Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood! I'll also be using some brief song quotes that I do not own, either.
Little Notes: I've yet to decide where I want to take this story, but I am excited to get this kick-started. The main character is going to be a werewolf, paired with Eric Northman, so we'll see how that works. I've also not finished the series, and I'm probably not going to since I didn't like the ending I read about ahead of time. That said, anything that's happened beyond season 4, I know nothing about fully, just some spoilers I've researched. I may or may not use some plot devices from the show. Also, there will be explicit content in this fanfic, so beware the M rating.
"You're so cold, but you feel alive."
- Breaking Benjamin, 'So Cold'.
.
I was probably going to beat the shit out of my friend by the end of the night.
I don't make a habit of befriending people (mostly humans), but I liked this one human girl in particular because she was easy to talk to and open-minded. Simple creatures didn't expect things, they just accepted your nature, and nothing could be better than unconditional loyalty.
However, when she invited me to Fangtasia, I realized my human friend was a little... fucking dumb.
And I guess it made me spectacularly fucking stupid for following her inside, because she wouldn't take my advice and listen to me. I can't expect her to believe in me, she's every vampire's type. Bumbling and naive, driven by impulsive human urges to expore the unknown. Not to mention, physically, she was cute as a fucking bunny. Small, brunette, and very dewy-eyed.
That was okay. I could entertain her need to throw on her sluttiest outfit and flirt with danger for one night, whilst I sat in the background, watching, nearly choking on the stench of blood and death corrupting the air. She was brilliant vampire bait. What I forgot to expect was that they would also be looking at me. Not as bait, but as absolute trash; a bug that needed squishing.
That was okay, too.
What did it for me, what absolutely pissed me off to the point of violently trembling and nearly going wolf before their very eyes, was that my friend wasn't going to just have her fun and then leave.
She was going to offer herself to this fanger-bastard lounging in his chair like he was some sort of God, as she got on her knees and crawled towards him to give herself. When her attempt to look seductive didn't so much as earn a flicker of recognition across a stoic canvas, I could hear her through the heavy metal music, start to beg as though she'd never seen anything more beautiful than pale skin and lanky vampire bod. He wouldn't even glance downward when she leaned in and pressed her plush lips to his knee, vying for his affections. The desperation oozing from the scene caused my liquor to turn bad in my throat, and suddenly I wasn't thirsty anymore, I was just plain seething with agitation. The anger started at my center and bubbled up into my chest, sending rapid-fire heat across my body; a feeling only as familiar as shifting into werewolf form. Thankfully, I had enough control to keep claws and fur at bay.
In my flood of inner-rage, I could only assume that my eyes changed colors (a perfectly natural feat), and brought the vampire's attention upon myself. Macabre blue eyes locked on me with purpose, but were also as empty and uninviting as death. Across the room, I could still feel the pressure a presence like his creates, and shows how accostumed he is to bending the will of others. Flippantly ignoring the human at his feet preparing to promise him her whole body, he cocks his head in the direction of his vampire companion, another stuck up fanger bitch who'd checked my ID outside and let me in with a slight sneer.
"Sure you don't have a deathwish?" She'd patronized me earlier, but I read her intriguie and knew she'd be entertained by allowing at least one lonesome wolf into a nest of vamps and clueless humans.
So, did I have a deathwish, despite my clear intentions?
Absolutely not. I could swallow my pride and confess that I wasn't faster or stronger than any vampire, even on a Full Moon. Physical prowess aside, I knew I was mentally tough enough to see through the glamour and bullshit that so conveniently enslaved humans.
I had to stop my friend from making the worst mistake of her goddamned life.
Except, I had no time to come up with a game plan to get her away from Mr. Blond and Dangerous, as I was soon faced with the noiseless presence of his vamp-helper. I didn't flinch at the surprise, but I did narrow my eyes just slightly while I leaned deeper into my cushioned seat. She wasn't phased or amused, probably because I wasn't acting out like the stereotypical werewolf yet, which made her look bored with the entire night altogether. She did, however, crawl her big-eyed blue stare across my entire figure; not with the filthy lust she'd directed at all the other beautiful women here, but with that haughty disgust that read I didn't belong here. And I silently agreed.
"Eric Northman has summoned you. I don't fucking know why, I don't really care. Get up."
Was that what that stalker-look was a moment ago? A summoning?
Bitch, please.
"Not interested," I spat.
I didn't know what a summoning meant, and I sure as hell didn't care enough to find out. My fingers gripped around my glass of whisky just a little bit harder, my eyes peering up and into hers with steel confidence. Her stare in return wasn't at all hard, but it was telling, and the fact that she didn't move a single inch warned me that there would be no side-stepping this demand. Fuck that. I didn't taking 'summonings' from fangers, and if he wanted to talk to me so badly, he could have easily climbed up from that armchair.
So fuck him and his motherfucking chair-
"Do you even know who Eric is, you inferior pup?"
"Should I?" A barely audible snicker escaped my lips, the last sound I could manage before a near invisible hand dashed before my eyes, unceremoniously smacking the glass from my fingers. It shattered somewhere, and all of a sudden, I could only see long hair, unfeeling blues, and full pinkish lips that never smiled. I didn't know when it happened; yet there were cold fingers gripping around my throat, and sharp nails piercing the surface of skin. Hardly one to shy away from a little rough play, I allowed my lips to tug into the slightest of smirks.
"I heard that werewolves lacked intelligence, so let me spell out for you.. how this is going to go-" Her words dripped pleasantly from the tip of her tongue, yet I caught on to the undertones of growing hatred. The fingers at my throat, like little snakes tightening around a desirable piece of prey, were choking me relentlessly. Only sheer stubbornnes and will prevented me from crying or gasping out loud, my inner wolf refusing to give this bitch the satisfaction. "Eric doesn't have time for games. You will go to him, or I will start counting the ways I can torture you until you bleed out on the basement floor like the pathetic dog you are- is that understood?"
"Bitch-" I hissed through clenched teeth. It wasn't much of a comeback, but it satisfied a small part of me, and with that, she released me. My fingers flew to my neck, unconciously tracing the bruises that I knew would be there after an iron grip like that.
"Up," she commanded, hands on her slim hips.
I stood with a vicious growl gurgling up my throat, refusing to take my eyes off of her because I didn't trust her. Only a smidge of smugness swept across her elusive features as she extended a hand, gesturing me forward. My legs stiffly carried me in Eric's direction, then finally my gaze swung around to adjust to the sight. My friend was gone, and he was just sitting there. I didn't have many words to describe him, because he wasn't the type I normally zeroed in on. Whereas I was used to big and bulky men, who talked aggressively and created chaos everywhere they went; Eric was a calm storm I could be taken off guard by. I hated vampires for that sole reason, they weren't as predictable as my kind. Sneaky fuckers.
"Where is she?" was my first demand.
"She took off in tears after I rejected her unimpressive advances," if his assistant was cold as a blizzard in the dead of winter, he was the entirety of fucking Antarctica, the way he spoke about her with such blasé detachment. No feeling. No amusement. This must have happened to him all the time.
...And I must have been the puncture in the status quo. The odd one in a rather 'ordinary' crowd of vampers and fang-bangers. As he fixed his silvery-blue eyes upon me, cocking his head slightly, scrutinizing me without reservation; I felt as exposed as a nerve. It wasn't like he banned werewolves from coming here, I wouldn't have gotten in otherwise. So what was with the fucking summoning?
"Sit down," he said.
"I'll stand." It just felt right for me to oppose him. In any way.
"That was not a request, little wolf," something hardened in his tone, and while I wasn't scared, I lowered into the smaller chair next to his. "Did you know that you're stinking up my entire bar?"
"Then I guess I better not sit too close," I spat out.
"I see that you're here to monitor your friend," he started watching a big-breasted woman, clad in nothing but a skimpy pair of black panties and heels, wrap her long, silky legs around a stripper pole on the miniature stage five feet before him. As she danced for him, I crossed my arms and waited for this stupid night to be over with. "You should tell her to stop coming here solely for my attentions; I am not interested."
"Believe me, I wish it were that easy," I snickered, a little amused and a little ticked by his pompous air, "Maybe I should try to introduce her to some real men, though."
That caught his attention. Slowly, his head turned to face mine. We weren't that close, but his stare was overwhelmingly vehement behind the cold and lonely blue. The only response was to stare back, as hard as I could, without so much as blinking. If you bow your head and shrink away from vamps, then they know that you've given them the upper-hand. To resist is to be willing to die, but with dignity.
"...And by real men, are you implying your pack of vapid mutts?" One corner of his lips almost tugged upward, offering the quietest half-smile I'd ever seen.
I didn't have a pack, but he didn't need to know that. "What do you-" I started to ask what he wanted from me, and ended up cut off by his mellow, untrustworthy tone of voice.
"You shouldn't be so harsh in your judgement of vampires, wolf. A vampire could fuck you better than any were-cock."
"The fuck did you just say to me?" I started to seethe.
"Simmer down. A vampire who finds himself willing enough to touch you wouldn't be much of a vampire, anyway," he laid insults out so smoothly and left my thoughts whirring uncontrollably.
"Fuck this," I decided to stand up and leave, without my friend.
Eric wasn't having any of that. I hardly saw his hand reach out to grab me; only felt the tug of impossible strength dragging me back down into my chair until my ass painfully slapped into the seat. A snarl split throughout my chest as I was fed up with being bossed around and flung about, and threw my tight fist with all my might straight for Eric's ridiculously pretty face.
"Fucking asshole-" Soon as I cussed, his icy palm caught the rage of my tiny fist, and stopped the oncoming attack with such ease. My chest rose and fell rapidly with each ragged breath I took, until I could no longer breathe because Eric's face came within my own personal bubble of space. He surveyed me closely, I glared with heated wrath.
"Are you quite finished?" he inquired.
"Eat a dick," I returned frivolously, needing to ruffle his feathers as much as he did mine. "Are you finished?"
"Not even close."
"Well then, what the hell do you want?"
"Your name," he said simply, "What is the name of the smelly wolf who decides to walk into a vampire bar, alone and unprotected?"