I MUST BE LIVING WRONG
Disclaimer:The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them.
Chapter 1
He knew.
He had remembered everything. Everything.
He remembered how we had talked, how we had loved, if only for a brief time. He had been my Viking. Mine. I almost smiled at my possessiveness. It was akin to every vamp I knew, and what I had abhorred, but it was what I felt. Or rather, had felt about Eric. I had been his lover, and the anchor he had held onto when he had lost his grasp on who and what he was. And how he had held on…
Just the thought of that made me tremble and blush, as I sat alone in my kitchen, bathed in sunshine, my coffee having long since grown cold. I could only think of Eric, his taste, his earthy smell, his touch, the cool glide of his skin against mine as we made love, the amazing light in his eyes when he grew excited…the unexpected warmth in his voice when he laughed.
"Eric." I said his name aloud, and I filled it with all the longing that I had come to know over these last months that had seen me bonded to him by blood in Rhodes, against my will and at the behest of Andre, the Queen of Louisiana's Second and lover. He had been an incredibly ancient and powerful vamp who wanted me to serve him and his Queen, and who didn't give a damn about my life or wishes. Eric had come to rescue me, something he did a lot of, I guess; now that I think about it. He had saved me from Andre, but could not save me from the bonding. It was an intimate tie that now held us together emotionally, and God knows how else, or for how long. After I'd been bonded with Eric, I'd left him and Andre in the stairwell, and had gone from the frying pan to the fire by picking up a soda can that turned out to be a bomb. As Eric had said once, I must be living wrong. Anyway, Eric had come to rescue me again, as did Quinn, but I wouldn't let them die for me. I had been frightened nearly out of my life, but nothing had frightened me like servitude to Andre. He was the Bogeyman. That is a capital "B" as he is old enough to be the monster in the night that gave rise to children's terror all over the world.
The blood-bond between Eric and myself has continued to be a mystery to me. He could send me strength and emotions across it by sheer will, and had. He'd comforted me via it and bolstered me up when I needed it, and I swear that when we were trying to get out of the hotel on the morning of the FotS attack, we had communicated without words. It was like we were one entity working to save his child Pam and ourselves. The FotS fanatics, folks who were the KKK to the supe world, wanted to kill vamps and tainted humans and the Rhodes summit was a bounty for them. When the hotel at Rhodes was blowing up around me, I had gone to wake my Viking and his child, Pam. It was not something that I had to decide to do, it was instinct. I didn't want Eric to die; I wouldn't let him, if there was a way I could save him. I didn't stop to examine my reasons, I simply ran, and I did it. Me. Crazy Sookie Stackhouse. I saved lives that day, both human and supe, and watched as Quinn took one. He killed Andre. He did it so that I would be free of the Bogeyman. Little did he know, that the night always held other terrors, and betrayals. His for instance. Yes, Quinn, my one-time lover-emphasis on the one-time-had betrayed the Queen and the Louisiana vamps, and me to that soulless Victor Madden, and his King, Felipe De Castro. Quinn and I had parted company after that as I had no need of his brand of devotion; I would never be first with him, and I could never look at him the same after his betrayal. He had too much baggage-yes, I said it- and it came in the form of his crazy mother and his not-too-all-there- sister, Frannie. Quinn had brought Death to my door in the form of Victor and his soldier vamps. It was worse than being staked! Did I mention that I had been staked when I went in search of my lying ex, Bill, who left me for a vamp ho? That's a tale in itself! Anyway, back to Quinn, my grandmother had taught me to turn the other cheek, but I could have died the night of the coup with Eric and my friends, and he would have been partially to blame. I could not forget that. If I were to survive in this life that was now mine, I could not forget such things. I would not.
The night of the coup, and the betrayal, was the night that Eric had regained his memory of the time he'd been cursed by the witch Hallow, the time he'd spent with me. What a night, eh?. He remembered and I panicked and begged off for the time being of the "talk" he said we must have. I was scared, and vulnerable that night, and he had mercy on me. We had plenty of time for a talk, right? We had lived through a coup...
Felipe de Castro. I had hated him because of what he had done. Yet I saved his ass from Sigebert, when he'd been intent on a little payback. Saving the king was only incidental, as my goal was to save Eric, whom Sigebert had chained in silver and was ruthlessly kicking, and slashing at with a huge knife. Sigebert had even tied Sam up, but his attention was on Eric. Sigebert believed Eric to be a traitor and was showing Eric what he believed a traitor deserved. When he dropped trou, and approached my ex-lover with a sadistic look in his eyes, I hit the gas on the only weapon I had, my car, and used it to bring him down. I can still feel the impact of his body hitting my car and rumbling against my car's undercarriage. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I had saved Eric once more, and he had held me as if I was something precious to him and I had begun to hope. He'd been grateful, if a little embarrassed, that a human girl had saved the badass Sheriff of Shreveport, and a King, no less. When he'd looked into my eyes, there had been a glimpse of my Eric, and something more.
That was weeks ago. Months.
Eric hadn't called, or texted, nor had his beautiful 6'4"Viking body darkened my door, and not even Pam had even bothered to contact me. The hum that I had become accustomed to in the back of my mind, which was him, was muted, nearly silent. It had been that way since the last time we had seen each other at Merlotte's, and he'd told me that the king had offered me his protection in repayment of saving his life. Yahoo. Maybe it would keep me from getting beat up again, but somehow I doubted it. He said that he'd call, and we'd talk. Maybe I'm just a fool, but I believed…He'd left me like the others. Had the memory of offering to share everything with me, marry me, been too much in the end when he'd had time to think things over? His silence made me think so.
Granted the new regime was in its infancy with Felipe De Castro in Louisiana and Eric had to make sure that Eric survived. He was good at that, and he when he'd faltered, I had made sure that Eric survived. Fate had thrown us together in such a way, that I thought that we'd actually have a chance. That Fate. She really had a way with her sense of humor. Biotch.
How long I sat in the kitchen indulging in my pity party, I don't know. I don't even remember snapping my coffee cup's handle off, or spilling the tepid brew all over Gran's lace tablecloth. Residuals from the last time I'd had vampire blood, Eric's blood. I came to myself, blinking away sudden tears, and I got to my feet quickly, emptying what was left in the cup down the sink's drain, and throwing the cup away. I scooped up the tablecloth and ran cold water into the sink, to soak the stain, and placed it in the cool water. The stain would come out and it would be just like new, and I wished I could do the same thing.
II.
"Eric."
It was Sookie. My lover.
His eyelids flickered in the darkness as he heard her voice, felt her anguish, as if it were his own. He stirred restlessly as her acute sense of longing pulled at him across the bond that he'd tried to dampen over the last months. He hadn't wanted her to know what he was feeling, and the intensity of his feelings. What had happened today, to break through his block? Why had she called out for him?
His body moved sluggishly in the darkness, while he fought sleep to hold onto her. How he missed her! He had closed off their tie, as much as he could, and it was a constant drain on his strength to do so. Yet he did it, to preclude her from feeling his nearly savage anger over the attack by the former Queen's bodyguard. He did not like being thought a traitor-he was not. He would have fought to his final death next to his Queen, but why should he sacrifice the life of his bonded, and his people for a fallen empire. He was a survivor and he was battle-tested. He would bide his time, and ensure that his bonded lived and his people survived to fight another day when the gods were more inclined to grant him victory. Until then…
He had stayed away from her, hoping that the interest in her and his relationship with her would wane. Felipe was crafty and he had to be craftier, and the difference might men her life. He would go to his final death to save her, but if he could save her by denying himself her taste, her feel, her warmth, then he would do so. What he hadn't planned on was the way it would change him. He never smiled, and he grew cruel with the fangbanger's who lined up near his throne, and even the boldest of them shrank from his glare. Pam watched him, her eyes wise, concerned. He refused the willing donors who offered their blood and bodies for his use. Felipe's watchdog Sandy often raised an eyebrow at his actions, and he was sure that she reported this to him. He didn't give damn. The men and women who offered themselves were scum, to him. He'd sipped the mead served in Valhalla, why would he be sated with watered down ale? Sookie had been all he'd wanted…
He ached. How he ached for her. His body grew hard in his semi-slumber as that ache traveled the length of him. He needed to know why she'd called him. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to concentrate on their bond, and seek her out. As if the floodgates had been opened, the incredible warmth of her, her delicious scent, washed over him, her titillating taste leapt against his lips transporting him. His body spasmed and he came hard, crying out her name, breaking the silence of his daychamber.