A/N: I wasn't sure which category to place this story in as it contains elements found in both the Sookie Stackhouse books and True Blood so this fic contains spoilers in the sixth book and some events that occurred in the television series. For style reasons, I chose to portray the character Eric Northman as he appears in True Blood so I apologize if I offend any die-hard, literary fans out there. Feel free to give out constructive criticism, advice, or whatever you feel like at the moment.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Southern Vampire Mysteries or True Blood.
Warnings: Language, possible lemons, and violence
September 2007
Château de Chenonceau
Vallée de la Loire, France
"Arrêtez! Arrêtez!" Someone was screaming as bullets ricocheted throughout the grand hall.
The sound popped into my ears as if a dozen firecrackers were going off at once. I could hear people moving, their boots stomping and squeaking against the marble floor as they ran in pursuit. A hand pressed my face into a wool coat so hard that I could feel the buttons' shapes against my skin. Something brushed the top of my forehead…what was it…hair? Yes, long blond hair.
"Don't move!" Someone hissed.
"Eric?" I recognized the voice.
He didn't answer. Instead, he bent over to shield my body. Several times, I heard him grunt in pain then felt his chest contract. It wasn't long before blood seeped through the coat and soon, my own cheeks were wet with it. The smell of copper and smoke was overwhelming.
But the distraction was only momentary as a horrible, ripping pain erupted along my back like the spine had been set on fire. A metallic-tasting fluid flooded my mouth and I was drowning, not just in my own blood but in the noise and the heavy air around me.
The footsteps were fading fast but now a new set of voices appeared, one young and the other gruff, both of them talking in urgent French.
"Lâchez-la!"
"Si tu la touche, je te tuerai." Eric rasped, clutching me tighter to him. My eyes rolled backward as the pain rose to an excruciating high. I didn't even feel my hands sliding off Eric's coat nor did I realize that I lay in his arms like a rag doll.
"Cette femme doit aller l'hôpital, monsieur!" A man rapidly spoke, his voice made breathless by worry.
"Goddamn it Eric, what the hell are you doing?" Someone else, someone I knew but couldn't quite name, was bellowing. He was close or maybe he was far away and his voice was being carried by the acoustics of the hall.
"She's…dead…either way." Eric spat, blood dribbling from his mouth. "It's too late."
"What are you talking about?" The same voice shouted above the din.
"I thought you already knew." Even when he was wounded, Eric could still find a way to be sarcastic. "What can I expect? She didn't have any reason to tell you anyway. But it doesn't matter now. If I get her to a hospital, they can stop her bleeding but how long do you think she'll live for? An hour? Maybe a few minutes? You really think it'll be worth it?"
"Eric, whatever problem you have with me, we can settle it later but right now is not the time!"
"Bill." I whispered, finally figuring out who it was.
"Sookie cannot die." I heard him say in what sounded like an undisputed fact.
"C'est une urgence tu connard! Lâche-la! Maintenant! Ou elle sera morte!" A medic cursed at Eric in frustration.
"Give her to them NOW!"
I didn't have to see in order to know what was happening. There I was, locked to Eric, covered in my blood and his. Bill was just a few feet away and the medics were stuck where they were, unable to go forward or backward. Not with Bill ordering them to not leave and Eric gnashing at them to back off. The police nationale were still running about the chateau, chasing down the last of the vampire guards and searching every hidden panel and trapdoor in this place that had been my prison.
I vaguely wondered what was going to happen to my jailers. Their faces flickered in my mind like distorted film then blurred with images of people I knew. Beautiful, ordinary, familiar, unfamiliar. Feodore's grey-blue eyes were seared onto my brain, pulling me into her vast ocean of thoughts and memories. Marie's laughter rang in my ears and I could see Sam's tanned face within my reach. A ripple went through my palms as I recalled the feel of Tara's thick and dark braids under my hands.
Tara.
I hoped she could forgive me for not letting her know. She must've had an idea when she and Sam took me to the airport. When we broke away from our hug, her eyes were like two warnings. Sam was also grim and when he pecked my cheek, his heart wasn't it. Sunlight filtering from the airport windows whitened his hair and made him look like someone flashed a lightbulb right on his skin. When I turned away to walk to the boarding gate, I remember thinking of my brother and how happily he sent me off, glad that I was going to see the famous city of love.
"Hey, tell me what their French fries are like over there!" He had said when he bid me goodbye.
Oh Jason…my poor, sweet fool of a brother. All I could hope for was that he took care of himself. Of course if he ended up in a real mess, the likelihood of which was extremely high, I knew I could count on Sam or Tara to look out for him.
I breathed deep, trying to savor the last bit of cologne on Eric's jacket. Bergamot. Neroli. Rock rose. The fading notes tingled my nose, carrying me back to the bed in my old hotel room and tangling me in its sheets. Blindly, I reached for Eric's hand but only managed to brush my fingertips against his knuckles. I wasn't sure if he even felt me touch him.
Suddenly our bodies shifted in one violent, swift motion. I felt myself hit against Eric and him grabbing onto my clothes, my shoulders. Anything to keep me from slipping out of his hold. My slippers fell off my feet and somehow Bill's and the medics' shouting had gone faint. Eric had moved us but to where, I wasn't sure. I knew we were still in the hall because I felt my toes graze the same, marble floor that I had fallen on when Feodore stabbed me.
None too gently, I felt Eric's hand clutch my neck and lift it towards him.
"Don't worry." His lips were on my ear. "I'm not going to turn you. I'm not going to let Bill do that either."
"Where—is—he—?" I choked out.
"Why? Do you want me to get rid of him?"
If I had the strength, I would've laughed. Instead I tried to shake my head. No, that wasn't what I wanted.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't mind if that is the last thing I do before dying."
"Not—funny—Eric."
There was a long pause. In that interval of silence, I heard a rustle of clothes then felt a cold hand cup the left side of my face. The thumb brushed along my cheek and curved along the arch of my brow.
"I can heal you, if you want." Eric said, lowering his voice so the others wouldn't hear.
I gasped, unable to answer. Blood escaped from my mouth and ran along my jaw. It dripped onto my collarbone and glided against my skin before making a final descent on Eric's hands. They tightened over my neck, digging into my hair scalp as Eric pulled me close.
"I know you want to die a human." I heard him urgently whisper. "But if this is too much, I can take it away. I can save you. Say yes and I can make this stop. All of it."
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. Of course it was too much. I was in unspeakable pain and bleeding out on the ground. And as a human whose basic instinct was to survive, I would've been stupid to not even consider. Eric was offering me a way out but not life. Not life.
"Sookie?"
"Lerrac! C'est moi, Donnay! Nous avons un problème." There was a click then the sound of hollow static. It was one of the medics, talking into his radio. My French had never been good but I understood it better than I spoke it. The medic was telling Lerrac, his superior, that he and his partner couldn't reach me. That I was badly hurt but a vampire wouldn't let anyone come near. He needed backup, the medic said.
"Tell me now if you want to live or not."
I tried to shake my head then managed to blurb out: "Eyes."
I felt Eric fumbling around as he attempted to free his hand. Finally, I heard a soft click and a crunch as his fangs snapped into his wrist in an attempt to open up a wound. I blinked rapidly as something cold and viscous as maple syrup dripped onto my eyes. Slowly but surely, my sight returned and the first thing I saw was Eric's bleeding wrist hovering over me. Beyond that, there was the painted ceiling of centuries-old angels flying through colored skies and sketched clouds. If they really were this good-looking in heaven, dying wouldn't be so bad. At least I'd be surrounded by winged hotties.
Then, finally, I could see Eric. Or so I thought.
His normally handsome face had become grotesque since I fell. His hair was nothing short of a complete mess and his eyes had clouded over, making him look deranged. It didn't help that his fangs were out as well. I tried to swivel my head to get a glimpse of Bill but Eric forced me to stay still.
"I can save you." He lied through his teeth.
No you can't, I wanted to say. An old tightness resurfaced in my chest. Just as I thought, he didn't get it. But there was no time in trying to make him understand. It had taken me nearly a year but I was ready to let go. I couldn't take it anymore, this tug of war between hating and forgiving. It was time to let one side win.
"Forgive."
"What?"
"…forgive…him…I…"
"What? What is she saying?" Bill asked, sounding frantic.
Was I strong enough? I reached for Eric's face, this inhuman mask that erased any semblance of the vampire I knew. My hand shook as it rose and halfway, it collapsed, until Eric caught it by the wrist and brought it towards his cheek. Fingers curled, palm closed.
This was it.
A coldness cascaded across my body as if someone had draped silk over me. My face lifted up, admiring the angels one last time. Their luminescent hands were outstretched, reaching for each other, for God, for heaven, for me.
"Sookie."
Until that, I didn't think it was possible for anyone to wrap so many emotions around a word. I guess it was never too late to be proven wrong. In my name, Eric had revealed everything. He didn't have to plead for me to not go, whisper that he'd miss me, or even kiss me. This was enough. More than enough.
"Thank you." I whispered for his perfect ears alone, to hear.
For everything.
There's something you should know about your precious 'Bill'...
...what are you talking about...
Ask him.
..the queen knew about you and your ability from your cousin Hadley...she knew I was from the same area and ordered me to find you...
...stop...
To befriend you....
...stop it...
To study you...
...no...
To seduce you.
June 2007
Bon Temps, Louisiana
Whoever made up the quote "the truth will set you free" should've added: and it will screw you over ten-fold.
The day I found out Bill, my undead boyfriend of a year, had been nothing but a liar was one of the worst experiences of my life. The icing on the cake was probably when he admitted that he had come to Bon Temps, my home, to help his superior monopolize my abilities for her gain. Was I heartbroken? Absolutely. Pissed off? Oh, you bet' cha. Humiliated? Down to the core.
The truth did set me free but it left a gaping hole that I never did quite fill up.
Being able to hear people's thoughts isn't a rewarding gift. Not only did my entire town think I was mentally disturbed but it got me into trouble with things you wouldn't dream of. Vampires, shape-shifters, werewolves, maenads…you see where I'm going with this? It was an ability that opened me up to a magical world yet brought me a lot of misery too.
I'm sure you can't decide whether I'm crazy, stupid, or both.
If I had the right to ask you to think differently, which I don't but I'll ask anyway, I hope you can understand. The decisions I made in the last year of my life were complicated and strange. Hell, they didn't even make sense to the people who knew me best. When I died, a lot of questions were unanswered. A lot of feelings were left unsaid and all that uncertainty lingered like smoke from a blown candle.
I suppose you're wondering how, when, and why I died. I can't tell you the last part because I don't know myself but boy do I wish I had an answer. What I can tell you is that death is blind. It doesn't care how old you are, what point you are in life, whether you're a good or a bad person. It will snuff you out without warning or regret.
In my case, I was given a two-weeks notice, so to speak.
It was mid June. I remember it being so hot that I wore nothing but a sundress and panties. I can still smell the leathery air that filtered through the vents when I cranked up the AC. The seatbelt stuck to my collarbone like tape as I leaned back into the driver's seat and drove down Highway 81. A few weeks before, I started having these terrible stomach pains. At first, I thought I was having cramps but it was sharper than what I usually got at that time of the month. Tums and Pepto Bismol were useless. Midol was crap and the antacids that the clueless doctor in Monroe Clinic gave me didn't do shit.
After a few more visits, and when I mean "visits" you should imagine me bugging the daylights out of the doctor, he referred me to St. Joseph's Hospital in Shreveport, saying my case was beyond his expertise.
Now I may not have had a college degree but I sure wasn't stupid. When a doctor sends you away to somebody else, it means something's wrong.
The man I was sent to was Dr. Robert Bloomsbury, a man who distinguished himself as an "oncologist" whatever that meant.
I remember sitting in this big leather chair, staring across the doctor from his polished desk and wondering what was in store for me. It was hard to imagine something so serious could come from a man who looked like Santa Claus' twin. He even had a snowy white beard and these eyes that twinkled behind his gold-rimmed glasses but when they came to regard me, I could see their natural spark dim.
Poor girl…A voice whispered across my mind. The pity in his thought chilled me.
"It's bad, isn't it?" I said. To my surprise, my voice sounded low and quiet which wasn't the way I usually talked.
I could see the doctor's lips thin into a tight line and at that moment, I knew. He stood up from his chair, walked over to mine, and sat down at my level like my daddy would do whenever I got in trouble.
He said I had what he called a stage IV melanoma. It had metastasized into my liver, my lymph nodes. The scans that the doctor in Monroe took indicated that I had these masses. When Dr. Bloomsbury showed me the films on his light monitor, he guided my eyes to the white specks that surrounded my organs. For a long time, I did nothing but stare at them as if they'd vanish if I looked at them hard enough.
"So…" I cleared my throat as it got tight. "So…how do we get rid of all this?" I tried smiling at him but somehow all the muscles in my face were frozen stiff. "I mean…don't cancer patients start chemotherapy and all? Or am I too late..." I stopped.
For a few moments, Dr. Bloomsbury would not look at me and when he finally did, all the light in his eyes was gone. His wrinkled hand reached out and touched my shoulder.
"Miss Stackhouse," he told me gently as he laid me low, "We most certainly can try chemotherapy but I'm afraid that at this stage of the cancer, particularly your case, it'll only stall. It won't make the cells disappear."
No hope in chemo? He might as well have thrown me into a bottomless pit.
My head started reeling so fast that I couldn't listen to what else Dr. Bloomsbury was saying to me. I was dying. Actually dying.
"Are you all right, Miss Stackhouse?" I heard.
Obviously not, I wanted to say, but instead I just shook my head and asked a question that I thought I'd never have to ask.
"How much time do I've got?"
"I can't give you an exact number, only an estimate." Dr. Bloomsbury said. "Most people with your condition usually have three to six months depending on course of treatment but it's very difficult to pinpoint an exact time."
"Months?" I repeated in disbelief. My god, he actually didn't think I'd make it past the year.
"It's just an estimate." Dr. Bloomsbury told me in what he thought was a reassuring tone.
By that point, I stopped listening. One by one, all my senses shut down like something inside me was switching them off. I don't remember how long I stayed in his office but Dr. Bloomsbury didn't bother to kick me out. He sat with me for a while, allowing me to absorb the silence and drift away in it. Once or twice, he thumbed through some pamphlets with me, explaining there were several medications I could take in conjunction with chemotherapy if I wanted to take that route. Interleukin, interferon, dacarbazaine, temozolomide....the list went on and on.
"You might have trouble eating which will trigger substantial weight loss. You may also experience some localized pain."
I could barely nod. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.
"Do you have any questions, Miss Stackhouse?"
She is so young, Dr. Bloomsbury sighed in my head, she's not supposed to have this…doesn't make any sense…then again, it doesn't matter does it?
I sat up, unable to listen anymore.
"Miss Stackhouse—?"
I turned away and before I knew it, I was out the door and blew past the hallway like my feet were on fire. I didn't stop, even as I ran across the parking lot, until I shoved myself into the car, slamming the door behind me as I got in. I winced as my back grazed the leather seat which had grown scorching hot in my absence.
Not in the mood to drive or wanting to waste gas, I grabbed the window opener and jerked it forward only to find that it was stuck. I pushed the handle down harder and when that didn't work, I started rattling it and before I knew it, I was thrashing around in the car. I slapped my hands against the glass, leaving behind panicked white streaks, and when I realized nothing would give, I resorted to pounding my fists against the steering wheel.
There's no linear pathway to grief. It's a crazy, zigzag way that doesn't go smoothly into one stage after the other. I was not only struggling with denial but a thousand other emotions that swept through me like a fast current. And boy, was I furious.
I swore so badly that it would've taken more than soap and a Hail Mary to clean my mouth. I screamed. I cried. I prayed. I cursed. I crumpled up tissues and when those ran out, I wiped the snot and tears away with the back of my hand. Every once in a while, someone walking to their car would stare at me but I was too upset to even notice or care.
By the time I settled down, it was already dusk. The sky had mellowed into a hazy shade of indigo and half the cars in the parking lot had disappeared. It was just me, my Datsun, and a stupid lamppost.
What a shitty card life just dealt me. Somewhere in heaven, the angels were probably laughing their asses off. Was my life some kind of messed up game for God to play with?
"You are one fucked up person." I spat, wanting to challenge him to a fist fight. I was pretty damn sure Satan would help me too, considering he had a beef with the Big-Man-Upstairs himself.
Now, if this was A Walk To Remember (which it aint, so sorry to disappoint you), I would drive back home, find and reconcile with my undead boyfriend Bill then cry my eyes out against his shirt. Then he'd whisper sweet nothings in my ear, do all these romantic stunts, and then take me to a white chapel so we can be wed.
Yeah…right.
No, I didn't drive to Bon Temps straightaway and contacting Bill was the last thing on my mind. I sat in that car, letting my thoughts ricochet around my mind. Chemotherapy wasn't an option, Dr. Bloomsbury made that clear to me. Surgery? Impossible. Healing by prayer? Not by a long shot.
V.
Yes, I thought, sitting up straighter. For a few glorious minutes, I thought I found my miracle cure. If V could mend broken bones and erase bruises, why not cancer too? Hope swelled in me like a balloon and like a balloon, it popped once reality kicked in. It would take more than drink from the wrist to make this disease go away and V wasn't exactly the safest thing to take.
The only sure way to survive this, if I was going to take a dangerous route, was if I became a vampire.
This wasn't the first time I considered the idea but I had eventually decided it against because of Bill. There were a lot of things vampires did to survive, he explained to me, things that humans would find repulsive and evil beyond words.
I know you, he said to me, you'll hate the dark and the sustenance you have to take.
He had known before I did that I couldn't handle living forever. I hated him and myself for it, wondering how a two-faced liar knew me so well and yet I didn't know a lick about him.
Slowly, I looked up to see a faint reflection of myself in the front window. I gazed after myself, wondering if this would be the same face that I'd see by the end of the year. What I didn't know was that in a matter of months, my hair would lose its luster and body. My cheeks would yellow with jaundice and sink in as I started losing my appetite. My lips would be accustomed to an expression of grimace as the pain got worse.
I leaned back in the driver's seat, feeling an overwhelming desire to collapse into a puddle and evaporate into nothing. What I wanted was rest, a sense of continuity and peace. Now most people would say home is the place to be. Others say a beach or a nice, quiet park would do the trick.
For me…well…
"Girl, what you doin' here?" Lafayette eyed me in surprise as I walked into the back kitchen.
"I know, I know it's my day off…well…it was." I responded, tying an apron to my front. Sam was still having some trouble finding a third waitress so Arlene and I had to double duty until he found somebody. I kept a spare uniform in my car, that way I didn't waste time going back home to change when Sam needed me.
Lafayette shook his head in disapproval as he went back to the grill. When he flipped the patties over, the smell of seasoned meat and sizzling bell peppers hit me, making my mouth water. For all his eccentricities and flaws, Lafayette knew damn well how to cook a burger. He probably could've given Gran a run for her money if they had competed at the county fair.
"Everything okay, Sook? Heard Tara say you was sick."
"Oh it's fine." I lied with a casual wave of my hand. "It's nothing, really, but thanks for asking Lafayette."
"What'd the doc say?"
"He thinks it's stress." I rolled my eyes. "He told me I needed to relax and just gave me stronger antacids that's all."
"Well if them stomach pains come back, you let me know 'cause I got some stuff that could make it go away like you never had 'em."
"It's okay." I laughingly dismissed his offer. Tara had long ago warned me that every time Lafayette suggested he had "some stuff," I should walk away as fast as I could. "My stomach should be back normal anytime now." I patted my waist reassuringly.
"Good, 'cause I was afraid I lost my best taster—here, try this." Lafayette held out a golden corn fritter to my lips. Happily, I opened my mouth to let in a wonderful blend of salt, pepper, and sweet corn.
"Mmmm…" I gave Lafayette an approving nod.
"Yeah, you like that?" His face broke into a dazzling white smile.
"You changed the recipe." I remarked, smacking my lips to get the last bits.
"How?" Lafayette challenged.
I ran my tongue against the underside of my lower lip. "…you used buttermilk this time."
"Damn right you are." Lafayette said, looking pleased as punch. "See your taste buds know their stuff. Too bad Arlene can't taste for shit."
"Can I have another one?"
"For 5.95, you get a whole basket and a side with that." Lafayette recited from Merlotte's menu. I gave him a playful shove on the shoulder but not before he popped another fritter into my mouth and gave me a roguish wink.
"Sookie?"
I turned around to see Sam standing near the doorway, clutching a handful of white tickets in his hand. He was wearing his usual ensemble that day: a plaid shirt with the tails out and jeans, frayed at the hem. His dirty blond hair looked tousled which meant he had been running his fingers through it, a sure sign of stress.
"Forrie bwat wvanted foo wvork." I tried to explain with a full mouth.
"Uh huh…" Sam's brow rose in confusion. "Aren't you're supposed to be at that doctor's in Shreveport?"
I swallowed. "I know, I just got back."
"How'd it go?"
"Great." I nodded. "The doctor just said I needed to relax and gave me something a bit stronger, that's all."
"Good." Sam sighed in relief. "I was worried."
"No need to be." I grinned.
"You know, you can take the rest of the night off. I've already sent Tara home and Arlene and I got all the tables covered." He nodded to the tickets.
"Thanks Sam, but if you don't mind I just want to finish my shift tonight." I said. "This'll be the last day off you'll see me take." I added.
At that, Sam and Lafayette exchanged sidelong glances.
"What?" I blinked at them. "What's wrong?"
"Are you and Bill fightin' again?" Sam regarded me with doubtful eyes.
"What—no! No, we are not fighting and what d'you mean 'again'?"
"Just asking." Sam stepped back, clearly regretting he had even said anything.
"You know Sam, when I come in here, I come to work. Not because I had a fight with my ex, whom I haven't spoken to in a while if you recall."
"I know."
"Really? 'cause I sure as hell think you don't."
"Sookie, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that." Sam pleaded, throwing a helpless look at Lafayette, who wisely decided to concentrate on his corn fritters instead.
"For your information, Bill and I aren't fighting, seeing as how we're not together anymore." I snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wait some tables."
"But Arlene and I got 'em covered—"
With one quick step, I snatched the tickets out of Sam's hands. "I got it." I said, truly irritated now. Just as I whipped out of the kitchen, I heard Lafayette chasten Sam in a know-it-all voice: "You needa know when to shut up, Boss."
I spent the next hour shuffling trays from one table to another and catering to the customers. I played my part as the happy, dumb waitress and as I kept myself busy with orders, I almost forgot about my bad afternoon.
The key word here is almost.
He had already sat himself in a booth before I could get to him. Even if you kept your eye on them, vampires could still shock you with their speed and it wasn't something you could ever get used to. But I wasn't startled by how quick he had come from the door to the table. I was more surprised by the fact that he had come alone and here, to Merlotte's of all places.
"Eric."
"Sookie." He greeted without looking at me. His eyes were on the other patrons, who had grown considerably quiet and nervous as soon as they realized there was a vampire in their midst. I saw Arlene pause at the bar counter to get a good look at Eric then stiffen in fright when she recognized he wasn't human. Throwing a terrified glance in my direction, she hightailed to the kitchen. Probably to warn Sam and Lafayette, I supposed.
"What are you doing here?" I set down the tray I was holding.
"I'm amazed you humans can come into this place day after day, stuffing your faces with this sort of garbage." Eric said, eyeing the Merlotte's menu with great distaste.
I pursed my lips in annoyance. "It isn't garbage."
"Right. It's 'food.' " Eric repeated with a hint of scorn in his voice.
"What are you doing here?"
"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"
"Like I'd serve you."
Eric gave a faint snort. "I see you still have an attitude problem. It's a shame Bill isn't here to restrain you…I could've used his service."
"Well he's not here so you'll just have to deal with me." I replied through gritted teeth. I curled my toes inside my shoes as I felt a real urge to just sock him in the mouth right then and there. Who the hell was he to mention Bill to me?
Leaning forward, Eric raised his eyes to me. "We need to talk."
"About what?" I snapped.
The vampire cocked his head to the side, sparing another glance to the customers who were darkly whispering to themselves. "Not here. I need to speak to you in private."
"I'm working so you'll just have to say what you've gotta say and leave." I said flatly.
It happened all too fast. One moment, Eric was sitting down and the next thing I knew, he was standing right in front of me. He towered over me and stood so close that my body grazed his. Behind me, I heard the customers gasp.
"Get outside. Now."
"Don't you dare—!"
"Now. This is a matter from the queen."
For a moment, I considered telling him to go fuck himself but that wouldn't have done much good so I bit my tongue to keep quiet. I gazed up at him, looking right past his cold eyes. For the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of amusement liven his face but it probably was just my imagination. Eric wasn't the relaxed and open type, neither was he somebody who laughed a whole lot. Unless some sadistic, creepy shit was going on, I could definitely seem him cracking a smile at that.
"Ladies first." Eric nodded towards the nearest exit.
Giving him my most bitchy, withering glare, I stormed away from him and shoved myself out of Merlotte's.
This better be damn good, I thought as I stomped my way into the parking lot with Eric following in the wake of my shadow.
