizza place will need to replace his radiator soon. It’s what he doesn’t smell that makes him relax. No strange vampires (except those he has already killed.) No gunpowder. No explosives. No unidentified chemicals. No strange Weres or shifters sniffing around.
He gives the parking lot one last look over, then he closes the Corvette’s door with a careless push, hearing the locking mechanism and the security system engage as the latch clicks home. He uses his remote to pop the trunk, lifting out his soft-sided black bag and his sword. He slides the sword in its sheath through the looped handles of the bag, and slings the whole thing over his shoulder, before pushing the trunk lid closed and turning for his bar. His hand is upon the plain grey door, and he throws it open, striding into the narrow corridor with purpose. It is exactly 8:58pm. He’s two minutes early.
His office is to the right. Its door is closed. The bookkeeper’s office door is open, as is the storage room door on the left. The heavy steel door at the end of the hall is closed, but he can hear the sounds of the bar in full operation just on the other side. There are two waitresses chatting in the storeroom.
“So then I told him he could just take his $70 dollars and kiss my ass,” one says.
He thinks her name might be Kelsey or Missy. Turnover at Fangtasia is so heavy, he barely has time to learn their names before they are being fired or quitting. Most fangbangers want to work for vampires, but soon learn that it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“You’re joking. I would have kneed him in the balls and taken the money,” the other waitress replies. That one he knows. She goes by the very apropos name of Elvira.
Before she has a chance to admit to any more larcenous tendencies, he is standing in the doorway of the storeroom, looking at them, his hands on either side of the frame. They notice him immediately and drop to their knees on the floor. It is a very… satisfying feeling.
“Master Eric!” Elvira gasps, keeping her head down like a good minion.
She is well endowed, and her breasts bulge forward against the low-cut neckline of the dresses Fangtasia’s female employees wear. There was a time when the view would have pleased him, but now it only serves to remind him that his mate (and her own considerable endowments) are far away. It does little for his already on-edge mood.
“Isn’t there something the two of you should be doing other than gossiping in the storeroom?” he asks coldly.
“Yes, Master Eric. Mistress Pam sent us in here to get supplies to restock the public restrooms and the cocktail napkin holders,” she answers.
He snorts. “Then I suggest you get to it.”
“Yes, Master Eric,” they both say in unison.
He grunts a little and turns away, moving to open his office door. Behind him, he hears their nervous tittering as they scramble up off the floor.
Humans. Oh, for the days when he could just use them as he pleased and break their necks when he was finished with them.
But if he is honest with himself, he does admit that there have been a few mortals who have been worthwhile. The race as a whole is full of useless sacks of blood, but every now and then there is one or two who prove to him that not all is lost. They are few and far between, but he has fond memories of at least four humans without whom his life would either be non-existent or much poorer. And, of course, he’s had two beautiful and brave bondeds who’ve made his life worth living.
His office has been undisturbed since his departure except for the stacks of mail piled on his blotter. There are two neat piles: one for Fangtasia issues and one for Sheriff issues. The Fangtasia issues are items that need his approval or input regarding the bar. Pam and Clancy handle the vast majority of the day-to-day minutia of managing Shreveport’s premiere vampire bar, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things he needs to sign-off on or make a final decision. Most urgent appears to be approval of the final design of the “Fangtasia’s Vampire Hunks” calendar for next year, and a reminder of his appointment to have his new nude portrait done on Monday. He smiles. His mate has Monday off. He will have her accompany him to the shoot and get her expert opinion on what poses are best.
The idea of having his bonded present while the photographer is taking his portrait significantly improves his mood, and he smiles to himself, remembering that he promised to call her when he arrived safely at the bar. He pulls out his cell phone and hits her speed dial number. She is number 4, after Fangtasia and Pam. She answers on the fourth ring, and he can hear her rushing to get out of the noisy dining room of Merlotte’s Bar.
“Eric?” she asks breathlessly.
“Yes, it is I, my little, scrumptious éclair,” he answers, keeping his word to be nauseatingly saccharine.
“Ugh. I’m guessing that you’re calling because you got to Fangtasia safely?”
“Of course I did, my dear, yummy sweetums.”
He hopes whoever is listening in on their conversation is revolted, because he finds the banal sweet-talk patronizing.
“Okay, now that was truly scary.”
“You can handle me when I am chopping heads off and throwing them across a room, but you can’t handle me when I’m throwing every disgusting, sickeningly sweet pet name I can think of at you? What is wrong with this picture?” he comments, smiling into the phone.
Hearing her voice fills him with happiness, but also sets fire to his groin, and he wonders when the edge will finally wear off, when he will not crave her so voraciously. To be honest, he is looking forward to it because his desire is often… distracting. He will welcome the deep, abiding bond that will replace the heady rush of passion and sexual need. They will always want and delight in each other, but the urge to fuck constantly will dial-down to a low roar. He thinks that will be a relief for both of them; not that he won’t enjoy it immensely while it lasts.
“I expect you to throw heads. I do not expect you to call me sweetums,” she deadpans, but he hears the smile in her voice.
He laughs. “No, of course not. Well, I am sorry, my most beautiful princess, but I must get to work.”
“Me, too, or Sam’ll growl at me,” she whispers back.
He growls. “You tell that shifter if he so much as lifts a lip at you, he will have me to deal with.”
“He won’t growl if I get off the damn phone and do my job,” she grumbles at him, but that only makes him smile more. “I’ll see you after work?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Love you. Bye.”
“I love you too, my lover. Good bye.”
She is the first to hang up, but he gets the impression that she is worried she is slacking in her job, and his bonded is nothing if not hard working. In this, they are very much alike because he is also hard working, although he is not a workaholic like some others he knows. He learned how to balance work and play a long time ago.
He places his bag on the floor, allowing his sword to lean against the side of the desk in an easily accessible position as he sits down in his comfortable “I am Sovereign of this Domain” chair. He presses the power switch on his computer, and begins to sort through the piles while he waits for the technology to start-up. The Fangtasia things are little more than items that need his signature, although he sets aside one or two items for closer inspection.
He has not seen any of his underlings, although he is sure the two waitresses have reported his presence to Pam. He does not expect her to come running, but he suspects she will wait a respectable amount of time and then present herself. He knows that she is aware of his preference for a few minutes alone to sort through the evening’s affairs before being disturbed. He reminds himself that the necklace he bought for her is in the pocket of his bag.
The Sheriff things are a bit more complicated. Any vampire wishing to move into his territory or seeking employment or wanting to start a business has to go through him, and he receives about a dozen or so requests and notices a week. All of them require his full attention, so he puts them aside for a while as he checks his email. There isn’t much waiting for him. He corresponds with only a select few individuals. Most vampires his age shun technology and have minions use the machines for them so they do not send emails. He thinks that they don’t know what they are missing by not taking full advantage of the Internet, and all the varied information and services it offers.
Case in point, the house he purchased in Ruston. That is an investment that has already paid off in spades. His mate loves their little nest, and he is sure she will show him how much she appreciates his thoughtfulness many, many times. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for that one, but then the study of Sookie Stackhouse has been a hobby of his ever since he watched Bill Compton brushing her hair. He feels he knows her tastes fairly well by now. At least, he has heard no complaints.
His email alert chimes to tell him that his mail has finished downloading, and he skims the subject lines. Most of it is junk, but some pertains to his financial affairs. With the advent of on-line banking, he has been able to oversee his own fortune, and take its management out of the hands of too easily corrupted mortals. He’s had to kill more than one accountant for embezzling, and that can get messy, not to mention that it’s a huge inconvenience. Now it is so much easier to do it all himself, and with an eye that’s seen just about every trend there is to be seen in capitalism, he’s outpaced the national average in earnings almost every year since he’s been doing it on his own.
He peeks at his earnings statement and smiles, his fangs running down a little in his excitement. ‘Talk to Chuck? I think not. Talk to Eric. You’ll do better,’ he thinks smugly. ‘Maybe I ought to open my own investment firm.’
He goes through the process of taking half the dividends and reinvesting them in a separate account with Sookie’s name on it. Whether his bonded likes it or not, he will see to her financial future, and he will insure that she will never have to worry about property taxes or health insurance ever again. Very soon he will make his announcement of their bonding, and his mate will be officially put on the bar’s payroll.
In preparation for that, he opens a web browser and does a quick search for the item he has in mind for his bonded to wear both for his pleasure and as punishment for her keeping secrets. She will be surprised to learn that the idea was hers to begin with. She will have to learn not to stimulate his imagination if she does not want him to act on his fantasies.
He finds the dress he wants in short order. It is scandalous, but perfect. His mate will complain very much, but he knows he will win the argument because she is a woman of her word, and she agreed to the terms of her punishment. She will be a blazing queen among the peasants when he shows her off. Every vampire in the state will envy him and want what he has, but he’ll kill any that even look at her inappropriately.
He hums with satisfaction as he chooses the correct size and color, and clicks the magic button to order the item. He is already hard, his fangs down, in anticipation of not only getting her into the dress, but also getting her out of it, and the heady prospect of violence when he reveals her in her glory is exciting, too.
But there is an ulterior motive to what his mate will surely think is madness. He will have to invite Victor to the announcement as the King’s representative. With Sookie in that dress, she will be too alluring for Victor to resist. As a higher ranked vampire, Victor will be allowed closer access. Closer access will mean he will be well within range of Sookie’s Gift. He will give her blood that night so she will be at her peak, and she can glean the thoughts right out of Victor’s head while the other vampire is ogling his mate’s breasts. He will allow it, because it will make gouging Victor’s eyes out later that much more satisfying.
Further down in his inbox is an email from the photographer on Isle Elena. The resort employs a fulltime man whose sole duty is to take portraits and candid photos of the guests as keepsakes. While he and his mate were on vacation, the photographer took two pictures of them: one of them in the Great Room on the night of the piano concert, and one on their last night on the island, in front of the snow covered lodge. The email contains the proofs for his inspection, along with package costs and ordering instructions.
He clicks on one of the attachments, and is presented with a high quality image of him and his bonded sitting on one of the loveseats in the Great Room. His mate is curled up next to him with his arm around her, and they are both looking perfectly happy and at peace. It is the kind of photograph human women seem to fawn over, and he must admit that it is a nice image.
He clicks on the proof for the second picture and finds a photo of the two of them in their now burned to ashes clothing. They are standing by the big prow windows that overlook the lake; she is pressed to his side, looking happy, her hand resting lightly on his chest, and he has a winsome smile on his face. It is sweet and quaint, and he knows his bonded will like this one as well.
Seeing the photos does stir feelings inside his dead chest, and he thinks he is beginning to understand the human need to record their memories for later viewing. So few of them have the complete recall vampires seem to be gifted with. Still, he almost wishes he’d had the forethought to have the photographer come to the cabin on the night of their bonding. It would be nice to have a keepsake of her in the blue dress and him in his Viking regalia.
‘Well… that’s what digital cameras and self-timers are for,’ he thinks, imagining a re-enactment in the near future.
He clicks to order 8x10s of both pictures and has them shipped directly to Sookie’s house along with a dozen red roses. She will like that. Human females love that sort of thing, although he has never understood their infatuation with dying flowers, but he supposes he is lucky that his mate is fond of dead things – himself most of all.
Pam appears at his shoulder. He knew she was coming down the hall, but he was too busy enjoying himself to acknowledge her. He does so now with a look. She nods her head.
“Eric,” she says.
“Pam,” he replies. There really isn’t anything else to say.
“You look well.”
“I am well. There is a present for you in the outside zippered pocket of my bag,” he tells her.
She raises an eyebrow at him, but goes to retrieve her gift. If she wonders why there is a Viking broadsword leaning against his desk, she keeps her questions to herself. He hears the zipper pull, then the crinkle of the paper sack as she pulls out the jewelry box. There is silence.
“Does it please you?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He looks up to see that she has already put the necklace on. The gold and deep red go well with her black dress, and he smiles. She returns his smile and comes to stand by his side again.
“The Sheriff of Area One, Victor Madden, has been trying to reach you. He has called twice,” his child informs him.
He thinks on this, wondering what it means. Was Victor checking up on him? He knows he informed the king’s rep, Sandy, of his vacation plans, so Victor had to have known he was not there. It rankles him to have to submit for vacation time approval, but that is his reality now, and, as the only Sheriff kept on from the old regime, he knows he is on probation. It is best to play along until he can better his position.
“I do not know why. I submitted my vacation plans to the King’s area representative as per the new protocol. My time away was approved and filed,” he answers blandly. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No.” Her voice has taken on a suspicious lilt, and her face grows a little stony. She has picked up on his caution, and she does not like what it means.
“Then I will call him back later.”
“You said there were pictures of the snow?” she asks, changing the subject. Neither of them enjoys speaking of the new world order, or at least the new Louisiana Order.
“Yes. I sent them all to myself earlier today,” he confirms, looking for the subject line in his inbox.
He closes the email from the photographer and opens the one he sent to himself with the images from both his and Sookie’s camera phones. Soon he is scrolling through about two dozen images of varying quality featuring the snow, the snow sculptures and the lodge. Pam laughs at the one of him under siege.
“Did you kill them all?” she asks.
“Metaphorically speaking, yes.”
“Pity. The Gypsy looks delicious.”
“The Gypsy is Maria Piazzi.” He knows she will recognize the name.
“The Soul Healer?” she says with some reverence.
“The very same.”
“She was there?”
“Yes.”
“Did she play?”
“Oh yes.”
A look of envy crosses his child’s face, but it is gone almost too fast for even most vampires to see. Most vampires aren’t him, however, and he is acutely observant. Her envy pricks what is left of his conscience. Whatever wounds Pam has on her soul, he has no doubt that he is responsible for a least a few of them.
“She will be coming here in the spring,” he tells her with some pride.
“Truly?”
He nods. “I have her card and she has mine. She said she was thinking of visiting in April. I told her to work out the date with our Events Coordinator.”
“Events Coordinator?” she repeats.
“Yes, I am making Sookie Fangtasia’s Events Coordinator. She will be overseeing all bookings for bands and talent. She even suggested that we have a karaoke night.”
It’s ridiculous, but it might be fun to try once or twice just, for the shock value. He needs to shake his minions up every now and then otherwise they’ll think he’s getting soft. He might even consider going up a time or two himself. He has a decent voice when he puts his mind to it.
“You are giving your human a job in management?” Pam says carefully.
There is an edge to her voice that piques his ire. Is she questioning him? He flicks his eyes at her, and she has the self-preservation to look away.
“You know she will not take anything from me that she doesn’t believe she has earned, and I want her on our group health insurance policy since she has an irritating habit of getting herself beat up and shot at,” he explains coldly. Their relationship is amiable, but she must never forget that he is her Master.
“Yes, that is true.”
She still will not look at him. He doesn’t like it. He thinks she has been pushing her limits with him recently, and enjoying his turmoil far too much. If she keeps it up much longer, he’ll have to remind her of his power over her.
But her reaction confuses him. He had not considered that Pam would have an issue with Sookie coming to work at the bar. He’d been under the impression that his child held his bonded in high esteem – especially since Rhodes. He did not think he was wrong about that so there must be another issue he has not taken into account.
“You object? I did not think you would,” he states. “I thought you liked Sookie.” Does Pam see Sookie as a rival? No, such a thing is impossible.
“I do have a certain fondness for her, but she is human.”
So the issue is Sookie’s mortality and her apparent position of authority. He relaxes, letting the tension leave his shoulders. He trusts that his bonded will prove her worth, and that his child will soon see that having Sookie handle the performers will take a burden off of her shoulders. He does not tell her this, however, because it is not her place to second-guess his choices. That is why he is Master and she is not.
“Is my decision going to be a problem for you?” His voice holds an edge of challenge, and she submits immediately like a good minion.
“Not for me, Sheriff, but… there might be others…”
He snorts. Clancy? Thalia? He could shred any one of his underlings into pieces before they even twitched if they so much as hinted they would harm his bonded.
“Pam,” he says in a voice that commands her attention. “Sookie is my blood-bonded. The bond is permanent.”
She seems surprised, and then somewhat relieved. “She has finally accepted it then?”
“Yes.”
“That will make life more pleasant for you,” she says cautiously, keeping her eyes down.
“And for all those under me, since I will no longer be… conflicted.” He knows he has been moody, short-tempered.
“Yes,” she agrees.
Since she has submitted, and made all the little gestures acknowledging his superiority, he feels generous and tosses her a reward.
“Her work here will make your job easier. I know you have issues dealing with… individuals with mercurial temperaments.”
She considers his words then nods. “Most artists are… demanding and difficult. But will they respect a human as their contact?”
“They will if they respect me, and she will soon prove her worth in the position, so there will be no problems. See to it that I have the necessary paperwork by close of business tonight, and I will bring the forms with me when I leave.”
He turns his head to the pile of mail, indicating that the subject is closed.
“You are headed back to Bon Temps?” she asks.
“Yes.”
If she has any opinions on where he will be spending his day, she doesn’t voice them, but her question reminds him of another, more pressing, matter that he must tell her about. He does not know the source of the leak, so he takes a piece of paper from the printer behind his desk and writes a short note on it:
There is an important matter I must discuss with you. “Has everything been going smoothly in my absence?” he says nonchalantly.
He sees her read the note and give him a look, but she is smart enough to play along. “We have had no unusual incidents.”
This office may be bugged. Fangtasia may be compromised. It is not safe to speak freely here, he writes. “Excellent. Sometimes I think I am becoming obsolete.”
“That is not possible. You are the only one Thalia will listen to, Sheriff.”
He grunts. “She is a concern. Did she hurt anyone while I was gone?” My car has been cleaned. We should go for a short drive.
“No, but she did scare some tourists,” she answers as she nods to him that she understands.
“That can only be good for our reputation.”
She makes a sound of agreement, although he knows she is not fond of Thalia. To be honest, he doesn’t care for the female either, but as long as she abides by his rules, he tolerates her.
“There is something I would like to show you,” she begins. “There is a new alternative nightclub that has opened up closer to the center of Shreveport.”
“Vampire owned?” he asks, trying to remember if he gave approval for something like that.
“No, but they have an interesting façade on the front of their establishment that I thought you might like to see.”
Ah. It is the excuse to leave the bar in his car. “Shall we take my car?”
“Yes, I will tell Clancy that we will be back in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll meet you outside.”
He rises to his feet and she watches him pick up his sword, then they leave the office together, but she heads for the bar while he heads for the exit. He is waiting for her by his car when she emerges from the back entrance, and he motions that she should get into the passenger seat. She does so without question, and he gets in behind the wheel.
They are out of the parking lot and headed towards the big toy store before he speaks.
“Sookie and I were attacked last night,” he says.
She sits up a little straighter, her eyes gleaming with anger. “By whom?”
“Seven vampires total.”
“All dead now?”
As if she has to ask, but she knows he would never allow an enemy to attack him and get away unless he himself was severely injured.
“Oh yes.”
“Where were you attacked?”
“At the airfield. They were waiting in ambush when we landed. They killed two shifters who had been hired to deliver fuel. We can expect their packleader to come to the bar asking questions.”
“Do you know who is behind the attack?”
Since he has centuries of experience lying, and he’s practiced this lie multiple times already, he is able to say no convincingly enough to fool his often too observant child. She frowns and turns her attention to the traffic around them, then she tells him to turn left at the next light.
“Whoever it is, he has access to information either through our cell phones or our Internet. He also bugged my car with a GPS tracking device and attempted to blow it up with a bomb,” he says.
“A bomb?”
“A poorly made bomb,” he corrected. “As it turns out, it would not have detonated. No blasting cap.”
“Amateurs,” she sneers.
He glances at her, surprised. He did not think she knew anything about explosives, but obviously he is in error. It is a skill she must have learned sometime during the years that they were apart. If she is adept, it could be a very useful in what is to come. He does not expect Victor to go down easily.
“Yes, well, lucky for us, I sniffed out the explosives and was able to remove the bomb without any incidents,” he says, turning left when the light turns green.
“Who else knows about the attack?”
“Packmaster Herveaux and his underling, the pilot of the jet, the two witches who live with Sookie, and now you.”
He watches her digest this before moving on to the next logical question.
“How did they know when to be at the airfield?”
“That is undetermined.”
The light goes on in her eyes, and he knows she has puzzled out his reasons for suspecting that his office is bugged. “You think they are listening in on our phones or accessing our email.”
“Yes.”
“I will hire someone to come in and do a bug sweep and clean our computers.”
“That will not be necessary. I have already contacted someone who will do the job discretely.”
He sees her think about this for a moment. “You wish the incident to be kept quiet.”
He nods. “Yes.”
“You suspect the king?”
“The thought has crossed my mind, but I have no proof.”
“He has no reason to want you dead. You have sworn an oath of fealty to him. More likely it is a rival who wants your territory,” she reasons.
“That is my suspicion as well, but again, no proof.”
“What do you want me to do, Master?” she asks in a soft voice. She has dropped all semblance of equality and become his obedient child.
“Nothing as of yet, but put things in order so that, if you have to run, you can do so immediately.”
She digests this for a long time, only speaking to guide him to a renovated building near the center of the city.
“I will stand by you, Master. The others as well. We will all stand by our sheriff.”
Her statement of loyalty is heartening, but it is not unlike the men who would blindly follow him to their certain deaths simply because he was leading them. He has felt the helplessness of knowing his people were doomed all too recently, and he has no desire to feel the pain of loss again so soon. There are many sheriffs who would willingly throw their underlings out to be slaughtered, but he is not one of them.
“I am happy to hear you say that, Pam, but I don’t want it to come to that. I very nearly lost all of you the night Nevada took over. I was in Bon Temps while the rest of my people were trapped in the bar. I do not want to be in that position again.”
“I was free, Master. I killed many of them,” she reminds him.
“I know, and I am very proud of you. You are my finest creation. But I will not sacrifice you needlessly. If I order you to run, you must run.”
“You already know who is behind this,” she whispers.
Sometimes he forgets that he taught her everything she knows.
“You would do well to keep your suspicions to yourself,” he warns.
“Who else will you tell?”
“I intend to brief Bill Compton upon his return. He will be charged with protecting Sookie if I am not readily available.”
“There have been a rash of new faces in the bar recently. Not all of them have registered with you,” she says suddenly, and he knows she is not letting her original suppositions go. She will chew on it like a dog with a bone. “Do you think one of them is a spy?”
“It is possible.”
“I will make some inquiries.”
“No. You will let me handle this,” he tells her firmly, laying down the law. “The less you know, the safer you will be. I assure you, when the time comes, if you can be of use to me, I will tell you everything.”
She nods, her face impassive.
They have come to the club in question, and he immediately sees Pam’s point. Far from being a Goth club or establishment catering to the darker side of human nature, this place caters to the righteous party-seeker. The front is an image of Heaven, complete with angels and pearly gates and shining rays of holy light, but the corner also has a very gruesome painting of several vampires being immolated in the sun.
“Oh, how quaint,” he sneers.
“They call it Gabriel’s,” his child tells him. “It bills itself as the answer to Shreveport’s demon bar. They play Christian rock music, I believe.”
He smirks. “I’m sure their patrons do not have the religious experiences ours do when they come to Fangtasia.”
She laughs, then sobers. “We believe that the club is secretly owned by members of the Fellowship of the Sun.”
Now that is a name that can wipe the smirk off his face and make his fangs run down in rage. A fringe sect of the Fellowship is responsible for the bombing in Rhodes.
“I took the liberty of informing Sandy of our suspicions. I hope I was not out of line,” Pam says.
“No, you did well. What was Sandy’s response?”
“That we will watch and wait. If there is any truth to the rumor, and if they are using this club as a headquarters to launch attacks against us, we will deal with it.”
He nods, his eyes narrowing. The complication of an active Fellowship hunting vampires in his city is an added stress he does not wish to deal with. If he isn’t certain that she will go in and slaughter everyone in the club, he might consider Thalia for the job, but her method will be too direct and messy for his purposes.
“I think I see several fire code violations in this club’s future,” he comments. “What do you think?”
She chuckles. “Yes, it’s tragic how quickly a blaze can spread in a place like that.”
They share twin feral smiles, their fangs down, and he drives by, heading back to Fangtasia feeling bolstered with the possibility of well deserved vengeance. The perpetrators of the bombing in Rhodes have yet to be brought to justice. Perhaps the silly mortals think that, because so much time has passed, they are safe. They have no idea what time is to a being that lives for centuries.
It might take years to discover all of those responsible, but they will be found, and they will be made to suffer, and they will be made an example of what happens when you cross a superior species. He himself owes them pain and agony for his own losses. If not for the bombing, the Queen would not be dead and his world would not have been turned upside down.
But… if not for the bombing, Andre would still be alive, Sookie would never have been forced to see Quinn’s true nature, and it is doubtful that she would have accepted their bond and gotten back together with him. Hm. Maybe he owes the Fellowship a big thank you instead. He’ll kill a couple of them quickly to show his gratitude.
Back at Fangtasia, he and Pam enter into the middle of a ruckus involving a group of shifters and one of his vampire bouncers, a new hire aptly named Goliath. He is sure it is not the man’s real name, but the moniker fits. The vampire is a giant of a man, almost as big as the deceased Sigebert, but better looking and much younger. He places Goliath at about twenty or so vampire years old: not a newborn, but not much past the fledgling stage either. It is his understanding that the job at Fangtasia is Goliath’s first foray out of his maker’s nest, and the young one is almost ridiculously eager to please.
Tonight someone, several someones actually, have tried to breach the steel door that leads to the offices, and Goliath was tasked with stopping them. The result is the standoff he and Pam come upon when they return to the bar.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demands, coming to stand beside his bouncer.
Pam flanks the bouncer on the other side, and now it is three vampires against six shifters. The odds are well in their favor, but the shifters are angry, and that will make them reckless. His fangs come down and he bares his teeth. Pam does the same and they present a formidable front.
“You are the Northman?” one demands. He is not a big man, but what there is of him is all muscle. He is wiry, with a full beard that connects to his reddish, curly hair that is streaked with blond, brown and grey. Eric knows who he is before he even identifies himself.
“Who is asking?” he counters.
“I am Bodine Straley, leader of the were-bobcats. Your people killed two of my number last night,” the shifter accuses.
Fangs are coming out all around and customers are leaving in droves. While the prospect of a bar fight usually counts as entertainment, it is obvious that this disagreement has the potential to get out of hand very quickly, and those who value their lives are getting out now. He growls unhappily because the man has the audacity to challenge him on his own turf and make an accusation that is wholly without merit.
“You come here and accuse us of killing your shifters? Since when do we give a fuck about shifters enough to kill them?” Pam snarls. “What proof do you have that it was one of us?”
By now his people have surrounded the little group, and the shifters are woefully outnumbered eleven to six, but the odds don’t seem to bother them, and he assesses the situation quickly. If it continues, there will be bloodshed and lots of it… in his bar. While that in and of itself is not a big concern for him – the bar was designed with bloodletting in mind – the consequences of an all out brawl are significant. Not only will it stir up a great deal of bad blood between the vampires and shifters at a time when the shifters are considering going public, but the incident might put him back under scrutiny if it appears that he can’t control his people.
“Their bodies reeked of your undead stench!” one of the henchmen the packleader brought with him seethes.
“And because vampires killed your people, they must automatically be ones associated with us?” Pam counters sarcastically.
He would like nothing more than to rip off their heads and bathe in their blood, but it might be wiser to use a bit of diplomacy. He wishes his bonded was there because then she could probe their thoughts, and tell him what they are thinking and how far they are willing to go to get vengeance, but she is not so he will have to make do with a thousand years of experience sizing up an enemy. As far as worthy foes go, this bunch is a joke.
“We know all the vampires in this area must come through this bar for hunting permission,” Bodine states.
Pam laughs. “Of course. In case you hadn’t noticed, we were just taken over by another state. We’re dealing with a lot of poachers coming in who don’t follow protocol.”
“Are you saying that you had nothing to do with the murder of my people?” the packleader demands.
During this exchange he wonders why the assassins killed the shifters at all. Could the two men simply have been victims of chance, only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? If that was so, then why break their necks instead of draining them, and why go after the pilot? It strikes him that maybe Victor’s assassins were trying to stir an already boiling pot by killing the shifters and trying to pin it on his people.
“Packmaster Herveaux left me a message about this incident,” he speaks up, taking a step forward. “Two of your number were found murdered. The scent of vampire was on the bodies, but the victims were not drained.”
“Stan and Robert Heller. They owned a gas and oil company,” Bodine confirms. “Packmaster Herveaux said he received an anonymous tip about the murders and was told where to find them.”
Packmaster Herveaux had neglected to include that little tidbit in the voicemail the Were had left him regarding his official “story.” He will have to have words with Packmaster Herveaux later.
“It is unfortunate that it happened, but none of my people would do such a thing.”
Bodine laughs. “As if vampires have never killed us.”
The laugh irritates him, and it takes a great deal of control for him to rein in his temper so he doesn’t swipe the smirk off the shifter’s face. “Only when we are at war or when we are provoked. I do not think either applies here. We have had no hostilities between our people for years.”
“Liar! Your group destroyed two Weres last year,” one of the other shifters accuses.
“If you are speaking of Hallow and her brother, they were dangerous Were witches who also drank vampire blood. They were also responsible for the murders of a number of the Shreveport Werewolves,” he replies acidly.
“And if you know the story, you know the vampires and the Weres teamed up to defeat Hallow’s coven together,” Pam adds.
The shifters grumble and look sullen. Now that the dangerous edge is coming off the situation, things are calming down. He is both relieved and disappointed. A good fight would have satisfied his need for violence.
“Packleader Straley, I can assure you that none of my people are behind the murder of your shifters,” he states firmly, almost daring the wereanimal to challenge him. “But I give you my word that I will look into this matter myself, and if I discover any information that might be of use to you, I will give you the information free and clear.”
The group speaks to each other in a language of snarls and growls as the underlings confer with their leader. He relaxes and looks bored, which he is. He would much rather be back in his office catching up on his work. All of these distractions are keeping him away from the things he ought to be doing, and that will make him run late to see his bonded. If they don’t let him get back to work soon, he’s going to start busting heads and damn the consequences. He promised his bonded that he would see her before 3am, and he intends to keep that promise.
“My people inform me that none of the vampires here match the scents that were on the bodies of Stan and Robert Heller,” the packleader finally says.
He snarls, seeing red, his fangs coming down again after they had retracted. “You dare to question my word, shifter?” he growls. “You come here into my bar, you accuse my people of committing a crime they did not commit, then you doubt my word when I tell you that none of them were involved? I could kill you for that.”
The underlings snarl back and his people respond in kind, but the packleader is shrewd and does not rise to take the bait. Pity.
“You are right. We are on your property. We are in error,” Bodine admits. “We will go, but we will hold you to your word.”
A look from him causes his people to part ranks and allow the were-bobcats to leave unaccosted. Once they are gone, the tension in the bar breaks and what patrons are left return to whatever they were doing before the trouble. He stays in the main room long enough to survey the crowd and reestablish his authority before returning to his office.
He smells the intruder before he even takes two steps down the hall, but he recognizes the scent so he does not sound an alarm. His fangs do come down, however, as he enters his office and finds Victor Madden sitting at his desk.
“You handled that situation well,” Victor comments, turning the chair to face him.
He wants to snarl, leap over his desk and rip the other vampire out of his chair, preferably in three or four pieces, but he stops himself and manages to put on a neutral face. He reasons that the other man has come here to feel him out; to see if he can discern what happened and why his prey is still alive.
“Thank you.”
Victor indicates the piles of mail on the desk and gives him an inquiring look. “I suppose this explains why I have been unable to reach you.”
“I submitted my vacation plans to the king’s representative, Sandy. They were approved.” He allows his voice to be slightly defensive, as if he is offended by the statement, which he is.
“Vacation? Is that what they are calling it these days?”
“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about. I took my blood-bonded on a much needed trip,” he replies blandly, keeping his face completely expressionless.
“Blood-bonded?” Victor repeats.
As he gets closer, his Hammer starts to tingle, and for a moment he is concerned that it will flare and give him away, but it only pings a warning that tells him there is silver somewhere close by.
“Sookie Stackhouse. The telepath.”
“Truly? I was led to believe that Miss Stackhouse rejected your bond and favored another. The weretiger, Quinn.”
It takes everything he has not to growl. “You were misled. Sookie is mine.” She’s not there, so he can say it, and really, she is going to have to get over her aversion to being considered his. The term of possession is standard in his world. “The bond is permanent. We sealed it while we were away.”
That gets a reaction, and he sees Victor’s eyebrows raise a hair. “Really? How interesting. Does the King know?”
“I intend to make a formal announcement… on Wednesday. Of course the king will be informed and invited. And you as well, Victor,” he answers, hoping Victor will come even though he has made the trip north to Shreveport once already. He cannot have it earlier because his bonded’s dress will not arrive until Monday. If Victor bows out, then they will lose an opportunity for Sookie to glean information from him, and he will have to reassess his strategy.
“How nice of you. I may indeed come.”
He allows himself a little smile, the tips of his fangs showing. “I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”
“From what I have seen of Miss Stackhouse, there is little to be disappointed in.”
Victor gives him a sly look through hooded eyes, daring him to rise to the challenge. The other vampire must think him completely stupid if he thinks a vampire of his age will fall for that ploy.
“My bonded has many pleasing attributes,” he agrees.
Victor chuckles, and the sound makes him want to tear the other vampire’s face off, but he waits; he bides his time. There will be ample opportunity for revenge later.
“That she certainly does. Where did you take her?”
“North. We even got snowed in for an extra day,” he responds.
He gives nothing away that anything is at all amiss, nor does he give any hint that there was any trouble upon their return. He sees Victor watching him, looking for any sign of tension or fear, but he keeps his face neutral and his voice pleasant. Nothing he says or does will reveal anything to his enemy. He is a master at this game, and very few have ever bested him at it.
“How delightful. You took pictures I am assuming?”
He nods and steps forward, reaching for the keyboard and inputting his password to unlock the desktop. He makes a mental note to change it as soon as Victor is gone as he clicks open the folder that holds the pictures he downloaded earlier. He chooses the first one in the list and opens it.
“Ah,” Victor comments, nodding.
He scrolls through the images, leaning as far away from the other vampire as feasible because his Hammer tingles more strongly every time he gets too close. Victor must have a silver chain or set of silver manacles in a protective casing somewhere nearby, perhaps in the coat he has so carelessly draped over the back of Eric’s chair.
He runs scenarios in his head of what to do should Victor try to ensnare him with them. He knows that he will have no choice but to kill Victor if that happens, and he takes a mental inventory of the weapons at his disposal. There is a short sword in the closet, and several stakes in the top drawer of his filing cabinet. A gun loaded with silver bullets is hidden in his desk.
He decides to go for the stakes if Victor makes a move, but so far his enemy does not show any signs of planning to attack. Instead he sees Victor’s eyes light up with surprise when they come to the image of the snowball fight.
“Maria Piazzi,” the other vampire states with some hesitation. It is obvious that the presence of the Soul Healer means something to Victor, and Eric can almost hear the wheels turning in Victor’s head as he processes what he is seeing.
“Yes.” There is no sense in denying it.
“North, you say? You wouldn’t happen to have taken your bonded to the famed Isle Elena?” Victor’s voice is shrewd.
That answer is a minefield. “You have been there?” he asks instead.
“I have heard of it. Its reputation is well known.”
“Yes.”
It is all the information he is willing to give unless Victor asks him another direct question, but it does not appear that he will. If he is reading his enemy’s body language correctly, the revelation that the place he took his bonded to is none other than the famed island retreat appears to have forced Victor to reassess. He saw Victor’s eyes dart and his fingers twitch slightly, and he files the information away for later scrutiny.
Perhaps Victor was planning to explain Eric’s murder as necessary because he was plotting against the king. Maybe he had even trumped up some “evidence” of Eric’s treason to show Felipe as “proof,” but the moment it was known that he had taken Sookie to Isle Elena, all of those arguments would be negated.
He is never happier with his choice of retreat than he is in that moment. With two words, he has upset all of Victor’s plans and forced his enemy to “go back to the drawing board.” That can only work in their favor because it will buy them more time. He wants to grin and show his fangs, but he doesn’t.
“You had a pleasant trip then,” Victor states finally.
“Oh yes. Very pleasant.” He puts the emphasis on pleasant, and gives Victor a wink, letting his fangs run down a little. Let the other vampire think he is remembering pleasures, and not imagining what it would be like to take his broadsword and chop of his enemy’s head. Come to think of it, his sword is still in his car. An oversight on his part that he won’t repeat.
“But you didn’t come here to look at my vacation pictures,” he says. ‘No, you came here to find out why I’m still alive.’ “What is it that you require of me?”
“New Orleans remains a shambles,” Victor begins, leaning back in the chair as if he owns it. He suppresses a growl. “The lack of planning and action on the part of the humans is deplorable. The human government is anxious for the vampires to return to New Orleans to bolster their sagging tourism revenue, but they have yet to take any significant initiative to rebuild the city in such a way that we would want to return. However, our King is impatient, and he wants to see progress and profits from his investments in New Orleans. The other Sheriffs and I are voluntarily increasing our tithes to the King’s coffers to support the renovation efforts, and I have come to discuss your Area’s contribution.”
The excuse is nicely played, but he already knows about the plan. The new Sheriff of Area Three called him last week about it, and he had agreed to commit an additional 15-percent of his profits to the King for the next year to support the rebuilding of New Orleans. It was determined that, because his Area was doing well from all the influx of Southern Louisianans moving north, he could afford the double-digit increase, and he didn’t feel he had the leverage to argue.
“I have already pledged an increase of 15-percent,” he says coolly. “I spoke with Angela Strauss, the Sheriff of Area Three about this last week. It was decided that the increase would take effect this quarter to capitalize on holiday shopping revenue.”
Another twitch of Victor’s hand tells him that the other vampire had not expected that reply from him. He does not know why. Angela is a hopeless gossip. She nearly talked Pam’s ear off on the night she called to speak to him. There is no reason for Victor to assume that Angela would not call to inform them of the new plan – unless Angela had been instructed not to. Could it be that she was showing defiance to Victor, or was it that she knew some of Victor’s plans and was trying to thwart them?
Of all the Louisiana Sheriffs, he is the oldest and the strongest. His position might have been compromised by the take-over, but he still remains a formidable adversary. If Victor is seeking to seize Louisiana from Felipe, he will have to either curry Eric’s favor or seek to eliminate him to throw Area Five into chaos. It would appear that Victor has opted for the latter solution.
On the chessboard in his mind, he moves the pieces into their new places to reflect the changing landscape. He shifts his pawns and rooks, leaving the knights to guard the queen, and tries to see a strategy that will win the game. He is very good at chess. His people practically invented it. He could beat any mortal Grand Master and a number of the immortal ones. If Victor doesn’t know this, he is a complete idiot. Either that or he is far too pompous and in love with himself to know he is kicking a sleeping dragon.
“I am glad to hear that you are being so generous,” Victor comments with a careless wave of his hand.
“I am glad you think so,” he replies. “Was there anything else?”
Victor’s body language tells him that his enemy is looking for a graceful way out, and he decides to give the other vampire an opportunity. It is obvious by the tension in Victor’s shoulders that their meeting did not go the way he had expected, and Eric can only feel a predatory glee at that. Where his enemy thought to deliver a killing blow, Victor has found that his prey has not only escaped unscathed, but that the tables have been turned. He is enjoying the feeling of having the upper hand on Victor, but he knows he must play it cool.
“No, that was all,” Victor finally replies.
“Very well then. As you can see from the large stack of mail, I have a lot of work to catch up on. So if you will excuse me,” he says, pasting a pleasant smile on his face.
“Of course,” his enemy says and rises to his feet. The fact that he handles the coat gingerly, and keeps the one side turned away from him, does not go unnoticed to Eric’s sharp gaze.
All of Eric’s warrior instincts are urging him to strike now while he has the advantage, but the pragmatist in him stays his hand. This one will require patience, but he feels confident that the right time will come, and soon.
“I will see you on Wednesday,” Victor says as he passes him.
“I will post the notice for the event tomorrow. I will call you, Sandy, and the other Sheriffs with the details.”
Victor nods to him and walks out, and he can barely suppress the feral smile that touches his lips when he is gone, his fangs fully down. Pam is in the doorway immediately, her face anxious. She must have known Victor was there in his office, but had the sense to keep away. He gives her a reassuring nod.
“All is well?” she asks.
“All is well,” he replies, giving her a smile.
She nods and relaxes, then returns to the bar. It is her night to be on duty. It’s his as well, but he will not present himself until he has caught up on his work.
Alone in his office, he allows himself to relax and enjoy his little victory. With the tables turned, he knows that Victor will now have to lay a new plan of assault, which means the likelihood of more attacks on him and his bonded in the near future is much reduced. In the interim, he and his bonded have time to work on their own plan, and he is inordinately pleased to know that Victor left without getting any of the answers he had come for, namely what happened to the ambush and the assassins he had sent to kill the Sheriff of Area Five.
What he was able to glean from Victor’s silent cues, and the tidbit that the Sheriff of Area Three defied him, makes it more likely that Victor is acting on his own, and is not backed by Felipe. This is a relief, and he makes a mental note to have Pam contact Angela to give her a cryptic warning to watch her back. He feels he owes the female that much.
For now he would like to get back to work, but his chair reeks of Victor, and that he cannot abide. With a swift kick, he sends the chair wheeling towards the door, then he stands behind his desk, does a quick Internet search for a new and better chair, and orders it rush delivery. He will use the bookkeeper’s chair in the interim. Once he is done, he kicks the chair down the hall to the back door, making a detour into the storeroom for a bottle of grain alcohol, and then he shoves the chair out into the service parking lot.
Pam comes to see what he is doing as he dumps the contents of the bottle on the chair.
“I hope you intend to account for that. Bruce will be frantic if he thinks a bottle of whiskey is missing,” she deadpans, leaning casually against the open doorframe.
“I’ll write it off as an inventory loss,” he replies.
She hands him a Zippo. He flips it open, flicks it to strike up the flame and tosses the lit lighter onto the doused chair. It goes up in a colorful blaze of leather and alcohol. His fangs run down as the flames dance in his eyes, and he imagines Victor being the one set ablaze.
“Wonderful. I’ll order you a new chair,” his child says in a bored tone.
“Already done. It will arrive on Sunday.”
He hears her laughter and he smiles at her, the light from the burning chair illuminating his face.
“I needed a new one anyway.”
She snorts and walks back into the bar. When the chair is reduced to ashes, he has Indira dispose of it in a nearby swamp while he goes back to his office to finish his work.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eric POV
Because efficiency is his middle name, and because most of the Sheriff issues are paltry requests not worth his attention, he finishes his backlog of work in record time. As such he is back on display at his usual table in the center of the bar by eleven. The return of the Master is a significant event, and each of his subordinates comes to greet him and welcome him back. He acknowledges them with a nod as he stretches his long legs out from the chair. His body posture is one of casual ease, his face bored, but his senses are on high alert, his gaze sharp and predatory.
Fangbangers approach him, but he sends them all away with a scowl. He is not in the mood for their company, and none of them are customers to whom he would pay special attention. Pam comes to sit beside him in her usual spot, and he acknowledges her with a tilt of his head. The necklace he gave her is still around her throat, the gold gleaming in the muted light of the bar. He can tell that she is pleased, in more ways than one.
“You are glad I am back,” he states.
“Things run more smoothly when you are here. There are fewer incidents and your subjects know to behave themselves,” his child replied, surveying the crowd with a critical eye.
He smiles indulgently and flicks a hand at one of the barmaids. Her eyes widen, and she scurries to get him a TrueBlood. His smile spreads as he savors the feeling of power. He likes it very much. He hears Pam chuckle and he looks sidelong at her. She has a smug expression on her face.
“What?” he asks.
“You missed being here.”
He lets out a breath through his nose. “Of course.”
The barmaid nearly trips bringing him his drink. She is new and she reeks of fear. He lifts a lip at her when she fumbles with the lid on the bottle, his fangs down, and he delights in the trembling of her hands. She finally gets the bottle open and places it on the table with the requisite napkin. He wants to laugh, but that would ruin the effect. Another flick of his hand sends the girl skittering away, and Pam chuckles again.
“You still enjoy intimidating the staff,” she states.
He sips the TrueBlood, frowning and remembering – too late – that he has a freeze dried pod of Bloodvine AB neg in his car, along with three freeze dried fey Bloodvine pods, but he will never drink them here. The bar wouldn’t survive the encounter, and possibly several human employees and guests wouldn’t either.
“Of course,” he answers again.
“It is good to see that the human has not defanged you quite yet.”
He scoffs and holds out his hand for her blackberry. She gives it to him without question. He is considering getting one of these multi-use cell phones for himself, but he wants the technology to be a bit more advanced before he does. He likes things to work and new technology is often, how do they say? Full of bugs. He uses Pam as a tester for such things and so far she likes it.
He opens the web browser and surfs quickly to the page for the dress he bought for Sookie. He pulls up the image and hands the Blackberry back to Pam.
“The dress Sookie will wear on Wednesday when I announce our bonding,” he explains.
She looks at the image and smiles. “She will never wear it.”
“She will,” he insists with confidence.
“She will refuse and be difficult.”
“She will not.”
The smile spreads on his child’s face and a feral gleam comes into her eyes. “Will you punish her as you punished me?”
He knows she is referring to the public spanking. Of all his punishments, that is the one that made the most impression on her. There is an almost gleeful anticipation in her voice, as if she is looking forward to someone else suffering the same humiliation. She does not realize that, should he ever be forced to discipline his mate, he will never do so where other eyes can see.
“There will be no need,” he states with authority.
She gives him a short laugh, as if he is being stupid, and puts the phone away. “I will bring my paddle, just in case.”
He grunts and turns his head. His eyes fall on another of his subjects, a female vampire displaced from southern Louisiana by the hurricanes. She had come north and requested permission to relocate into his Area, and, since she had followed all of the proper protocols and procedures he requires, he had allowed her to stay. She put in her weekly allotted hours at Fangtasia with no complaint, and gave him no trouble.
As far as subordinates go, she is a favorable one, and he decides that she will suit for his purposes. He flicks a hand to call a barmaid over. There is always one watching for his slightest movement, and she presents herself within seconds. It is a different one from the girl he scared earlier.
“Yes, Master?”
“Tell the vampire Cynthia that I require her presence,” he orders.
She bows and goes immediately to fulfill her duty. A moment later, Cynthia is approaching his table. The female is tall and skinny, with long red hair and a pale complexion that is white even for a vampire. She must have been fair-skinned as a human, and vampirism has only accentuated her pallor. She is fine-boned with long limbs and delicate hands, and it is the skill of those hands that he requires.
“You called me, Master?” she asks, her green eyes concerned. All of his subjects know he does not summon them unless he needs something.
“It has come to my attention that you have some skill as an artist on the computer,” he says.
“Yes, Master. I was a graphic artist in life.”
“I require a notice to be designed and released for tomorrow. I am assigning this task to you.”
“Yes, Master.”
“It does not have to be fancy, but I would like some small embellishment to make it look formal,” he instructs.
He sees that she is taking all of this in, her vampire mind squirreling away the details and memorizing the facts.
“The notice is for an Area-wide meeting to be held here on Wednesday at 10pm. All Area Five vampires are expected to attend.”
Cynthia nods. “Do you have anything you wish to add? Something that gives a hint as to what the meeting will entail?”
He considers that for a moment, mulling over how much he should reveal ahead of time. The announcement of his bonding, and Sookie’s official position by his side, will come as no surprise, but he does not want to give too much away too soon.
“No. Only that attendance is mandatory, and the event is semi-formal. I expect my subjects to be dressed appropriately.”
“And you need this by tomorrow, Master?”
He nods. “I do.”
“If you will release me for the night, I can go back to my house and have a draft completed for your approval before the bar closes.”
He flicks his hand. “Go.”
She bows to him and disappears. He stretches his legs and takes a drink from his TrueBlood, surveying the bar to see who was watching. The matter of how the attackers knew when to set the ambush is still unresolved, and any one of the newer, stupider members of his retinue could be responsible. If he discovers who was insolent enough to spy on him, he will make sure that the idiot will be the last one to breach his privacy, ever.
Of course, since this is his first night back from his “vacation,” all eyes are on him. He can hear them gossiping, trying to judge where he has been and what he was doing with whom based on how he looks.
“He looks relaxed,” he hears someone say, and he smiles as he turns his head to catch more snippets of conversations buzzing around him.
“Who’s the hunk?”
“That’s Master Eric.”
“Is he available?”
“You can ask. If he doesn’t kick you in the head, he’s available.”
Smart one, that. He scans the crowd to find the one who was speaking, but is distracted by another voice dripping with contempt.
“I heard he took that little blond human with him. I wonder if he finally fucked the bitch senseless and killed her.”
It is one of his kind, but not one he knows well. It is a male, a transplant from New Orleans. He is standing with Indira near the bar.
“Shh, you must never speak ill of Miss Sookie where the Master can hear!” his little Indian female admonishes.
The male laughs cuttingly. “I’m only saying what the rest of us are thinking. The Master has been defanged by a human woman who holds him by the balls. We’re all waiting for him to have his way with her, then get rid of her so the rest of us can finally relax.”
Beside him Pam scowls, but he shakes his head slightly. Normally he would have dealt with the insult swiftly, but he stays his hand because he wants to hear what Indira has to say. Since he is going to announce his bonding, and put Sookie on the payroll, it is best to test the waters and see who will be against him.
“It’s true that Master Eric has been on edge lately, but I don’t think Miss Sookie has anything to do with it. Things have been very tense since Nevada took over…”
“Maxwell Lee told me Eric’s stopped fucking the fangbangers. That is not Nevada, that is a sign that his human female wants him tamed.”
Indira makes a sound of helplessness. “You know how humans are. They want one partner. They have to worry about disease and pregnancy.”
“So his bitch imposes her human morals on the Master? Why would he tolerate such an insult if he was not her cuckold?”
Indira laughs. “Master Eric is no one’s cuckold, and you would do well to remember that.”
The male snorts. “Maybe I will do us all a favor and kill the bitch myself. He has not declared her his and, from what I hear, she keeps him tethered while flaunting another male under his nose.”
“If you harm Sookie Stackhouse, the Master will skin you alive, wait for it to grow back, then skin you again. Then he will chain you in silver and leave you out for the sun,” Indira warns with complete seriousness.
He licks his lips and smirks, turning his head away so the insolent fool will not see the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Pam chuckles beside him.
“Creative, that one. She knows you well,” she says in Old Norse.
“Who is that asshole?” he replies in the same language. He pretends to be interested in a fangbanger dancing on the small dance floor. She is dressed in a miniskirt and fishnet pantyhose and little else.
“His name is Peter.”
“Is he… attached to anyone?”
“His nest was destroyed by Katrina. He is the sole survivor.”
“Hmm. Does he have a maker?”
“I do not know.”
“Tell Bill Compton to look him up. I want to know who I will have to pay restitution to when I kill him.”
Pam snickers.
“The Master has heard you!” Indira gasps.
“No, he hasn’t. He is too busy watching that human whore and wishing he was allowed to take her. If I was him, I would say fuck the little human bitch and do as I pleased,” Peter scoffed.
“You need to shut up and get out of here. If you stay away for a while, he might calm down enough to let you live.”
“You worry too much.”
“I know my master.”
He knows the idiot is about to deny what Indira already knows, so he turns his head and pierces the asshole with a withering glare, making sure the insubordinate knows he has been seen and heard and noted. Peter has the sense to look abashed, but it will not be enough to save him. He keeps his eyes on the displaced vampire as the underling carefully makes his way out of the bar.
“Find out where he nests. I will find him and have a talk with him… later,” he tells Pam in Old Norse.
“Of course.”
He flicks a glance at Indira, who is looking tense and uncertain, and he gives her a slight, reassuring nod. She has defended the Master’s bonded, and therefore she is still in his favor. She sees his acknowledgement and relaxes, but the concern does not leave her eyes. She knows that Peter’s days among them are numbered.
It is the last incident as the night progresses. Pam sits beside him for most of the evening, but leaves the table at intervals to see to the running of the bar. Around twelve-thirty, Cynthia returns with a printout of the notice she has designed. It is simple and elegant, with crisp flowing script and a thin black stripe border. There is one small black rose graphic in the upper right-hand corner. He approves the design and sends her to the bookkeeper’s office with Pam to make copies to put up around the bar and for his underlings to take with them to spread the word.
Left to his own devices, he finds himself entertaining himself with memories of his trip, and he grows eager for Last Call so he can rejoin his bonded. They are too far away from each other, and have been too long apart. He can already tell that the distance is going to be a problem, and he hopes that she will soon see her way to his side full time. Mates should share a nest, and spend most of their time together. He knows better than to try to force her to leave her work and her home, but he has not given up on a secret campaign to make her realize for herself that she belongs with him, just as he worked quietly to convince her that their bond was worth renewing. He has to make her think it was all her idea or she will balk and refuse him just for spite. He hates that about her. It shows an immaturity that is undesirable in a woman her age.
His mate is proud and headstrong and independent. He values these qualities, and he does not wish to see her cowed or broken. At the same time, she had best learn the art of yielding to him when he wishes because he will not always bend to her will. He has done a great deal of bending – far more bending than any powerful vampire such as himself ought to have bent – and he has no intention of bending much further. His subjects already think he is henpecked, they think him tamed and defanged. If they believe this, then he must prove to them that he is not, and swiftly, else they think him weak and challenge his authority.
Killing the fool who dared to threaten his bonded will send a very clear message, but he must also demonstrate his ability to control his mate, and that will not be so easy. For all her seeming knowledge of the Supernaturals, she is woefully naïve when it comes to playing the complicated games within the Supe power structure. She thinks it is perfectly acceptable for her to defy him in public, to undermine his position by making him appear weak and submissive.
Of all the memories that returned to him when he recalled the time when he was cursed, the ones of how he yielded to her and looked to her for guidance were the most unsettling. He was glad to find that his submission had bothered his bonded, too. If she had wanted to keep control over him, he would have had no choice but to sever the bond, and that would not have been pleasant for either of them.
Frankly, he isn’t certain he could do it anyway.
As happy and elated as he is that Sookie has accepted their bond, it is also deeply disconcerting how strongly he feels about her. He once told her that he hated having feelings, that thinking of her and feeling for her was a distraction he could do without, but the bond is fast becoming the most important thing in his life, and that is a frightening prospect. To forget who he is, and what he must do, is a deadly mistake that could cost them both of their lives if he isn’t careful.
Since she already has a reputation for being… difficult, and he already has a reputation for being a rogue and working outside the vampire norms, her independence will not be seen as out of the ordinary, but she will have to learn to play the game and fast. At his level, his peers are incredibly powerful, and most of them do not make themselves vulnerable to humans. She is his biggest weakness, and, if they do end up having to run, he has no doubts that it will be because his mate is too stubborn to get with the program.
But he must admit that he is happier than he has been in many, many centuries, and her love has lifted tons of weight off his shoulders. He remembers what he was thinking when he promised to go back with her, to leave all he had built in order to stay with her. He had been planning to sell his half of Fangtasia to Pam, then take the money and begin a new venture in Bon Temps. He hadn’t decided what that venture would be because he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he’d been certain that the capital from the sale of the business would earn him enough money to have time to make a plan. He’d had it all worked out in his mind; living with her, helping her, having amazing sex with her every night, laughing and snuggling and being with her every possible moment.
He’d been such a lovesick sap, but part of him still longs for that simple life – the one without the political minefield that he has to traverse every night. It will be even more dangerous if he has to drag a recalcitrant human through it with him. Of all the humans who could have touched him, Sookie Stackhouse has to be the worst.
He shakes his head, remembering all the insults to his pride and position she has thrown at him: refusing to tell him the truth of their relationship, making him blackmail it out of her and then still not telling him everything, flaunting the tiger under his nose, snubbing him for a shifter – a shifter! She even refused him in front of the shifter and all but kicked dirt at him. He should have killed her for that alone. She’d enjoyed defying him, thought she could get away with it, and he’d let her. It is no wonder why his underlings think he is defanged.
It makes him angry. Why does he love her? She is stubborn, willful and infuriating. Why can he not bear to think of her being harmed? He was like this even before they bonded in Rhodes. He’s been intrigued by her ever since Dallas, and more since giving her his blood in quantity in Jackson. Her hold on him is stronger than any human has ever had, and he does not understand why. Why did he let himself get so tangled up with her? Why did he let himself be brought so low?
He still has not figured out why he was running down the road near her house that New Years. Not even the return of his memories has brought that answer to light. Of all the places he could have gone when the witch cursed him, why was it to Sookie’s house he was headed? He knows now that, even in his black void of nothingness, it was no mistake that he’d ended up where he did. Was he supposed to be running to the person he hated? Loved? Was he supposed to be running home?
If there is anyone who has cause to regret his time being cursed, it is him. Sookie thinks she is the one who lost the most there, but he begs to differ. He is the one irrevocably changed. He is the one now caught in a slow spiral of inevitable death and sorrow. Finding his way to her house and loving her was the worst thing that could ever have happened to him, and he sometimes wonders if Hallow intended him to be destroyed that way. Maybe she had meant for him to run to the one who had rejected him as he had rejected her offer, and she sent him to the one who would be the cause of his eventual demise. Maybe their love was all part of the curse born from Hallow’s twisted mind.
It pains him to think that, but he can’t rule it out. If the witch’s plan truly was to destroy him, she’s done a good job of it. If he cannot get Sookie to toe the line, he will lose everything, and both of them will probably die in the process. A thousand year-old Master vampire brought down by a twenty-seven year-old human.
What a joke. Maybe he should just kill her himself, then meet the sun before it gets any worse.
The pain that lances through him at the thought is almost enough to take his nonexistent breath away, and he has to stop himself from involuntarily touching his chest, but his little shiver is enough to bring a barmaid rushing over. Since he did not give the signal for blood, the young woman does not know what he wants.
“Master?” she asks, simpering a bit.
He has to think fast to cover his slip. “Find Pam and inquire about the status of the notice.”
She bows. “Yes, Master.”
After she is gone, he takes stock of what just happened, and he probes his own mental state. Not too long ago, he was happy and eagerly awaiting the close of business. Now he is angry and on-edge, and he wonders if he is not completely responsible for his emotions. He reaches out across the bond, stretching to see how well he can feel her at such a distance, and he is disturbed by what he senses. He concentrates harder, tuning out the noise and bustle of the bar, and lets his awareness slip into the bond.
He is too far away to hear his mate’s thoughts (not for long!) but he can gauge her overall emotional state, and she is very unhappy. He picks through her feelings, trying to determine the source of her distress, but things are too jumbled, and he cannot distill them down to a single commonality.
What he does know is that he does not like what he feels. She is not regretting their bond, per se, but she is pushing at it, and that is the cause of his emotional upset. He should have known he was being influenced, because he has never rejected their bond the way his mate has, and he has never been upset enough to want her dead – no matter what he might have led her to believe. If he’d wanted her dead, she would have been dead months ago.
But she is upset, and that makes him upset and protective. He looks at his watch. It is only 1am. Technically he has another hour before the bar closes, but now that he is aware of his mate’s distress, it is consuming all of his attention. He tries sending strength and calm through the bond, but it has little effect. By the time Pam presents herself, he is gritting his teeth and ready to rip heads off.
“You wished to see me?” his child asks.
“Yes. I am leaving. Please see to the posting and distribution of the notices,” he says, rising to his feet.
Pam gives him a raised eyebrow look, but he does not have to explain himself to her.
“I will see you tomorrow night. I will be here by eight,” he tells her over his shoulder because he is already heading for the rear door, his long strides forcing the thinning crowd to part before him like the Red Sea: Make way. The Master is coming, make way.
He hits the back door hard enough to nearly rip it off its hinges, and he is already in his car before he realizes that he left his bag in his office. No matter. He has clothes at the Ruston house, and that is where he and his mate will spend the night. Judging by her emotional state, she is definitely going to need the privacy and safety of their secret nest. He throws the car into sixth as he merges onto the Interstate, gunning the engine for all it is worth. Without his bonded in the car to freak out about his heavy foot, he is free to break land speeds. He reaches out to her as he puts the miles behind him, the Corvette slicing through the night like a finely honed blade, and tries to bridge the gap between them.
‘I am coming, my lover. I am coming.’
He is coming, and woe betide anyone who gets in his way.
888888
Sookie POV
Her first day back to work had started out all right. Sam was happy to have her back, didn’t ask too many questions about what had happened while she was away, and seemed to have brushed off Eric’s hanging up on him. He liked his gifts, and genuinely appeared to be accepting of her choices, even if he wasn’t too overjoyed about them. He was the only one who knew she’d gone away with Eric, and since no one else was asking, she wasn’t telling. She didn’t need the aggravation.
Friday night was always very busy, and the customers kept her hopping. All of the regulars wanted to know where she had been for five days, and she’d been happy to tell them about her trip north and the snow. She promised pictures and set a mental reminder to ask Eric how to print out the pictures from her phone. It was amazing how a 1000 year-old vampire was more computer literate than she was.
She was glad to be busy. It kept her mind off of what was happening with Victor and Eric, and the danger they were in. For a few short hours, she could put all the badness aside, and just be Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid. There were no vampires waiting to kill her, no undead Vikings trying to sneak her off early (although that might be fun!), no Weres lurking in the dark parking lot, and the only shifter in the bar was her boss. Yep. As close to normal as her life had been for the past two years.
Humming to herself, she glanced at the clock. It was midnight. Two hours to go. Three hours before she would see Eric again. She wondered what he was doing; if he was picking up the reins of his normal life the way she was. She couldn’t imagine Eric having any trouble reasserting his authority over his minions. She smiled as she pictured him sitting at his table, surveying the crowd and keeping order with a single look. For a second the bond opened, and she got a quick flash of him enjoying himself by scaring a fangbanger. He was very pleased with himself, and she ducked her head to hide her eye roll. Her Viking was going to be insufferable tonight.
The crowd was starting to thin down a little, finally, and she was able to catch a break. She caught Sam’s eye and smiled at him. She was happy, really happy, for the first time in a long time. His eyes were hooded, but he did smile back. She wanted to stick out her tongue and raspberry him for trying to put a damper on her buzz.
Everything was going fine until, in the process of cleaning a spill on her shirt, she pulled the necklace Eric had given her out from its place against her skin, and it was still out, gleaming in the light, when she returned to her duties.
“Whoa, pretty necklace, Sookie. Where’d you get that?” Tanya asked her as she returned to the bar for refills. The woman had been much more pleasant to deal with since Octavia and Amelia had broken Tanya’s connection to Sandra Pelt.
“It was a gift,” she answered with a smile.
“It looks old.”
She nodded. “It is old,” she confirmed.
“Ooh, does Sookie have a new boyfriend?” Tanya teased.
It just so happened that her former BFF, Arlene, was within earshot, and Arlene’s eyes shot up. Sookie saw them fall on her necklace and her face drew down in a deep scowl.
“More like old boyfriend,” the redhead sniped.
“Old boyfriend?” Catfish Hennessey asked. “Sookie you back with that vampire Bill?”
She tried not to slam the beer down on the table as she brought him his refill. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I am not seeing Bill Compton.”
But of course, her denial wasn’t enough to keep their minds from whirring, and since she was tired and missing Eric, her shields weren’t as strong as they should have been. Pretty soon she was privy to just about every nasty thought buzzing through the bar patrons’ heads.
‘Pretty girl like that screwing a vampire.’
‘Stupid vamp whore.’
‘Crazy Sookie Stackhouse never did have any sense.’
‘They’re gonna find her body somewhere, throat all ripped out.’
‘What? Human guys not good enough for her? She’s gotta fuck a dead guy?’
Their disapproval flooded into her, and she struggled to fill orders without snapping or bursting into tears. Even Sam was thinking that she was stupid to trust Eric, and that she was probably going to get seriously hurt, maybe even killed. After the ambush of last night, he was probably right.
All of the arguments against dating Bill came back with a vengeance, only now it was worse because the vampire she was bound to was Eric. It had been bad enough with Bill, but at least their pairing had been somewhat acceptable. Bill was a loner. He had no nest, he did not associate with other vampires often, and he did his best to mainstream. He was practically the poster boy for mainstreaming vampires. If any vampire was going to be acceptable to human society, it was Bill.
Eric, on the other hand, was Eric: head honcho vampire and political shark. If Bill was the poster boy for mainstreaming vampires, Eric was the poster boy for enterprising vampires capitalizing on humanity’s morbid fascination with death. He was intimidating and dangerous. He owned a vampire bar. He ruled Area Five. No one could say that Eric gave a crap about fitting into human society unless there was profit to be made there.
In vampire society, Eric had throngs of subjects under him, and very few of them were going to be happy that he’d bonded to a human. That would make their relationship unwanted on two fronts. Humans wouldn’t accept them because he was a vampire. Vampires wouldn’t accept them because she was human – at least not as anything other than his “pet.” If she and Eric ever decided to get married, no one would be happy for her, and she’d spend the rest of her life being known as Bon Temps’ fangbanger bride. However long that lasted. The odds of them being able to have a long-term relationship were ridiculously high, and she couldn’t believe that she’d agreed to re-bond with him.
She had to have been out of her mind. It had to have been the sex, the magic on the island, how totally amazing he had looked in those leather pants. She’d been under a spell, but now that the spell had been broken, cold, hard reality was sinking in. She was stupid and crazy, and she was going to get herself killed. Eric was a devious, conniving, manipulative bastard who had probably staged the whole thing just to get her back into his bed.
But how could he have lied to her in the bond? How could he have hidden anything from her when they were so closely tied? He loved her. She knew that he did. What they had shared and felt on Isle Elena wasn’t staged or fake. It was real and it was wonderful. Eric had been sweet and loving and gentle, and he’d stayed that way now that they were back. He’d even been nice to Amelia. Was that all an act? Could he be having second thoughts about what they’d done? No. The only thing she’d felt when the bond opened had been contentment and pride.
Well, of course he was proud. He’d gotten her. He’d gotten her blood, her body, her heart. He’d gotten everything she’d had to offer, and with almost no resistance or trouble from her. Like a stupid idiot, she’d just hopped back into bed with him and declared her love after some flowers and chocolates and pretty words. Who knew she’d be that easy?
Now she was permanently bonded to Eric Northman, stuck in the middle of a possible turf war between rival vampires, and once again dragged into the kind of danger that often proved fatal to mere mortals such as herself. She truly had to be insane to have allowed herself to be manipulated so expertly. And she’d always thought of herself as smarter than her boobs and blond hair suggested. Oh, how wrong she’d been.
Her emotional state crashed, and she was left feeling bereft and used. If Eric had been there at that moment, she probably would have slapped him. As it was, she was seriously considering letting him have it with both barrels when he got to her house that night and telling him to take his undead ass back to Shreveport.
It was while she was in this ever so happy happy joy joy mood, that her brother chose to walk into Merlotte’s. He even sat in her section. Yippee, her night was now complete.
“Hey, Sis,” he said sullenly as she went to his table to get his order.
“What’ll ya have?” she asked harshly, holding her pen so tightly she thought she might snap it in two. She’d had enough vampire blood to be stronger than she was used to, so she needed to be careful.
“A beer and a cheeseburger with fries,” he answered, lowering his eyes when she glared at him.
“Beer and cheeseburger with fries. Comin’ right up.”
She was about to stalk away when she heard Jason clear his throat.
“Uhh, Sookie?”
She whirled to face him, her jaw tight and her arms stiff at her sides. “Yes?” she answered tersely. She so did not want to deal with him right now. Behind the bar, Sam was watching them with hawk eyes.
“Crystal told me she heard from Calvin who heard it from Tray Dawson that you’re seeing that Eric vampire again.”
She sent daggers at him with her eyes. “It’s none of your damn business who I’m seeing, Jason Stackhouse!”
“Eric? You mean that big, blond vampire who owns the demon bar in Shreveport?” Arlene asked, her eyes wide. In her tone of voice she could have said “that vampire who eats babies and dances on corpses every night.”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes. Eric owns Fangtasia.”
“Did he give you that necklace, Sookie?” Jason questioned.
She huffed and dropped her goldgubbe down her shirt and out of sight. “None of your business!” she hissed and stomped off to deliver her order. Sam gave her a concerned look, but she shook her head angrily and locked herself down.
A surge of strength and comfort came through the bond, and it was so strong it almost made her swoon, but she fought it back and gripped the edge of the bar until it passed.
Great. Now Eric knew she was upset and he was trying to “help.”
‘When he promised not to do that anymore,’ she thought angrily, needing someone to blame and deciding the dead guy was a good target. She pushed back through the bond and all but screamed across it, ‘Leave me alone!’
She got Jason’s beer, ignoring Sam’s worried look, and took her brother his drink.
“Here. Your food’ll be up in a few minutes,” she said, setting down the frosty mug.
“Thanks, Sookie. You know I’m just worried about you, right? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you forced me to break my friend’s hand,” she whispered angrily, leaning close to him.
“I didn’t know it was gonna go down that way, you gotta believe me. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. This obsession you have with dead guys is no good, Sookie, and you know it. Eric’s bad news.”
She saw red, and in some tiny rat corner of her brain, she knew Eric was on his way, and the thought of her Viking coming in and smashing her brother through the window was a thrilling fantasy.
“You gave up the right to lecture me on my life choices years ago, Jason Stackhouse, so don’t you dare tell me what is or is not good for me because you don’t have a clue,” she scolded, then stomped back to the bar.
The moment she said it, she knew she meant it. No one had any right to judge her for the choices she had made. She was a grown woman, she knew her own mind, and she wasn’t breaking any laws or being unfaithful. Other than being cursed with a disability that made human men think she was defective and Supe men think she was irresistible, she was a normal, red-blooded woman who wanted to be loved and valued just like anybody else. And if the man who had given her those things just happened to be dead, well then tough doo-doo on anyone who didn’t like it. They didn’t have to live her life.
She wondered if her sudden improved mood was because she knew Eric was on his way, but she shoved it aside and worked on calming herself down, otherwise her undead Viking was going to come in like The Avenger – possibly even with sword swinging if he strapped it on before he got there. She was smiling at the image as she brought Jason his food, and marveling at the emotional rollercoaster she was riding on. She hadn’t been on a real rollercoaster since High School, but somehow the freefall still felt the same.
Ten minutes later, Eric came into range. She’d been feeling him getting closer and closer, but she really knew he was almost there when she heard his thoughts.
‘Lover? My lover, can you hear me now?’
She busied herself with drying some glassware so she could hide her preoccupation. ‘Yes, I can hear you.’
‘I’m coming. I will be there soon. What has happened? What is wrong?’
‘It’s nothing. I’m better now,’ she assured him. It was true. It was as if all of her earlier doubt and upset had been swept away by just knowing he was on his way. Who else in her life had ever dropped everything just to come running to her side? He had to have left Fangtasia early in order to arrive when he was, and she wondered if he’d felt her upset and had just walked out.
‘Tell me,’ he answered.
She toyed with the idea of not telling him, but he was going to know anyway because Jason was still at the table in her section and not showing any signs of leaving.
‘Jason’s here.’
‘I… see. I am glad. I have some unfinished business with him.’
What unfinished business Eric could have with Jason was beyond her, but the edge of violence in his thoughts made her worry. She looked about the bar, and noted that almost everyone had gone. Even Tanya had already left after cleaning up her section. All that was left were Jason, Arlene, Catfish, two college kids slumming from Ruston, Jane Bodehouse, Sam, and herself. That was good. Fewer people to get out if Eric came in pissed off.
‘But your brother was not the one who made you so upset,’ Eric sent to her. He was coming in a lot clearer now, and she was really feeling him. He’d be there any minute.
‘I really don’t want to talk about it,’ she sent back. She managed to catch Sam’s eye and mouth “Eric’s coming,” just to give her boss a heads up. She saw Sam’s eyes widen, then he nodded gravely.
‘My lover, you are hurting and upset. I can feel it. I left Fangtasia to come to you because I knew you needed me. Why do you keep the things that hurt you away from me?’
His heartfelt words made her all gooey inside, and she was reminded of all the reasons why she had been so easily persuaded back to his bed. He knew the right things to say and do, and he was there when she needed him. And now, with him so close and the bond so strong, she knew he wasn’t lying to her or deceiving her about how he felt. His love and care washed over her like cool water, and all the tension in her shoulders released and drained out of her.
‘Really, it’s okay…’ she tried, but she knew before he could say anything that he had already gotten snippets of the things she had heard from her memory, and he was none too pleased.
‘We will speak of these things in private, my lover. We must be too far apart if such petty and blatantly untrue things can shake your faith in me and our bond,’ he admonished gently.
‘I know. I’m sorry…’
‘I am here.’ He was in the parking lot. She could almost hear the Corvette’s purr right before he turned off the engine.
‘I know.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too. Please don’t wreck the bar.’
‘I would never. I will be the epitome of restraint.’
He came in the door and the sight of him took her breath away. He’d let his hair loose, and it framed his face like a golden mane, wild and shining. He was a Norse God, his eyes blazing, his presence filling the bar as he paused in the doorframe. He saw her, made his way to her side faster than anyone could see, and drew her into his arms for a kiss. Sparks flew from her fingertips when they touched, their bond flaring and wrapping around them.
“My lover,” he whispered so lowly only she could hear.
“Mmmm,” she sighed, leaning into his embrace, feeling safe and beautiful. The moment she was in his arms everything made sense again. She was complete and whole again, and all was right with the world. Maybe there was some logic in his statement that they were too far apart…
He held her a moment more, humming happily in that way that always made her feel cherished, but then her brother decided to be an idiot and try to interfere.
“You should leave my sister alone,” Jason stated.
“Oh really?” her Viking replied. His voice was velvet over steel. Too bad Jason was too much of an idiot to hear it.
“Yeah, she doesn’t need to be dragged into your vampire shit. She’s a hell of a lot better off dating someone who isn’t a dead guy.”
“Because human men have treated her so well,” Eric said drolly.
“They’ve treated her a hell of a lot better than vamps! At least with real guys no one thinks my sister’s a fangbanging whore.”
“Jason!” she shrieked, horrified.
Eric’s hand shot out so fast, she didn’t even see it move. All she knew was the next second, Jason was writhing on the floor, moaning and grabbing his jaw, blood pooling in his mouth. Eric had slapped him across the face. She didn’t even have time to scream, although Jason was making enough noise for both of them.
“You will never speak of my lover in such terms ever again.”
Jason let out a strangled gasp and let out a gurgled, “You broke my jaw!” Which sounded more like “yophh rooooke mmmpphhh awwwwhh!”
“I owed you that for striking Sookie after her grandmother was killed,” her Viking said harshly, then he reached down and grabbed Jason by the shoulders, swinging him up to the bar as if he weighed no more than an sack of potatoes, and shoving him onto a bar stool.
While she watched in horror, Eric seized Jason’s hand and slapped it flat on the bar, then, while he was holding Jason’s wrist, he brought his fist up and prepared to smash Jason’s hand the way she’d smashed Calvin Norris’s. Jason screamed bloody murder, which was hard to do with his cracked jaw.
“Eric! Stop!” she cried, reaching to put her hand in the path of danger. She was lucky her lover had vampire reflexes; otherwise she would have been in a world of hurt.
Eric scowled at her, his fangs down. “Why do you stop me? He owes you the pain.”
Gotta love those Supes. They took the “eye for an eye” thing literally. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down.
“Yes. I know. But I’m not like that. I’m not vengeful, and breaking his hand doesn’t make what he did to me go away,” she tried to explain. ‘If you break his hand for me, that makes you no better than him. You shouldn’t lower yourself to his level.’
‘If he had been one of my subjects, and he had done that to you, I would have killed him,’ he replied coldly, but he did relax his fist. “You are too good for him, my lover.”
She sighed and looked at her brother. He was bleeding from the mouth, blazing mad, and cursing up a storm now that the danger had passed. His thoughts were black snakes twisting around each other and eating their own tails, and she was starting to rethink her decision to stop Eric.
“Yeah, I know,” she agreed sadly. She turned to Sam who was looking shocked and wary. She half expected him to break a pool cue in half and threaten Eric with it. She made a gesture for calm. “Sam, you know the… customs better than I do. If I let Eric break Jason’s hand what will his… in-laws think?”
She had to be careful what she said because non-Supes were in the bar.
Jason’s eyes widened and he started struggling, but Eric still had his wrist pinned to the bar. Sam looked at her, trying to figure out what she meant. Because she and Calvin had stood for Jason and Crystal at their wedding, technically she had agreed to what that could entail, but now her vampire lover was seeking vengeance for the pain Jason had caused her. In the Supe world, that might be normal.
“By his own admission, he conspired to make sure his wife’s infidelity would be discovered. He is as guilty as the woman, and a coward for allowing Sookie to face the consequences of something that was ultimately his responsibility. He betrayed her trust,” Eric stated, speaking like a prosecutor trying to convince the judge that the accused deserved the death penalty.
“Yes,” Sam agreed and Jason started screaming, which was an agonizing sound because he couldn’t move his jaw. “You have claimed her?” her boss asked her bonded over her head.
Eric nodded. “Yes.”
“Then it is your right, but… I gotta be honest, he ain’t worth it.”
Eric seemed to digest this, and she got the feeling that the two of them had been talking about Supe political crap that she didn’t understand. But what was really odd about the whole thing was that Sam was completely calm and talking to Eric as if they were… well… not friends, but colleagues. Oh, yeah, colleagues in the Keep Sookie Happy Club. It was just like the night Sam called Eric in order to get her to talk about what had happened. She scowled. Men.
“Do I get a say in this?” she snapped peevishly.
“Of course.” “Sure.” Both partners in crime replied in unison.
“Then I’ve decided that I’d rather you not break Jason’s hand.”
Eric leveled her with a look, his face stony, then abruptly released her brother’s wrist.
“As you wish, my lover. His punishment is your decision.”
Jason moaned with relief and gave her a grateful look. She glared at him.
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I don’t want what he does to you on my conscience,” she snarled.
Eric stood at her shoulder, looming over her like a big, white grizzly bear. “Know this. If you ever harm her again, I will kill you.”
During all of this, Arlene and Catfish had been huddled together with twin expressions of disgust and fear on their faces, the two students from Ruston had bailed without paying their bill, and Jane Bodehouse had barely looked up from her beer, but now she was thinking that the whole situation was mighty funny. As things calmed down, Catfish was thinking he might be able to get the drop on Eric if Eric was distracted; he’d been the one who’d staked Charles Twinning after all.
“Don’t you dare, Shirley Hennessey,” she warned, using Catfish’s real name, then turned to Sam. “Sam, you got a first aid kit in your office, right?”
“In the storeroom,” her boss corrected.
“Would you be willing to take Jason back there and I’ll fix him up some?”
Sam nodded.
“Arlene, start cleaning up for Last Call,” he said, then took Jason by the arm to drag him back to the storage room. She and Eric followed.
“Do you think Dr. Ludwig would come out here this time of night?” she asked when they were out of non-Supe sight.
Eric blinked at her and shrugged. “It is possible, but why? Do you not want him to suffer?”
Part of her did, and that scared her. “You broke his jaw, Eric. He’ll have to go to the hospital if we can’t get him healed. If he does that, there will be questions.”
She gave him a look and he nodded, understanding, but couching his understanding with a disdainful thought about silly human social mores. In his book, Jason deserved to have his jaw broken every six weeks for the next year, just to get the point across. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Call Dr. Ludwig. Please?”
Her Viking gave a suffering sigh and pulled out his cell phone. She heard him talking to Pam while she went to see what could be done for Jason. Sam had given him some whiskey to help dull the pain, and Jason was looking less pissed-off, but his face was starting to swell and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“I’ve asked Eric to call Dr. Ludwig,” she said.
Sam looked at her in surprise, but nodded. “Okay.”
“I don’t want questions,” she explained, then commanded her brother’s attention. “I’m gonna see about getting you healed. I do this, we’re even, understand? You leave Eric alone. Got it?”
Jason grimaced as much as his swollen face would allow and nodded.
“Do you want me to give him my blood?” she heard Eric ask from behind her.
“No!” she refused vehemently as her brother made a furious negative sound through his bloody lips.
Eric seemed disappointed. He was thinking that if he got his blood in Jason, then he could control Jason pretty easily, and that might solve a whole host of problems.
“No,” she repeated more firmly.
Her Viking shrugged. “As you wish. Dr. Ludwig will be here momentarily.”
“How…” she began, but cut off when the little woman blipped into the storeroom.
“I am here. What is so urgent that you needed me to come to this backwater at this time of night?” the doctor demanded, then caught sight of Jason. “Never mind, I see the problem.”
“I owe him the healing,” Eric admitted grudgingly, casting Sookie an unhappy look. He was still thinking that it was better to let Jason suffer.
“I’m going to go back to the bar and help Arlene,” she stated and didn’t wait for anyone to naysay her.
Back in the front, Arlene was busy closing up the bar because it was only ten minutes to two. Catfish and Jane were still there. Catfish was waiting to see what had happened with Jason, and Jane… well, Jane…
“I called her son,” Arlene said snappishly as she wiped down the bar.
“Thanks,” she answered, going over to the table where the two college kids had been sitting, and collecting the empty plates and mugs. They’d stiffed her for $30.
‘I will pay it,’ came her vampire’s immediate response.
For once she didn’t argue. It was his fault they’d run out anyway. Seeing a vampire come storming in and breaking someone’s jaw was enough to send anyone running. She concentrated on her work and kept her shields up because she so did not want to know what Catfish and Arlene were thinking. It was much easier to block now that Eric was there.
About fifteen minutes later, Sam came back out leading Jason. Eric followed. There was no sign of Dr. Ludwig, and she guessed the doctor had just blipped home, wherever home was. Her brother’s head was wrapped in a dressing that supported his jaw, and his face was black and blue, but his eyes were bright. Catfish stood up.
“You need me to take him to the hospital?” Jason’s boss asked.
“Nah. He’s okay. Guy’s got rocks for bones,” Sam replied. “He shouldn’t drive home though.”
Catfish nodded. “I’ll take him.”
“Thanks, Catfish,” she said.
The man gave her a withering look that prompted Eric to lift one lip and show a bit of fang, before taking Jason out into the night. She was relieved to see them both go. Jane’s son came in a minute later to collect his inebriated mother, and they left in short order after the boy paid Jane’s tab. That left only, her, Arlene, Sam and Eric in the bar.
“Sam, I’m gone,” Arlene called, breezing out the door. She hadn’t bothered to acknowledge Sookie or Eric on her way out.
Oh yeah, that was another person who was now convinced that she was beyond saving. With all the people in Bon Temps who thought she was so wonderful, maybe going to work for Eric full-time wasn’t such a bad idea. The only person she’d really miss was Sam… and maybe Terry. Terry was always nice to her.
She looked at Eric, but his mind and face were suspiciously blank on the subject. She sighed. She was tired and worn out, and she wanted the night to be over. Eric felt her weariness and came over to put his arm around her, tucking her in next to his body. She practically sagged with weariness, and she didn’t care if Eric held her in front of Sam. It struck her, then, that Sam was taking all of this remarkably well, and she turned to him, feeling guilty for once again being the cause of his upset.
“Sam… thanks,” she said, knowing it was inadequate, but it was all she had.
She watched Eric and Sam exchange another one of those looks that made her very uncomfortable.
“I don’t appreciate someone coming in and beating up my customers, but in this case, I’ll make an exception,” her boss answered.
“Jason’s not that bad, Sam…”
She stopped because Sam gave her such a glare that it shocked her.
“You haven’t been involved with Supes long enough to understand how serious what Jason did was. Yeah, Crystal broke her vows, but he was the one who manipulated the Seconds, and that’s a big breach of trust. I don’t even think Jason knows how serious what he did was, but he’d better learn and fast. Supes aren’t forgiving, Sookie. As far as I’m concerned, Jason got what he deserved, and if it had been up to me, I would’ve let Eric break his hand.”
The admission gave her pause because she suddenly had to reorient her view of her boss. Her confusion and shock must have shown on her face because Sam looked at Eric and shook his head sadly.
“She doesn’t understand, does she?”
“No,” Eric admitted in a tone of voice that said that little fact was exasperating and a source of deep frustration.
The two Supes sighed in unison.
“You should take her home. She worked hard tonight,” Sam said.
“I intend to, but first, would it be possible for Sookie to work the dayshift on Wednesday? I am planning a meeting at Fangtasia that requires her presence.”
Sam’s eyes widened and his face grew grave. “You’re making the announcement?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I think I already had her down for lunch that day anyway.”
“Good.”
Okay, she was getting just a little fed up with being talked about as if she wasn’t there. “Hello? I’m still here, y’know!”
Eric smiled down at her, his eyes warm. “Of course, my lover. Are you ready to go? Have you finished all of your work?”
“Yeah.”
“Go on, Sook. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam told her, giving Eric the shoo motion.
Eric turned, somehow managing to turn her in the same smooth movement, and guided her out to the parking lot.
“I will follow you to your house. We are staying in Ruston tonight, yes?” he asked, presenting her to her car.
Half of her wanted to say that all she wanted to do was sleep in her own bed, but there was no privacy at her Gran’s with Amelia and Octavia there, and no safe place for Eric to bed down during the day. And if she had to choose sleeping alone in her own bed or sleeping with Eric at the Ruston house, she’d choose Ruston.
‘It is not a choice, my lover. I will stay with you no matter where you wish to go.’
Which boiled it down to privacy or no privacy? She chose privacy. ‘Ruston.’
‘As you wish.’
It was his new catchphrase. She was starting to think she was Buttercup in The Princess Bride.
‘The what?’ her Viking asked.
‘It’s a movie. Never mind,’ she answered as she got into her car. Eric was already headed for his. A thousand years old, and he had missed most of the pivotal films in movie history.
‘I heard that,’ Eric complained.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ She started her car and pulled out of the lot. Eric’s Corvette fell in behind her.
‘My lover, if you really want to rent a bunch of “chick flicks” and make me sit through them, you’re going to have to make it worth my while.’
‘What? Like watch them naked?’ she joked as she turned onto the road.
‘That’s an idea,’ he replied brightly.
‘Sex between each film?’
‘Even better.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re insatiable.’
‘You’re just figuring that out?’
She laughed in spite of herself and shook her head. She turned onto Hummingbird Road and eased down her driveway a few moments later. Her house was dark and silent, which meant her two boarders had already gone to bed.
They stayed long enough for her to leave a note for Octavia and Amelia telling them that she was spending the night with Eric and leaving her cell number in case of an emergency. Then she packed a change of clothes in her overnight bag and tried to put in a nightgown, but Eric promptly pounced on it and took it out.
‘Planning on sleeping alone?’ he asked, waggling his eyebrows as he held up the cotton shift.
‘In case you haven’t noticed, it’s November and you don’t have any body heat.’
‘I will furnish our nest with an electric blanket to warm your chilly mortal toes.’
‘Is there one there now?’
‘No.’
‘Then Holly Hobbie goes back in the bag,’ she said, holding out her hand for the nightgown. He looked reluctant, so she wiggled her fingers at him, and he relented, handing her the shift with a shake of his head. She shoved the nightgown back into the bag and stuffed the fabulous bathrobe she’d gotten on Isle Elena in there, too.
‘My subjects will think you have defanged me,’ he complained sullenly.
There was an edge to it, a warning that put a single cold finger at the back of her neck, and she paused.
‘Eric… I’ll never make you look weak in front of your subjects,’ she promised.
He blinked at her, surprised, then he nodded. ‘That would be the safest and wisest thing to do.’
She’d definitely hit something dead on. The vampire hierarchy was based on age, intelligence and strength. Eric could not appear to be henpecked by a human woman, and the understanding brought new clarity to her. In a way, she’d always known it, but it was only now that it was truly coming home to roost. No matter how amiable and reasonable Eric might be with her in private, once they were in public, he had to be the leader and she had to accept that even if it sometimes rankled her American sensibilities.
‘Ready to go?’ he asked.
‘Yep.’
He smiled at her, and they left as silently as they had come, taking the Taurus and leaving her Malibu and his Corvette parked behind the house.
“Is the announcement Wednesday night when you will tell everyone that we’re bonded?” she asked when they were both in the car and headed down Hummingbird Road. Eric was driving again.
“Yes.” It was a simple answer, but she felt that there was more to it.
“You will tell them that I am yours,” she pressed.
He nodded and she could feel his tension in the bond. He knew how she felt about being possessed, but she was fast figuring out that it wasn’t about how either of them really felt, but more about how it looked.
“Yes, I will declare you as mine,” he finally answered, his voice careful.
She licked her lip, swallowing that and accepting it. “Okay. That’s okay. Will you tell them that you are mine?”
She saw him consider her words and knew he was thinking hard, but she refrained from tapping his mind to see what he was thinking.
“I… will tell any human or Supe that I am faithful to you.”
“That you have a companion,” she said, remembering Bill’s words that first trip to Fangtasia. The night her world changed forever.
“That, too, but more. I will say I am your bonded, that you are… my mate, and I am yours.”
She processed that as he merged onto to the Interstate. “Eric… are we… married now, by vamp standards?”
“What we have is deeper and more profound than any words or scraps of paper.”
Well, that was her answer.
“But… I have told you that I will marry you according to your human customs anytime, if that is what you wish.”
She nodded and tried to picture it like she had on Isle Elena: her in white, him in a tux – the tux he’d worn that one time she went to the Dracula’s birthday party at Fangtasia – flowers, cake and candles. Who would stand for her? Pam? Amelia? They were possibly the only two women on the planet who would be happy for her, and Pam’s happiness was iffy. Who would give her away? Jason? (Yeah, right!) Sam? Niall? (Oh that would be good. A fairy at a vampire wedding.) Who would Eric ask to be his Best Man? Clancy? Russell Eddington? Sam? Some vamp she didn’t know? Who would officiate? Where would they have the ceremony?
Vegas came to mind and she giggled. “We could get married in Vegas with one of those Elvis impersonators as the priest.”
“You want Bubba to be our officiant?” he blurted with great offense.
The look on his face made her burst out laughing.
“I could walk down the aisle to The Hawaiian Wedding Song, and we could dance to Viva Las Vegas as our first dance,” she teased.
“I am not wearing a white spangled jumpsuit or cutting my hair into sideburns.”
“What would happen if you cut your hair?” She’d never asked Bill about how vampires regenerated. She knew that they remained forever as they were when they died, but she didn’t know what would happen if say… one of them wanted a new hairstyle or a tattoo.
“It would grow back over the course of the day.”
She looked at his long locks. “Just a day?”
He nodded.
Wow. That was impressive. No bad hair days or unfixable “hair accidents.”
“Wow.”
“I can show you. I can shave my head before dawn, and you can watch it grow back while I am asleep.”
“You just said you wouldn’t cut your hair.”
“I said I wouldn’t cut it to sideburns,” he corrected.
Somehow the idea of him shaving his head just so she could watch his hair grow back was just creepy, but touching in its own way. She knew he pampered and fussed over his golden locks. Apparently, Vikings had a hair fetish. She remembered reading that one of the most common artifacts found in archeological digs from the Viking Era were combs. Not that she’d been looking that sort of thing up or anything.
The fact that he was willing to make the sacrifice was, actually, really nice. Who else would shave his head for her? It had to be love.
“Ah. Well, while I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to do that for me.”
“I do cut it sometimes. If I dye it, then I will shave it off at the end of the night, and it will be back to normal the following evening. And I’ve used my hair for things in a pinch for rope or binding. Our hair is very strong.”
She blinked. That was very interesting. She’d never even thought about that, and since he seemed to be in a chatty mood, she continued the conversation.
“What happens to the cut hair? Does it flake away like vamp bodies do?”
“No. It lasts forever unless you burn it.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I will make you a braid of my hair as a present sometime and give it to you. For your birthday, perhaps.”
She tried to imagine him giving her a lock of his hair as a keepsake, and she found that she liked the idea. “That’d be really sweet of you.”
“Anything for you, my lover,” he replied, completely without guile.
They were “home,” the little cottage softly lit by diffused security lights that came on when they tripped the motion sensors. It was still as charming as the first time she’d seen it, and she smiled at Eric as he pressed a button on the overhead console to open the garage door.
“I am glad you like our nest,” he said softly.
“I do. I really do,” she assured him.
He leaned over to kiss her as he unbuckled her seatbelt. “I know.”
They both got out of the car, and she moved to go to the door, but Eric was suddenly in front of her, looking down at her with warm eyes. Before she had a chance to ask what was going on, he bent down and kissed her forcefully. She reached up to grab his arms because he was making her knees go weak. When he finally pulled back, she was panting and her heart was hammering in her chest. He gave her his signature smirk, and she knew she was in trouble.
“I may not have seen The Princess Bride, my lover, but I have seen Gone With the Wind.”
And with that he picked her up and carried her, Rhett-style, into the house.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A/N: This is officially the last chapter of LLI. There will be an epilogue, but after that, LLI will be complete. LLI IS NOT OVER YET. I am planning at least 4 short stories as companion pieces. All that is over is the linear portion of the story.
“Victor was at Fangtasia tonight,” he whispered softly.
They were in bed, snuggled together in contented post-coital bliss. She was naked. They’d stopped at the 24-hour Wal-mart and picked up an electric blanket. Now her toes (and the rest of her) were nice and toasty, and Eric didn’t seem to be complaining either. Knowing what she knew of vampires, she could guess that he was enjoying the warmth as much as she was.
But if the blanket was keeping her warm, his almost too casual statement made her blood run cold.
“What did he want?” she asked, trying not to sound too horrified.
“Probably to find out why we’re still alive,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“What did you do?”
“I played ignorant, and when he started trying to accuse me of something, I told him that I’d taken you on vacation.”
“Did he buy that?”
“He did after I showed him the pictures. He recognized Maria Piazzi,” he said.
“He did?”
He nodded. “He also figured out that we were on Isle Elena.”
She gasped and shivered. “Oh no. Is that bad?”
He shrugged. “Isle Elena has a well-known reputation, so I am not surprised that he knew of it. But his knowledge worked in our favor.”
“It did?”
“Yes. Once it was known that I’d taken you to the sanctuary on Isle Elena, any argument Victor would have tried to make regarding my plotting against the King, or some other insubordination, would have fallen through. No one would have believed him,” he explained.
“That’s good. That’s really good,” she said with relief, feeling Eric’s smug pleasure through the bond.
“He was planning something. My Hammer starting tingling a warning when I got too close to him so he must have had some kind of silver on him.”
“Did it transform?”
“No, it just vibrated a little. I think it will only transform when the threat is immanent,” he commented.
The necklace in question wasn’t far from her face, and it rested against his chest, gleaming pewter against his marble white skin. They’d found that they needed to do something with it when they made love with him atop her, otherwise the pendant “hammered” her in the nose. Eric had taken to sliding it around to rest between his shoulder blades to get it out of the way.
“I’m glad. If it had started glowing in front of him, that would have been bad.”
“Hlin will take care of me,” he said with complete confidence. “All the same, we should run some tests to see when it transforms. Will it glow only when silver is touching me, or will it flare when silver gets within a certain proximity? We should try to determine where the breaking point is.”
She nodded, not really looking forward to that, but understanding his position. “Okay. So what happened with Victor?”
“Once he knew the tables had been turned on him, and I wasn’t giving him any indication that we’d been ambushed, he took the opportunity to retreat with grace,” he replied, a feral smile on his lips. His fangs had even come down a little.
“So you just let him leave then.”
“Yes, it was for the best.”
She nodded, understanding his point even if the thought of Victor still walking around and able to plot against them made her nervous.
“I will never allow anything to happen to you,” he reasserted confidently.
She snuggled closer, pressing her cheek to his silent chest. “I know.”
He was quiet for a few moments, holding her and letting her calm down, before he spoke again. “There is something else I must discuss with you, my lover,” he said in a careful voice.
‘Uh oh…’ “Okay,” she answered, equally carefully.
“Victor will be at the announcement on Wednesday.”
She shivered, processing and getting control of her fear. Eric was calm so that meant that he wasn’t worried that Victor would pull something at the meeting.
“Okay,” she finally said.
“Wednesday is also the night of your punishment. I have ordered a dress for you to wear,” he added with a bit of an edge to his voice that dared her to challenge him.
She gulped. She knew she had agreed to his terms, but if he was warning her now…
“Don’t you dare make me look like a fangbanger whore, Eric Northman,” she replied very sternly.
Anger arced through the bond, but she felt him stamp it down. “You will never refer to yourself by that term in my presence. Is that clear?”
‘Whoa…’ His vehemence was a little scary, actually. “Okay.”
“You are my lover, my bonded. I hold you in the highest esteem. There is nothing dirty or low about you. You are my princess, and you will be treated as such.”
She snorted. “I’m no princess.”
He tightened his arm around her. “No, you are my Queen. There is no one who holds my heart closer. As you are mine, so I am yours. We are each other’s. No one can come between us. We are one in heart and mind.”
‘Literally,’ she thought.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, then said aloud, “You have no idea how much comfort I gain by knowing that we can hear each other’s thoughts. I want to keep trying to extend our range. I almost heard you while I was in Fangtasia tonight.”
“I did hear you. I think. Well, I’m pretty sure I did.”
He smiled. “That is wonderful. I know I could feel you. That’s how I knew to come to your side.”
She sighed and snuggled closer. “I’m glad you did.”
He laughed softly and stroked her hair. “How glad?” he whispered teasingly.
She snickered and raised up to kiss him. “Very glad.”
He gave her his signature leer and pulled her atop him.
Much later, after she had cleaned up and made sure the room was light proofed, they were in bed again, limbs entwined, and Eric had her tucked against him.
“We must discuss our plan,” he said gently.
“Plan? We have a plan?” she answered, yawning. As usual, he’d worn her out, and all she wanted to do was go to dreamland in his arms.
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “My sleepy lover. I am too much for you.”
“Not usually,” she sighed back. “It’s this bed. It’s too comfortable.”
“Mmmm. Are you sure it isn’t my amazing pleasuring skills that have exhausted you?”
“That could be part of it,” she admitted.
“Then this conversation must wait until you are more awake. I need you alert and paying attention, my lover.”
“Okay,” she murmured, already feeling sleep coming to take her down into that warm, safe place where she was too comfortable to move. The last thing she remembered was his gentle touch and soft words of love before she was gone.
When she woke the clock read 11:22, and she knew it was daytime by Eric’s dead weight next to her. He’d fallen asleep wrapped around her, and she had to lift his arm in order to slip out of bed, but the great thing about sleeping with a vampire was that she never had to worry about him being a light sleeper.
She showered and dressed in the soft clothes she’d packed in her bag, musing to herself that she ought to bring some things over from her house to keep in the dresser in “her” room. She didn’t have to be at work until 8pm, so she had all day to lounge around and do nothing if she so chose, and that is what she opted to do.
She started a fire in the fireplace with wood from the pile stacked in the woodshed behind the house, and made breakfast from the food she had bought at Wal-mart. Her milk was sitting right next to a six-pack of TrueBlood on the top shelf, and she smiled at the irony.
Armed with coffee, a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of juice, she settled onto the sofa by the fire and enjoyed a quiet, relaxed morning. Afterwards, she washed the dishes and did a little exploring. Eric had equipped the kitchen with the basics, but there were items that were missing simply because a vampire wouldn’t even think about them. For instance, there was a microwave, toaster and coffee machine, but no blender, food processor or mixer. There were plates, glasses and silverware, but no mixing bowls or serving pieces.
She began making a list of all the things the house needed, but then wondered why she was bothering. No one was going to be coming over. It was their secret nest as Eric had described it. She wouldn’t be baking or entertaining there so what did she need a food processor or servingware for? The blender, however, was always a good thing to have, but she crossed off a bunch of other stuff that she figured she would never need, so why spend money on them.
The house was three bedrooms, but the smallest bedroom was actually furnished as an office with a dual station computer desk and filing cabinets, and there was a brand new-looking PC at one of the stations with a flat screen monitor. The room was neat and tidy, and she didn’t have to wonder if there was high speed Internet.
Everywhere she looked, there were little details that spoke of how well Eric knew her. From the pattern on the dishes to the designs on the potholders and kitchen cloths, to the color and texture of the towels and the kinds of soaps in the bathrooms, everything was suited to her tastes. There was even a bookcase in the living room with mysteries and romance novels from authors she liked.
The “nest” was designed and decorated for her pleasure and comfort. The only places that had any of Eric’s touch were the master suite and “his” section of the office. Those places were much more masculine, and there was even a bronze cast of a Viking longship on the hutch by the desk in the office. She smiled when she saw that, then sat at the desk and booted the computer.
The system wasn’t password protected so she was able to get right on and do a couple of things on the Internet, like sign up for an email account and look up some information on Google. When she was done, she wrote down her new email address on a pad of paper she found in the desk drawer and left the information next to the mouse for Eric to find when he got up.
By the time she was finished puttering around and surfing the Internet, it was almost 4pm, and Eric would be getting up in about an hour and a half. She opted to go back to bed and snuggle with him so she’d be there when he woke, and to that end she undressed and slid in beside her Viking. He didn’t even budge when she nudged him to roll onto his back so she could tuck her head into the crook of his shoulder. Somehow his lack of heartbeat and breathing were actually comforting to her. Bill’s chest had been silent, too, and she had come to associate that with normal, so she cuddled right up and put her arm across his chest. She was asleep in minutes.
Eric’s deep hum woke her an hour later as he sniffed and nuzzled her, poking his nose into a couple of soft places that tickled. She jerked and giggled, making him hum deeper, his whole chest vibrating with pleasure.
“There is nothing I like more than to wake up with you tucked against me, my lover. It is the world’s biggest turn on,” he whispered huskily.
She could tell. His interest was pressed hard (very hard) against her thigh, and her libido was waking up with the rest of her. He felt her arousal and purred, his big hands beginning to work their magic.
‘So beautiful. So alluring,’ he was thinking, his thoughts clouded with lust and love and hunger.
She gasped, letting his emotions wash over into her and merge with her own desire and need, as she arched her back and spread her legs so he could rest between them. Her hands slid down the cool satin of his back to cup the globes of her favorite part of him, and she heard him chuckle when she squeezed.
“I must get a mirror for this room too,” he teased, nibbling her earlobe. His fangs were down, but he wasn’t biting.
“Mmmm,” she agreed, lifting her legs a little to center him. His erection was pinned against her pubic bone, and she wanted it to be… lower. He chuckled in her ear.
“Why so impatient, my lover? I want to savor you before I devour you.”
His reference to eating her shouldn’t have made her shudder with lust, but it did.
“Eric, please…”
“No need to beg, my lover. I’ll give you all that you want and more, over and over again until you are nothing more than a shivering mass of pleasure.”
She groaned and dug her nails into his ass, urging him to get on with it, but he was in a “mood” and that mood was s-l-o-w. She wanted to scream by the time he finally got his mouth down to the juncture of her thighs and his fingers in place. He fed from her femoral artery then moved his mouth over, working her to a frenzy as she gripped his head and writhed on his tongue. She did scream as she came, then gasped when he mounted her, flipping the Hammer behind his neck before it whacked her in the jaw.
They moved together, each feeding the other’s passion, the sounds of their union filling her ears – his grunts matched with her panting, each moan accompanied by a companion cry of pleasure. He filled every part of her with himself, and she filled him, until they climaxed in unison, each clinging to the other as they shuddered together.
Afterwards, he’d held her, his long fingers combing through her hair as she caught her breath and came down from the high. Sex with Eric was always a profound experience, much more than it had ever been with Bill or Quinn. Bill had been good to be sure, but making love with Eric seemed so much more. It always felt as if Bill was holding something back from her (which indeed he was: the truth), and there was always that distance between them, a gulf that was never bridged. With Eric, there was no gulf or bridge or separation. He gave everything of himself every time. Whether it was a quick tumble or a long, slow seduction, she always knew she had 100-percent of him all of the time.
What a difference it made.
Now as she lay, sated and content, feeling the soft brush of his fingers and hearing the low hum in his chest, she felt complete. She’d never felt so whole with Bill or Quinn. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare Eric with the others, but she couldn’t help herself. Only Eric had ever made her feel as if she was the only thing in his world that really mattered.
“You are,” he murmured softly, his lips at the top of her head, his hand drawing her ever closer against him.
“Eric…” she began, sliding her arm across his chest.
“Yes, my lover?”
“Do you think Bill ever really loved me?”
What a question to ask him! And she winced the moment the words left her mouth, but she couldn’t take them back. She waited to see how he would respond, hoping that she hadn’t ruined the Moment. He was silent for a long time, and she respectfully stayed out of his head until he finally replied.
“Yes. I do believe that he did.”
She let out the breath she was holding as the tension ran out of her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For telling me that.”
He shrugged. “I will not lie to you, my lover.”
She nodded. “It’s just that… I gave him everything, and it didn’t seem to be enough. I mean, even before the bit with Lorena, I felt like I was losing him.”
“He had too many secrets. Your relationship was never open or honest. Such pairings rarely last very long. They are smothered under the weight of their own baggage,” he commented sagely.
“And ours is? Honest?”
“Of course. I have never hidden my attraction to you. I have always been up front with you. If I needed your talents, I told you straight away. I never dithered or tried to manipulate you into it.”
She huffed and tapped the bullet embedded in his Hammer. “You tricked me into sucking out that bullet. You told me it wouldn’t pop out on its own.”
“And yet you kept it,” he pointed out. “But you are right. I did lie. I did it because I could already see the fissures forming between you and Bill, and I wanted to stake my claim as soon as possible. I wanted my blood in you so I would know where you were and if you were in danger. Losing track of you in Dallas was a difficult situation. For all the blood Compton gave you, he proved completely useless in tracking your whereabouts.”
She huffed again, conceding his point, but still not overjoyed at being manipulated, but, she reasoned, that was just something vampires did. Conniving bastards.
“Of course,” he agreed without guilt.
She sighed. “So… you think Bill really did love me?”
“Yes, in as much as someone like him could love.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded a little defensively.
“My lover, I have seen Bill’s type countless times. Men who are emotionally detached in life and who remain so in death. They are loners, best left to themselves because they simply do not associate well with others. The Queen should never have asked him to go to Bon Temps, let alone seduce you. That was an error on her part, and one I have yet to understand. She was usually so canny and astute.”
“Maybe she figured it wouldn’t take Bill all that long to get me under his control,” she offered.
He laughed at that. “How shocked he must have been to find that you were immune to his glamour.”
“Have you ever met other humans who couldn’t be glamoured?”
“Of course. It’s a sign that they are very stubborn and probably not worth the trouble,” he teased.
She poked him in the side and he chuckled, then sobered. “But, yes, I have met those who were immune to my powers. Usually they were very strong-minded individuals with a concrete sense of self. Such people are extremely hard to influence, but often can be very valuable nonetheless. Some of my most loyal subjects have been ones I could not control. And in not being able to control them, they reminded me of the depth and breadth of the human spirit.”
He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her affectionately. “Like you, my lover. You never cease to amaze me with how steadfast and loyal you are.”
The admission made her feel warm and she smiled. “Thank you. You’re… ahh, pretty loyal too, y’know.”
“Oh yes. Once you have me, I am yours.”
“I know. I just don’t know how long I’ll get to keep you,” she admitted.
He put one finger under her chin and made her look at him. “A very long time, my lover. As long as you will have me.”
“We’ve gotta do something about Victor first,” she said worriedly.
“Yes,” he agreed, his face going stony. “And to that effect, we must talk about our plan.”
“Because we have one.”
“Oh yes. There is always a plan. Sometimes there are many plans, but there is always at least one.”
She smiled. “So what is our plan?”
His eyes grew concerned, and she knew that she wasn’t going to like “the plan.”
“You’re not,” he said.
She put on her stubborn face and waited. Her action actually amused him, and he smiled at her.
“As I have said, Victor has lots of followers. Most of them have relocated to New Orleans to serve as his investigators and enforcers, but a few have been parceled out as spies. No doubt one of them is the one responsible for bugging Fangtasia.”
“Have you discovered the source of the leak?” she asked.
“No, but I hired someone to sweep the bar and clean the computers. He was to do the job today. I will check my voicemail in a little while to see if he found anything.”
“What about your cellphones?”
“We’re getting new ones. You too.”
“Me? Why me? How could someone have bugged my phone?” she asked.
“There are devices that can scan cell phone transmissions and record the data signature so it can be found more easily,” he answered.
She frowned, but knew better than to argue. “Don’t get me anything fancy,” she warned.
He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she knew the new phone would be the least of her problems.
“Okay, so new phones and a bug sweep of Fangtasia are part of the plan. What’s the rest of it?” she questioned.
“I have decided that a frontal assault on Victor would be unwise. He is too well protected and connected, so we must opt for a more… subtle tactic.”
She was starting to get with the program, and he was right, she didn’t like where her thoughts were taking her.
“You want me to read his mind,” she stated.
“Yes. I want you to glean the locations of his daytime sleeping places. Like me, he almost certainly has more than one. We need to know where he shelters during the day. I will give you my blood on Wednesday night before the announcement so you will be at your peak.”
“You know that I’m gonna have to touch him for that,” she reminded.
He scowled, but nodded. “I know, and I have a… plan for allowing him closer access to you. As Sheriff of Area One, and Felipe’s henchman, he will be allowed some… liberties… ”
She gasped. “Eric, there is no way I am letting him bite me!”
He snorted and looked at her as if she was an alien. “Of course not. You are mine, and after the announcement, everyone will know you are mine. If he tries to harm you, I can kill him.”
“Is that your plan?”
He shook his head. “No. I was hoping to dispose of him quietly.”
She thought about that for a minute. “That’s why you want to know where he shelters for the day. You want to get him right when he wakes up.”
He raised his hand and showed her the Trojan Horse ring. “Or before.”
The ring, combined with one of Eros’s mint leaves, would… She gasped, her eyes opening wide. “A daytime attack.”
He nodded. “Think of it, Sookie. What if Victor just… vanished? No one would suspect me because I can’t move about in the daytime. No one would suspect you because you are a human.”
“But I’ve killed vamps before,” she reminded.
“Not like Victor, and if he simply disappears from his hiding place how would anyone connect his disappearance with you?”
She had to admit, it was pretty brilliant as far as plans went, if they could pull it off.
“So, how am I supposed to get close enough to Victor to touch him and pick his brain?”
He gave her a mischievous smile. “I intend to engineer a little… disturbance at the announcement on Wednesday; one that will require you to be guarded while I take care of things. I will call on Victor to keep you safe in my office. From there, you will be left to use your considerable skills to get what we need.”
She blinked at him. “What are you planning?”
“It is best if you not know so your reaction will be genuine.”
That made sense, but she didn’t have to like it, and from the gleeful light in his eyes, she really wasn’t going to like it.
‘No, but it will be all right. You must trust me, my lover, and do as I say.’
She huffed, her natural stubbornness rising to the fore, but she stamped it down. She’d promised, and she had to trust Eric to know what he was doing. It was hard, and she knew there would be times when he’d pushed it too far, but she’d vowed to make this work, so she had to start somewhere.
“Okay.”
He gave her a genuine smile and kissed her lovingly. “Thank you my lover. I promise you that you will not be disappointed. Once Victor is out of the way, we will be safe.”
“You hope,” she countered.
“If Victor suddenly vanishes, the mystery will keep his followers scrambling for a time, trying to find him and figure out what happened,” he answered. “During that time, I can solidify my position with Felipe, and garner my own supporters.”
“Will you take over Area One?”
He made such a disgusted face that she laughed. “Uh… no. I have no desire to rule New Orleans. Felipe will need a Sheriff who is much more of a… how do you say? People person? Than I am. Vampires in New Orleans work closely with the human government there, and I have never been good at… liaising with human politicians.”
She poked him. “Oh, I dunno, I’ve seen you kiss ass pretty well.”
He scowled. “Only with vampires. Besides, New Orleans is a Mecca for vampires, and they tend to go hog wild, especially at Mardi Gras. I have no desire to constantly be dealing with idiotic vamps who don’t want to follow the rules just because they are on vacation. Leave that chore to someone else.”
She smiled and stroked his chest to soothe his ruffled pride. “You like your little corner of northern Louisiana.”
“No hurricanes, fewer vamps to rein in, almost exclusive rights to the market… I have all the good things I would have in New Orleans with half of the hassle. So yes, I like my little corner of Louisiana just fine.”
“Me too,” she agreed.
She hadn’t really liked New Orleans before Katrina. She liked it even less now. The city was like a ragged wound, scarred and tough where the skin had been torn away. It looked healed on the surface, but it was red and puckered, and pockets of infection still festered underneath. She didn’t blame Eric for not wanting to deal with rebuilding the city and trying to force a corrupt and apathetic government to keep their end of the bargain. Eric was much more likely to go in with sword swinging and start chopping off heads.
“I’d start with that imbecile of a mayor,” her Viking agreed. “Then work my way down to the Corps of Engineers responsible for the levies. I’d make New Orleans a true vampire city.”
She snorted. “I doubt the human population would like that much.”
“Why not? We would keep order, rebuild the city, and it would never flood again. We would restore her to her former glory and prosperity would follow. Everyone would profit. The humans would worship us.”
He seemed pretty sure about that.
“You don’t think they’d have a problem being ruled by vampires?”
“Why should they? They’re ruled by human blood suckers now.”
That made her laugh, and she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder as she giggled. He laughed with her and stroked her side, thumbing her breast teasingly. That sobered her up right quick.
“On a more… pleasing note,” he purred, running his tongue along her neck. “Monday is my photoshoot for the new Fangtasia calendar. It would make me very happy if you would accompany me.”
“Gonna be Mr. January again?” she answered, arching her neck. He loved that, and let her know with a deep, throaty growl.
“I’d be every month for you, my lover.”
“Mmmm, a year of naked Viking. Hmmmm…”
“Shall I have a… private calendar made just for you? And perhaps, one for me?”
“You want twelve months of you naked on your office wall?”
He barked a short laugh before he nibbled her earlobe.
‘No, silly. Twelve months of you naked.’
‘Oh, so everyone who comes into your office can see my boobs?’ she teased. She knew through the bond that he was being playful and not really serious.
‘It would not be available for public display.’
‘What do you need it for when you’ve got the real thing right here?’
She put his hands on the aforementioned parts and was rewarded by his fingers massaging her flesh.
‘It would be something I could use as a reminder if a particularly alluring customer comes into the bar. I could pull it out and fill my head with images of you to block out any temptation.’
‘Because your perfect memory isn’t good enough.’
He snickered. ‘Perhaps I should try to negotiate this after I have made you climax a few times.’
‘Perhaps, but I can’t guarantee I’ll change my mind.’
‘Then I shall have to keep trying.’
‘Somehow I don’t think you’ll be too upset about that.’
He slid on top of her, his hips fitting between her legs as perfectly as those little dolls that fit into each other.
‘You’d be right,’ he agreed just before he drowned her in a sea of bliss.
It was close to six-thirty by the time they left the house. She was already dressed for work, but both of their regular cars were in Bon Temps, so they drove to her house. Eric was in a very good mood, humming and smiling at her as he drove one-handed down the Interstate at speeds that weren’t just illegal but pretty close to the sound barrier – or at least it felt like it. The poor Ford was rattling like her old car used to once she got above sixty.
He hadn’t won the calendar argument, but he hadn’t lost it either. They’d tabled the negotiations for tomorrow after she’d gotten off work. Tomorrow she would see his house in Shreveport, and she was just a little excited about that.
“You shouldn’t be. It’s nothing special,” he commented, but she could tell he was pleased that she was eager to see his home.
“I just can’t imagine what a 1000 year-old Viking’s house would look like,” she answered with a shrug.
“Well, I don’t have dirt floors and furs for blankets, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said a little defensively.
“Oh no, no. I know that. You said it was furnished with good furniture. I’m just interested in seeing how you decorated your space. You can tell a lot about a person by how they arrange their home.”
He shrugged and passed a semi at an obscene speed. The lights from the trailer were nothing but a blur.
“Lots of wood and leather. I like things natural and uncluttered. I prefer earth tones – browns and tans with some red here and there. I have wood floors with area rugs, except in the bedroom. That has carpeting. I have one bear skin rug made from a Kodiak Bear I killed in Alaska about two hundred years ago.”
“Is it in front of the fireplace?” she teased.
He grinned. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess.”
He laughed.
“What about your bedroom? What’s it like?” she asked.
“Well, I have a very big bed, of course.”
“King size?”
“California King. They’re a bit bigger.”
“Ah. What kind of bedframe?”
“It’s custom made. A carved platform with an oak headboard.”
She tried to picture it, but couldn’t, and figured trying to get the image out of his head would ruin the moment when he did actually bring her there.
They arrived at the house to find Amelia and Octavia talking in the kitchen. They seemed real serious about something.
“Hi, guys, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asked, but she’d already garnered that not all was well.
Eric came up to stand by her shoulder in a defensive position, and she knew from the looks on the two witches’ faces that the look on his was predatory. Eric really had no love for witches since Hallow’s coven had cursed him.
Octavia was the first one to speak. “I’ve decided that it’s time for me to go back to New Orleans. I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality for too long, and New Orleans needs people to go back to her and help her rebuild.”
It wasn’t like she was unhappy to hear the news, but she still felt bad.
“Please don’t feel like you have to move out because…” Because what? Because her lover was a card-carrying member of the undead? “Because of me and Eric,” she finished weakly.
Eric put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
The older witch shook her head. “Your relationship does not bother me. I saw many human-vampire couples in New Orleans. No, my decision is influenced by my feeling that powers beyond my ken are moving within the circles you walk, and I want no part of them. You bring home stones of protection not found on this world, and your vampire wears an object that is Godtouched. It is obvious that someone very powerful feels that you are in danger and in need of Divine protection. I’ve had enough of fighting and being at odds with others. I am getting older and I want peace. Judging by the forces at work here, peace is not something that will be common in your life. I worry about you, and I will pray for you, but I cannot help you. I don’t want to be involved.”
A lump formed in her throat and tears welled in her eyes, but she kept them at bay. Eric’s strength and comfort flowed into her, giving her courage.
“I understand. I’m sorry you feel that way, but I don’t blame you,” she said quietly.
Octavia nodded to her and left the kitchen. She was almost afraid to look at Amelia. When the going got tough, most people bailed like rats from a sinking ship.
‘I will never leave you,’ Eric assured her, pressing himself to her back, both hands on her shoulders now.
“I’m sorry about that,” Amelia apologized.
“No, it’s okay. I can’t blame her for wanting out. I’m not too happy about what’s happening either,” she said, hoping she sounded understanding.
Amelia just shrugged.
“And what about you?” Eric suddenly asked. “Can my bonded count on you to stand by her or will you be leaving as well?”
The way he said “my bonded” gave her shivers. Amelia looked offended.
“I won’t abandon my best girlfriend because her life just got more complicated. It’s when times are tough that you find out who your real friends are.”
Eric nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Fair enough. You are a good friend Amelia Broadway.”
“I try to be, and Sookie stuck by me through some rough times.”
She smiled and felt all warm and loved. It was so nice to have true friends.
“Thanks, Amelia.”
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t be spending a lot of time with Tray. Y’all are gonna want your privacy, and, no offense, but the energy vamps put out when they’re having sex... Well, it’s no fun if you’re all by your lonesome,” the witch admitted, flushing a bit.
“Privacy is not an issue, and if you find that my and Sookie’s lovemaking leaves you… unsatisfied, I am willing to call Pam. I am sure she would be happy to see to your… needs.”
She wanted to smack him, both mentally and physically, but he was so wickedly gleeful that she had to swallow her laugh. “Eric!” she scolded.
He just looked innocently at her. Amelia chuckled.
“Thanks, but I like Tray just fine. Not that Pam wasn’t… fun, but…”
“Understood,” Eric said.
“Well, I need to grab something to eat, then get to work,” she piped up before Eric could suggest the foursome he’d just thought of, and went over to the refrigerator to pull out some leftovers. ‘Not on your undead life.’
His mental laughter rang in her head.
“Amelia,” she heard her Viking say while she was scooping out a portion of pasta onto a plate, silently lamenting that she would have to forgo garlic bread. “On Tuesday someone will come from a security company to install an alarm system. There will also be someone coming next week to install FiOS high speed Internet.”
“Whoo hoo! Yes! No more dial-up. You are one awesome vamp!” her friend exclaimed.
“Yes. I intend to drag my bonded, kicking and screaming, into the twenty-first century whether she likes it or not,” he vowed with a flourish.
“No complaints there,” Amelia agreed, winking at her. She stuck out her tongue as she put her dinner down on the table.
“Baby, would you like a blood?” she asked sweetly.
Eric leered and patted his stomach down low on his body. “Oh, no thank you, dearest, I’m quite… satisfied.”
She flushed and looked away, scowling. She’d hoped to embarrass him, but as usual, he was shameless.
‘I’m a thousand years old, my lover. Very little embarrasses me.’
She rolled her eyes as Amelia giggled.
“Well, I will let you two alone. I’m sure Octavia expects my help packing,” her friend said with a knowing smile.
“Is she leaving tonight?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Does she have somewhere to go?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about Octavia, Sookie. She can take care of herself,” Amelia assured her.
“I still feel bad. I feel like I’m chasing her away.”
Amelia shrugged. “Her choice.”
“Aren’t you worried yourself?”
“Sure, but I figure anyone who has Divine Power on their side, is the side I wanna be on,” the witch answered, then bounced out of the kitchen.
Sookie watched her go with a warm smile on her face.
“It’s times like these when you really find out who your friends are,” she commented.
Eric sidled up and put his arm around her, his eyes warm and happy. “Yes.” His mouth turned up into a sly smile and he bumped her with his hip. “Still offering that blood?”
She huffed. “I thought you said you were satisfied.”
“That was then. This is now.”
She rolled her eyes and sat down to eat her dinner, ignoring his unhappy look.
“Hey, you ate already,” she complained. “Twice.”
He licked his lips. “And yet I am hungry for more.”
“Horndog,” she muttered, shoving a forkful of penne into her mouth. Well, he was just going to have to wait if he wanted thirds.
‘But wait… you’re going to stay in Shreveport tonight, aren’t you? I work lunch shift tomorrow so it’s my turn to drive to you.’
‘I’ve changed my mind about that. It’s too soon for us to be away from each other. I learned that last night. I’ll drive down after Fangtasia closes and join you here. Did you want to go back to Ruston or stay here?’ he sent back, coming to stand behind her so he could massage her shoulders.
‘Ruston. Octavia is leaving so the hidey hole will be accessible again, but not by tonight,’ she told him, leaning into his touch and sighing with bliss between bites.
‘Am I allowed to be relieved that she is moving out?’
‘Yeah. I kinda feel that way myself.’
‘I know.’
She finished her dinner and looked at the clock as she stood and put her dish in the sink. It read seven-fifteen. She had forty-five minutes before she had to be at work.
“Would you…?” she asked, offering her wrist.
He smiled and bent down to kiss the throbbing vein, but he did not bite. “Thank you, my lover, but I don’t have time. I told Pam I would be at Fangtasia by eight.”
“You’d better get moving then,” she said with a pang. She didn’t like being away from him any more than he did. So much for her being an independent woman.
“You will always be your own. Even if I say you are mine, you are always mine by your own choice,” he murmured, kissing the back of her hand.
The sweet gesture made butterflies flutter in her belly. “So… I guess I’ll see you after work then?”
“Provided no more incidents bring me to you earlier, yes,” he replied, placing his big hands on her waist and pulling her close for a kiss. ‘I love you.’
‘Love you, too.’
He smiled at her and touched the outline of her goldgubbe under her shirt, nestled in the valley between her breasts. “If anyone speaks ill of you, or tries to shake your faith in me, just remember the night I gave this to you, and the vows I made.”
She looked up at him and smiled, placing her hand over his Hammer, also hidden under his black shirt. “I remember.”
He brushed back a tendril of her hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “Good. Hold onto that memory, and know that I meant every word I said. Our bonding is strong. It is blessed by the Gods themselves. No one, no matter how petty or jealous they may be of our bond, can change that.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He gave her one more kiss and stepped away. The distance was already tugging at their bond and he hadn’t even left yet. She ached.
“We will see each other very soon,” he assured her.
“Please be safe. Be on your guard.”
“I will.” ‘I filled in the shifter while Dr. Ludwig was working on your brother last night. He knows to be on extra alert. He will protect you.’
‘Did you tell him we know it’s Victor?’
‘No. If no one knows, no one can suspect us when he goes missing.’
He was so conniving she sure was glad he was on her side. He heard her and gave her a toothy grin.
“Be safe my lover. I will see you in seven short hours,” he said, preparing to leave.
“Eric?” she began, calling him back.
“Yes, my lover?”
“It’s all gonna be all right, isn’t it?” ‘Lie to me if you have to.’
He smiled, taking on the familiar look of smug superiority and confidence. “Of course. We are together. When we are one, no one can stand against us.”
He wasn’t lying; he truly believed that they could beat whatever they faced as long as they faced it together. His confidence gave her hope, and she stood a little straighter, feeling the weight on her shoulders ease up.
“Okay.”
“There is nothing to fear, my lover. We will prevail. The alternative is unthinkable,” he stated firmly.
“You’re right. It is,” she agreed.
“I must go.”
“I know. I’ll see you soon.”
He grinned. “Seven hours, my lover. I will see you in seven hours.”
“Seven hours.”
He blew her a kiss and stepped out the door.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ she thought huskily, and she felt a surge of lust through the bond.
‘Preferably naked,’ he sent back with a mental leer as she heard the engine of the Corvette come to life.
He always had to get the last word.
Epilogue
“What would you have done if I’d told you everything after Hallow’s curse was broken, and said that I loved you and that I wanted to be with you?” she asked curiously.
They were back at their Ruston nest, and it was early Sunday morning. The last time she’d looked at the clock it had read 3:38am, and she knew she needed to get some sleep because she was working the Sunday lunch shift, but somehow she just couldn’t resist her Viking.
They’d been apart all evening, although both of their shifts had gone very well and neither of them had had any problems at their respective workplaces. In fact, for a Saturday night, things had been pretty quiet at Merlotte’s, and she hadn’t asked Eric how Fangtasia had been. She figured he’d tell her if there was anything particularly entertaining or important. There hadn’t been – or at least there hadn’t been anything more important than a session of lovemaking that had made them both very happy. Sex reaffirmed their bond, and she was feeling very affirmed indeed.
Now they were together in bed, the electric blanket warming the sheets, and she was in that languid, contented state that came from very satisfying sex with a beloved partner. Bill had used to make her feel that way, less so towards the end of their relationship, and she welcomed the feeling back with open arms. It was so nice to experience the simple joy of knowing she was wanted, valued, and loved.
Eric had always made her feel appreciated and beautiful; the same Eric who was propped up on one elbow beside her, looking down into her eyes, his face thoughtful. He was quiet for a long time, but she could tell that he was thinking. She politely stayed out of his head while he gathered his thoughts.
“I would have been delighted, of course, because I had wanted to have sex with you for quite a long time,” he answered truthfully.
She nodded, not surprised by his reply.
“But…” he continued. “Unless I regained my memories of when I was with you, I would not have been able to fathom the depth of what I had felt for you. I would not have thought it possible for me to feel so strongly again, and to be honest… I don’t believe I could have felt that strongly for you if I hadn’t been cursed. Hallow’s spell stripped me of my masks and allowed me to reawaken the parts of myself that I had buried. If it were not for her booby-trap, I doubt that I would ever have found the courage to let you as deep into me as I have.”
“Courage?” she repeated.
He sighed and settled down onto his back, pulling her over so her head was in the crook of his shoulder and her hand was on his chest. He seemed to enjoy that position very much, as if having her cuddled close to him was comforting. She remembered how he had insisted on holding her before he would tell her of his history, and she got the feeling that he was about to admit something that was equally as private. She put her arm around him and sent reassurance through the bond, letting him know that she was there for him and that he could tell her anything.
‘Thank you, my lover. You have no idea what a comfort it is to me to know I can trust someone so completely.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He sighed and nuzzled her before speaking softly, “I have told you before that vampires feel everything very keenly. It is what makes the young ones so impulsive and unpredictable. Over time, we learn to control our emotions, to suppress and dampen them so they don’t consume us. For a vampire as old as me, to… to lower his guard enough to feel… that is a very brave thing to do.”
She nodded and stroked his chest, telling him that she understood.
“Were you ever scared of me?” she asked.
“Scared of you?” he repeated, amused. “Never. Scared of the emotions you stirred in me? Yes. There were times when that frightened me a lot. It still does sometimes.”
“It does?”
“Yes. To allow oneself to have feelings… that can be exploited as a weakness. It is a dangerous thing. It can expose me to my enemies.”
“So why did you do it then? Allow yourself to feel?”
“It was that or kill you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of your death. The only way I could reconcile my conflicting emotions was to accept my feelings,” he admitted, shrugging. “I’d tried denying them, but that didn’t work. That only made me more miserable. And I think it made you miserable too.”
He gave her a little nudge and she nodded, thinking back on her emotional state after Rhodes and the Nevada takeover. “Yeah. I was pretty unhappy. Lonely. Alone. Missing having someone in my life who thought I mattered.”
His fingers stroked her hair tenderly. “You always mattered. Even from the very beginning, you mattered to me.”
“Somehow, I think I knew that.”
His lips touched the top of her head. “Yes.”
She tightened her hand on his chest and pulled herself closer, pressing against his cool, hard body.
“You know that night when Sigebert attacked you and Felipe in Merlotte’s parking lot? That was a turning point for me,” she said.
“How so?”
“I didn’t know you were calling me. All I knew was that I was having a panic attack, and I had to go back. And I wasn’t doing it because of the bond, or because I thought I owed you, but because I liked you. That night I made a decision, and I think it’s affected every choice I’ve made since.”
She felt him nod, his cheek against her hair. “Yes. You decided to accept what you were feeling and stop fighting.”
She didn’t know if she’d put it quite that way, but the concept was the same. “I guess. I guess that’s what made me say yes to you when you asked me to go away with you. Part of me knew that I’d already made the choice.”
“I’m glad.”
“What would have done if I refused?”
“I would have found another way to have our talk. It would have taken longer, and probably would have been delayed or interrupted, but I was determined that we would have it, and, as you know, I am both very patient and very persuasive,” he replied with complete honesty.
She laughed softly. “And I think your abstinence would have forced the issue as well.”
He chuckled. “I must admit, it was a… driving force behind most of my motives.”
She tilted her head up to smile at him, happy to see him smiling back. “Only most of them?” she asked coyly.
“There was a sizeable part of me that was operating on a higher level,” he argued, huffing a bit, but his eyes were laughing and joy was singing across the bond. “I’d already begun laying my plan to bring you to me. As I said, I was putting things into motion before Rhodes, but my plan really began to solidify after the bombing.”
“Rhodes changed everything,” she whispered, frowning. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but it was still just as true.
His face grew serious, and he nodded. “Yes. I’d let you slip away from me before; I wasn’t going to let it happen again. When I woke after being injured, and I heard about all you had done, and I remembered how you had come to save Pam and me, I knew I would stop at nothing to win you again.”
“I did notice that you treated me differently after you had healed. You were… quieter, less arrogant when you spoke to me. You were more honest, too. I appreciated that.”
“I knew that my previous methods of wooing a woman wouldn’t work with you. You didn’t want my wealth or my power. What you wanted was someone who loved you and treated you as an equal. I knew that even before I regained my memories. After I remembered… well… you know what I did.”
He gave her a sexy smile.
“Yeah, you all but kidnapped me,” she mock-accused.
“Now, now. You got into my car and onto that plane willingly. Most willingly if I remember correctly.”
“I was thinking of the great sex,” she explained seriously. “You were bribing me with all the lover talk and heated looks. My libido hijacked me and made me get on that jet.”
He laughed and stroked her abdomen, running one hand up to fondle a nipple. “Remind me to thank your libido.”
She snorted, but leaned into his touch. “You’ve already thanked it.”
“I have not even begun to express my appreciation,” he replied, pulling her up for a kiss.
“Eric… I really need to sleep. I have to work the lunch shift…”
“Shh, my lover. You know you sleep better after I’ve seen to your needs,” he murmured, his lips against her throat.
She was starting to sweat, her heart speeding up and her body tingling. “Oh, Eric…”
He was shifting, moving them so he could climb atop her, his cool body sliding along her heated skin. Higher thought was fast flying out the window, but she grabbed onto its tail even as she dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders.
“Eric… why did you bring me to Isle Elena?”
He paused in his attentions and breathed cool air across her earlobe. Her whole body shuddered.
“I told you. I was tired, and I wanted to go to a place where I knew I could rest.”
She shook her head. “There’s more to it than that, I know it. There were other places you could have taken me. Izzy told me about them. Why choose that one?”
“Because I knew the only way to get you to talk to me was to take you to a place where neither of us could hide, not even from ourselves. I needed not only to remove you from all the distractions and reminders of everything that had happened between us, but I also needed to bring you somewhere where you couldn’t run away, not from me, and most importantly, not from yourself.”
Talk about blunt, but he wasn’t finished.
“And I needed to be me again. You wanted the Eric who had loved you when I was cursed, and I couldn’t be that Eric in Shreveport. I couldn’t take the risk of letting down my guard, especially so soon after the takeover. I knew the healing magic on Isle Elena would strip away my masks for me so I wouldn’t have to do it myself.”
He looked at her, his eyes bright and intense, and he brought up a hand to stroke her face. Her heart caught in her throat.
“Eric…”
“You have no idea what it took for me to do that, to let go like that. But I knew that the only way we were both going to survive this bond, was if I dropped my walls and let myself feel for you. The only way this was going to work was if I let you in, was if I… let love in.”
He stopped, and if he was going to say more she didn’t know, because she kissed him, cradling his beloved face in her hands and letting him feel just how much she loved and needed and wanted him.
‘I needed to let love in too,’ she sent, tangling her fingers in his golden hair.
‘Yes.’
His arms came around her, holding her against him as he slid his leg between her thighs and rolled her beneath him. Part of her knew she should stop him and tell him she needed to sleep, but another, bigger, part of her knew that the best way to get to sleep was to let him love her.
She sighed, giving over, and let him in.
There’s nothing we can do about
the things we have to do without.
The only way to feel again
is let love in.
Goo Goo Dolls, “Let Love In”
FIN
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