No real warnings for this chapter, I'm afraid. Best to think of it as an extra bonus before episode 3 comes out. After all it takes two to Tango, so I think it's time we took a peek into the head of one William Compton. This is set before Bill's little bout of pyrotechnics during season 3, episode 2. This would have been out earlier in the week if it were not for internet troubles.
Don't worry – we'll be getting back to Sam next Chapter.
Bill paced like a caged animal.
Perhaps that was because he had been caged like an animal. It was certainly an attractive cage - with its fine trappings and furniture of historical interest, but it was a cage nonetheless. With the silver on the door and the "Attendant" waiting in the hall, it was hard to pretend as if it were anything less. The king of Mississippi grated on his nerves in a way even the queen of Louisiana and her frivolous manners never had. She was at least open in her elaborate fantasy life of pool boys and fake tanning by the pool. This vampire hid his proclivities behind a pretended call back to times gone past with a no less ridiculous facade of Victorian architecture and reproduction Regency coats. The vampire may have been old enough to have called George king, but Bill found his insistence on pretending this was still so distasteful. It stank of an old world imperialism that had no place in new world politics - vampire or no.
He concentrated, and prepared to call Jessica again, then thought better of it.
There was nothing, realistically, that his ward could do. Worse, she would probably get Sookie involved, and the last thing Bill needed was the blonde telepath in the middle of this. He was deep in vampire territory here, and not a single one would hesitate to rip out her throat. He winced at the image of Sookie Stackhouse storming through the front gates of the King of Mississippi's mansion in an indignant rage, demanding his release. No, he needed to keep her as far away as possible until he could escape this unfortunate situation all on his own.
Help, he knew, was unlikely from either his sheriff or his Queen, and he had no way of contacting either in any case. Jessica fluttered in the back of his head - as a major recipient of his Blood, he could keep track of her. Sookie too, had her own place, and thankfully it was not prominent, meaning she was safe - or at least not in immediate danger. As he tried to concentrate on Bon Temps, something entirely strange flashed in the back of his head. It was the kind of alarm he had felt when Sookie was trapped in the basement of the Fellowship of the Sun but it was all wrong. The tingle he knew belonged entirely to her was just as it always was, and it was a new someone in danger.
It took Bill a serious moment to figure out who it was before it came to him: Sam Merlotte, the shifter. Just as he concentrated on it - it felt west instead of south, which was odd - it went away. Merlotte's peril was obviously temporary then, as the feeling faded as quickly as it had arrived. But Bill could recognize Sam's presence now, as it nestled down next to Sookie's in his brain, as if cozying up to her in his own mind. His hackles rose a little at the thought. Merlotte was a respectable enough man, but Bill Compton did not share what was his – with anyone, and certainly not in his own head. I in fact, if it weren't for the blonde woman's affection for her employer, Bill would have given the shifter a taste of his fangs a long time ago.
It was worse, Compton knew, because Sam Merlotte was not half the villain Bill could have wished. It was not gentlemanly to punch an ally across the chin and pin him to the ground for glancing at your girlfriend, and even less so to bury your fangs in his neck afterwards - No matter how much Bill Compton may have wanted to, seeing Sam trot along beside her like a besotted pet. It was the dog in him, Compton decided, that grated on his nerves. It was no wonder that the canine seemed to be his preferred form. Sam Merlotte needed a master.
It was an hour or more before he felt a slight twinge of danger from Sam Merlotte again. He reluctantly concentrated on him, to ascertain where he was. It could be that Merlotte was close enough to spring him from this detestable predicament. The danger pulled him westward again, but it felt too far away to be in Mississippi. What the shifter was doing in Arkansas, Bill had no idea but it certainly didn't do him any good. He concentrated harder, trying to tell what the danger was.
He was hit with a blast of fear, and raw, sexual energy. It was enough to make him sit down on the bed abruptly. The aftermath of the blast tingled through him. He was reminded of how he felt back in that clearing, tearing the throats out of the attacking werewolves. It was the adrenaline rush of stalking prey. It called to mind blood on his fangs and a warm living body beneath him. The feeling was wild - and it had been stoked by Sam Merlotte. Bill was left with an aching urge in his loins that he desperately wanted to unleash on someone. There was no one around, and in disbelief of himself he began to reach into his slacks to take matters into his own hands. Just as he began to tug at his hardening erection, a knock at the door interrupted his reverie. It was the call to dinner. The signals from Sam Merlotte were pushed ruthlessly into the background, and Bill came too, quickly zipping his fly. He growled, trying to think of the least arousing thing he could, begging off the attendant to stall for time. Normally, these thoughts would be along the lines of people and things that annoyed him, and Sam Merlotte was usually near the top of that list.
That certainly wasn't an option now.
So, thinking about Baseball, Bill Compton left his silver plated room with his armed attendant. He wished that the silver worked to trap shifters as well as it did vampires, so he could leave Sam Merlotte behind there, and not in his head.
