Chapter 11: [SPOV: So, as I said in the earlier chapter, Sookie's story was just lingering in the back of my head everyday as I was going through my mainstreaming routine of work and volunteer activities. I would patiently wait for the time to come home and work on it.

Again, I apologize that it takes me so long to update. I really, really wish that I had more time to write this because I really do love anything E/S, and writing this story has been so much fun. I'm also half tempted to apologize to those who don't like my writing style and perhaps think it's too circuitous. I realize that there are a lot of unanswered questions, but I'm kinda the "take the long path and smell the roses" type of gal. So is my writing. The stuff I write in real life is so direct and rigid that I like to play with layering and subtleties in my personal writing. Sorry if it isn't working in the context of this story, but what can I say . . . it's an experiment. Anyhow, thanks again to HopeStreet who helps fix the mistakes I make when I'm struggling to write as my eyes are fluttering closed . . . Oh, and thanks again to CH.]

NOTE: SOME MIGHT CONSIDER THIS CHAPTER "M" for lemons (rather than the "T" rating I'd given my story).


If she had to guess, Sookie would have wagered she'd been sitting outside her home in her car staring at Eric's cherry red Corvette for no less than ten minutes. She was sure he knew she was there, sitting, with both hands on top of the steering wheel and her bent head resting on them peering out the driver's side window. It was a testament to his patience—and pragmatism—that he had not yet disturbed her.

The longer she sat with her head bowed and spirits steadily sinking, the closer she came to actual tears. She'd held it together for so long out of necessity. Now she was alone and about to see Eric. This last part made it worse, of course. She'd seen neither hide nor hair of him since he and Pam had shown up in Merlotte's to inform her of her protected status.

In truth, she'd been avoiding him. There was too much, and yet, nothing to say. He remembered their time together; she sometimes wished she could forget it. Then again, she often wished she could repeat it. What could they possibly say about it, though? Sookie had no trouble thinking of things they could do about it, though she was trying not to go back down that road. A brief image of their shower together flashed through her mind and sent a tingle through her body. It was the first positive shivering sensation she'd had in a long time. Apparently Eric felt it too. She was suddenly feeling very anxious . . . and not in the frightened, nervous kind of way. Uh oh, she thought.

Letting out a long sigh and resigning to the inevitability that was dealing with Eric, she left the solitude of her car and headed toward her house. Had she not known a 1,000 year old deadly vampire was standing in her house watching her, she would have felt extremely exposed. The woods behind her home, which she normally found so beautiful, seemed very dark, silent and mysterious, as if cloaking something from her. It was eerie and unsettling, and she felt very exposed. If this were any other night, she would have charged at full speed to her door. As it was, she was determined to look dignified.

So, of course, she failed. When she reached the top of her porch, she turned to face the woods. She allowed her brain to reach out in search of others, but felt nothing. She was concentrating so intently and was so convinced that she felt a presence in the woods that she failed to notice Eric had moved silently to her side.

"Sookie," he whispered so low that it was barely louder than a quiet exhalation of breath.

"Gah!" she half-exclaimed half-breathed before he clamped a hand down over her mouth. She had literally frozen stiff. Her heart was thundering in her chest at speeds she was sure would be considered abnormally and dangerously fast. She briefly contemplated going to the doctor to make sure that her blood pressure was normal. All of the stress could not be good for her cardiovascular system.

"Shhhh" he whispered. He flicked a quick glance at her face, and then turned his gaze back on the woods. He stared with an intensity even Medusa would have envied. "Something's out there. I believe it has been out there the entire time I've been here, but better hidden. Your arrival seems to have drawn it out, and it's being surprisingly careless considering my presence." Eric eyed her with a look that said, "You seem to have this effect on supernatural creatures." He was making fun of her, of course. Only Eric could have turned this situation into an opportunity to get under her skin.

Of course, it worked. She tried to talk from behind his hand, but he clamped the cool, firm flesh tighter against it. He pulled her a little closer to him in a defensive position. It was not really necessary, but then, she wasn't going to complain . . . couldn't really complain.

After another moment of silence he released her. "This is not the worst day I've seen, but it's the worst for our kind in a great many years." He paused, looked into her eyes, and pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face. She attempted to stave off a tremor. Somehow, everywhere Eric touched seemed to be connected to a nerve running from her skin to her . . . well, you get the idea. One touch and her entire body was in flames. Sookie blamed the blood bond.

He stared down at her for a moment. His sapphire eyes smoldered and glittered. The tension in the air between them was palpable. It was the blood bond of course.

"Come, let's go inside. There is much to discuss," he murmured. He cast one last glance in the direction of the trees and turned to walk back into Sookie's house.

Once inside she was the usual polite hostess. After she had finished preparing Eric a True Blood and asking whether there were anything else she could get him (eliciting from him a very Eric-like mischievous smile), she retreated to the solitude of her bedroom to change into pajamas. It was a silent movement; a decision without explanation. Eric did not ask where she was going. He seemed to understand her need to be alone. It never occurred to her that he too needed to be alone.

Changing into her soft plaid flannel pajamas was almost soothing . . . almost. Sookie caught a glimpse of the outside world, which was now subsumed by darkness. A heavy tiredness settled over her as she realized that this horrendous day was finally coming to an end. She splashed water onto her face, hoping to find her second wind, and reluctantly headed back to the living room.

She found Eric standing with his back to her. He did not turn to face her. She realized in that moment that she hadn't really ever looked at his back. Like most vampires, he was walking sex. He was beautiful beyond measure and exuded more sensuality than the entire list of People Magazine's "50 Most Beautiful People" put together. His flaxen hair cascaded to his shoulders with a devil-may-care playfulness and his broad, muscular back strained against its soft, black fabric encasement.

Sookie felt momentarily guilty for indulging her roving eye at a time like this, but hey, she was only human . . . and this was Eric . . . and it had been a while since she'd been able to admire him. He was still silent. He was either allowing her to admire him or was waiting for her to begin. Either way, the silence was deafening, and she couldn't hold back any longer. "So, why are you here?"

"Your Claudine called me," he said simply. His back was still to her.

"Okaaaay, I got all that. What I don't understand is one, why she called you, and two, why you're here when you should be taking care of Fangtasia." Her tone was pointed, bordering on sharp. She was only a question away from the limits of her patience, and she felt that if she had to pry one more answer out of someone she would . . . .

"I'm here because it is important for me to be here. Pam can take care of Fangtasia." He paused briefly, still staring out the window. "What happened here, in this living room, is of far greater magnitude than the pathetic excuse for a diversion that happened at Fangtasia."

Sookie opened her mouth to speak, to ask what he meant by Fangtasia, but it was his turn to talk. "I'm afraid it seems you've landed yourself in the center of a modern upgrade of a very old battle." His voice was steady, and he was absolutely still. He had been still for the past few minutes. He had made not a single movement—not even when he spoke. Inexplicably, not being able to see Eric's face was making her anxious—not that she could have read him anyway.

For the first time since Sookie had known him, he stood demonstrating to her the pallid stillness of death. He had dropped his veneer. The vast, yawning caverns of the difference between human and vampire nearly engulfed her. The reality of the moment clanged around in her chest before migrating to her mind. She sat down on her couch, the force of her anger robbing her of all her residual energy. He was doing this for a reason, but she couldn't quite understand why. "Where does that leave you?"

He moved for the first time since she'd re-entered the room, and took a seat next to her on the couch. He leaned in toward her, seeming to breathe her in and measure her with his calculating eyes, "I'm not sure." He said nothing further.

"That's not an answer," she pressed.

"I know," he paused. "You see, as I've told you before, I don't like having feelings . . . ."

"Well, it's a little too late for that," she cut him off.

"Clearly," he said flatly and perhaps a bit angrily. Well, he didn't sound angry but she could feel a little flare of anger rush through the bond. She held up her hand in warning. She was so not in the mood for a conversation about his emotions with respect to her. Romance was so far from her mind.

She stood up and hastily moved toward the door. "You can just leave. My brother and his wife are dead, I've got some psychotic fairy stalking and hypnotizing me, and I'm in no mood to hear about your feelings, Eric." She was probably being unreasonable, but her mouth had seemed to have assumed a life of its own.

He opened his mouth to speak. She again held up a hand to silence him, and flung open the front door. "Eric Northman, I . . . ." She never finished her sentence. He was up and before her in a flash. His mouth pressed to hers so passionately that her knees gave out. She could feel his tongue probing and caressing. Her entire being was engulfed in molten heat.

He rested her limp body on the soft sofa cushions she had abandoned only moments before. He began speaking softly, rapidly, melodically before she could gather enough sense to conjure up her own vocabulary. "I never had the chance to explain." He rushed, "I do not like having feelings because they impair my decision-making. It is more difficult to make decisions that will ensure my survival and the survival of my children and subjects."

She moved to open her mouth and respond. He placed a single finger over her lips and stared intently into her eyes. She suddenly thought of ice cubes on fire. She thought if such an anomaly could exist, it would be representative of Eric's eyes at that moment. "We all must choose sides eventually. This time, I'm afraid, the difference between good and bad will not be so clear." She thought she saw a flicker of sadness . . . or some vampire equivalent to sadness . . . behind his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and Sookie decided she had imagined it. This was Eric, after all.

"Do I even want to know what that means?" She asked. Even to her own ears her voice sounded resigned, pathetic.

Eric shrugged and sat back on his heels. Without his face, scent, and eyes so close to her own she could think straight. "So," she asked slowly, thoughtfully, "was the being that came to visit me today a fairy? Niall said he was, but I feel like there was something more going on there."

Eric looked as uneasy as something as confident and assured as Eric could possibly look. In Sookie's mind this was yet another very, very bad thing. She gave him an expectant "I'm waiting look." He sighed. "Yes, and no. And, before you shriek at me, try to understand."

"I'm waiting," she said impatiently. He frowned, but continued. "Could you remember much about him today when you spoke with Niall?" he asked.

She jolted a bit at the question because, of course, she had hardly remembered anything about the mysterious visitor. He had been a shadow. She told Eric that much and he nodded gravely. "Can you recall him with greater clarity now?" he asked softly. Sookie thought hard about the afternoon, and imagined the figure standing over her. She could see clearly his alabaster skin and gleaming hair. His square jaw and penetrating gaze were prominently displayed to her consciousness. She was shocked. Eric was impassive. "I don't understand," she said.

"I once told you that fairies thought more highly of themselves than they ought to, correct?" She nodded, still completely confused. "Well," he continued, "you have to understand where that mindset comes from to understand how it relates to your current situation." He moved to join her on the couch, and pulled her bare foot onto his lap.

Eric absent-mindedly traced his fingers in a bow-tie shape around her ankle bone. She had never felt anything more exciting in her life. She struggled to maintain her focus as her thighs went up in flames. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he felt her excitement course through their blood bond. "Mmmmm. . . . the mindset . . . right . . ." she murmured.

"Are you paying attention, Sookie?" Eric asked playfully. Sookie's half-closed lids fluttered, "mmm hmmm," she replied. "Well," he continued despite her distractedness. "You'll recall that I once told you fairies have a higher opinion of themselves than is warranted. Do you remember?"

"Mmmmmm," she crooned.

Eric laughed lightly. "Well, I will take that as a 'yes,'" he said with mirth, clearly pleased that their shared bond was lightening the inevitably weighty conversation. "And, what you have to understand is that the origin of fairies is much disputed. It is much disputed among the fae themselves, it is much disputed among the greater supernatural community, and is all but unknown to the human community."

Sookie sat up a bit and nearly forgot Eric's gentle touch—she wondered why she was even letting him touch her. Things were so far from resolved between the two of them. Something about his words resonated with her. She was intrigued.

"As with all things, the truth lies somewhere between all the explanations," he continued, sensing her interest. "Like many human deities or demons, the fae are thought to have descended from an ancient race of humans that were unlike other humans of their time."

"Humans?" Sookie asked incredulously. "How is that even possible."

"Many things are possible . . . and of course, Dear One, they were a different species or type of human. They were thought to be children of gods and men. Achilles in his time would have been claimed by the fae. As the son of Thetis and Peleus, he was not immortal but he was far more than mere human."

"I remember that . . ." Sookie chimed in, "I learned about him by reading some of my textbooks. I didn't think his mom was a God, though."

"No. She was not a God," Eric corrected, "she was a lesser Goddess, and the father was a royal mortal. This was exceedingly common in antiquity, and it grew so common that any child with special abilities was thought to be of a superior race as children of mixed mortal and immortal heritage. The label of "fae" came much later. There were other names used by the Greeks."

"Riiiight," she agreed. "But, I don't understand what this has to do with this guy who showed up here today, the fact that Jason was killed, and some kind of a choice I'll need to make." She was getting impatient. Eric was giving her a history lesson, not an explanation, and she wanted the latter. She told Eric as much. "Look, all day long—and it has been a looooong day, Buddy!—I've been getting this cryptic crap! People—no, not even people, things, beings, supes, whatever—have been talking around, over, and under me, but have told me nothing!"

Sookie pulled her feet away from Eric and pulled back. "My brother's dead. I'm in danger. I need to know why!"

"It is because of who you are, who Niall is, and how the fairy underworld works." He said flatly. "As I was explaining," Sookie could hear the disdainful unsaid 'before I was interrupted,' in the undercurrents of his voice, "descent plays a great deal of importance in the fae hierarchy. It is a species that is slowly dwindling, that has tried to revive itself, has been only modestly successful, and is in constant tumult."

"And . . ." she prompted after a moment's thought and hesitation.

"And . . ." he looked at her incredulously at the obviousness (to him) of it all, "the fairies are in a fight for survival power struggle. They are trying to capitalize on the upheaval to restructure the fairy world. Beyond that, I know very little about the fairy struggles. I do not know the specifics of what they are fighting over. Only that there is much disagreement between factions . . . or, families, rather . . . regarding what will ensure their survival. They are quite secretive."

"How do you know all of this if they're so secretive?"

He gave her a small grin, but didn't answer her question. "If your visitor was indeed Breandan, you are in more trouble than you can imagine," he warned.

"Breandan? Is that his name?" she paused and debating asking more questions. Her mind was brimming over with them. "Hold on," she said when Eric opened his mouth to respond. "I need a second to think. I mean, what I really want to know is who is this guy? I mean, I'm certain he's the one who wrote the note . . . B should be for Breandan . . . . But, why is he coming to me? Why did he kill my brother? And, what the Hell do all these things have to do with one another?" Eric waited, as if sensing she wasn't finished. "Oh yeah," she followed up, "why should I be in 'more trouble than I can imagine?" she asked with a mocking tone.

"Yes, his name is Breandan. He is something more than mere fae, and is ranked perhaps a little higher than Niall in the hierarchy because of this even though he is younger." Eric flashed a rueful grin. "That alone is probably enough to make Niall hate him."

Sookie shot him a look, but he just shrugged. "You asked. Anyhow, it would appear that he needs you. Or, he needs something from you. If not him, then someone he works for." Eric explained. By this point in the conversation he had picked up Sookie's latest romance novel and was thumbing through the pages. His eyebrows rose at whatever he had encountered on his current page. "Either way, they are high up in the hierarchy and exceedingly dangerous. From what I understand. they are no friends of Niall, and they will stop at nothing to get what they want . . . whatever that might be." He paused for a moment and flipped the page.

"And my brother," she pressed.

For a moment, Eric looked thoughtful. In fact, she would have said that he almost looked stumped. His face went back to its neutral expression in no time, and he was back to reading her book. The corners of his lips and his right eyebrow rose when he flipped the page. She had a mind to rip the book right out of his hand. "I cannot be certain about their motive for killing him . . . if it even was Breandan or his faction. It could have been a message to you. Or, your brother could have been perceived as a threat. There is no way to know, really," he concluded.

Sookie had no idea what to say. It was the most information she'd gotten all day, but it still didn't answer all of her questions. She contemplated whether or not to press for more information or to let it go and dip into the well later. He didn't give her a chance to try.

No, instead he moved in for the kill, catching her off guard. His large but skillful Viking hands were all over her body, caressing her arms, back, neck, face and hair as he pulled Sookie toward him along the couch. Tiny fireworks were erupting over every inch of her skin, and a tingling was developing in the pit of her stomach.

She knew she should fight him off, maintain control of the situation. It was the wrong time. She should be grieving and frightened. The feeling of a supernatural man's touch should have made her skin crawl—in a bad way. But her resolve was melting. At first she felt a bit lightheaded because she was breathing so rapidly and shallowly—it was the anticipation.

Then his hands gently but purposefully caressed her shivering breasts through her nightclothes. A second wind swept through her, and she nearly jumped right on top of him. He was so appetizing. He was like a big blond sexy chocolate someone had set out on the table specifically for her to devour.

His hair was gleaming in the gentle light, and his skin held that sultry vampire glow. Her face was so close to his that she would have felt his breath if he could breathe. It wasn't quite hypnotic, not the way the fairy had been, but it was enticing. It would be so easy to give in to the promise of pure Viking pleasure. She could feel her heart fluttering in anticipation as it beat against her breastbone.

He pulled her onto his jean-clad lap. Her legs straddled his hips and wrapped around behind him on the couch. His gracious plenty strained against the denim of his dark washed jeans, and made its presence known against her inner thigh. A soft whimper of longing escaped from her throat, but she quickly regretted it. Her warm breath, accelerated heart rate, and oh-so human noises had apparently awoken the primal, animal vampire in him. He pressed his mouth to hers, hungrily devouring her scent and taste.

Sookie was responding with fervor, in spite of herself. She could smell and taste the sensual dryness of vampire and pressed herself closer in to Eric's robust torso.

She felt his fangs emerge against her lip, and he ran them gently over her chin, to her throat. He traced small lines with his tongue and fangs before gradually lowering his face into her flushed and shivering décolleté. Lust and longing surged through the bond; Eric was gently sliding up Sookie's pajama shirt, freeing her breasts, and running his thumbs across her hardened nipples.

She began moving against him, feeling his voracious hunger through the bond. She knew she should stop, but the contact was just too soothing, too freeing. If anything could transport her away from the pain and heaviness of the day's events, it was this. Giving in to her own desire for pleasure, she began to reciprocate Eric's gesture, sliding the hem of his shirt up over his torso.

The edge of his shirt, and her hands, reached his nipple line. She took one of the nipples between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a rough squeeze. Eric expressed his gratitude by leaning his head onto the back of the couch and releasing a long, slow sigh of pleasure. His eyes were closed and his lips parted. She felt the intense wave of desire crash into her from the bond. It was so strong and consuming; she felt a lurching and clenching feeling deep inside her pelvis.

Eric, too, had apparently felt her mounting tension through the bond and began moving rhythmically beneath her. Sookie's inner thighs were melting into two fiery pillars of molten lava. His hands were moving now, covering her entire body. They were stroking, caressing, sliding, rubbing, thumbing, stroking. And then, he stopped.

Everything stopped—the kissing, gyrating, pawing, and moaning just stopped. Presently, Sookie found herself crumpled into the corner of the couch with Eric in a defensive position in front of her. A low growl erupted from deep in his throat. Sookie's head spun. Only a moment before she had been dizzy with passion and on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Now she was dizzy from being spun and tossed. She was also frightened.

"Interrupting, am I?" a familiar voice asked patronizingly from the far corner of the room. Sookie craned her neck to see, but the area was shrouded in darkness.

Eric gave another warning growl, but did not move. "Yes, but that was your plan, was it not?"

"Relax, Viking." Sookie wondered at the voice's petulant tone. She also wondered at Eric's stillness. Why isn't he attacking this intruder? There was a pause in the visitor's speech, and then, "Because he knows I'm not here to hurt you, Sookie."

She wondered if she had spoken aloud by accident, but quickly understood. The intruder had read her mind. A moment later, he stepped out of the shadows and into the light. It was the same strange fairy who had visited her before. "I had doubts that I'd be able to see you again so soon, but I had to try. There is much more that I need to tell you," he continued.

At that moment, as if she had not bourne enough that day, her front door swung open, and her neighbor, Bill Compton, strode in. He looked somber and concerned with his corpse-white skin and dusky hair. He took in the room, and his face erupted into a series of barely discernable emotions as he took in what he saw: disgust at Eric and Sookie's scantily clad state and shock tinged with awe at the sight of the unwelcome intruder.

"What the Hell is going on here?!" Bill exclaimed.

"I think the better question, Bill, would be what are you doing here?" Sookie practically shrieked, simultaneously overwhelmed and furious.

Bill fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'd rather speak to you in private."

"This is as private as it's gonna get. So, either tell me what you're doing here or get out."

TBC . . .