Chapter Eleven
It was too late. I hadn't warned Eric early enough, and I hated myself for it.
With the strength of the wild dog's hindlegs, it managed to reach where Eric was hovering, taking a big bite out of him like he was nothing more than a meat sandwich. Then, Eric gave out a low groan and swung at it.
"Eric!"
The wild dog yelped in pain, the second Eric's fist connected with it's muzzle. It fell to the grass and then, all of a sudden, with an eeiry screeching noise, it was trembling. At least, it looked as if it was. It's whole strong body and white fur was vibrating before my very own two eyes, almost as if the animal was having some sort of seizure attack.
And then... no longer was I looking at a dog. But a grungy man.
His hair was dark, long, and matted with sweat.
What startled me the most, was not the fact that he had just been some type of white big wild dog minutes ago, or that he was now full-blown naked right before my very own eyes- the first naked man I had ever seen in my entire life, thank you and not a pleasurable one in the slightest- and skinny as a rake.
But it was his thin bony arms. Red blistered needlemarks covered them. Some were even crusted with scabs. It was obvious that he was some kind of drug-addict. Meth? Heroin? V? Who knows. But, I was willing to bet on the V theory.
I was breathing heavily as I glanced behind him, to where Eric is. Well, was. I felt a terrified coldness trickle down my whole stomach over the knowledge. Now he was nowhere in sight, he must have drifted off into the trees somewhere- maybe even flew away, which was pretty cool if you thought about it- but now I was stuck feeling completely alone and defenseless.
When Eric had told me about being sent to protect me from all sorts of frighteningly dangerous Weres and vampires, not once in my head did I put him abandoning me in the middle of a fight as part of the equation.
When I brought my eyes back over to the naked man, he was smiling at me. Clearly he'd noticed Eric's absence the instant I had. A long stream of dribble as well as something red- blood? -ran down his chin.
"Ah-oh," the man leered disgustingly. I never thought I would ever see anything so sickening in my entire life. "Now what are you gonna do now without your fanger here to help you, huh?" His bloodshot eyes ran down my body. I gulped. "Your little faerie blood is mine!"
Without another unpleasantly nasty word, just a delirious cackle, the crazy naked man was running at me with full force.
Luckily, I had prepared myself beforehand.
I spotted it right where I'd knew it would be. The long rusty metal rake Gran used often to rake the leaves in her garden, was left by the front porch, along with the lawn mower, petrol can, and the other equipment she used frequently.
I swooped down to collect it, just as he had started lunging forward at me. With the twined spokes level to his bare, heavily tattooed and hairy chest, I drove at him with as much force as I could muster. I hadn't ever been in a fight before, nor had I ever aimed to hurt someone- even to the point of injuring them beyond recovery- but I had every intention to wound him and make him howl in pain, especially after what he just did to Eric like that.
So, I was feeling a little protective of Eric Northman. I didn't know why that was exactly, but I felt about as ready and prepared to defend him until the death.
The naked Were paused just a second to take in my weapon, eyes wide and frantic. "Oh, come on, you crazy little bitch," he screamed. "Try me, I dare ya!"
"With pleasure, you nasty dog," I said through a fit of hysterical laughter, grinning crazily at him.
The naked man's back as well as his butt, was turned to the vampire Eric, so he hadn't noticed him appear from behind yet. But once I did, it was like all the fear left my body gloriously.
It was like watching a horror movie being played at full-speed.
Eric was fast, naturally faster than any human. His blue eyes were bright with both excitement, as well as pure hunger and blood-lust. He bit at him and the man screeched in pain- about one of the most scariest sounds I'd ever heard in my life- then went straight down, slumping headfirst onto the grass.
Eric pulled away, taking a mouthful of pink flesh and blood with him. He collapsed forward onto his knees, hunching over in the dirt and coughing up flesh and blood. Several long stringy threads of blood dribbled underneath his chin.
To top it all off, my saviour, vampire Eric Northman, was all covered in blood and gore. Heaven help me.
I swallowed loudly and took the incentive to drag my eyes elsewhere, rather than keeping them planted on Eric's blood splattered face.
Even through the hysterical shock, I could register the dead naked man's mangled body with at least some relief. Thankfully, Eric's attack on him had the man falling face-forward into the grass, saving me from anymore naked body parts that I didn't particularly care to see.
Hey, his butt cheeks were facing me. I'd rather see that than the other side of his privates any day!
I shuddered, once it settled in, that I'd been scrutinizing the dead Were man a little too closely. I didn't even know why I was bothering with it but I moved to stand in front of him, peering down at his face. A whole lot of food that had been lingering in my stomach, had risen up into my throat at the cold-blooded brutality of Eric's attack. I coughed and spluttered.
The man really was in a bad state. He didn't even have a neck anymore, for Lord's sake, thanks to Eric ripping most of it off!
His eyes were wide open, staring off into space. They were a chillingly bright blue, a little like Eric's. Though, Eric's eyes were just all kinds of pretty. Speaking of which-
I brought my eyes back over to him. I hadn't even realized, but he was lying in the grass, with one long leg curled underneath the other, and he was muttering underneath his breath. Now really wasn't the time to sit there and rest.
I glanced over onto the porch. I hoped Gran hadn't manage to catch any of this horrifying unpleasantness but, with a quick scan over the top window on the second story floor of the house, I noted with pure relief, that her curtains were still closed.
She wasn't peeking and she wasn't standing outside on the porch, clutching at her chest for dear life. Thank goodness.
Cautiously, I turned my attention back to Eric, who was just having all kinds of good fun lying in the grass.
At first, I naively assumed he was biding him time, while trying to recoup. Then, I realized he had a hand clutching over the right side of his chest, almost as if he were experiencing some type of heart-attack which was just downright strange.
He didn't have a functioning heart that pumped blood around, duh!
"Eric Northman, will you get off the ground this instance and do something about the body?" I whispered uncertainly. I inched closer, breathing like I had only just ran a six-mile marathon.
He groaned in response and, as he wriggled to sit up, his hand fell limp from his chest. It was then that I saw what was underneath it and to say I panicked, was quite the understatement.
There was a huge gash on his chest, just an inch or so above his nipple. He brought his eyes up to meet mine and, oh, the look of pain in them got my heart-breaking.
"Eric?" Without thinking, I ran over to him and fell beside him on my knees. Somehow, the gash looked even more severe and deeper up close. "What do I do? What can I... I do to help?" My voice was mortifyingly high-pitched and hysterical, and it didn't go unnoticed.
He gave out a painful laugh, then groaned again, shutting his eyes over the pain. His head flopped onto the grass and, right with the movement, blood started rolling out of his gash in teardrop-like streams. I grimaced.
"Eric," I repeated, in a shrieky voice. "Help me here! What happened?"
His head lolled over to my side, and his eyes reopened. They were quite calm, considering. "Bitten..." he groaned deeply. "Were... chest."
"No kidding!" I all but squealed. I had to remind myself to calm down, I couldn't risk Gran overhearing.
He swore at me through his fangs, some weird word, as he rolled onto his side to take a peek down at his gaping wound. I didn't know whether he was meant to insult me or not, but the word definitely sounded rude.
"Is that even English?" I hissed, beyond caring. "If you're trying to insult me, then you might as well keep it in English!"
He had the nerve to grin crookedly. "Alskling...blood." Well, the second part I could understand, anyhow.
Suddenly, this overwhelming sense of stupidity gnawed into me. Of course, he needs blood so that he can heal himself! I cursed myself for not thinking of it, earlier.
I hopped to my feet, my eyes flying into the direction of Mr. Compton's place. Then, I crouched over him carefully and placed a hand against his shoulder. "Uh, I'll go straight over to Mr. Compton's and get him to heat you up some blood, all right?"
He didn't bother answering. He merely stared at me, bleak and exhausted.
"I don't have time for this," I half-shouted, mainly to myself. Oddly enough, he winced and looked the slightest bit frightened, bless him. "Just stay right here and keep your groans to a minimum, so my Grandmother doesn't hear."
I purposely made my voice sound lighter for him, I didn't want him to assume I was angry with him. Which I was, in a sense. Of course, I was mainly angry due to the fact there was a dead man's body we needed to somehow dispose of, and quickly.
I took a quick evaluation of his bite, which I didn't know much about. I was no doctor or nurse afterall, but the gash didn't look as deep as before. It was starting to heal on it's own but at a very slow rate. At least that's something.
I hopped to my feet again, coiled and ready to run across the yard into Mr Compton's. He let me and, thankfully, he was obeying my request to keep the grunts down. I couldn't hear him at all. I ran up to Mr. Compton's large house, then struggled up the porch steps, my heart hammering in my chest and my face wet with sweat.
I lunged right for the door, rapping my knuckles urgently.
It didn't take him long to answer, thank God. The door flung open and there he was, in all his bath-robed glory. Heck, he was even wearing bright fluffy red slippers, which might have made me laugh otherwise. As for now, though, I had to focus.
He looked stunned, while his dark eyes did a full creepy inspection of my face.
"Sookie, is everything all right?" He asked, in a very worried manner.
Huh, and he called me by my first name? I hadn't known we were on first-name basis. All I knew was how invested Gran seemed to be in getting to know our neighbor, though I didn't know how much she had told him about our family or, more especially, my new little ability that came on whenever I tended to touch someone and concentrated. He stepped forward, and his hand came up to close over the side of my face tenderly. Well, that was unexpected. And downright creepy.
"Bill, Mr. Compton," I panted out in desperation, clutching at my ribs, "Fetch me a bottle of True Blood right now!"
"Sookie?" His dark eyebrows rose. He laughed, incredulous. "Forgive me, but have I heard incorrectly?"
"Mr. Compton, please," I begged, shakily. "I need some blood urgently, it's very important! Don't make me yell." I was only trying to be nice but, it sounded more like a rude threat. Gran would not be happy once he told her this.
And, damn him, he just stood there, still as a piece of wood, despite how obviously shaken up I was in front of him!
"But... but Miss. Stackhouse?" He shook his head, at a loss in understanding. "Now... why on earth would a young girl like you, need a bottle of True Blood? Have you converted to, uh-"
"- Oh, for goodness sake, Mr. Compton, I have no time to explain!" I said. I threw in a little foot stomping gesture for his benefit- in a futile attempt to mock his daughter Jessica with- in which he glanced down at in surprise. "Heat me a bottle!"
Finally, it seemed I had gotten it through to the man.
"Oh, I, ah..." He laughed again nervously, then stepped back inside his home. "Would O positive suffice? It's the only type I stock in my refridgerator. I am partially fond of O positive."
It surprised me that he wound even bother to admit such a thing like that, to me. So carefree and casually. I felt all the little hairs on the nape of my neck raise in apprehension, while I waited there right outside while he got to work in the kitchen...
I was in the O Positive blood-group, as well as Gran, I'm pretty sure. Eck.
I heard the timer go off loudly on the microwave in his house and then, so suddenly that I gave out a little yelp, Mr. Compton was standing right behind me, a steaming bottle of True Blood in hand.
Without a word to express my gratitude, or even a brief glance at him, I took the bottle and ran back through his yard. I knew I hadn't acted in the most politest way imaginable to Mr. Compton but right at that moment, I couldn't seem to care.
I was beyond desperate.
Soon as I saw Eric lying there on the grass in the exact same position as before, I felt all the tension leave my body. Relief quickly replaced it as I scrutinized his wound, while kneeling. Oddly enough, it seemed to have faded just the slightest bit. I was beyond pleased to know his body was still functioning to do it's own bit of vampiric healing.
I thrusted the warm bottle into one of his hands. "Here, drink some blood," I urged desperately. And without a complaint, he did.
I watched over him, as he took a long swallow. Idly, I wondered what the blood tasted like to him. A second later, he made the sentiment known clearly.
"No more..." he grunted deeply. He cringed, and his eyes ran over me expectantly. "Boringly disgusting. Your blood will help more."
I made a sour face at him, knowing full well what he was hinting at by that look alone.
"You are unbearably fussy for a fanger," I sighed, then held out my wrist to him in a very grudging manner. "Fine, then. Bite... just enough to make me bleed, but don't drink straight from me."
I bit down on my tongue, the soon as his fangs had pierced through the skin unapologetically. Ow. Ow. Ouchy!
"No more, Eric, enough," I warned, yanking a little. "Besides you're healing all ready!" And it was certainly true; he certainly looked a lot better, less in pain. Plus, amazingly, he no longer was bleeding. The hole in his chest was starting to close over itself. Good for him.
Only he wasn't listening...
His large hand flew up to cover over my arm, fingers clasped and roughly overlapping, as he held it there in place stubbornly. I gasped, and moaned in pain. I struggled, making a pretty good effort, only I tired quickly. It was just no use, considering how overly strong his grasp was. I couldn't suppress the ripple of panic that shuddered through me.
Maybe there was something... strange about my blood, since he seemed to be liking it a whole lot? Could it be my blood was very addictive to a vamp? Because I was apparently some kind of Faerie creature that enabled vampires to walk into the sunlight? That pathway of wondering didn't do well for my concerns.
"No, Eric!" I gave the back of his hand a good hard tap in disapproval, in which he replied in earnest by making a strange, deep gurgling sound from the very back of his throat at.
Finally wrenching my dripping wrist free, I placed it over the round glass opening of the True Blood bottle, tilting it this way and that way to collect in a few drops of my blood.
Several drops of blood rolled in, making disconcerting sploshing sounds as they mixed in with the heated O Positive. I was hoping a few of my drops would be potent and satisfying enough to distinguish the artificial taste he seemed to loathe so much.
Thankfully, it worked wonders. He hardly gave out a single cringe.
I caught myself reaching out to stroke his hair while he drank; a very motherly impulse that came on so suddenly almost out of nowhere. I gave in just as quickly as the foolish impulse had made itself known, running my fingers through the stiff, thick blonde strands. He looked puzzled by my actions for all of a second- pausing from his greedy mouthfuls of True Blood - to turn his face up at me. He slid over to place his head in my lap, which I wasn't expecting one bit. I was sure I might have even squeaked in surprise.
With his head being supported in my lap the way it was and with the way he was looking into my eyes intently, I realized I had submitted myself into a position where he was dangerously too close for comfort. My stomach rolled over and I suddenly found myself dying to scoot over just a fraction so that his head was no longer resting in my lap, only I didn't want to make things more difficult for his recovery.
I didn't want to make a big issue out of it, so I just remained there.
Clearly, he liked the feeling of me stroking his hair, because he shifted his head back into my lap and stared up into my eyes expectantly. A little reluctantly, I started again, brushing a lock of stray hair back behind his earlobe. He even made a few disconcerting moans while he drank down several more mouthfuls of his True Blood, making his contentment very known.
He reminded me, oddly enough, of Gran's cat, basking in blissful contentment and making low little rumbling purrs while being petted and soothed.
I almost laughed out loud hysterically over the comparision. It couldn't have been further from the truth:
Realistically he was not a sweet gentle cat. He was a vampire, capable of entirely vicious deeds. My eyes went over to the dead man's body, who's face was hardly recognizable in the slightest, considering how mangled and bloody his neck was.
Eric was obviously not a vampire you wanted to mess with.
Strong, lethal. Hard to keep down even when being bitten. Protective.
He had shown me as much.
And if I had anymore reason to be terrified of him, I should have been completely and utterly scared witless. Only I wasn't. Hardly. Not even a little bit.
"You... you killed a man," I whispered numbly, while he drank and drank almost reverently. It had taken it a little while to sink in and even then, it didn't fully register. I couldn't feel anything below the neck.
"No, I didn't," he hissed back at me harshly. "Do not humanize him. He was no human, Tiny! He was an addict and a foul Were... who, if it hadn't been for me stepping in the way I did, would have slaughtered you without any seance of sentiment!"
He sounded so fiercely argumentative on the matter, which stunned me. I felt too exhausted to disagree with him so I just nodded, letting him win, and letting everything fall to a stand-still. I could see his point, anyhow. There was certainly something... strange about that Were man.
Then after a peaceful moment of tired silence, he broke it. The question had me both stunned and wary. "By the way, do you happen to have a shovel I could borrow?"
-0-
I didn't exactly know what time it was, but considering how dark and bleak everything was, how shadowy, I suspected it was around ten or eleven at night. Way past my bedtime, and I had school tomorrow. Gran would have killed me if I got in too late, so to say I was very eager to leave, was an understatement. I was practically itching to get inside and instinctively, I was pointing him out to where Gran kept the rusty shovel she used to tend to her garden, digging out weeds and planting tulips.
He cleared his throat loudly. I turned to find him watching me expectantly on the porch, those large hands folded in front of his chest. "Aren't you, uh, forgetting something?"
"Geeze, Eric! I already expressed how thankful I am for having you save my life from the crazy naked Were. Now, what more do you possibly want from me?" I was babbling but I just didn't care. It was easier to keep on talking nonsense, rather than to let myself think what happened through. "Oh, let me guess...You want me to get down on my knees and start worshipping the very ground you walk on, Mr High and Mighty?
"That sounds very tempting but... no."
I was stunned. "Well, good! Because even I have standards!"
He stepped closer to me and, crazily enough, I felt a tad intimidated and cornered. He was blocking my way to the front door, looming over me like a strongly built tower. I couldn't even wiggle away. Eck.
"Mister, haven't you ever heard of personal boundaries? Because, right now.. you're dangerously close to overstepping mine!"
"Ah-oh," he said in a mock-frightened tone that, funnily enough, resembled that dirty Were's. It made a shudder ripple down my spine. "What are you going to do now that I've overstepped them?"
His blue eyes were bright and shining excitedly, like he were in a particularly good mood, which was surprising. He honestly didn't have anything to feel jovial about, unless ingesting a human's blood did that naturally to a vampire.
Either way, I wasn't sure. Still, we had a body in the yard that was waiting to be buried, and I was assuming that was the reason why Eric had requested to borrow a shovel, the reason why he followed right on my tail up to the porch, when all I really desired was to sleep. No more talking, or stressing. Just easy, peaceful sleep.
I glared up at him, all feelings of playfulness long gone now that I was positive he was trying to get a rise out of me. Oh, what the heck, I decided. If he wants to play with me after what just happened, I can play back just as hard!
"Oh, you don't even want to know what more I'll do to you, Eric Northman," I warned brusquely.
I caught him off-guard by stomping my foot down, as hard as I could muster, on his massive foot. Unfortunately for me, whatever reaction I had been anticipating from him, never came. He hardly moved a muscle or winced a flicker in pain. Damn vampire.
Eric was trying to engage me in some sort of unblinking eye-lock game, even though he most likely knew I would end up being the one to break eye-contact first. A human had to blink, after all.
"Oh, trust me," he said quietly and casually, looking very pleased and smug with himself. He wasn't taking me seriously one bit. "I care to know." My stomach sank. That wasn't quite the answer I had expected.
It came on like a wave of frustration in epic proportions. While he dared to look all smug and self-righteous, my irritation was brewing to breaking point. I just wanted him to leave me in peace right away so that I could get inside to where Gran was! Before I knew it, I was full-on kicking him in the shin. Just like before, it served me no good. It only seemed to surprise him just a tad, and his set of fair brows pulled together.
Next thing I knew, he was getting all up in my face and I was stuck in a hard place, with my back flat against the porch wall and his mouth more so an inch from mine, fangs glinting disconcertingly, while he towered over me. My heart was pounding in my chest.
Regardless of how I was feeling, I caught myself smiling. "You better watch it, buddy!"
He raised his eyebrows at me. "Buddy?" He repeated softly, sounding so surprised by the term I'd just used, yet so fascinated. It seemed a foreign word on his tongue. "You know what you're meant to do now. You know what is right."
He got closer to me, more so than I felt comfortable with... considering how close he all ready was. He lifted two large hands, palms upward, to brace them against the wall right by the sides of my head. But with a little grain of relief, I was happy he hadn't decided to touch me with said hands.
"Eric Northman," I started through clenched teeth gently, mainly because I was too worried to raise my voice in case it angered him. And I was sure, an angry vampire cornering you was not something you'd want to take lightly. "You're not being very nice by cornering me, like this. Especially after how I just helped you by running nextdoor to get you some blood so that you'd heal! You're being a nasty, big, old bully!"
My hands fisted painfully at my sides, fingernails digging into my fleshy palms.
I considered shoving him backwards out of the way, but what good would that serve me when he was clearly stronger and all the more taller than I was? So, there I was, reduced to being enveloped in an Eric Northman wall sandwich with my heart thumping in my ears and my eyes watering.
Now being cornered by a large man, who to top it all off wasn't wearing a shirt and still had a concoction of his blood, as well as Were blood, streaking down those delightfully masculine chest muscles, had to be a daunting experience for any inexperienced fifteen-year-old girl, like myself, to endure.
I just didn't know what to even think, or where to even look no less.
So with reasonable resolve, I fixed my eyes forward to where his fangs were. It seemed right about the only safe place to look and they were fully out and extended; a constant reminder of just how unhuman and lethally dangerous the man cornering me was.
And, darn it all to hell, fascination for those fangs took over mightysome. Clearly, I wasn't in my right mind so I did the craziest thing imaginable in stretching up on my tippy-toes to get a closer look at them. For some reason, those fangs were especially interesting to me.
Mistake number one thousand...
Within a heartbeat, his hands had slidden off the wood panels and I was caught majorly off-guard when those hands clutched strongly at my waist, fingers digging like claws into the fabric of my shirt, while the full length of his body pressed into mine. Even while I was covered in clothes, I still got the chills.
Suddenly there was this thick haze of palpable tension I hadn't felt in the air before. I couldn't help feeling as if I was a defenseless weak little mouse, being cornered and played with by the big bad cat before he decided to devour me all up.
Without really thinking, I stole a quick peek up at him. His blue eyes were blazing madly with hunger and I thought... any minute now, I'd be lying in pain on the porch covered with blood from an oozing neck.
"For the sake of brevity, Tiny Stackhouse," he breathed out, "I'll make this quick..."
Helplessly, I nodded and turned my neck out to him on a lean. I knew there would be no chance in trying to fight him off. All ready, it was a battle lost. Rather instead of killing me out of some tempting hunger, he went, knocking the wind out of me by kissing me urgently on the mouth, while those strong hands worked restlessly.
I'm sure I gave out an incidental squeal. Really, I think it was the excitement of having experienced my first-ever kiss with a boy- uhm, man vampire - that was doing it to me.
His hands went behind my back and they were deeply undecided with not wanting to settle in just one place for too long. His fingers curved up my spine, plucked at the fabric on my shirt while his lips were moving over my mouth in a funny repetition that gave me the tickles.
To my embarrassment, an anxious giggle got stuck deep in my throat and I knew he was bound to hear it with whatever creepy sensitive vampire hearing he had.
My hands, however, were just clenching at my sides very tightly, mainly because I didnt know what to do with them. I felt so awkward and stiff, like overcooked pasta, while he arched over me right there against the wall of Gran's porch, the top of his knees pressing into the top of my thighs while his hands finally settled on a place, right on top of my shoulders, his long fingers stroking and rubbing at my throat. His fingers were very cold but still, it felt like a nice massage while it lasted.
I didn't know where this kissing idea suddenly came from, but it was exactly that. Sudden. Urgent, like he believed there weren't much time left to ourselves. Or maybe he was just that deprived of close contact with a person for so long.
I had to lean all my body weight against the wall when, so suddenly it disappointed me, he was tearing himself away. My breathing was very loud and ragged. His couldn't be heard at all. He did swear underneath his breath though, some foreign language similar to what I'd heard the first time my brother, Tara and I, had come across him all dirty near Gran's yard.
While I wasn't sure what he was saying, I knew it wasn't anything remotely pleasant and it was directed right towards himself.
"Tiny," he murmured hoarsely, with a grim nod. He was leaving, at last. Well, at least I could understand that. English.
Without a further glance in my direction, he grabbed the shovel I had offered him to use and turned, climbing down the front porch steps. He was walking a little unevenly, I noticed with some concern and his muscular shoulders slumped forward. I ached with wanting, wanting to run out to him across the yard, just to reassure myself that he was all right. Maybe I was only being paranoid but there was totally some desolation in that walk.
I gasped, a little startled, when he paused from his walking dramatically to crouch down.
He was crouching near something a blinding white in contrast to the grass in Gran's yard. Then, he was swooping up to his feet again and striding off towards the trees, the long white thing trailing close him. Squinting a little harder, the recognization dawned into me almost painfully.
The naked Were man. Eric's hand was clutching at the man's ankle, and he was dragging him along with him into trees as if his body weighed next to nothing, which I was positive was not quite the case.
He was removing the Were's body from Gran's yard, which I surely wouldn't have been able to stomach myself had I needed to take care of it. Thank God for that!
I let out a huff of air, puffing out my cheeks, while I slumped forward with my hands clutching around my kneecaps to steady myself. What a crazy evening it had been. Beyond crazy, what with the white wolf switching into a stark-naked gross man right before my eyes. Plus, the way he ran at me, so ready to cause me harm.
Then, Eric... appearing behind him like a shirtless white knight, plunging those fangs into his neck. I could play it in my head easily, over and over, the naked man's gurgling screams of agony. My eyes widened some more.
And then...
I moved a hand from my leg to bring it up to my mouth. It felt a little sore and bruised, but that was a fine price to pay for a few minutes of blissful euphoria at having experienced my first kiss. Whoa, Eric Northman totally kissed me. Weird.
My eyes watered, as the shock took over.
I found myself more than a little worried especially considering the way he acted right afterwards. He couldn't even stand to look at me. Maybe he was embarrassed or maybe even disappointed? Maybe it was my lack of experience in the whole kissing field? I shared a little indulgent laugh over that train of thought.
Of all the things to be worrying about, this was it?
About how inexperienced I must have come across by my lack of reciprocating. Silly.
I had just watched him literally tear the skin off a man's neck with his fangs, the neck of a Were who so-happened to have planned to take me to this vampire King, no less. I really had other things to worry about than how Eric Northman was feeling right now.
Really, I could have spent all evening dwelling over everything, but I was just too tired and exhausted. Sick and tired of thinking, I wanted nothing more than to slip into my old pajamas, hop into bed, and let sleep take over.
As I lifted an arm to open the front door, I caught sight of my wrist- the teeth marks and the bruising that was bound to appear tomorrow morning- and couldn't help but smile. I was pleased I had helped Eric somewhat, pleased to know that he was all healed.
"Gran?" I called gently, soon as I shut the door behind me. I trudged along the hallway into the living room, expecting to find her sitting there in a chair attempting another one of her crossword puzzles. The light was left on.
She wasn't there- well, her book of addictive crossword puzzles was, lying open in the middle of the couch, a ballpoint pen creased along the middle to keep her page- and this unnerving feeling deep inside churned my stomach.
I felt something was strange. It was totally unlike Gran. She usually didn't head to bed unless she knew for certain Jason and I were inside, safe and sound.
I clamoured my way over to the winding staircase, and called up to her. "Gran, are you in bed?"
No answer. Nothing, but a greeting of unnervingly quiet solitude.
Before my mind was able to register the danger and before I could manage to step out of the way, the floorboard creaked from right behind me. Someone was in here, and surely it wasn't Gran. She wasn't the scaring type, after all.
My whole body stiffened at the sound, and it seemed our intruder knew it the instance I had become wary.
I had a thought. I considered making a run for it, straight into the kitchen and grabbing out a kitchen knife. But this person was not one a mere human could out-run.
A cold and bony white hand slapped over my mouth, cutting me off-midscream.
"Sookie, sweetheart."
I felt my heart stop for one single second, as I recognized that voice. My whole body was trembling, not only over the harsh clarity of their voice, but with the fear of the unknown. The fear of not knowing for certain where Gran was. Or where Jason was, for that matter.
"Where's my Gran- mmmph!" His hand tighted over my mouth roughly.
"Sssh, Sookie." His voice was darkly amused and so so terrifying. "Even Eric Northman's blood cannot save you now."
A loud banging noise came from upstairs. I shrieked a little in alarm. There were more vampires in Gran's house, that I was deadly sure of. Suddenly, a figure appeared up at the top of the staircase. While it was hard to see with my eyes all blurry from the tears, I'd managed to see enough.
A male vamp, with short curly dark hair. Lightly tanned skin. Tall and thin. As his dark eyes raked down the full length of my body, the fangs appeared.
"Ha!" He clasped his hands together in a very business-like fashion. "My dear Russell will be very pleased with your work, Mr. Compton! I especially enjoyed your little facade with the haggard human."
"Why, thank you Talbot. I'm pleased to hear it. Now, I suspect the King is on his way soon, correct?"
The King?
And then, I fainted.