"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances;

if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

Carl Jung

Chapter 6: Reactions, Part II

I felt in my heart that Eric had my journal, although how much he had read and knew remained to be seen. Would Pam have had time to pass it along to him last night? Or would she wait until he awoke this evening? I expected to hear from Eric shortly, one way or another. This whole situation would be far too tempting for him to resist.

By evening, I had calmed down somewhat and tried to simply enjoy the tranquility of my empty house. Earlier, I had changed into an old t-shirt and sweat pants. In case Eric did make an appearance tonight, I didn't want him to think I was expecting him. Besides, it was a late weekend night and a tired girl had a right to relax in her own home, right? Ahh, the mind games we play with ourselves.

I wasn't too surprised when he rang my doorbell around 10:00 on Saturday night. Minutes before his arrival, I could sense him through our blood bond and I had immediately felt relaxed and happy. It was a welcome relief from the emotional turmoil of the day.

I was filled with an unexplainable eagerness to open the front door. There Eric stood, all 6'4'' of him framing my doorway, his long blond hair sweeping across his shoulders. He was a glorious sight to behold. As he bent down to brush my cheek with a kiss, he had a warm smile for me. "Sookie," was all he said and that one word sent tingles through my body. I managed to mumble something like "hi" and smiled back at him.

He was dressed in perfect jeans and a snug long-sleeved black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles in all the right places. Against his hip he was clutching a single red rose and a book that looked like my journal. My heart started racing when I saw my notebook in his possession, and he immediately sensed my anxiety. "Relax, lover," he told me and his words felt comforting and sexy at the same time.

"Pam asked me to return this to you," and he held out my journal. "She said she took it 'by mistake' last night." He waited for my response to Pam's obvious lie.

I just looked at him, trying to detect any sign that might indicate what he had read in the notebook. Not a clue. "And this," he added, indicating the rose, "is from me, lover. I hope it is to your liking."

Eric has never given me flowers; he buys me practical things like driveway gravel, not sentimental things like roses. What was he up to?

"Um, thank you, Eric, it's lovely," I said politely as I took the two items from him. I invited him in, although I was sure he still had an open invitation. As he sauntered past me, it took all of my willpower not to touch his beautiful body, or grab his perfect butt. I'm sure he could feel my desire through the bond because he turned around unexpectedly to look at me with a wide grin.

Get hold of yourself, Sookie.

I followed him inside and decided to simply cut to the chase. "Did you read my journal, Eric?" I asked, willing him to be honest with me. He searched my face for a moment. "Yes. The notes about your dreams were fascinating."

No mention of the diary entries. Maybe he didn't find them or maybe he was just toying with me. The damn blood bond didn't offer a clue. What's the point of being bonded if you can't even tell if the other person is lying?

"Is that the only part you read? The dreams?" I asked tentatively.

"Why? Is there another part?" he asked, features unreadable.

"No, of course not," I corrected. "Um, would you care for some blood, Eric?" I asked, shifting away from the topic.

"What kind are you offering me, Sookie?" he responded in a very seductive way.

"Trueblood, Eric, you know, the bottled kind," I said, rolling my eyes at him. He smiled and nodded, and I left for the kitchen to bring him back a drink. We settled onto the living room couch, with me trying to ignore the sexual tension that was building between us.

Okay, keep poking around, Sookie, see what he knows. "So… did your readings provide you with any insight?" I tried to ask casually.

"Much. I'm flattered that you are having dreams about me, lover," he said in his typically confident way. Glad my dreams could make his ego even bigger.

"You know, Eric, my dreams are not necessarily about you. They're open to interpretation." I tried to be nonchalant.

"Ah, yes, interpretation," he replied. "Tell me, Sookie, do you agree with your recent 'analysis'? Pam shared some highlights with me." I could only imagine.

"How nice of her to fill you in." Damn Pam. This is all her fault. "And to answer your question, most of what I heard last night was ridiculous."

"Why? Because you heard things you didn't want to?" He looked at me intensely with those beautiful blue eyes as he moved in closer. Yikes.

I tried to be self-assured. "No, because what I heard was ridiculous, Eric. I don't need my crazy dreams to tell me what to do in real life."

He reflected for a moment, as if deciding a course of action to take. "So 'what you do in real life' reflects your true feelings, your true desires, Sookie?" The intensity of his questioning was suffocating. Now I was positive that he had read my diary entries and I was having a hard time processing that.

"You… know…?" I managed to squeak out.

"Know what?" he asked innocently but he was far from innocent.

We were at an impasse. He wouldn't admit to having read my diary and I wouldn't acknowledge what I had written. Tough situations call for tough reactions. So I bolted.

"I need to get myself a drink," I stammered. "Be right back…" But with his vampire speed he was standing in front of me before I even made it to the doorway.

"Always running away, Sookie," he chided. "I noticed that pattern with you from early on. And that just won't do." He moved in to nibble on my ear and the lust between us was palpable. "Wouldn't you rather be running to me, like in your dreams?" He started working his tongue along my neckline. My knees may have been weak but my feet were firmly planted now. I was going nowhere.

He paused in his licking long enough to whisper in my ear. "Would you like to know my interpretation, lover? I assure you that you will like what you hear," he said smoothly.

I was incapable of speaking, his hold on me was that intoxicating. I nodded my agreement and I was a bit stunned when he seized me by my shoulders. His fangs extended slightly as he pushed me against the wall behind me.

He pinned me with a predatory gaze and I tried to remember to keep breathing. "You see me as a statue because you admire my beauty, my perfection. There's nothing wrong with that, lover… I am enduring… powerful and strong." No one ever said Eric had a self-confidence problem.

"You desire me and appreciate all I have to offer, especially my 'plentiful endowments','' he added cockily, no pun intended.

"And I am like a statue in other ways, Sookie," and he paused for effect. "I am so hard," and he moved in still closer, pressing his statuesque body against me to clearly illustrate his point. Point understood.

I had little resistance left at this moment and my libido was quite happy about where things seemed to be heading. My fears and concerns about him reading my private writings seemed to magically evaporate, although I had a sneaky suspicion that the bond's powerful influence had something to do with that.

"You want me to sink my teeth into you. You want to be naked around me." What? I guess he was continuing his interpretation. "You feel the red-hot passion and fire between us, lover, and you want more…" And he moved his hands from my shoulders and ran them up and down my arms.

Why didn't he kiss me? It seemed like a perfect kissing moment if there ever was one.

I moved my arms and clasped them around his neck, doing a little neck nibbling and licking of my own. I was practically on my tiptoes to reach him so he bent down to accommodate me.

"And the water is important," he whispered.

"Hmm? Water?" I asked, unable to abandon my oral activity long enough to focus on his words. I began sucking on his earlobe until he sighed.

"I can calm you like a gentle stream… or arouse your passions like a raging storm…"

Well that was quite poetic and very unlike Eric. I stopped my nibbling and we just looked at each other with questions and burning desire. I could tell something bigger was coming, something unsaid before now.

Eric removed my hands from around his neck and held them in his own. "You want me, you need me, and you love me." Simple and to the point. He looked to me for confirmation. I nodded, part of me relieved that things were finally out in the open.

I waited for something back from him. Did he feel the same way? Would he admit to anything? I couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "And you, Eric?" I asked. "What do you want?"

He looked at me with an expression that held more meaning than I could understand. "I want the same, Sookie. I feel the same. I love you, as well." I let the enormity of what just passed between us sink in.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head, and we embraced for a while, saying nothing. After some time, however, the seriousness subsided and our passions took over again.

"I suppose you'll want to have a talk about this sometime?" I asked playfully.

"Oh yes, lover, but certainly not now." I felt a surge of lust rising between us and I knew I was in for a bumpy ride.

He suddenly raised my arms above my head and forced them against the wall, firmly holding both of my wrists in one of his large hands. I gasped in surprise. "Shall I tie you up until you beg me for release?" he growled softly. Gulp.

His eyes scanned the room as if searching for something to restrain me with, and I panicked, just slightly. Big gulp.

"Er, Eric, no, no, not really, that was just a dream."

"A dream? Or a desire, Sookie?" He looked at me with a wicked grin, his fangs extended fully, and I felt a wave of excitement building down below.

He kept a tight grip on my wrists as he used his other hand to explore my body at leisure. He started running his fingers down my chest, caressing my breasts through my t-shirt. His hand then moved under my shirt for better access, lightly pinching each nipple until I moaned. He circled my stomach and sides, teasing me as he slowly moved lower and lower.

While his hands were occupied, he nuzzled into my neck, his tongue arousing me, his fangs grazing me until I shivered. His free hand eased into my sweat pants and then slipped under the waistband of my panties. His mouth went to my ear and he whispered, "I just thought of another connection to water, lover… I know how to make you wet." And I gave a slight gasp as two of his long fingers slid into me. I arched my body to meet his hand, anxious for more, my arms still up against the wall, my wrists still locked in Eric's death grip.

We writhed and bucked against each other, still fully clothed and getting hotter by the minute. The urge to move my hands, to touch and explore him, was overwhelming. Eric tightened his hold on me as I struggled to free myself, which only added more fuel to our building fire. His fingers began moving rhythmically inside of me, hitting my special spot over and over, starting to push me over the edge.

"Please, Eric, please," I begged, desperately wanting him to send me just a little farther. I was almost there. I ached for him more than I could stand.

"Please, what? Don't you like what I'm doing, lover?" he teased. Then he expertly moved his fingers just so, sending an exquisite explosion through me, making me cry out in sheer pleasure. I would have collapsed if his firm body hadn't been against me, supporting me.

He slowly removed his fingers from inside of me and I shook at the loss of contact. He gently released my wrists and I immediately ran my hands up and down his back and arms, feeling the hard, toned muscles through his shirt. I raked my nails across his back then moved lower to grab onto that perfect butt through his jeans. God, how I had missed that part of him. He moaned at the contact and began moving more steadily against me, looking for his own release. I ran a hand roughly through his hair as I eagerly matched his body's thrusting with my own.

Our mouths finally connected and Eric's kisses were as incredible as I remembered them. We were drawn into a steady rhythm of tongue, lips, fangs. I ran my tongue slowly over his fangs, letting him scrape it and taste my blood. His arousal quickly magnified and I could feel myself building to a climax again, intensified by our blood bond I supposed.

He lifted me up and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, wanting to be even closer, wishing the fabric between our bodies could magically disappear. He must have had the same thought because the next moment we were both on the floor, tearing off each other's clothing, desperate to feel the connection of bare skin.

We were entangled then, reacquainting ourselves with each other's topography and it was a sublime reunion. Every inch of him was magnificent, gracious plenty included. We used our hands and mouths and tongues to fully explore each other's bodies, and when he nuzzled my inner thigh, wanting to bite, I was more than ready.

"Look at me, lover," he said hoarsely, and his words transported me back to our first time together, thrilling me to no end. Our eyes locked and then he turned his head to bite me and I was screaming in ecstasy. He yelled as well, in a language still unfamiliar to me yet familiar in its passion and need. We both climaxed and clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks and intensity of the moment. He returned his mouth to my thigh to lick the bite wound, among other things. He looked back at me with a knowing grin.

God, I was a fool to have avoided this for so long.

After hours of "reconnecting," we eventually ended up in my bed, wrapped in each other's arms, exhausted and spent. "That was… incredible, Eric," I choked out, unable to find the right adjective to describe the evening's activities.

"Yes, lover, it was," he replied, softly kissing my forehead. He was quiet and I could tell he was thinking about something. "Our blood bond," he said, "it heightened the experience for us. We could feel each other's desires and satisfaction," he explained with a smirk. Well I could certainly live with that aspect of a blood bond.

My thoughts returned to what brought us together tonight: my dreams. "Do you really believe any of that dream stuff, Eric?" He absently stroked my hair, seeming to ponder the question for the first time.

"Well, it has been over a thousand years since I had personal experience with dreams, lover. But since you, my stubborn one, were unable to admit the truth to yourself, maybe your mind was helping you out." Then he chuckled, "I must admit that I like the way your mind works."

He pulled me on top of him, and I straddled him tightly, not really surprised that he was ready and able to show me yet again how his mind (and body) worked.

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I awoke in the late morning to find Eric gone. I smiled as I thought back to our passionate night together and what we had finally admitted. On my nightstand was my dream journal, returned to its rightful place, with the red rose laying across the cover. I lifted the rose to breathe in its heavenly scent, brushing the soft petals across my cheek.

I placed the delicate flower next to me on the bed and picked up the journal. There would certainly be much to write about today. I flipped through my numerous writings, thinking how my fears now seemed so exaggerated, my concerns so unfounded. It's remarkable how mind-blowing sex can change your perspective about things.

As I opened to my last entry, I was shocked to see beautiful, elaborate script filling the page. My heart skipped a beat as I traced the letters with trembling fingers.

My lover, my Sookie,

Please do not be upset with me for reading your journal. It fills me with great pleasure to know your thoughts, your feelings, your true desires; for how else may I know how to please you?

I regret that I am unable to dream, for to journey with you when I slumber each day would bring me no greater fulfillment. But know that I carry a part of you with me always—we are blood-bonded and our connection runs deeper than consciousness.

May your dreams be sweet and filled only with pleasant thoughts of me, lover.

Yours,

E

Who knows if Jung and Freud were correct in their dream theories? The human mind is a very tricky thing to understand-- trust me, I know. The truth is, people see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe. But after that night with Eric, my crazy dreams finally stopped and they have yet to return. The only dreams I have these days are sweet and sexy and Viking-filled. Coincidence? I think not.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review... your feedback and suggestions definitely motivate my writing.