AN: Hey peeps! It's me, EGP! *waves within FF-land*

I've had more than a few ideas strumming in my head and well they're huddling together and making my head ache! So I'll have to purge here. Be kind. This is my first fic. Many thanks to my second pair of eyes, and FarDareisMai2. Love y'all! Oh. Did I mention there's a slight whiff of lemons. *grin*

All characters belong to Charlaine Harris. No copyright infringement is intended.

I just like to fondle the Viking's jewels.

Present day Louisiana

(approx. date: October 2nd)

Louisiana. The evening is brisk and cool. The wind is blowing in my long tresses. I relish it. I love evenings such as these. The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of a new feed. Mmmm.

That cute and juicy Goth girl with the enormous bosoms was unusually quite savory. I lick my lips at the thought of taking her again.

My feet finally set on the front porch steps of the old, white farmhouse. The paint is peeling on the exterior, just another subtle reminder of the inevitable decay of humans. When will she move to the city? It is not safe here in the confines of this wilderness. She is so stubborn.

I hear the lolling sounds of a heart beat. As she walks towards the door, the sounds are getting heavier and faster. I knock at said intended door. "Who is it?" she asks with a slight trepidation.

"Honestly Sookie, you well know who I am." Humans. I can't help but roll my eyes.

She opens the door. "Oh. Hi there." Sookie looks at me with surprise. She is staring at me. Her face full of questions of which I can only imagine. The vixen shakes her head slightly returning to the present and seemingly remembering her Southern manners. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," I reply with a slight smile; my eyes taking in her full appearance. There she is, my blue-eyed lovely. Her hair a golden flax, much like mine. She looks nearly ethereal. My angel. Mine.

She looks down embarrassed and faux coughs while I scan the interior for possible intruders. I find nothing really out of the ordinary. It is Sookie's home. The old furnishings are quaint but seemingly comfortable covered in pale, soft colors befitting the Southern belle in my midst. I make a mental note to contact my decorator to find replicas of these articles. It would be fun to recreate this space for a little play, say in Fangtasia on a Monday, when we are closed for business. I wickedly smile at my deviousness. She will not escape. My fangs lower a little in anticipation.

She clears her throat. "Umm. What can I do for you?" She seems frustrated and for a second I detect a little forlorn, that is until her composure quickly snaps into typical, "Sookie, the hostess" mode.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Can I get you a blood? I think I still may have one or two since y'all were last here," she mumbles the last sentence to herself.

I nod and head towards the flowery couch. Hmmm. I like these pillows. I finger the fabric slowly. So soft. Soft like the dirty pillows of my Sookie. So voluptuous. So full. So ready for me. I chuckle. She is mine.

I can hear her rummaging through her fridge as she calls out from the kitchen that she has the night off from the shifter's workplace. I smile.

"I was just going to curl up and watch a movie tonight," she adds.

"Do you mind if I join you, dear one?" I whisper in her ear as she jumps startled from my position looming over her, pinning her between myself and the open refrigerator.

"Oh my!" she sighs. Her heart is beating faster. Her breath is ragged as my hips press against her lower spine whilst my hands are indenting her voluptuous, juicy rump. There is no place I'd rather be. Mine.

"I don't understand," she cries softly. What is there to understand? I'm here.

My left hand reaches for her bosom and finds a home enveloping each one of her taught nipples between my fingers. Aahh. My other hand snakes around her torso and deftly slides down. My mouth twitches. Yes. Wet. For. Me.

A finger rolls up her sleek folds. She murmurs incomprehensibly. Yes. My thumb meanwhile rubs down her fluffy mound and reaches her apex. So sleek. Indeed.

My fingers move with a mind of their own. Round and round. Ohhhhh. The only sounds are those of liquidy squishes and her heart pumping faster and faster. The toothsome smell of her arousal promoting the descension of my all-to-ready fangs. My thirst will not be denied. Not tonight.

In my blood lust-filled haze, I lower my mouth to her neck and clamp on in a ravenous state. So sweet. So tender. Mana for the gods. Aaahhh.

"PAMELA! What Are you doing?" The voice awakens me.

Crap.

Eric.

AN: *bites nails* So what did you think? Remember, this is only my first fic. Be gentle. Should I continue it? At the moment, Eric is speaking to me. I think this may have a few chapters.

Would you like to read more? Let me know. Press that little green button! Reviews are like Eric's giant hands all over your torso ;)