Posted: 5/15/11
Updated: 7/3/11

DISCLAIMER: CH owns all things SVM. No infringement is intended, and no monetary gain is being earned by me, myself, or I. This bit of fanfiction is strictly a creative writing exercise.

Unwrapped Sequel
Purple Death

A/N: There may be terms and history that may be referred to throughout this story between characters that originated in my story Unwrapped. Though I've tried my best to write Purple Death, a mystery story, so that it can stand alone, you may want to consider reading Unwrapped.

"I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it,

it had seen active service and grown strong.

Now you alter its pace with your own rhythm,

you play upon me, drumming me taut."

Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

~ * 0 * ~

1.

Sunlight streamed in through the open window, casting her nude form in a soft glow. The gentle breeze blew her hair about her bare shoulder and across her neck. His breath hitched. Something like pain filled his chest. To say he loved her seemed too cliché; too simple a word to describe the storm churning inside him. Yet, what other word existed that could so precisely capture the many facets of the emotions and desires brewing inside him; a word that would live on to times indefinite that encompassed that precipice where both pain and happiness and fire lived? There was no other word but Love. Love: a feeling so blissfully intoxicating; paralyzing; invigorating; hope beyond measure; maddening. He felt every last one of these and yet others.

"What?" Sookie bashfully asked.

Preston smiled; a dimple forming at one corner. Having kissed every inch of her body: her mouth, her breasts, her thighs, she had not blushed once, but his admiring gaze now brought a flush to her cheeks. "You're so beautiful, it hurts." He moved near her, close enough to touch. The pads of his fingers lightly trailed her cheek and down her neck. "You're a poem," he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, "an aria."

Sookie's body quivered with the first spark of desire. Almost instantly she was ready for him, again.

That morning, every mile that had brought her closer to Baton Rouge had made her heart flutter with eager anticipation. When she arrived, it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to run to the front door. The moment Preston appeared in the doorway and she saw him, the expression on his face, her own feelings, Sookie knew their relationship had changed. Their time together in Faery had altered everything. It felt different between them, she felt it. The change was instant. Preston scooped her in his arms and kissed her; long and deep. She hadn't realized until that moment how parched her body and soul had been for his touch. She drank him in; quivering with a need for him to be inside her and her inside him.

Stumbling through his workshop, bodies pressed together, a trail of clothing led from the entryway, into the elevator, through the living room, and up the stairs into the bedroom.

Laying there with him, her soul was content; as if she had found a part of herself she had been missing. She closed her eyes, relishing in his love. He leaned back and resumed watching her. She opened her eyes, a lazy smile delicately drawing her lips at their corners. She reached out for him, and he took her hand and laced their fingers.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Whatever you want." He drew their joined hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. She sighed with a soft sound of contentment.

"I want to stay in Bon Temps, and I want to stay with you."

"You're my mate," he declared confidently; his voice clear. "Where you go, I go."

"Like a marriage?" She wanted to hear the words.

"Yes."

A spark danced in the blue of Sookie's eyes. Preston moved off the bed and disappeared down the stairs. She buried her face in her pillow. It always made her feel dizzy when she tried to follow Preston's movements. Fairies were just as fast if not faster than vampires. When he returned and sat next to her on the bed, he held out a small metallic object.

"What's this?" she asked, propping herself on her elbows. She took Preston's offering and studied it.

"Traditionally, the Marking* comes after this part."

"Oh." Sookie blushed, remembering their time in Faery when with their sparks they marked each other.

"I offer myself to you as a mate. That's what the token represents. It's in the likeness of ambrosia."

"Very pretty." Sookie beamed at him. She ran the pad of her finger over the token. It fit perfectly, its size and weight filling the palm of her hand. Though each petal was intricately formed there was nothing dainty about it.

"If you don't want me as your mate, you return it to me," Preston explained. "Or when you accept my offer, you present me with a token."

"I don't have one." Sookie felt embarrassed.

"It's okay." His eyes locked with hers, and her heart swelled under the devotion in his eyes. "When you're ready, you will. Customarily, after we exchange tokens, there's a small ceremony and then we are bound. We can even get the piece of paper if you'd like."

"This is real isn't it?" Sookie let out a nervous laugh. Her Gran would roll in her grave if she knew how anxious she suddenly felt. Everything seemed to be moving so fast, but she'd made her choice; she wanted this, all of it, as much as she could have, with Preston.

"Yes," he answered. "When you're ready. For now, this is enough." He leaned forward and drew Sookie against the front of him. He kissed her; a press of lips and then he slipped his tongue into her mouth. All talk of tokens, marriage, and ceremonies forgotten.

*Definition: The marking, from Unwrapped, is a fairy biological function driven largely by emotions. When fairies chose their life mates their essential sparks mark one another. This marking is both magical (invisible) and physical (scent), which lets other fairies know they are mated. - see Unwrapped Chapters 16, 18, & 32