A/N: I want to give a special thank you to Stacey (RubySun03) my new and fabulous Beta. She's been a huge help and deserves credit for keeping me in I hope you all enjoy this chapter--things are finally starting to heat up. Please review...I'm new to the SVM world, so your thoughts are very much appreciated. Hugs!

Chapter Three

By the time Sookie and I made it into the city limits of St. Louis, I could tell it was nearly dawn--my body was practically screaming out for me to take cover. I could tell that my human companion, sitting next to me with a fixed gaze, was just as anxious as I was. Though, I have to admit, she did a fine job of concealing her worries. I had the good sense to recognize she was mostly doing so out of guilt. After all, had she allowed us to drive in a vehicle capable of reaching speeds over 50 mph, we wouldn't have had this problem in the first place.

As we became closer, I steadied myself on the knowledge that Eric was a proactive man. He would have anticipated this issue of timing and made certain that the hotel staff received us in an expedient manner. All I had to do was get this piece of junk car into the underground parking lot; Sookie would handle the rest. That was part of the reason I liked Sookie so much--she was fierce, loyal and at her best under pressure. Of course, her knack for tormenting my master also aided in my affections. Just the thought of it would normally send me into a fit of laughter. The look on his face when I relayed Sookie's message that he was to "fly a kite" was just priceless. Honestly, I don't think I will ever grow tired of that one. Yes, where Sookie was concerned, I could always count on a good chuckle at Eric's expense.

Considering Eric would be responsible not only for his bonded's gala attire, but mine also, I prayed that he had forgotten my eagerness in accompanying Sookie on this trip. It truly had turned out to be quite the "disaster," as Eric so generously pointed out to me last night. Had it not been for my brilliant suggestion--to use the gala as an excuse for him to tag along--I might still be in the "dog house." And, knowing my master to be dangerously creative, when it came to his punishments, I could have literally ended up suffering among the drooling class.

If I were lucky, I would awake tomorrow to find a REDUX Charles Chang-Lima ensemble--preferably the one I'd been eyeing for the past month. It was splendid, really; crisp white floral halter, paired with a long, onyx cumberbund skirt. It epitomized my "sophisticated style," which I learned from InStyle magazine means: "feminine but not frilly, seductive but not showy, you live for luxury but are allergic to bling. Grace Kelly is your ideal, and Michael Kors, Ralph Lauren and Carolina Herrera are your sartorial guardian angels."

I was certain Eric had overheard my meltdown--provoked by that heinous Nevada comptroller, Sandy. "Ms. Ravencroft, from now on all 'unnecessary' purchases are to be withheld...we cannot afford to be frivolous in this economy," she had scolded me after intercepting a package of perfectly "necessary" Prada pumps.

How dare she monitor my online shopping in the name of practicality! Blasphemy, I tell you...blasphemy! If I had the chance I'd stake her myself, with those very heels!

Fortunately, Eric shared my appreciation for the finer things. He understood the need for great pumps, among other things, and the gala provided the perfect opportunity to justify said luxury items. Perhaps I should be thanking frumpy ol' Sandy, for her part in revving up my anticipation. At this point, I could almost feel the oversized rosette of the top, I was so excited. I maintain it was the thought of that dress alone that kept me focused enough to make it safely to the hotel.

...

"Dracula's Castle," I read the name of the hotel in awe--most likely a vampire rip off of Caesar's Palace. Though, rip off or not, it was incredible all the same. I'd never seen a real, bona fide castle before--even if this wasn't technically authentic--it was about the closest I'd expect to see in my lifetime.

For a second, I wished Pam hadn't needed to run off so quickly. I wanted to drill her on the quality of this replication. I'd spent a considerable amount of time investigating all things Vlad Tepes, before going to Fangstasia for Dracula Night, but I was by no means an expert. And, due to the unfortunate event with the imposter-Vlad, I had purposely tried to rid my mind of anything related to the Impaler. It was for that reason, I now stood facing this magnificent fortress of vampirism without the slightest inclination of its significance.

From my scarce readings on architecture--I much preferred a hot and heavy romance-- I associated the elegant, graceful structure with a blend of Gothic and Baroque influence. It's white walls, made of rock and stone, stood out against the reddish brown wooden framing. The building stood much taller than its three floors would suggest, highlighted by four cylindrical towers, each adorned with tiled roofing.

To enter the lobby, I had to walk across an enormous draw bridge. It reminded me of the castle from the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast. I must have watched that movie a million times. Belle had always been my favorite of the "princesses," because she was most like me--or so I wished to believe. She was condemned for being "different"--the towns people gossiped of her peculiar ways and penchant for reading. In that sense, I could definitely relate. She was also good-natured and honest...and of course, an insanely beautiful virgin who lived happily ever after with her prince. I tried to live up to the former. The latter, that part was the dream--the non-reality--one that I never envisioned could happen to me. I guess that's why my current situation seemed so ironic.

Speaking of, the beast himself was somewhere within these very walls. That damned blood bond. I could feel him even now when he was dead to the world. It wasn't an overwhelming feeling, like it can be if we're near and he's awake, it was more like a dull twinge in the pit of my stomach. I've often wondered if it is the same for him, but I'm too chicken shit to ask.

I slowly made my way to the check-in counter. All the ornate furnishings had captured my attentions long enough. I was tired and needed a bed. The concierge, Tyler, was quick to help me, even offering to carry my little suitcase up to the room. I hoped that his generosity was only out of common courtesy--I was a woman and there were no elevators--but I suspected Eric had instructed the staff to be extra accommodating. In other words: kiss my ass because otherwise my big, bad, vampire boyfriend--or whatever he was--will have a conniption fit, which will most definitely not end in your favor. Ugh. I hated when he did that kind of shit, and he knew it! Pompous ass!

Out of sympathy, I tried to explain to Tyler that this treatment was unnecessary. He didn't seem to take my word for it, though. Figures. I couldn't blame him. From his thoughts, I learned that he was only 17 years old and desperately needed this job to pay off hospital bills. I wanted to swoop in and play fairy godmother, as Claudine had done for me, but I didn't have the means. Right now, all I could do was promise not to be the cause of his termination.

To make matters worse, I soon found out that Eric had insisted on me having a suite--the Vlad Tepes suite. I was not at all happy with this show of monetary exuberance, but given his fascination with the famed Dracula, I didn't protest. Instead, I casually made my exit and headed towards the stairs.

Once inside the gigantic suite, I finally started to relax. As outrageous as it was to be standing in such lavish quarters, I was content after seeing the bed. From having to deal with the car drama, I had been up for nearly 24 hours; all I wanted to do was rest. I opened the French doors to the bedroom and practically fell into the mattress--opting not to get under the covers out of pure laziness. Within seconds, I was asleep.

It wasn't until I heard the telephone ringing next to me on the nightstand that I awoke. I knew from my groggy state and lack of comprehension that I'd been deep in my dream state. Blindly, I reached for the receiver.

"Hello?" I answered, tentatively, not knowing who would be calling at this time of day.

"Mrs...Ms..." The woman on the other end was struggling, and I knew it was because the reservation was under Mr. Northman. He must not have specified how to address me.

Stupid vampires and their titles!

"It's Sookie, just call me Sookie."

"Okay...well, Sookie, my name is Roslyn. I was just calling to confirm your three o'clock appointment here at the spa."

I was stunned. What was she talking about? Spa appointment? I hadn't arranged such a thing. I never would. I started panicking to myself, with no clue what was going on. I quickly scanned the room, settling on a garment bag hanging by the door. It all made sense. It had one large red ribbon tied around it. Dammit Eric!

"I'm sorry. Could you hold on a sec?" I asked nicely, making my way over to the bag. As usual, there was a card. "Actually, would you mind if I called you back?"

"Sure. No problem."

I hung up the phone in a fury, ripping the card out of the envelope. I was about ready to ream Eric a new one, but then I read it:

My Dearest Sookie,

Please do me the honor of wearing this dress tonight. It would please me a great deal. The color will bring out your beautiful eyes and the bodice will accentuate your perfect bosoms. It seems as though it were made specially, for you--not literally, do not worry.

Also, I have arranged for you to get your hair and nails done at the spa, if you would like. Someone will call to confirm the time. However, it is ultimately your decision whether or not you take me up on this offer. I only seek to make you happy.

Until tonight, lover.

E

There was absolutely no hope for me after that. None at all. I was on the brink of becoming a blithering, hysterical mess. I could literally feel the corners of my mouth turning up into a smile--and it wasn't my famous "Crazy Sookie" smile, either. I must have looked like a fool--a complete lunatic--but, I was...happy.

Trust Eric to put the perfect spin on things, so that he looked like "boyfriend of the year." I chuckled at the title, thanking my lucky stars Amelia and Tara weren't around to see this little display. I could just hear their reactions now.

"Damn Sookie! Who died and made you Queen? " Tara would ask, before pouting over the fact that her husband, JB, never her got her anything glamorous. Then, without fail, Amelia would chime in, taunting me with some obnoxiously sarcastic answer: "I'm gonna go with Tall, Blonde and Dead Sexy. Am I right, roomie? Is it your Undead Viking, lovvver?"

Ugh. They were relentless! I always tried my best to be discrete in such situations--you know, a lady doesn't kiss and tell--but those two were something else. I swear, there were no limits to the torture--or "girl talk" as they liked to phrase it--and they never gave up. My stubbornness was no match for their tag team efforts; I learned that the hard way. Now a days, I would just "grin and bear it, "as Gran would say.

I was still reeling in my reverie when I remembered that I hadn't even looked at the dress he'd picked out. Though, it really wasn't all that concerning. Eric had ten times better taste than I did and, of course, money was never an issue. I knew it'd be useless for me to complain, anyways. I'd tried that route before and he simply wouldn't have it.

I pulled the zipper down slowly, as if I might ruin something otherwise. I think the bag itself was nicer than most of the things in my closet--a scary sign of just how expensive this dress really was. I cringed at the thought, knowing how many nights I'd have to work at Merlotte's to pay for something like this, but eventually I got over my hesitation and pulled it out.

Jesus Christ! Shepherd of Judea! I couldn't believe my eyes. It was...words couldn't describe it, that's how beautiful it was. I almost felt ashamed to know I'd be wearing it. No one had ever accused Sookie Stackhouse of being "elegant," and that is exactly the kind of person who should wear a gown like this--not a measly ol' barmaid.

I'm sure Eric would have argued against my better judgment, bless his heart. I often wondered what he saw in me, I mean, really saw in me--besides the nice rack. Did he honestly care for me the way Pam seemed to think he did? He sure seemed to act like it at times, especially since he'd regained his memories--but so had Bill, once upon a time, and we all know how that turned out. Cut to: me brokenhearted, wandering the streets of New Orleans--not one of my prouder moments. But, Eric, he's never tried to hide anything from me, including the fact that he's mostly concerned with maintaining my desire to have sex with him. Like that was ever a problem. Ha!

I stole another look at the gown, eying the intricate crystal beading, the delicate lace appliqué and the ice blue, silk sashes that flowed across the bodice. The sweetheart neckline seemed to dip in just the right spot to show off my very best asset: the twins. Hmm, who might like that? Instinctively, my eyes fell lower. From the cinched waistline fell a flawless long skirt made of hand sewn chiffon petals. My heart skipped a beat, imagining how breathtaking I might look--say, on a dance floor, with Eric, as he effortlessly twirled me around. I had to blink a couple times, pushing aside the image, as I stepped back to take it all in once more.

One thing I was positively sure of: I wasn't going to turn down that spa day, after all; I needed all the help I could get to pull off this dress!

...

I slipped on my silver heels--the finishing touch to my outfit--and, out of habit, took one last look at myself in the mirror. There was nothing left to do at this point--Roslyn had done an amazing job--I would just have to sit anxiously until my undead escort arrived. This had to be the worst part: waiting...anticipating...dreading.

"That Viking of yours is gonna drop dead, again; you look so gorgeous," My thoughts ran back to earlier, to Roslyn's last words. The realization that I'd finally have to face Eric started to hit home. And, when it did, it came at me like a mental ton of bricks.

Sookie...Sookie...you are such an idiot! I shook my head. Was this really happening? What the hell was I thinking? A pretty dress and some nail polish were just gonna make everything better? Really, get a grip! Gran must be rolling in her grave, seeing me act a fool like this. "Stackhouse women don't depend on men, dear...they depend on us," she'd taught me that. Now why wasn't I upholding it? Was all of this just me being delusional--believing in some supernatural-human fairytale relationship? Ugh. Things were so messed up between Eric and I. Honestly, we could be on one of those horrid reality TV shows! Scratch that. Knowing him, he'd enjoy the attention way too much. Oh boy. How did I let it get to this. I am soooooo not ready to see him. Maybe I could get away before...

Too late. There was a knock at the door. I knew it was Eric by the wave of emotions that accompanied it. Shit, shit, shit! I cursed silently, stepping on my tip toes, looking through the peep hole just to be safe. Sure enough, there he was--all six foot-four inches of Scandinavian glory. I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me. And, not in the way I'd been freaking out for the past five minutes. Nope. I don't think there's a female on this planet who could look at that man and not feel a twinge of lust. He oozed sex appeal.

See that's the problem. In the end, my lust for him always betrayed my dignity. The 4 inches of wood that separated us would do nothing to tame the desire I felt, and thanks to the damn blood bond there was no hiding it. It was a lost cause. I was a lost cause.

"I know you're in there. I can feel you yearning for me." He preened, showing off that fabulous grin of his."Don't worry, I want you too, lover."

I tried to pull myself together. How was it that just seeing him made me feel so nervous and excited at the same time? I took a deep breath, turned the knob and opened the door. I should have known better than to open myself up for such a visceral response. Before I knew it there were two cold and adoring hands on my shoulders and one very interested Viking staring into my eyes.

"Beautiful." He said, and I smiled back shyly. "Perfect." And then his lips were on mine, claiming me.