AN: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed my story! I've been trying to PM everyone who left a review, but I'm a little behind. I was so happy to get such great feedback that I decided to post this a little early. This is the first time I've ever written anything for public consumption, and your reviews are extremely appreciated.

Also, I don't own these characters. Charlaine Harris does. If I did own them, the last couple of books would have been much, much different.


Eric P.O.V

"Yes, your majesty," I mutter into the phone with as much interest as I can fake. "You are undoubtedly correct your highness."

I check my watch; it has now been 45 minutes that I have been on the phone with my queen. I listened for the first 5 minutes, in which she discussed a new edict and other relevant news, and I mentally left the conversation when she began to discuss color schemes for her annual ball. Do I seem like I even know what the fuck "chartreuse" is Sophie Anne?

"Of course you are right, if Russell used amaranth then you obviously cannot," I intone. Amaranth? I'm starting to think she's purposely fucking with me.

Never one to waste time, I've been multitasking as Sophie blathers on. Not only have I had dinner and a show – I took a red head on top of my desk while the queen discussed table linens – but I've also been making good use of google. Pam hasn't bested me yet, and I'm determined to use more stupid human phrases than her.

I look at the screen and become distracted by item number 62 on the list. "Colder than a witches tit." Witches are human, so surely their tits are the same temperature as other humans, right? I've studiously avoided bedding witches, as I'm a firm believer that magic and my dick don't mix, but I wonder if Pam has ever had a witch for a lover. If their breasts are especially cold, as the expression implies, then how does that translate to other, more titillating, body parts?

"I'd be like ice-fishing with your dick," I murmur.

"What did you say Northman?" Sophie Anne snaps.

Without a second's hesitation I reply, "I said, 'that'd do the trick' your majesty. Yes, the aubergine sounds perfect. Now, if you'll excuse me, there seems to be an issue in the bar."

"You are excused Sheriff, and I agree about the aubergine. I will speak to you again next week." And, with that, she finally hung up.

Quickly putting the fascinating conversation with my queen behind me, I eagerly set back to work. Unfortunately, I've already completed my area reports and there are no pressing matters to adjudicate tonight. I find myself bored again.

If I'm being honest with myself, boredom has been my constant companion as of late. When you are a thousand years old, you become accustomed to stretches of time where boredom sets in, but I've been feeling it more acutely in the past months. Revealing ourselves to the humans has had many benefits, but recognition has come with a price. Monotony.

I'm pulled from my rather bleak reverie by the sound of Pam's laughter. Pam is actually quite a light-hearted creature, but I'm surprised that she is laughing in public. Usually she keeps her bitch-face on when out in the open.

As she approaches I hear, "Oh master, wait till you see what I have for you. She's blonde, tan, and smells better than anything I've ever come across."

I excitedly lean forward in my chair, not because of Pam's words, but because of the enchanting smell that reaches my nose as she says them. I'm somewhat put out when Pam stops and knocks on my office door instead of bringing my dessert straight in.

"Eric, do you have company?" She asks. "I think our guest might be a bit shy if you're already occupied."

I'll admit to being a bit confused by Pam's words. Usually if I'm in the middle of entertaining a fang-banger, Pam has no problem just waltzing in. Once, when Shreveport hosted a national college cheerleading competition, Pam set up a queue of women that wound all the way down the hall, past the dumpsters, and out into the parking lot. Needless to say, she was not one for modesty.

"I'm alone Pam, bring her in." I'm having trouble keeping my fangs in I'm so excited! That is, until Pam opens the door.

My fangs retract and my dick's gone soft before the "blonde" is even all the way in the room. Instead of a tasty treat, my eyes take in the form of a small child. She's very short, even for a young one, and she's covered in mud and sopping wet.

What. The. Fuck.

"Pam, what is the meaning of this?" I grind out.

"Now, don't be shy master, after all, she says she's to be your lover." Pam, seemingly oblivious to my glare, continues with apparent glee. "I'd been wondering where you've gotten off to when you're supposed to be enthralling vermin and it seems I have my answer. Do you just hang out at the Toys 'R Us across the parking lot or do you also visit the local elementary schools?"

"Haha, very funny Pamela. Now return it to its mother before they report her missing and we end up arrested."

"But master, I did not take her. Sookie came here for you. Talk about robbing the cradle Eric! I've heard of May, December romances but this is a step too far..."

"Enough!" I cut off her inane ramblings, "Explain now. And what is a Sookie?"

Pam is about to answer when she is cut off by a soft, pleasant voice.

"Me, sir," says the tiny human whose eyes are currently glued to my shoes. "I'm a Sookie. Well, I mean, that's my name sir. And don't worry about being arrested or nothin' like that, nobody is looking for me."

Tears begin to run down her cheeks at her last words, and I surprise myself by rushing over to her.

"Errr…um. Don't cry little one. Why don't you take a seat on my couch and we'll figure out a way to call your family." I take the girl's hand (again surprising myself, I normally hate touching young humans, they are always sticky) and lead her over to the couch. I have to bend so far down to reach her that I think my back would be permanently disfigured if I were human.

"Why don't you explain why you're here liten flicka? Who brought you to my bar?"

She wipes furiously at her tears, but cannot seem to stop leaking. Finally, she removes what appears to be a small stuffed cuddle toy from the pocket of her pajama pants and clutches it to her chest. It might be a cat, like the ones on her pink pajamas, but I can't tell because its too water logged. Whatever the toy may be, she seems to get some sort of comfort from it, because she manages to calm down enough to speak.

"I brought myself here in a taxi." She whispers. "I'm here because I need you to help me. I know that you are the only one who can do it Mr. Eric." She looks up at me and her bright blue eyes seem to cut right through me.

I catch her gaze and give her my best glamour. "You will stop crying. You will tell me what you want from me. You will feel happy as you do this."

I notice Pam staring at me from the corner of my eye with an astonished look on her face. She is no doubt shocked that I even care what the young one wants from me. I am surprised also, but all I am certain of in this moment is that the girl's tears make me uncomfortable. I wish for her to smile.

However, my uncertainty grows when the girl continues to leak and does not look one iota happier. Does my glamour not work on children? I know I had to have glamoured a few in my existence.

"Can I tell you at your house Mr. Eric? My head is getting worser and worser. I can't keep everyone out. There are too many people and they are all thinkin' about grown-up things. I don't like hearing their thoughts, they are too gross."

Instantly alert, I ask, "Sookie did you just say that you hear people's thoughts?"

"Yes, sir."

Well, that's decidedly not boring.