Disclaimer: Because Eric Northman wakes me up every morning in all his naked glory… NOT.
A/N: Wow! I'm hella shocked with all the initial support! Thanks so much, guys! :D
A/N: I actually got the title of this from someone who put this story on their alert (or favorite, I can't remember) and translated it into French.
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Another Way to Die
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I
can give you what you want
I can make your heart beat short
I
can make you ice cream
We could be a sweet team
Melting in
your vice dreams, sport
- Ice Cream, by New Pony Club
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Chapter 2: Frank Sinatra est Mort
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The night dragged on and my eyelids grew heavy. Eric had kept me seated close to him. He observed the crowd, their movements and sounds. When something caught his eye, he sent Pam to take care of it. Many came, crawling at his feet and he waved them all away, sometimes with violence. For all his regal, I couldn't mistake him for being gentle. Cries of pain and the sight of blood accented the night like fine strokes of paint. I swayed in my seat, my body exhausted from the day's traveling and the night's adrenaline. I blinked sleepily and after stifling my eighth yawn, Eric summoned his blonde bitch. At least, that's what is seemed like to me. I had no idea the nature of their relationship. Were they partners? Friends? Rivals? Master and servant? Sire and progeny? Lovers?
"Pam, take her to my room. See that she's comfortable," I sat up abruptly, waking myself as best as I could. I nodded to Eric,
"Good night, uh, morning?" I smiled a bit nervously, "Thanks," His reply was a small noncommittal noise, as he looked me once over,
"And get her some clothes." He added as a minor afterthought. I followed Pam down the steps and through the diminishing crowd. She wound her way past the lingering bodies and around the corner of the bar. I made brief eye contact with the Cajun bartender and he looked after me curiously. She held open a door, clearing her throat to get me to hop to. We were in another hall and as soon as the heavy door closed behind me, the noise was instantly muffled. I wasn't as alert as I wanted to be and lost count of the doors and corridors we passed before we reached our destination,
"In here," I stumbled into the dark room. Of course, I thought, Vampires don't need light to see. A lamp clicked on. The light was low and created a small, dim pool. If I squinted, I could make out the floor. The lamp itself sat on a wooden table beside a high bed, "This is where you'll be sleeping," Pam informed me, her tone bored, "I'll be right back," I nodded, knowing she could see me and let my backpack slide down my arms. It landed on the floor with a soft thud. I took a deep breath and tried to untie a growing knot in my chest. I felt a little nauseas, from fear or excitement, couldn't tell. Part of me didn't want to know. My eyes slowly adjusted but I didn't spot Pam until she was right in front of me. I swallowed my gasp. She cocked an eyebrow; she knew,
"Hi," I said dumbly,
"I put some clothes on the dresser," She was nice enough to ignore my moment of stupidity, "Here's something you can sleep in," and she handed me a white, men's dress shirt. As I grasped it, my face grew hot; I had a sinking feeling of who it belonged to, "There's a bathroom behind the door on the other side of the bed,"
"Thanks," She nodded and left, the door quietly snapping shut behind her. I licked my lips before tossing the shirt on the bed and stepping away to remove my shoes and socks. I hummed a little to fill the silence as I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, letting them fall in a heap. I held the hem of my wife beater and slid it over my head. Removing my bra, I let that sit on the pile, too. The dress shirt felt crinkly clean in my hands and beneath the light scent of starch, I could faintly smell pine and elderberry and something masculine. Deciding not to dwell on placing it too specifically, I buttoned it up, rolling the sleeves a bit and tucking my gris-gris pouch underneath. I pulled back the white duvet cover and hopped in. Before I let my head hit the pillow, I took my hair down from the sloppy bun and quickly braided it. Snuggling into the sheets and comforter, I absently sniffed that same wild, masculine scent.
It was easy for me to fall asleep.
My mama was a whore. At least, that's what the neighbors had told me as a kid. I had run crying to my mémère, who wiped my tears and told me that they were full of horseshit. My childhood hadn't been an unpleasant one. I was home schooled by two of mémère's friends. Salome, a dark, doe eyed woman of Jewish descent, and Durand, a chestnut haired Southern gentleman who used to own a plantation. Both were vampires pledged to each other. They had known mémère since she was a young thing, still a babe in her mother's arms. They watched her grow up, learning hoodoo, becoming skilled and successful. They watched her fall in love and marry, watched her husband die early and watched her take me in. They agreed to help raise me, since they couldn't have babies of their own.
Durand was supportive in my decision to travel 'round Louisiana. Salome and mémère… not so much. But the two of us had won them over and I had left them two months ago, taking one backpack, two hundred dollars, some clothes and a gris-gris mémère had made especially for me. It hadn't been a bad experience. I always managed to find a place to stay at night and food to eat. Personal hygiene was a hit or miss. If I stayed somewhere with a shower, I took full advantage of it. If not… well, I dealt with it. I stuck with moderately populated areas when I could and tried not to end up in backwater, old-fashioned towns that would lynch my ass if I so much as looked at the wrong person.
Just because I passed the brown paper bag test with my Creole, café au lait skin didn't mean I was completely in the clear. But I hadn't gotten much flack and I kept my nose out of trouble all the same. I made money by doing street portraits and I hit the tourist hot spots whenever I could. It was a safer way to make some quick cash. I had taken to keeping my money as close to my skin as possible after my wallet was handed over at knifepoint. I lost fifty-three bucks and my ID, so what I had said to Pam was only a half lie. Admitting to being mugged wounded my pride and I wasn't quick to ante up that piece of knowledge.
When I woke from my pleasant, dreamless siesta, an arm was wrapped around my waist, a pair of legs tucked snuggly under mine. It was nice and warm and the lull of sleep was strong but I had a growing suspicion of who was spooning me. I opened my eyes, shifting. Someone's nose nuzzled into the nape of my neck. It tickled,
"Five more minutes," Eric murmured,
"Uh," Now that was awkward. My movements were jerky as I tired again to separate myself from him. I leaned over and turned the light on, cranking up the brightness and sitting up. He was scowling when I looked at him, his blonde hair slightly mussed, "This is awkward," I voiced,
"Really?" He growled, "I call it sleeping," I flushed and averted my eyes uncomfortably,
"Why does it have to be in this bed?" My fingers fidgeted, playing with the fabric of the duvet cover,
"Because it's my bed," Damnit,
"Why do we have to be so close?" My complaining probably wasn't going to get me anywhere, but considering the circumstances, I thought it was appropriate. Eric's face remained annoyed at my pestering and the part of me that wasn't slightly intimidated almost felt bad. Almost,
"Because it's a good way of insuring my investment stays alive," He bared his teeth and they glinted in the artificial light. His beauty didn't distract me from my curiosity. It pressed against me like a potential lover and I eagerly drank it in,
"I'm an investment?" My expression easily became quizzical as his shifted into mild amusement. He must have realized that, after all, I was only human,
"Of sorts," I pursed my lips. I don't like vague answers and I found that vampires were pretty damn good at giving them. Twisting and propping myself up on the pillows and my elbow, I asked,
"How am I an investment?" He quirked an eyebrow,
"When I said that you'd be more talkative tomorrow, I didn't mean your tomorrow. I meant my tomorrow,"
"Like, night?"
"Yes," Eric replied, still distantly amused, "Now go back to sleep,"
"I can't," I whined, "This is so… so…"
"What?" He deadpanned. I chewed on my lip, nervous to go on. I mean really, what the hell was I doing in a bed with a vampire who I didn't know and who's intentions were completely and totally unmentioned? On top of that, he has an ape-shit bitch-tastic partner of some kind who didn't seem particularly fond of me. Oh, and he noticed when I saw a part of his life. Great,
"Weird," I finally said, "This is weird. It's hinky,"
"Hinky?" Eric looked skeptically up at my, his head tilted down enough to seem patronizing,
"Yeah; hinky," I folded my arms across my chest, "I've got a lot of questions," His lips twitched,
"I'm sure you do,"
"So-"
"Can't this wait 'til evening?" He cut me off and I hoped he was feeling as exasperated as I was,
"What time is it?" He rolled over and when the pillows shifted beneath his head, I could see he was looking at a clock. The green numbers glared merrily against the black screen,
"Two in the afternoon. Far too early to be up," Snaking an arm over my hip, he clicked off the light. Things became swimmingly black and I yelped when he yanked me forward and down, tucking me under his chin. I could smell the pine and the elderberries and-
Blood. I could smell blood. He had fed, on Tru Blood or humans, I didn't know. It was too soon for me to ask. His collarbone was level with my eyes, my nose almost brushing the neckline of his black a-shirt. I could make out the detailed ribbing. I had never been this close to a man, at least, not intimately. I flushed. What was there to say that there was anything intimate between us? I was an idiot. He probably wanted to pick my brains and drink me dry. Or maybe he wanted a human pet. Or maybe he was trying to make Pam jealous. But what she could be jealous of was beyond me; we were two polar opposite women in the looks department.
What did he mean when he called me an investment? And why'd he have to protect me? Protect me from what? What exactly out there constituted him snuggling up to me like this? And he sure as hell didn't seem the snuggling type,
"If you insist on staying awake, you'll be exhausted for tonight," His chest thrummed when he spoke and the vibrations were not unpleasant. Relenting, I shut my eyes.
I knew I was dreaming. I was back in the bayous, on the river in a little wooden boat. A lantern hung off the bow, illuminating the low mist and tangled roots. The air was damp, it felt like monsoon season and the crickets sang away into the night as fireflies skirted around. The paddle in my hands was smooth and I easily cut into the water. The waves lapped at the sides of the dinghy. I stopped rowing. I set the paddle down beside me in the boat and I let the slow current take me.
Eric stood before me, walking on the water like Jesus Christ himself. He regarded me with a certain distance,
"What are you doing here?"
What was that supposed to mean? I was dreaming! Why did it matter where my dreams took me?
"What are you doing here?" He repeated. I furrowed my brow,
"I don't know,"
The alarm screeched by my ear and my eyes shot open. I was sprawled across the bed on my stomach, the sheets thrown askew to one side. I reached over to silence the stupid little shit. It read seven forty-two pm. The bed was empty. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I could hear the shower running through the wall. Eric had turned the lights on and I could see that the bathroom door was cracked open. Steam seeped up to the ceiling, fogging up the cabinet mirror above the sink. His clothes littered the floor from the edge of the bed right on into the bathroom. I took the chance to look at the room in more light.
It was simple. The dark gray walls were undecorated and the furniture was black and modern, no intricate carvings or old world class to be seen. There were several chests of drawers and a sliding door directly across from me, probably to a closet. There were no windows. The duvet on the bed, along with the sheets and pillows, was a crisp white. Two tables sat on either side of the bed and both held identical lamps. All in all, the room was clean cut and minimal. I didn't hear the bathroom door open further but I could smell Eric when he walked in. Pine and elderberries. I tried to focus on his face, as he had nothing but a towel held loosely around his hips. I could feel my face slowly growing hot. This was all new to me; the club, wearing a man's shirt, being in bed with said man and waking up to him in a towel, dripping wet and smoldering like a-
Shut up, Rochelle,
"Do you like it?"
"Uh," What?! What kind of vain, self-centered pig asks if a girl likes- Oh. He meant the room. Not the most intelligent way to start the evening, but it was a start nonetheless. He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he threw a clean towel at me,
"Get in the shower," It was an order. Grudgingly, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed, holding the towel in one hand and yanking my hair free with the other. Eric shut the door behind me and I was alone in the bathroom. It, too, was pristine, with one charcoal wall and the floor and other three walls made of a dark tile. There was tub set in a raised dais and frameless shower made of foggy glass. I hooked the towel onto the rack and stripped down. Slipping my gris-gris off over my head, I turned the water on and hopped in. For a moment, I stared at the soaps and shampoos, the water pounding down on my head and shoulders.
There was something intimate about wearing a man's shirt and sleeping in his bed but something down right sensual when it comes to using his soap and shampoo. Especially when he just got out of the shower. I was going to smell like him and if I stayed, I was going to smell like him for a while. If another vampire- hell, if a human caught wind of me, they'd think the obvious.
I wasn't sure if I was ready for that.
Eric opened the door and I near jumped out of my skin. His figure was blurred but I could tell that he exchanged his towel for black pants. He was still shirtless. Distracting my hands with the shampoo, I squirted it out onto my palm, slapped my hands together and began massaging my scalp,
"Don't you have the decency to let me bathe in private?" I demanded through the quiet roar of the showerhead. He ignored me, hanging something up on the towel rack and closing the toilet seat. Sitting on the lid, he said to me,
"You're going to be staying here," I swallowed, pushing some soapy water away from my eye,
"How long?"
"For as long as I say so," I rinsed my hair, twisting out the dirty water, "I'm going to ask you some questions and it will be in your best interest to answer them truthfully," Hesitation was not an option for me at that point,
"All right," I moved on to the conditioner,
"How old are you?" Frowning, I combed my fingers through my hair, stepping away from the onslaught of water. That was hinky. I thought he knew from last night. He said I was young,
"I thought you knew," Then again, anyone might be young compared to him,
"Answer the question," I moved some of the bottles around until I found a face wash. Leaving the conditioner in, I informed him,
"I turned eighteen three months ago," The party had been small, as all my birthday parties were; just me, mémère, Salome and Durand, the four of us in mémère's backyard that sat right by the river. Piping hot peach cobbler, fresh cream, home made vanilla bean ice cream, sweet ice tea and lemonade- of course, mémère and I were the only ones who could really eat. Salome and Durand often disappeared for a few hours after,
"Where are you from?" I rubbed tiny circles of facial cleanser into my skin, scrubbing around my nose, below my eyes and my forehead and temples,
"Born and raised in New Orleans. My mémère took care of me," The face wash tingled, making me feel chilly. I rinsed my hair and face before shutting off the water. I stood there awkwardly, ringing out my hair and waiting for him to leave. Eric got up and tossed my towel over the top of the shower. I caught it before it could hit the wet tiles,
"Does you mémère know you can see things?" My breath hitched in my chest. Damnit, damnit, damnit! I was hoping he wouldn't ask me about that,
"Most people can't tell," I replied coolly. I just wanted this to go away,
"Most people aren't eleven hundred years old," Touché,
"Yeah, she knows," I admitted in defeat. No sense in trying to win an age war with a vampire. I patted myself dry and firmly wrapped the towel around my body. The glass door popped open. Eric was still standing there, arms crossed over his massive chest. I could see the muscle beneath his skin, coiled like steel cables. I shifted from one foot to another uneasily until he rolled his eyes and turned around. Fresh clothes were folded neatly on the toilet lid and I dropped the towel to dress,
"How does it work?" I fastened the bar and pulled on the panties quickly. There were chocolate colored shorts with a wide, two button waist line and a goldenrod, long scoop neck t-shirt. Those went on quickly, too.
"I don't know; I have to be touching someone, skin to skin," Picking up the towel, I wrapped my hair and twisted, trying to get it as dry as possible. I jumped when I turned to find Eric facing me once more, toothbrush held out to me. My eyes flickered down to it. A pea sized drop of toothpaste already sat on the bristles. I wrapped my fingers around the orange handle,
"Does it happen only with people?" He turned the faucet on and leaned against the wall as I brushed my teeth. I made him wait,
"It's happened with objects," I spat into the sink and rinsed my mouth, "but only things that are important," I took the towel out of my hair and shook my head before patting my mouth dry and hanging it back up on the rack,
"How do you mean?" He followed me out of the bathroom and sat on the bed when I knelt to dig through my backpack for my hairbrush,
"Well," I found it and hopped onto the bed, crossing my legs, "It's not like I can touch a broom from Wal-Mart and see how it became a broom," I yanked the boar bristle brush through my hair, my scalp accustomed to the pulling,
"So you see only the past?" Had I not been so uncomfortable, his curiosity would've made him all the more attractive. I stopped,
"Look, I don't know much about it. I never really tried to figure it out. I just let it happen," We stared at each other for a moment or two, maybe longer,
"I see," He didn't move and neither did I. Eric seemed to be waiting, so I took a shot in the dark,
"Would it be all right if I asked you something?" He paused and his ice-cold eyes devoured me, shredding me apart to find what, I didn't know,
"What is it?" I racked my brain for all the things I could ask: when can I go home? Why are you keeping me here? Are you going to eat me? What am I supposed to be doing? Does Pam want to eat me? Will I be allowed to eat? Am I stuck in this room forever? Why do you think I need protection? How am I an investment? Could I please use your washing machine? Instead, I asked,
"Can I draw you?" With every silent moment, my heart beat a little faster, my chest constricting painfully. I didn't know why; it was just happening. It shouldn't happen. I was just asking him to sit still for me, not proclaim his undying love or some bullshit. But that thought didn't stop my heart from jumping when he said,
"Yes," Something flooded into my veins but I quickly stifled the feeling, unwilling to investigate and identify it,
"So, can I do it when you're sitting on your… throne, chair, whatever it is?" I waved my hand absently, unable to really articulate with everything happening as it was. I was staying with a vampire who, as I recently discovered, was eleven hundred years old; far older than Salome and Durand, who were ninety-seven and two hundred and forty-three, respectively. On top of that, we recently, very, very recently, discussed my sight, something I had only ever spoken to my family about,
"No. Stay in here. I don't want you out there," He rose, striding over to the closet. Sliding the door open, he stepped inside,
"Why not?" I demanded, following him. His walk in closet was almost as big as the bedroom itself. Almost everything was black. He chose an ebony dress shirt and pulled it on. Facing me, his hands deftly flew up the buttons and he quirked an eyebrow,
"Because you're a virgin," I colored,
"How do you know?" I sputtered, hands curling into defensive fists. My stomach tightened,
"I can smell you," Oh, well, of course. I mean, who couldn't sniff a virgin out? Like I was supposed to know that!
"So?" I challenged,
"Virgin blood is most tempting to us," My hand fluttered to my neck, my humiliated anger hurriedly replaced by a knot of nerves,
"Did you…?" He almost grinned,
"No. Not even a taste," He slipped past me and I was quick on his heels. I couldn't decide if being around him was exciting or just plain unnerving, "I have good self-restraint. You should keep that in mind," What he was really saying was: I can break you in two or have my way with your pathetic human body but I choose not to, so don't give me a reason to change my mind. I nodded,
"But would you?"
"Would I what?" I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. Drinking blood was small talk to vampires, after all,
"Drink me like a liquor," He chuckled,
"If I was so inclined, maybe," I swallowed, nodding once more. Fan-fucking-tastic. Eric flicked a cover up and pressed a button. A flat screen plasma TV lowered from the ceiling, directly in front of the closet. My eyes must've been the size of dinner plates because Eric was smirking. I sunk onto the edge of the bed as he wound around to the table on his side of the bed. Jesus, I was already dictating who slept on what side! What was this coming to? A remote control plopped into my lap,
"Here, keep yourself entertained," I looked up at him,
"And you're going out there?"
"Yes, but I'll be back," My stomach growled, "With food?" I asked pitifully,
"With food," He confirmed. Eric eyed me one last time before turning and leaving. I heard the click of a lock behind him and sighed. At least my confinements were comfortable.
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Supposedly, ash trees smell like elderberries. Eric smelling like elderberries (therefore ash trees) and pine is a reference to Yggdrasil, the Norse Tree of Life (supposedly an ash).
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