CHAPTER ONE
Fresh Blood
I'm so tired of the same old crud; sweet baby, I need fresh blood.
It was a complete mistake that I even made it into Fangtasia to begin with.
I'd been driving for hours, ending up in some town in Louisiana. Twenty-six hours, to be exact. So far, nobody had found me, in fact my mother hadn't even tried to call me. That's how much she cared about me.
I ended up in Shreveport, Louisiana. I'd never even been to Louisiana, let alone heard of Shreveport. Everything was trees and road, but around two in the morning, I came across what appeared to be a bar or restaurant. The sign read Fangtasia - what the fuck?
Curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I parked my Porsche (also known as my bribery from my father) in an empty spot. I prayed that I looked old enough, because I couldn't remember if I'd even bothered to grab my fake. The bar had no windows, and the entrance was leather upholstered.
Then it hit me. Actually, one of them hit me as soon as I walked in.
It was a fucking vampire bar. I wasn't accustomed to vampires, because they had no rights in California. They were not to be living in the state of California, and if they were, they were not to make themselves known. If they did, they would be slaughtered, or in vampire speak, sentenced to true death.
A blonde vampire was all up in my face, literally. She eyed me from head to toe. She was beautiful, voluptuous, full lipped. "ID, sweetcheeks?"
Fuck. I pulled out my wallet, sighing in relief when I saw that my California fake was in fact there. I held it up to her face, she looked back and forth.
"Twenty two? How sweet it is. What's a pretty girl from California doing in a vampire bar? Last time I checked, eighty percent of California voted against vampire rights."
"I was one of the twenty-percent. We were all human at one time."
She eyed me suspiciously, and let me go ahead. I made my way to the bar where a long-haired Native American tended to. I ordered a shot of Vodka and walked around the bar. It was interesting, to say in the least. There were mostly goths and "fang-bangers", who basically gave themselves to vampires to feed on, as opposed to simply being glamored.
Suddenly the blonde was tapping on my shoulder feverishly. "Honey, the sheriff is summoning you."
"Huh?" I whipped my head around. "The sheriff?"
What the fuck had I done? Had she called the cops on my ID? Shit! I was most definitely fucked.
But then she turned me to him - he was beautiful in every single way. Blonde hair, piercing blue-green eyes, muscular. Damn. He was sitting down, in a throne like chair, but I could tell he was tall, taller than me for sure. I was 5'8, which for my age and gender, was considerably tall.
I had no idea what this was all about, but I did as I was told. I didn't want to fuck with any vampires - that was the last thing I needed. I wasn't afraid of them, but I knew better than to try and disrespect them. I still couldn't resist being my usual, snarky self.
The blonde woman stood faithfully next to the beautiful "sheriff", with a smirk on her face. He eyed me intently, much like the woman had done when I arrived.
"You may be wise beyond your years Kayla Whitley, but you're definitely not twenty-two." His voice purred, it was outrageously hot. I felt myself acting like a giddy school-girl, and I didn't even try to scold myself. "Usually we don't take kindly to minors in this bar. We like to keep things... legal."
I look around cluelessly. I wasn't sure whether to apologize, or offer myself, even though I didn't feel like being eaten out. Not pun intended.
"Well?" he prodded. He was persistent, awaiting my response.
"I'm sorry, sheriff. I'm young and naive, I obviously don't think about the consequences it could inflict on you and your business."
He stared into my eyes - was he trying to "glamor" me? Whatever he was doing, it wasn't working - okay, I was a little turned on, but that was it.
"Miss Whitley, I request to see you after-hours. I can't explain what or why, but you intrigue me. I'd like to speak with you, in private. For now, we'll forget about the whole age situation, as long as you keep a low profile whilst you're visiting Fangtasia."
I nodded my head and turned on my heels. I then whipped my head around again. How the hell did he know my name?
"Mr. Northman, how did you know my name?"
Pam turned to face me. "You're in my vault, honey. I never forget a pretty face."
Oh, Lord. What the fuck was I getting myself into?
AUTHORS NOTE
Hello! This is my first story. I apologize for my lack of writing talent - I love to write, but I know I still have improvements to be made. Anyway, I'm a huge True Blood fan, particularly a fan of a certain Viking sheriff!
Of course, all your favorite characters will be included in the story. There will be no Sookie/Eric, let me address that now. It's Eric/OC, and Godric is still alive.
If you have any suggestions, please feel free to leave me a comment/review. I'm really open to feedback and suggestions. If I like your ideas, I'll most definitely use them and credit you. All my chapter titles are songs, songs I think fit the chapter content, etc.
This one is Fresh Blood by The Eels. It's not written in here, of course, but mainly meaning that Eric is bored as hell, and when Kayla Whitley comes around, he's most intrigued by her.
Anyway thanks for reading, I promise I won't have a story-long authors note at the end of every chapter. And I apologize for the shitty summary - I'm not good at being concise, in case you haven't noticed.
And totally off topic - but has anyone seen the "What Maisie Knew" trailer? Alex plus a child? SQUEAL.
Okay, I'm done, for real! Sorry!