I had killed the werewolf. Drained it dry. And it felt good.
I stayed sitting next to the body. My face, neck, hands, and arms were all covered in blood, but I didn't care. A smile was on my face, and I felt like I could sit there forever. But eventually Bill had come searching for me, and it didn't take long for him to find the place I was sitting in. He stared at the body of the werewolf for a moment, but then his gaze shifted and he looked over at me.
After a moments pause, he asked, "Are you okay?"
I was okay. Better than okay, actually. Instead of voicing my answer, I just gave a small nod, looking down at my bloody hands. He knelt down next to me, now eye-level. He smelled of blood and sex, and I could only wonder what unspeakable acts he and Sookie had done.
Looks like they were back together. Good for them, I guess.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he was still worried, which surprised me a bit. Since when was Bill concerned with anything to do with me? He tentatively reached out a hand and cupped my cheek, gently turning my face from side to side. Almost as quickly, though, he pulled his hand back and dropped his gaze from mine, probably figuring that touching me wasn't a good idea.
But it was a good idea to me. The fact that he cares enough to check on me means a lot.
I blinked at him, reassuring. "I'm fine, really."
"Okay," he said, standing up and offering his hand for me to grab. "We should go home, then."
"Yes," I agreed, the thought of a warm shower in my mind. I took his hand and pulled myself up into a standing position.
Our hands remained linked for a little longer than necessary, until finally his hand dropped down to his side and he murmured, "Come on, let's go."
We headed back to the house, my hand feeling strangely cold without his grip.