Silken Ivory Sheets
Back at Sookie's house
Eaving watched from the porch as Bill and Sookie bade each other goodnight. It was a sweet thing to see two lovers in such an ardent embrace, something she had not experienced in a very long time. Judging by the lip action she could tell the pair was going to be a while so Eaving headed up to the spare room where she was camped out, they decided that staying at Bill's that day so they could head straight to the airport would be the best idea. That way they could leave after Sookie finished her shift.
She pulled off her long black coat and threw it on to the rather lavish four poster mahogany queen sized bed, the black coat with its hood and sleeves cuffed and framed with black fur was a dark contrast to the ivory silk sheets and oriental bedspread. As she undressed her thoughts ran to Eric, the tall vampire she had been introduced to.
He was exceptionally handsome there was no denying that fact; she'd always had a thing for blonds. She had seen the incredulous look that Bill Compton had given her as she had lowered her mouth to Eric's wrist, what could he have been so worried about? It was a simple act to seal a deal. Her people had been performing the blood rite for centuries.
Flipping the end of her long braid over her shoulder she pulled the tie off the tip and used her fingers to loosen her hair. The hair spilled around her body like a cape of red silk. As her hair came down so too did she let down her guards and the personal glamour fell away from her body like a slip dress falling to the floor. She skin was whiter than white with an iridescent sheen to it as though her skin was made of the winter frost, every angle of her face was sharper and her eyes glowed like polished sapphires. Dropping her glamour was like stepping into a hot bath.
As she pulled on her black satin pyjamas she heard the distant click of Bill and Jessica locking the trapdoor above their underground hidey-hole. Picking up her thick bristled hair brush she quickly tied her hair up in a loose bun before heading downstairs to where she knew Sookie was sitting in the lounge room. She found her friend on the large red velvet sofa watching TV, of course all that was on at this early hour were infomercials, and phone is quiz shows and the usual religious broadcasts. The show that happened to be on was another interview by that incessant Rev. Newlin from the Fellowship of the Sun.
Eaving plonked down on a cushion on the ground in front of Sookie and cringed at the sight of the poofy haired preacher.
"How can you watch that crap?" she asked leaning behind to hand her friend the brush.
Sookie let her friend's hair out of its bun and giggled at the feeling of the soft strands sliding over her fingertips.
"I'm not, I am listening to the house waking up and getting the knots out of some very tangled hair" she replied sweetly "I don't get why you grow your hair so long anyway"
Eaving leaned back and looked up as Sookie divided her hair into sections and started brushing.
"In my world only the Sidhe are allowed to grow their hair long, it is a sign of who we are as a race that as the most powerful of the fey we must stand out" she stated clearly.
The more Eaving spoke of her people the more that her accent became apparent. Even though her people were mostly from ancient Ireland and Scotland, she herself originated from what is now known as Denmark. As she spoke the Nordic enunciation and Celtic clip would creep back in, Sookie noticed it much more than when Eric was speaking.
At the moment Eric entered Sookie's thoughts Eaving reached her hand back and stilled the movement of the brush.
"What's up?" Eaving inquired "your emotions suddenly went blank"
Sookie put the brush down and slid onto the floor next to Eaving; she hugged her knees and stared at her pale friend.
"Why did you exchange blood with Eric? You do know it creates a bond between you two. He can sense your feelings and he can find you where ever you are" she asked in a worried tone.
Eaving flicked her head around and paused in shock before answering her.
"He can? Oh shit! I did it because in my day it was how warriors would seal a partnership, despite how old I am my people have always known relatively little of the Vampire people. I guess I will have to increase the strength of my glamour and mind blocks"
She slapped her palm against her forehead.
"How could I have been so stupid? If he ever found out that he has created a bond with a Sidhe…I don't even want to think about the consequences." She whispered
"Well you have to be careful around him; he's a real nasty piece of work. He had my friend Lafayette chained up in his basement with a bullet wound. I mean what kind of person does that?"
Eaving shook out her hair and played with a few locks that had fallen over her shoulder. Before brushing it back behind the point at the top of her ear.
"Compared to the people I grew up he sounds a puppy dog, the world of the Darkling Throne is one of torture, debauchery and darkness. But at least it's more honest about it than the Glittering throng of the Golden Court. Eric Northman appears to be a vampire who is at home with in himself, neither good nor bad…just someone who acts according to his own judgment. I have met humans and fey who have done much worse for fewer reasons than dealing in illegal blood trade" she replied evenly with out condoning or condemning
They sat in silence as Sookie finished brushing Eaving's hair. Eaving cracked a smile and turned to her friend again.
"He is pretty hot though, just imagine him and Bill naked, lying on a bed covered in red silk with a huge chocolate sunday with whipped cream and cherries" she said with a girlish giggle.
Sookie blushed as Eaving sent her the mental image.
"Holy shit! That is pretty hot, although I still think Bill is way hotter than Eric will ever be"
The girls sat there until dawn just giggling and talking nonsense until Sookie finished brushing Eaving's hair and the pair parted ways to go to bed.
Eaving sighed in pleasure as she slid down between the silken ivory sheets; it felt as though gentle fingers were caressing every part of her naked body. There was nothing more relaxing or luxurious than the feeling of 100% pure silk sliding over every single inch of soft flesh, her hair was spread out over one shoulder taking up almost one side of the entire bed. When she turned her head she inhaled the clean scent of the satin strands and revelled in the feel of them against her skin.
As she lay in the large bed slightly lit by the dawn light creeping in from under the tightly drawn shutters her mind wandered back to Eric Northman. It was a strange phenomenon that such as man could elicit a response from her. True that he was very handsome and well built for a human, but Eaving was more accustomed to the inhuman masculine beauty of the Sidhe males. Her last Sidhe lover Iaone had been 6ft 2inchs of solid muscle, with long ice white hair and skin as black as the midnight sky. His eyes had been a solid iron grey that would only soften when she had lain in his arms after then had both sighed in repletion.
They had parted ways when Eaving had gone in to exile after winning a duel against the son of Ard-Ri, the High King of the Unseelie Court. Though a legitimate duel the king had sworn that if she ever set foot with in the Sithen she would meet her death. That had been over 500 years ago.
Eric was handsome in more of a human manner, though 6ft 4 and every inch a symphony of muscle and sinew his skin was the pale white of the undead. His high forehead, strong jaw line and prominent cheek bones were almost singular to his Viking heritage. The pale gold hair and river blue eyes were entirely human, but though lacking the lustre and power of the Sidhe tri-coloured eyes, they were piercing and compelling none the less.
As they had been speaking a few locks of his short blond hair and escaped from his slicked back style and fallen over his fore head, Eaving had been so tempted to reach out and brush them back into place. Call it nerves, when the fey were nervous they had a tendency to touch each other. Drawing comfort from the feel of familiar flesh.
Her finger tips slid softly down her thighs and curved up over her flesh, she turned over and curled around one of the large pillows. As she turned her silken hair flowed over her body like a crimson cloak finally comfortable she drifted off into sweet oblivion as the sun rose brightly over the old colonial house.
End chapter 2.
