A/N: I know this is a long one, but I feel Eric's back story is very important to the plot. Knowing a little Viking history will help the story later down the road. Happy Reading!

Chapter Two

Eric and I laid in my bed sometime time later. Twisted up between the sheets, our hair was mingled in a messy blonde pile on my pillows. We weren't saying much, just laying there and reveling in the feeling of our bodies being pressed together. Most of the time we would've been laughing or sharing secrets in soft voices, but the sun would be rising soon. We both just laid there, silently listening to the seconds tick away on my wind-up alarm clock.

I nestled my back against his chest and rested my head on his thick bicep. I loved feeling his muscles flex against my face as he moved around. I know that might sound weird, but to me, it was a little reminder of just how alive Eric really was. He could go for hours without batting an eyelash, and he didn't breathe, not really. It happened as a reflex sometimes, when he was super mad or when he was excited. He sighed when he was frustrated, but I think it was just a left over human habit.

His other arm was resting on my hip, his fingers absently running over the pink, dimpled skin where my worst scar still left its mark. The teeth marks had long faded, but the chunk of flesh that the fairy had ripped out of my leg was stubborn to fill in on its own. I'd drank way too much of Eric's blood for a while after it happened, just to keep myself alive. When I started getting shiny and pale, I decided to get off the stuff and let my body mend itself the best way it could.

Feeling him touch the spot reminded me of how far I'd come since that night. For months, I wouldn't let anyone touch me, not even Eric. Then, after that I felt no sensation or pleasure when he touched me. He didn't take it personally though, bless his heart, and he kept at it until I finally got that old lovin' feeling back. I don't think he minded the effort so much.

"You would've made an excellent Viking," he mused out loud, his fingers dancing in circles on my damaged skin. "You wear your scars with pride."

I smiled to myself. "You're the only one that sees it, silly."

"Of course I am," he said, his tone playfully possesive. He flipped me over and kissed my neck and I sighed, twirling his hair in my fingers.

"Did the women have scars too?" I asked.

"Many of the women I knew had scars, but few were from battles like yours."

"Tell me about it," I said, more like a question. I often wondered about what he'd been like as a human. All I had ever really gotten out of him were tidbits of information, then he always seemed to change the subject. This time though, with another separation looming ahead of us, maybe I'd get lucky.

"What would you like to know?"

"Well," I drawled with a big smile, "did ya'll really wear those helmets with the horns stickin' out of them?"

He laughed and his chest rumbled. "Defiantly not, but I think my grandfather had one. I remember him drinking mead out of it when I was a child." He pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear as he continued. "Just metal helmets. We mostly used spears and axes. Wealthy men had broad swords. We each had to make our own chainmail suit to prove that we were ready to become a warrior. And you never went into battle without your shield."

My eyebrows went up. "Like the one hanging in your office?"

"Yes, that was one of my battle shields."

"Did you kill many people?" That was a ridiculous question, considering his current profession, but I asked anyway.

"Yes, " he admitted, "but not for sport, and only when I had no other choice. History reflects such a skewed image of Vikings today."

"So what were you really like?"

"We were survivors. We made the best of what we had, which was usually more than enough in the case of my family. I came from a long line of very confident rulers. "

"Oh, so it's in your blood. Here, I just thought it was a vampire thing."

He eyed me and poked me softly in the stomach, but he continued. "Now, if a chief was smart, he could sustain his clan with a little farming and hunting, and not have to go raiding that often at all. We used our boats for fishing mostly, not battle. When our land was being threatened or if a bad winter was coming, that's when we went Viking. You fought to keep your family alive and your land protected. You had to be willing to do anything. You stayed alive to fight another day. That was the honor of my people."

I smiled at how proud he suddenly looked. His eyes were alive, like a little fire had been lit behind each pupil. He was exhilarated, which was an emotion I rarely felt from him unless he was killing someone. I tried to ignore how messed up that thought process was. "Sounds exciting," I said.

"Depends on which end of the sword you were on," he replied. He must've sensed my amusement, because he chuckled a little and shook his head. "I admit, I have been weighed down by memories of my past lately."

"How come?"

"Because of you."

"Me?"

He looked at me for a long moment, like he was staring through me and not at me. "You stir things up in me."

I smiled and batted my eyelashes. "Well, I certainly didn't mean to."

"Ha." He leaned down and licked my neck, gently sucking a little spot until I sighed. "You know exactly what you do. It's part of your weapon against me."

I tugged on his hair and said, "Hey, don't try to distract me. What're you talkin' about?"

He sighed as I settled my body closer against him, so he couldn't nip at me again. He was quiet for a minute, then he shrugged. "Being with you makes me remember what it was like to be human."

"That's a good thing."

"That is decidedly not a good thing."

"Because you can't be a badass vampire sheriff while you're holding my purse at the mall."

"No, Sookie, that has nothing to do with it. I am not ashamed of our relationship. But you want things that I will never be able to give you."

I heaved out my breath and tried to turn away. "Don't start all that regretful talking, Eric."

"You want to have a normal life," he said, pulling my face back toward him.

"I'll never be normal, " I said, my voice on the verge of being snappy. "Being with you and not hearing your thoughts all day long is as close to normal as I'm ever gonna get. And what's the deal anyway? Most of the time I can barely get you to say I love you and now you're being all crazy sentimental."

"It has occurred to me that our situation is not ideal for you."

It sounded like Pam was probably making him read Cosmo again. I propped myself up on my elbow and tried not to sound too hotheaded. "Well, Eric, being forced to stay away from my boyfriend isn't ideal, you're right. And I'm not always gonna look like this if you wait a year between visits."

"That's exactly my point, Sookie. I can give you anything in the world, but nothing that truly matters, or nothing you would accept."

Nothing I would accept.

I let out a long, deep sigh as the words hung between us. This was the subject that we were always dancing around, the subject that we were always on the verge of bringing up, but never actually did. He never said, "I can't give you babies but I can give you eternal life." Yet at that moment, in my bedroom, that's precisely what we were both thinking. There were times, mostly when we were making love and our bodies were connected, that I could feel our thoughts flowing exactly the same. Like a little invisible cord was holding us together, and it was holding us together right then.

So I ignored the vampire elephant sitting in the corner of the room and changed the subject, again. I kissed him because it was easier than talking. The tension between us eased in an instant but I knew he was giving in to me. "Tell me about your family," I said.

He glanced down at me disapprovingly, because he understood my intentions perfectly. But after a moment, he said, "Well, I had three wives."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled tolerantly. "Of course you did."

"Svana was my first wife. Our marriage was arranged by our parents when we were children, so we married very young. We lived together with my family until I we had our first child, a male heir."

"Ya'll lived in the same house?"

"We all lived in the same room," he corrected. "Viking homes were very primitive compared to today's standards. It was one long hall with a fireplace on both ends. My parents had their own sleeping area, but the rest of us had beds out among the tables and benches. Our home was bigger and had better amenities because my father was chieftain, but was hardly a palace. A few years later, my father made a deal with a neighboring chief and I was made to marry my second wife, Astrid."

"Was that typical, to have more than one wife?"

"Why, do you have someone in mind?"

I swatted at his shoulder. "Shut up. I mean, didn't that upset Svana?"

"At first, but a plague swept over our land soon after that and Astrid's parents both died. I acquired her family's land and fortune and her younger sister came to live with us as well. I married her when she was only fifteen, at Astrid's request, so she couldn't be betrothed to anyone else. Suddenly, I had an entire family to care for. I built my own house and was next in line to be chieftain."

"Did you love them?"

"In their own way, but it wasn't always easy. They were each very different women, and Svana's jealousy was often hard to bear. Especially after the sisters each bore me a set of twins."

"Two sets?" I asked.

"It ran in their family I suppose," he said with a shrug. "I had eleven children in all by the time I was 28."

"Is that how old you are?" I really jumped on that one because I had often wondered and, of course, he had never volunteered such personal information.

"That's how old I was," he said, his voice flat.

I loved him so much at that moment and I touched his cheek with my hand. It was hard for others to see his humanity, but I saw it all the time, especially during moments like that, when he did something strikingly human, or said something that made my heart ache for him.

Part of the story I knew already, like that Eric's family had ruled part of what is now Sweden. His village had been on the coast of the North Sea. He'd told me a story once about him and his father and two brothers going fishing and he'd saved his youngest brother from drowning. Eric had been the oldest and I think he would've made a good chief, if he'd ever gotten the chance.

I also knew about his maker, Ocella. I'd met him not to long ago and I can honestly say I was shocked that Eric could've come from someone so weird and mean. He was a terrible man with a weakness for young boys, and I'm not sorry in the least that it was my Uncle Dermot that staked him and freed Eric.

Talking about their makers was a sore subject with many vampires, I'd learned that the hard way. I'd never outright asked Eric about it, especially after meeting Ocella and feeling how his presence affected Eric. But I was curious and I had a feeling this was a story he was never going to share with me unless I requested it.

"What happened?" I asked gently.

"Why do you want to know?" His voice was serious, but not angry or anything. Just honest.

"Because it's part of who you are, Eric," I explained. "It's like when I tell people my parents died when I was a kid, and they get all sad for me 'cause was an orphan or whatever. But I tell them that living with Gran made me the person I am today and I wouldn't change that for anything. My Gran was understanding of who I was and she accepted it. My parents were scared of it."

"Sookie, these are both sets of circumstances that neither one of us could've stopped. Our lives could've gone down completely different paths."

I shrugged. "But they didn't."

He stared at me for a moment, then impatiently sighed, but I wasn't willing to give up so easily this time. "If he hadn't made the choice to change you that night, then we would not be here together, and that is a fact."

It seemed like he was thinking about it, or maybe he was preparing himself to tell me something he'd never told anyone else before. But then he began. "We got word of a Roman regiment coming from the south. My father had a council with the other chiefs in the area and they decided I would lead a group of warriors to go...discourage them from getting any closer. I said good-bye to my family with every intention of seeing them again. I was young , foolish. I barely made an event out of it, I said no kind words. I did not say a prayer to Odin. I just gathered my men and we left."

"Who's Odin?"

He smiled at me like I was a child (he did that a lot, very irritating) and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "There's so much I haven't told you. You believe in Heaven and God, don't you?"

"Of course," I said quickly.

"Well, Viking religion is quite different from your Christianity, and those approaching Romans threatened that. According to our legends, when a warrior dies in battle, he goes to a place called Valhalla."

"I've heard of that."

"It's a commonly misused word today. According to Viking tradition, Valhalla is a magnificent hall - it's size and beauty is beyond anything in our realm. It rests in the center of Asgard, that's like Viking heaven. When a warrior's soul leaves his body, the Valkaries come and bring him to Odin, who resides in Valhalla with many of the other gods."

"What's the Valkaries?"

"Valkaries are beautiful maidens sent down to the human realm to pick warriors to go with them to Asgard."

"Like an angel."

"I suppose," he smiled. "They are like angels. They have wings anyway, and they are very kind-hearted. They carry the dead warriors' souls with them back to Valhalla. Now, if you've lived an honorable life and died well, then Odin invites you to join in the fray. Every day, warriors in Valhalla fight the greatest battle of their lives, and they feast and drink, and then they wake up and do it again the next day. For all eternity."

My visions of sitting on a cloud, sporting a pair of wings and strumming a harp went away in a flash, and I suddenly understood more about Eric than I thought I ever would. Every battle he fought, every enemy he confronted, he wasn't just staring death in the eye - he was missing out on another chance to go to his heaven. He had missed his chance over and over again, for a thousand years. The Fellowship of the Sun was a bunch of damn fools if they could still think vampires had no souls.

"It took us a week to find them, but they knew we were coming. We were ambushed in the middle of the night after we'd sent up camp. It'd been my decision to stow the boats and continue on foot. We were going to raid them just before dawn, but they got to us first. I lost half of my men before I even knew what was happening. They were silent, like creeping animals, slitting throats tent by tent. We were expecting a battle, not cowardice. So many died that by the time we were able to arm and fight back, we were surrounded. That's when he came to me."

"Ocella?" I asked, like I was whispering in church.

He nodded, barely. "He said he'd spare the rest of my men if I went with him. This, however, is not the nature of my people. The Romans were stronger than us and better armed, but we continued to fight until there was no one left except me. I stood there, staring at them in their matching armor and gleaming eyes, and I was the first time in my life that I felt true fear."

"Wait," I gasped. "They were all...vamps?"

"Every last one of them. Ocella was their captain. He compelled me and then ordered his men to burn our camp. He took me back to their boats and that was my last human memory."

"But why? Why you?"

"To conquer me."

His answer was simple, but his words were filled with pain. I almost couldn't bear to hear anymore, and I felt guilty for even bringing it up. How do you show sympathy for something that happened a thousand years ago? Eric had stayed with his maker for centuries and they had a funny relationship, you know, like I had a funny uncle. I could understand the sickly feeling you get in your stomach when you remember something that caused you so much pain, you try not to think about it all. Eric had been conflicted for years about his connection with Ocella. He loved him I think, as all progeny come to love their makers, whether by force or by choice. But he feared Ocella, and that was definitely not something Eric responded well to.

Those few weeks that Ocella had been around, Eric was like a different person. Gone was his usual confidence and sultry attitude. He'd kept his eyes lowered and his voice quiet, submissive-like. Now I know that Eric can command Pam to do something any second of the night because he's her maker and that's the way it works, but it was different with Ocella. Pam shows Eric respect, but Ocella demanded it. Ocella was the one person that could truly command Eric to do anything, and that put all of us in danger. Especially me.

"My brother, Neils, took possession of my land and family after my death. He was next in line to be chief until my eldest son became of age. And life went on."

I felt tears burning in my eyes, but I knew that it wasn't just my own sadness I was feeling. I pictured Eric with a brood of little blonde Viking babies running around his feet and it made my heart hurt. "That's just awful," I sniffed.

"That's the way of my people, Sookie," he said, almost defensively. "My brother was an honorable man and someone needed to care for them."

"Did you, you know, go check on them?"

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Ocella forbid it. He kept me away from that whole part of the world for centuries. And I couldn't exactly just walk into my village - they would've thought I was a demon, or that a curse had been put on the clan."

"So you don't know what happened to any of them?"

"I didn't say that," he replied. "My eldest, Ericsson, became chieftain after my brother died, and then nine sons after him as well - this I know from historical records still kept in the town where my village once stood. Other than that, it's difficult to be certain, but I've done some research over the years. It appears that all of my children, except for two, married and lead perfectly ordinary lives."

"And the other two?"

"Twins, a boy and a girl," he said with a wistful smile on his face. "The youngest of the group. They were only babes when I left. The boy, Gunnar, died when he was twelve."

"Oh." I put my hand on his arm softly.

"This was a common thing back then, lover," he said, patting my hand in return. "Many children died of diseases that are easily prevented today. Three died during birth, and I almost lost Svana during one birthing. She was lucky to live after her fever, though the child did not."

"What about the girl?"

His eyes darkened and I felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. "Freyja," he said somberly. "Named for my mother, and the goddess of love. She . . . disappeared from her bed a week after the death of her brother."

"Disappeared?" I gasped. "What happened?"

"No one ever knew. By the time Ocella had finally released me, it was of course too late to search for her, but I went anyway. Almost three hundred years had passed, but I was still able to find my kin. They didn't know who I was, but they knew of the chief named Eric whose daughter went missing. The story had become like a myth in the village. I could never tell what was real or what was just spun from fantasy."

"What did they say?"

"That she had wandered out of the home in her sleep , looking for her brother, and was drowned in the sea. She supposedly still haunts the village to this day, eternally searching for her long lost twin."

"Creepy."

"Very. The modern town is very in touch with its Viking heritage. They have a museum with artifacts that actually belonged to my kin. The story of little lost Freyja is part of their history, yet everyone in town has a different version to tell. Some say she's wearing a night dress, some say she's braiding her hair. You have no idea how unnerving it is to hear people talking about your own daughter like she's a fictional character, made up for their amusement."

I sighed and rubbed my hand across his cool chest. I didn't know what to say. I mean, honestly, what could I possibly say to make him feel better? I thought about how I felt after Gran died, and how people said all sorts of things because I guess they thought they were helping me. But really, all the comments and hugs only made me feel worse. I was just about to pull him closer to me, to offer the only thing that I knew would make him feel better, when he put his hand up between us.

"There's more," he said. Jesus Christ, shepherd of Judea. "There's another story I was told. Only a few people in each generation will ever share it, but the details are always exactly the same. They speak of a girl with cold skin, who never grows old."

A second passed as his words sunk into my brain, then I gasped. "Oh, Eric, no. Is it even possible?"

"I don't know, anything is possible. I've been back to that village a hundred times and I've never smelled or sensed another vampire anywhere in the area. Yet the story lives on."

"Did you ask Ocella about it?"

"Once," he replied grimly. "He denied it and then beat me to within an inch of my second death."

I guess little girls didn't do it for him. "It's just too much of a coincidence," I said.

He looked me square in the eye. "I agree."

I knew better than to ask him why he hadn't told me earlier, I was lucky he told me at all. A vampire daughter, I mean a real blood daughter. Well, that sort of made me a step mom, now didn't it? She was bound to show up sooner or later, they always do. They make Lifetime movies about it all the time. The words were just sitting on my tongue, ready to fly out. I decided to keep my mouth shut though. Eric would consider this a weakness, and we had already pointed out enough of those.

I felt that same lonely and regretful feeling coming from him and I pulled him closer to my chest. He rested his head against me and I sighed. I had always assumed that he'd been thinking about me when I got those feelings from him, but I quickly understood that there were greater emotions at work. How difficult it must have been for him - running a thriving business, dealing with Victor and DeCastro, and at the same time, trying to be the tough guy sheriff of Area Five. All the while, he was grieving for a child that he'd never even known.

"Don't feel pity for me, Sookie," he said quickly, but I couldn't help smoothing his hair a bit. "If she is...out there, then I am hardly of any concern to her. Her father died a thousand years ago."

"But you're not dead."

"I am to her."

There was a tone of finality in his voice and I knew we were done talking about it. And I knew that he'd be leaving soon - I could feel the dawn approaching. It's a weird talent I sort of acquired once I'd drank some vamp blood. I didn't want our final moments together to be sour ones.

"I almost forget something," he said suddenly, his head popping up with a brilliant smile. "I have a present for you." He was out of bed and getting dressed before the sheets had even settled around me. "Come downstairs, lover."

"No more gifts," I grumbled as I climbed out of my warm spot.

He kissed me on the forehead as he pulled his leather jacket up over his shoulders. "But you have to keep this one. She didn't come with a receipt."

My eyebrows went sky high. "She?"

It was his turn to change the subject, so I just wrapped up in an afghan and followed him downstairs. By the time I had managed to find my panties and slip back into my clothes, he was already out the front door. He made me stay on the porch while he went to his car. Now, watching 6'4" Eric folding in half to fit into his beloved Corvette was enough to make me snicker any day. I saw him bang his head on the door frame once, when he was pissed off at Pam, and I nearly fell over laughing. But now he was crawling around floorboard with his legs sticking out into the driveway, mumbling what I could only guess were Viking obscenities. I laughed, nearly peed my pants, because I needed a good laugh. He poked his head up for a second, displeasure smeared all over his face, so I put my hand over my mouth and looked the other way.

Eric was standing in front of me when I looked back, holding a squirming ball of grey and white fur.

"You got me a cat?" I cried.

"Think of her as a companion while I'm gone," he replied, holding the creature out to me.

I smiled indulgently as I took the cat from his arms. It was soft, like a rabbit, and it's green eyes looked up at me with unmistakable intelligence. "She's adorable," I said as it went ahead and made a home on my shoulder. "But I'm not so sure about this."

The last cat I'd had, Tina, had been murdered along with my Gran by a psychotic nut job who'd killed a bunch of fang bangers. Not a great memory to conjure up, my dead cat, laying dead on the hallway runner. Whenever I thought of Tina, I thought of Gran. I'd found her in the kitchen a few days later in a similar state.

"You must accept her, Sookie," Eric simply said. "She's special and her place is her with you."

"Special like how?"

"She has been trained to be loyal to only you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, as long as I feed her."

"No, as long as she lives. She will protect you. She can smell your blood from a mile away and can sense your emotions. She'll know if you are in danger."

My body froze as I felt her nuzzle closer to my neck. "Is she a vampire cat?"

He smiled at me like I was simple. (But I thought it was a very relevant question.) "No, she isn't, but she has been trained to scent out your blood since the day she was born. I arranged her training while I was in Sweden a few months ago."

I wondered how he'd gotten my blood, but I'd spilled blood over half the state by that point, so I guess it wasn't that important. I also tried to ignore the Sweden comment, but that nagging feeling was sitting on my tongue again. A normal boy friend would tell his girl when he was going on a trip, let alone one that required a passport. Again, that was a very human reaction to put on a vampire's conscience, but darn it - I was human after all, mostly. I felt distance come and go between us as the months had droned on, but Eric was not my master. I couldn't ever pinpoint his location, I didn't think so at least.

I knew he felt my anger, or whatever it was I was feeling, so I left it alone. I snuggled the little cat perched on my arm, already falling in love with the rhythmic sound of her purrs.

"She's a direct descendant of the cats my family used to breed. We kept them on our ships and in our homes to hunt vermin. Today, they are called Norwegian forest cats," he said, fondly giving the top of her head a scratch. "Her name is Elsa."

"You named her?"

"You're welcome to call her whatever you want, she's yours. She's been living at the club for the past few weeks - Elsa just seemed to fit her, although Pam was happy to call her goddamned fur ball."

I chuckled. That sounded about right. "Does that mean ol' Pam not like you?" I cooed to Elsa.

"Pam has been unhappy with her presence, to say the very least," he replied, a tiny smile on his lips. "But she will always be recognized and allowed entry by the cat, as will Compton and Bubba."

I wondered what, exactly, this little creature I was holding was capable of. "What about everyone else?"

He shrugged, smiling like a fiend. "We shall see. I am particularly interested to see what happens when the shifter shows up."

I ignored the comment, but made a mental note to give Sam the heads up at work the next day. "Why Elsa?" I asked.

"It was the name of my youngest wife."

"The twins' mother?"

"Yes. She was reckless and petulant, not unlike yourself," he said, inclining his head toward me. "I find myself being reminded of her when I am with you at times." Um, okay . . . "She was my friend, more than anything else. I grieved her more than the others when I was turned."

Now, I know that this was the trust big time, considering who the info was coming from, but I was still a tad unsettled about this. Yes, it was a thousand years ago, and yes, we all have our types that we're attracted to. But this was the kind of stuff they made bad ghost movies about. Talk about Lifetime.

He must've sensed my hesitation, or weirded-out-ness, because he pouted. He actually pouted at me, or his version of a chiseled, GQ photo shoot pout. He gently rubbed the cat under her little white chin and said, "Sookie, it would mean a great deal to me if you kept her."

My cheeks burned and I felt very childish. I'd turned away a lot of gifts, and I'd never stopped to think about any of them. It was, however, a practical concern about the cat. I could barely take care of myself lately - between the fairy war, vampire spies, and weres being buried in my woods. My home wasn't the safest place for any creature, feline or otherwise.

"Alright," I sighed. "But she's gonna have to learn how to handle herself around here."

He smiled as Elsa swatted her furry paw at his offending hand. "I think she'll be able to keep up with you."

I put her down and she began to explore my front porch, as a cat would normally do. She sniffed and padded around, but didn't stray very far. After a moment, she came back and laid down at my feet. She looked up at me and I couldn't help grinning at her. She was truly gorgeous and I secretly loved her already.

I suddenly felt an anxious tension throughout my body, and I looked up at the lightening sky. The sun would be up in less than half an hour and I knew it was time. I wanted to stand there and hold him close and tell him all the reasons why I loved him. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't because of our bond, it was something that I felt in my heart. I wanted to apologize for not always being patient, and smack him for every time I reached for him after a dream, only to find an empty space. He didn't have that kind of time though, and he wasn't exactly the long good-byes type.

Instead, I settled on asking, "Do you wanna sleep here for the day?"

"I've been here too long already," he replied. "I have time if I leave the 'Vette."

I sighed, putting my hands on his enormous chest. "I want to fly away with you," I said, sadness weighing down my voice.

"Nothing would make me happier," he said, then he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Don't try to be a hero while I'm gone." Normally I would've said something sarcastic or women's lib-ish, but I just didn't care about my ego at that point. With my heart breaking, all I could do was nod and bury my head against his shirt. "You must have faith, lover. For both of us."

I looked up and saw a bloody tear pooling under one of his eyes. This was only the second time I'd ever seen him cry - the first time was when he was hexed and wasn't himself. But now, he was shedding tears for me. If I'd ever had a single doubt about his feelings for me, it was officially gone. I reached up and caught the tear with my fingertip, as he'd done so many times with my more frequently drawn tears. I put it in my mouth and he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to him. With his blood still on my lips, he kissed me with such force that I staggered back a step when he finally let me go.

With a great whoosh and a swirl of dust, he was in the air and flying back toward Shreveport. I let out a long, pitiful sigh. Shit.

I looked down at Elsa, who was still stationed next to my slippers. If a vampire had just flown away from us like a giant bat, she didn't much care. Living at Fangtasia, that was probably the tamest thing she'd seen in weeks.