NOTE: This story may be triggering to victims or survivors of sexual or domestic violence.

Dead from the Waist Down

Chapter 2

For the first couple of minutes, I dug around frantically in my pockets. Like an idiot, I'd left my cell phone in my purse in the bar. Oh yeah Sookie, it was really helpful there. Good going! Then I dug around in the dark of the trunk. What I needed was a weapon, preferably something wooden. These thugs, whoever they were, had been smart. There was nothing in the trunk except me, Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid. I searched every nook and cranny, ran my hands along every seam in the rough carpet covering, and came up empty handed. This was not good. This was definitely not good.

Worse yet? It was only a couple of hours into my shift and Bill Compton wouldn't show up until my shift was over. I mean, sure, Terry and Holly would raise the alert as soon as they noticed I was missing, but unless Bill showed up at the bar, I was sure he wouldn't actually figure out I was gone for another, what, five or six hours? A few more curses drifted through my mind. I had to think clearly, but all I could think about was how very, very screwed I was.

I was in Deep Shit, Louisiana.

A half an hour later, the trunk popped open and I came out screaming. I jumped to my feet (where I'd been crouching since the car had rolled to a stop) and slung both my arms out with big fists attached. There was no way I was giving in without a really good fight. I caught one vamp across the face with my fingernails (which I hadn't cut in a couple of days), but the other one snapped me to the ground with a smack to the back of my shoulders. I fell like a lump of coal and smacked my forehead on the asphalt.

Okay. Ow. Not cool, guys, not cool.

Someone yanked me to my feet by my hair, which gave me cause to let out a little yelp of pain. You know how, in those movies, the woman grabs onto the man's wrist so that it doesn't hurt so damn much when he drags her around by her head? Yeah, that doesn't work. I scrambled off my knees, holding onto the vamp's arm for support, but no matter what I did to lessen my own suffering, he just made it worse. I was just barely able to dart my head up and gaze at the dull red sign for Fangtasia. The bar was closed. There were two cars parked out front.

The house lights were on, and the bar took on an eerie quality. I'd never been to Fangtasia when it looked like this. There were boxes of synthetic blood on the bar top, ready to be put away. The waitresses had left their black aprons on a stool in a heap. Someone had left a glass out on one of the tables and it had left a ring-shaped stain on the varnish. I could see from my position near the floor that the dance floor was painted black. The red walls were darker than they appeared at night. The whole room needed a good dusting.

The vampire dragged me to my feet. I let out a wailing yelp and struggled, holding my hair at the root so it wouldn't rip out of my skull in one big clump. The door to Eric's office was hanging wide open, and a man got up from his desk. I knew it wasn't Eric. I wanted it to be Eric. I wanted it to be Eric so badly that when I saw who it actually was, I let out a little cry of disappointment.

The man was shorter than my Viking, but by no means short. He had thick and curly black hair, smoothed back against his scalp like a gangster in a mob movie. He would not have looked out of place with a tommy gun and a smoking cigar. His eyes were as dark as his hair, a coffee brown as dark and deep as mud. He wore a tailored pinstripe suit with a blood red pocket square folded into his breast pocket. A small red rosebud stuck out of the label button hole. He'd certainly dressed up nicely for a kidnapping.

"Ah, Sookie Stackhouse," he grinned. His teeth were perfectly, eerily straight. Have you ever seen that movie "American Psycho"? He looked just like Christian Bale, ready to slaughter a couple of prostitutes with a chainsaw. I shivered.

"Victor Madden," I growled, narrowing my eyes to slits. "Aren't you supposed to be in New Orleans, licking your King's boots?" If you're going to be kidnapped, you might as well be snide about it.

"The King is in Vegas, Sookie, and you needn't worry about his interference."

The King was in Las Vegas? But hadn't Eric told me he and Pam were summoned to New Orleans for the King? Something was rotten in Denmark, and damned if I didn't know what.

"Drop her," Victor said, and I stumbled a little when my hair fell loose from my captor's grip. Victor's arm reached out and caught me by the wrist. He reached out and touched my cheek, his fingers tracing my lower lip, my chin. I shook my head and made a move to bite him. He chuckled, and his voice was oddly light. He was a tenor if anything. How odd.

"Wait outside." He grunted at his cohorts who nodded and stood on either side of Eric's office door. Victor dragged me inside. I dug my heels into the floor, but it was like fighting a raging bull. He pulled me along behind him as if I were a rag doll.

"Miss Stackhouse, the famous telepath, the pet of the former queen of Louisiana. You're a legend." He sneered at me. His hand fell from my wrist and I scrambled immediately into the farthest corner. I shoved myself into a crevice between Eric's bookshelf and the wall. Need a weapon, need a weapon. I scanned around. There was a stapler on the desk, heavy books on the shelf, and the barman's bat (a customary complement to any bar, even one run by vampires) near the door.

"Fine, whatever, I'm a legend. I can't read your mind. I'm no threat to you."

Keep him talking, Sookie. If you can keep him talking for a handful of hours, maybe someone will figure out where you are.

Except that you're in Shreveport, a half hour car ride away, trapped in a bar with three vampires.

Don't be negative! Remain positive!

"You aren't a threat to me, Miss Stackhouse. You are a pawn in a much bigger game. You are a pet to half the vampires in your area. I want to know more about you. Why do they gravitate toward you?" Victor was inching toward me, but not in an obvious way. It seemed as though he was making casual conversation, and in so doing, he was moving about the room. But Sookie Stackhouse, telepath and barmaid, is not dumb. I knew he was closing in. I had to act fast.

Whatever he was going to do, I didn't want to be part of it.

"Maybe it's my winning personality. I serve a mean bottle of TrueBlood." I stalled. I needed to get across the office, to the bat. The bat was my best chance. Hell, it was my only chance. I slid out of my corner, just a tiny bit. And then Victor was right in front of me, nose to nose. I yelped. Even though I'd seen it coming, it was still a shock.

"I don't think that's it, Miss Stackhouse. You are a human conducting business with vampires. You are a human conducting love affairs with vampires. There is only one thing a vampire desires, truly desires, from a human." His fangs extended. I put my arms out in front of me. I shoved against his chest with every ounce of strength I could muster. Victor was a wall of muscle and teeth. He didn't move. I'd only half-expected him to yield to me.

"My good business sense?" I cracked. Victor grinned. He grinned, unmoving, for so long that I thought maybe he would let me go.

He didn't.

Instead, he grabbed me by the neck, tore away the collar of my shirt, and sank his fangs into my neck. It felt as though I'd never been bitten by a vampire before. My skin split underneath his teeth, and punctured the muscle beneath. I let out a scream of pain and terror. This was not a bite from Bill in the heat of the moment. This wasn't a bite from Eric with his hand soothingly placed on my hip, his hair brushing against my face. This wasn't one of those times when I felt an orgasmic surge of pleasure and took hold of my partner.

This wasn't like that at all.

Blood flowed down over my neck, spilling out of the wound. Victor sucked fluids out of the holes in my neck as though he were sucking Coke through a straw. I had a brief mental picture of him blowing back into the wound and making little bubbles in my blood. My shirt turned a rusty red and hung loosely as it soaked up weight. I felt hot tears on my cheeks, and I beat at his shoulders with my arms and hands. Victor took hold of me roughly and slammed my wrists against the concrete wall. New realms of pain shot through me. I struggled though I was pinned. My eyes darted around the room, to the door, to the phone on Eric's desk.

Don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please…

Suddenly, I dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap, like a bag of dirty laundry. My arms and legs were shaking. I pressed both hands awkwardly against my still bleeding neck. He hadn't even licked up the wound. It was messy and still bleeding rapidly. The tips of my fingers were cold. I stared at Victor through half-lidded eyes.

"You taste…sweet," Victor grinned, a wide, toothy, blood-stained grin. My blood ringed his lips and trickled down his chin. He was a messy eater. I was filled with disgust. Still, behind him, the door didn't open. "I'm tempted to have more of you."

"Don't," I whimpered. I actually pleaded. I'd tried to be brave, to fight back, to be the Sookie I knew I was on the inside. Strength oozed out of me from my leaking wound. I wasn't strong and brave Sookie. I was pathetic and simpering Sookie. I just wanted my Viking. Hell, at this point, I'd take Bill Compton.

"Don't worry, little telepath." He was grinning again. He looked like Pennywise the Clown. I wanted to smack him across the face, but my arms felt heavy. "I have other plans for you."

For a minute, I was actually grateful. I wasn't ready to die. I wanted my own cat, a child of my own, a boyfriend that stuck around, maybe even a husband. I wanted to finish the book on my nightstand and I wanted Eric to hold me in his arms and tell me he loved me. And then I realized that Victor's other plans for me could be anything. I felt a shudder skitter down my back. My skin actually crawled.

"Eric!" I said suddenly, like that was some kind of revelation. I pushed myself slowly up the wall, leaning my back into the concrete to get my bearings. "I'm under his protection!" Maybe that would work, maybe it wouldn't. I had to try. After all, Eric was a powerful guy, probably more powerful than even I realized.

"The Northman deserves to be taken down a peg," Victor replied with a cackle. He was advancing toward me again. I grabbed a book off the shelf. I was out of options here. I needed to fight back. "Besides, I know the Viking is more than your protector."

The book fell from my fingers. I went numb. Everything from the shoulders down seemed to shut off, like something had pinched a nerve along my spinal cord. The book echoed when it fell. Victor was in front of me again, his wet and stick mouth sucking some of the coagulating blood from my skin. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

"He has feelings for you." One of his hands, large with hairy knuckles, wrapped around my throat. He dipped his thumb into the wound on my neck and I jerked involuntarily.

"Don't," I stammered. "Please…"

"You might even say he loves you, Miss Stackhouse."

I froze. The room was spinning. He was mistaken. Eric and I…he didn't…he couldn't. Oh my God Sookie, that's not important now! Look where you are! You need to do something!

But I couldn't do anything. I'd never felt so completely helpless. I was completely alone, weaponless, powerless, with a cold-blooded killer. I didn't know what to do. Maybe if I just went with it, he'd spare me. Maybe if I just let him…

No. No I couldn't. I couldn't.

I heard him jingle his belt buckle. He didn't even take off his suit jacket. He ripped forcefully at my uniform shorts. The seams gave way with pathetic ease. Tears fell down my face. Sometimes I'd imagined Eric ripping off my clothes and having his way with me, but I'd wanted it. I'd wanted him. It wouldn't have been like this. I wouldn't have felt so violated. As if I could protect myself, I wrapped my arms pathetically around my partially naked self. His laughter was grotesque. My blood was still lingering on his tongue and between his teeth. He grabbed my arms in one hand and shoved them against the wall. I couldn't struggle away. He was too strong for me. Victor's other hand pushed my legs apart. I fought to hold them together, even going so far as to cross my ankles. But his hands ripped them apart, twisting one of my ankles in a direction distinctly unnatural.

When he thrust inside of me, I let out a violent, ear-splitting scream. Tears filled my eyes and streamed down my face. Pathetically, I fought back. I clawed at the wall near my trapped hands. I kicked with my legs. I squirmed and struggled and writhed. The vampire seemed to get a kick out of me, like I wasn't hurting him at all.

"Fight me, Sookie." He growled near my cheek. His dark muddy eyes danced. His skin prickled with gooseflesh. All the fight went out of me and I stood limp against the wall for a minute.

There was a rattling at the office door. My head jerked up, and I started yelling like a maniac.

"In here! I'm in here!" I fought anew, screaming all the while. I fought harder than I'd ever fought before. The door swung open and Bill Compton's neck craned in. He looked hard at me, let out a sharp growling noise, and disappeared from the door. There was scuffling and movement, growls and animalistic noises. I watched for a long time, but Bill did not reappear.

"Bill!" I screamed, a high-pitched scream that begged him to come back.

"Sorry boss," one of my kidnappers grunted. He grabbed the door knob and slammed it shut.

"No," I whispered. "No."

"You're mine, Sookie Stackhouse." Victor growled triumphantly, resuming the jerking movement inside of me. I hung my head and trembled.

There was no use fighting it now. I had seen my rescuer and he had failed me. Eric was gone, possibly having lied to me. Maybe he had had enough of me. Maybe he was done with me. Victor had claimed me now. I would have to get used to this…this treatment. I wept in my defeat. I wanted to sink to the floor and die. There was no way out.

Victor came inside me. I felt his orgasm jolt into me. My mood sank even further. It had happened. I'd been…I'd been… I couldn't even say it. I couldn't think the words. If I put a name on it, I'd have to admit it to myself and everyone else. You're ready to die now, Sookie. Anything is better than this.