Let me begin by saying that I have not forgotten nor have I abandoned this story by any means. To all my faithful readers that have sent me such amazing reviews and PMs: Thank you for your support. Your words of encouragement are the only things that keep me going. Since I began writing this story many things have happened in my life; some were good and others were terrible. And the joy I felt from writing seemed to have faded. I recently received the most amazing message pleading for me to continue with my works. So, I have decided that this story (since it was her favorite) was the first to receive my attention. I will be editing all the previous chapters and working on the several I have sitting on my hard drive. Thank all of you for your dedication and patience with me and my insane life.

With all my love,

Pixie

It was another dreadful Louisiana night. The kind of night where the rancid stench of the swamps and buoys clung to the streets and buildings like rotting shadows. It was clammy, and oppressively wet, cleaving to the skin as if the air itself had turned into a soggy, slathering blanket. Even Louisiana's natives seemed unable to defend themselves from nights like these, the masses overflowing into any sanctuary that offered climate control. It was nights like these that Eric Northman loathed, nights like these that made him sick for the cooler weather of his homeland, the salty smell of the ocean, the spruce trees and the small pink flowers that grew in their mighty shadows. It was nights like these that made him almost regret agreeing to allow Godric to turn him.

He watched, dispassionately, at the mob of black and chain clad bodies that rolled along his dance floor like a massive, mighty wave. Nights like these drove his sales up, the only reason he tolerated such horrid evenings. The insufferable humidity had made his patrons wear less than their usual attire. He was certain that there was some ridiculous human law against how little some of the women had on, most clad only in mesh and underwear.

Many of these fishnet wrapped cows meandered passed him, hoping from him to take interest. It disgusted him how desperate they were, hoping for a momentary rush of pleasure, as if that would add meaning to their worthless lives. It had been well over two weeks since he last fed properly but even the insistent gnawing of his hunger wasn't enough from him to partake in cattle in front of him.

He wanted nothing more than to retire to his posh apartment and remain there until this appalling weather broke but his progeny, Pam, threatened him with the True Death and his participation in her next shopping venture if he left her to run the bar alone again. So here he sat, fuming and miserable; glaring darkly at the brazen cow that had hoofed too closely.

Eric had already marked the night as uneventful and a waste of his time when he caught sight of a black haired beauty leaning against the edge of the bar, sipping her drink as she watched the people pulse around her. She wore a short black skirt and a blood red halter that clung just right to her slim form. Her lentil skin and almond shaped eyes lent her an exotic look that whispered of sultry nights. His hunger refused to be ignored now that such striking morsel had wandered into his view.

Using his race's gift, he suddenly appeared directly in front of her; catching the smell of cinnamon and saffron. Her large honey colored eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she regarded him with an appraising look. "You almost made me spill my drink." She calmly stated, her voice sounding like smooth whiskey.

Eric considered the benefits of simply glamouring her and taking her to his office for a quick lay and feed but quickly dismissed the idea. She was clearly a willing participant already and a few moments of witty banter would ease the dissatisfaction that the evening had so far provided. "And I would have made sure that you had a new one." Eric said. She quirked a brow at that but offered him an enticing smile, "Audrey."

"Eric." He stated simply, his cobalt eyes shifting to the pulse that rushed beneath her skin for a moment. She shifted slightly, allowing him again to smell that odd mix of cinnamon and saffron. "The same Eric that owns this place?" She asked, continuing once she caught his questioning looking. "I have a few friends who are completely obsessed with this place. Honestly, they're completely obsessed with you. I can't tell you the number of nights I've had to sit and listen to what they would do to you in very graphic and disturbing detail. But now, seeing you up close like this; I can see why."

He fought back the need to roll his eyes, "Perhaps then you'd be willing to join me in my office?" He was quickly losing interest in this exotic flower, regretting not just glamouring her from the start. Her hand slid up his arm, "Your office sounds a little too stuffy for my tastes but the back alley does sound a bit more interesting."

His hand shackled her wrist as he navigated his way towards the back exit, having lost patients for this charade. The early morning air was no less humid than that it had been at the start of the evening and it made his irritation rise even further. He spun the girl around, pinning her roughly against the coarse brick wall.

His fangs came out at her panicked gasp. He struck then, uncaring that she felt only the pain. A whimpering plea bubbled up from her throat as he tore deeper into her flesh, sucking up mouthfuls of her blood. It tasted of long nights of drugs and alcohol, of unclean dirt and pollution. If Eric hadn't been as hungry as he was, he would have spat the foul slop out.

The small tinkling of metal was his only warning before a heavy cowl of silver links was yanked over his head and face as a thick silver chain was wound around his throat yanking him away from his meal. He roared as more silver chains were thrown around him by several young men dressed in black and ski masks.

His great strength quickly deserted him as a junky black van came screeching in to the alley and he was unceremoniously thrown into the back. A massive silver net was thrown over him as the humans hastily clamoring into the van which tore out of the alley leaving behind only tire tracks and the putrid smell of burnt rubber.

"Holy shit!" The driver exclaimed, ripping off his mask, glancing in the review mirror at the hissing vampire. "Holy fucking shit. I don't know how you managed to bag this one, Rey, but this is the old fucking vamper in that whole fucking place."

Audrey dabbed at the clotting blood at her neck, "Only the best for you, baby. We're going to make so much fucking money off of this one. Did I do good, baby?" Her voice sounded whiney now, like a child seeking approval.

The driver hauled her over to him, giving her a sloppy kiss before shoving her back into her seat. "Fuck yeah, you did. I can't wait to get this fucker back to the house. You just wait, I'm going to fuck you shitless. I can't wait to get a taste of that V."

The rage that welled in Eric was indescribable as the men around him roared around him in wild voices. The silver sucked any power and strength that he had, melting his flesh from his body. He vowed to every god that he knew that his insolent captors would soon feel the same agony.

Minutes slid by excruciatingly until finally the van pulled to a lurching halt and he was yanked from the back. It took all of his captors to lug him into a house which he was hastily invited into. He was dropped onto a putrid, soggy patch of carpet as several people dashed out to stash the van.

The girl left with the shrill promise of getting the boiler room ready, leaving him alone with just a single person who sat on his stomach; pushing the silver deeper into his charred flesh. "This is what you fucking get, vamper." It was the driver, obviously the ringleader of poor mislead soon to be lifeless individuals. "This is what you get for thinking that your fucking kind so much fucking better than us humans. I'm going to fucking drain every last drop of your blood and then, do you know what's going to be fucking left of you once I'm done? A fucking puddle of nothing. Not so fucking great now, are you, you fucking piece of undead shit?"

The door opened and he was yanked up again carried precariously down a flight of groaning stairs as the men around him continued to taunt him in wild voices. The two at his shoulders stumbled over the last step, dropping him. Eric's head bashed against the unforgiving concert floor, black dots flitted through his vision as his teeth cracked together. His captors just laughed as blood matted his tawny hair.

They drug him by his ankles to a small closet of a room at the very back of the basement. He was force into a heavy wood chair, his arms and legs quickly bound with thick chains, more were slung over his hips and thighs, even his chest and shoulders were lashed against the rough wood back. Finally, the cowl was torn from his head, taking huge chunks of his skin with it. He thundered curses at them before a soiled rag was shoved into his mouth and a rough cloth was tied around his eyes.

His captors were crazed as a thick needle was shoved into the crook of his elbow and several vials of his blood was syphoned from him. The needle was ripped out, leaving a gaping hole in wake as they surged out of the tiny room, all too ready to begin celebrating their victory.

Eric, numb and burning with pain, the rough and jagged wood digging into his blistered and blackened skin until it felt as if thousands of pins were stabbing into him, sat alone in that moldy, muggy little room, hearing the delighted sounds of the humans above him.

And all he could think of was the sounds of horror he was going to tear from their throats.