Chapter 11: Vixen

Someone was knocking on the door. Sasha checked her watch; it was just a little after sunrise. Who could it be?

Dragging herself from bed and covering her mouth as a violent yawn over took her, she padded barefoot to the front door. Bleary eyed and with big afro of frizzy curls, she answered the door to a complete stranger. He was a dark skinned man, somewhere in his late forties, maybe early fifties. He wore a UPS uniform, yet there was something about his blank expression that seemed…off.

"Sasha Buckley?"

"That's me," she said, a little confused. "How can I help you?"

"What is your favorite flavor of bubblegum?"

"My…oh," Sasha blinked the sleep from her eyes, waking up as she realized what was going on, that he'd just asked her a security question. The man was glamoured. She quickly answered, "I don't have one,"

The man nodded once sharply at her, and then reached into his duffle bag and retrieved a small package from its depths. He handed it to her, and then he was walking away from her, disappearing into a car waiting down the road for him.

She shut the door, her attention falling onto the package in her hands. She opened it carefully. Inside was a small wooden ring box. The tree of life was inscribed onto its face. She pried it open gently.

Inside was, predictably, a ring. Three thin bands of white gold braided around a central sapphire. It was a mesmerizing ring, if not more than she was used to wearing. She slipped off the broken gold ring from her left hand, replacing it with the new ring. For a moment she admired the ring in her hand. Then she smiled, relieved to once again be in possession of a countermeasure to her magic.

She texted a quick thank you to Malachi, and then she climbed back into bed. It was the most peaceful sleep she got in weeks.

One week later.

It was hard to say who was in a worse mood these days: Eric Northman or his progeny. Rumors circulated wide through Area Five of course; vampires frequenting the bar suspected that stunning blond duo's lethal disposition was on account of the new monarch. Eric had made only one public announcement regarding the new king. From his seat on the throne not long after Bill's ascension and on a night that humans would only describe as ordinary, he had quietly threatened them all that Bill was now King, that he had sworn fealty, and they would all do best to bow before their new king. The subtext: if you didn't agree with Bill's reign, leave Eric's and his Pam's names out of it.

The humans had been unaware of the message in the air between the raging music and alcohol. But the vampires in the club had all taken his words to heart, because they preferred them to the stake treason warranted.

The humans that worked at Fangtasia didn't know such specifics, and though they didn't dare complain out loud for fear of one of their supernatural bosses overhearing them (Pam, who's ruthlessness and impatience far outweighed Eric's in particular struck chords of fear into the very souls of the Fangtasia employees), they all knew that something had happened, and they all strove to work their hardest so as not to be singled. No one wanted to be the object upon which a vampire vented their frustrations out on.

Even Ginger was mercifully quiet and hardworking, keeping her fuck ups to an all-time low.

It wasn't often that she fought with her maker, but it was bound to happen. Pamela Swynford de Beufort prided herself on being self-aware. So while she could easily describe herself as rather stunning, deliciously cunning of mind, and as a prolific lover, she also knew herself to be sarcastic, petulant, and even lazy to a fault. And Eric, even when it came to her—perhaps especially when it came to her, well his patience wasn't exactly boundless. She annoyed and needled him often, mostly when she wanted his undivided attention as daughters were wont to do, and she had the ability to read him so incredibly well that since her grandmaker had met the true death, no one else had rivaled her in that particular field.

Well, no one had that ability, at least until the other night.

Pam had no problem admitting that she was wise beyond her years. And so when she'd laid eyes on Sasha Buckley and noted her maker's behavior in regards to the girl, she'd been quick to put two and two together and know that they'd soon have a problem on their hands.

Sasha fucking Buckley, for whatever reason, seriously got under her maker's skin. And Pam, well, she just didn't get it, not that she ever did when it came to Eric and his amusements of the heart. Sure, she was pretty—in some form or another, Eric's little infatuations always were—and okay, she understood their kind. Who the fuck cared? To Pam, the most interesting thing about the girl was her choice of footwear, but unless she could fuck like a Gold Medal champion and her goddam pussy squirted out rainbows when she came, Pam couldn't understand the appeal. Even her blood—sure, it was a little mysterious that it seemed to smell different to her than it smelled to Eric—wasn't that fucking incredible. Pam didn't doubt that she wouldn't make for a tasty meal, and yes, Chanel No. 5 always did bring about a string of fond memories for her, but she wasn't about to rip the lid off of her perfume bottle and chug it straight from the neck, either.

Although, she might just be tempted to rip Sasha's head off and drink from her neck, if only to get rid of the little pest.

Pam parked her little red Corvette outside of Eric's building and reached for the garment bag protecting her metaphorical white flag. They'd been snippy with each other recently—Eric still hadn't told her what had happened at Fangtasia the other night—but it had been nearly a week and a half since then, and the little California bitch hadn't stepped foot in Fangtasia since. Jack had, and so it was safe to assume she was still around, but she hadn't made an appearance, and Pam was certain Eric hadn't gone to see her. This would have pleased her if she hadn't had to deal with a week of Eric on the most massive period of her long life. He'd been a little better last night at work, and she hoped tonight he'd finally be bearable.

She'd be gone soon, anyway, and they had the coronation to go to this weekend. Pam knew she and Eric would need to show a united front as they proceeded onto the ass kissing of the century, and it would all start by them looking absolutely fabulous side by side.

Riding the elevator all the way up to the penthouse suite, Pam forced herself to put her pettiness aside (Eric would be proud, once he came to his senses) and instead fantasized about what she and her maker would look like at the coronation. Vampires from all over the country would be present—Monarchs wouldn't dare leave their states of course, but they'd certainly send their most important representatives and ambassadors. Pam was willing to bet that, compared to that fuckin' fry of a vampire Bill Compton and his cheap little progeny, it would be her and her maker that would look like the real royalty.

Eat your heart out, Compton, she thought smugly.

"Oh. My. God,"

She'd let herself into Eric's apartment, and for the first time ever it was in disorder. Her first instinct was to slip into a defensive crouch, eyes and ears peeled for whatever danger she'd intruded upon. She held the garment bag behind herself to protect it, her free hand out in front of her, ready to use her deadly nails to attack who ever had broken in.

"Pamela?"

Eric almost sounded confused. She watched in surprise as he strode out of the hallway and through the living room towards her. He was absolutely naked, and for a wild moment she thought perhaps he had a girl over—or four, by the looks of the messy living room. Shit was knocked over everywhere. But Eric didn't bring anyone back to his penthouse, preferring it to be entirely his, a break from the hustle and bustle of Fangtasia, and the bullshit of both humans and vampire kind, and he didn't bring over humans to feed on, much less fuck.

"What the fuck went on here?" she asked.

Most of the mess comprised of books. They were strewn all about the room, across the couch and the coffee table, on the floor. Eric looked around, a mild trace of regret on his features as he tracked her gaze around the room.

"I was a little frustrated," he admitted, a hand through his hair as he passed her. It was wet; he'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Sexually or…academically?" asked Pam, still completely bewildered. It was mostly books strewn about the room, books and piles of pages. She went to place the garment bag she still held on the couch. A book caught her eye, and she picked it up in exchange for the garment bag. She flipped to a page that had been bookmarked.

She scanned the page, her confusion only growing as she scanned its contents. "Succubae?" asked Pam.

Eric grabbed a blood bag from the kitchen fridge and brought it to the living room, dropping onto the couch next to her. She chastised him for dripping water onto the fine leather; she'd picked out the couch herself.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Just researching," said Eric. "It seems as though all manner of beings are running around unchecked in my territory. I like to be informed,"

Pam's perfectly plucked eyebrow remained arched. "Sure, we've got too many wolves for my liking, and that iffy shifter with the ugly bar, but a fucking succubus? They don't exist. Not anymore, if they ever did—and if they do, well, demons know better than to fuck with our kind,"

Eric shrugged off-handedly. His casualness was making her suspicious. "I might have though the same of maenads. And succubae are very minor demons. They are incredibly human passing, which is why it stands to reason that some of them survived the purge that their brethren did no,"

"The maenad's blood affected vampires badly," said Pam. "Is that your worry? That, if they still existed, a succubus might be able to harm a vampire? Do you think you've identified one in Area 5—son of a bitch, Eric. Is this about the fucking girl?"

Eric shot her a look that told her to watch it. "Succubae have been called many things over time—mermaids, sirens, witches, even vampires. Whatever they are, they use sex as their weapon, and they have been known to be able to turn lust into the same kind of weapon that glamor is for us,"

"And you think, what, that this sex-glamor can be used on us?" she sounded skeptical to her own ears. "So you think Sasha Buckley is a fucking succubus?"

Eric was on his feet in a flash, pacing the room. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that the vampire pacing before her was actually…embarrassed.

What on earth was going on?
"Succubae…they have what is referred to as a siren song. The song is different for each victim, tailored to what will attract them most. If you don't take a siren song literal, what do you think that might mean for a vampire?"

Pam was still skeptical as fuck, but she understood where Eric was going with this. "Her blood? That's why you think she smells different to us?"

"It could be one explanation," said Eric. "And it would explain why I'm so…"

"So?"

"Attracted," Eric said curtly. "The very thought of her makes me so…"

Eric glanced down at his lap, frowning. Pam followed his gaze. She smirked.

"Hard?"
"This isn't funny, Pamela," he growled. In a flash he was gone, but she could hear him rummaging around through his closet. She sighed and reclined on the couch. She spotted a glass of whiskey on the coffee table between two stacks of books. Sometimes vampires were driven to drink substances other than blood out of pure habit. Alcohol of course had no effect on them, and most found it uncomfortable to have to use the bathroom afterword, and therefore avoided it all the same. Some still drank for the taste of it, though that was mostly wine, which for some reason was still incredibly delicious.

Second to blood of course and, if you asked Pam, what lay between a woman's legs. But it certainly had its appeal.

Eric reappeared in the living room, clothed now. She quickly wiped her look of condescending amusement clear of her face. He was agitated enough, and she didn't want to add fuel to this fire. "When she was at Fangtasia the other night, it wanted more than to just fuck her or drink from her. Her scent was intoxicating, heady, but it was affecting me in unexpected ways. I wanted to protect her, please her… if I didn't know any better, I might say I was being glamored,"

Pam frowned. Okay, admittedly that was worrisome. "Say your little theory is true. Why aren't I affected?"

"Because she's working me specifically," said Eric like it was the most obvious this in the world. "You don't have what she wants,"

"That being?" Pam asked impatiently. He swooped down to grab his crystal glass. Eric knocked the whiskey back, then gestured a hand expansively in his own direction.

"Power. Wealth. Status," he said. "Maybe she's a siren, maybe she's not. I think she uses the affect her siren song has—be it blood or something other—to lure beings more powerful than she into a trap. Then, when she has them ensnared, she uses them for protection, for money, whatever she wants,"

"Huh," said Pam. "I guess it's not completely out of the realm of possibility,"

If Pam had such an ability, she might be tempted to do the same. And it might make sense to want to enchant and seduce creatures like vampires when succubae had been so hunted. Who would cross a vampire such like Eric Northman? If Eric's little theory was true—and Pam did think he was reaching, maybe out of sheer stubbornness to simply admit he'd been thoroughly charmed by yet another human—then maybe Pam could respect the girl a little. He idea of having the superpower to turn powerful beings into sex slaves was suddenly Pam's new fantasy.

"What about Jack? You think she was somehow involved, or she really did just happen upon the little brat and use him to her advantage?"

"No," Eric said quickly. "That, that was very real. I could tell."

When he became silent, his eyes somewhere far off, Pam sighed. It didn't matter anymore. Sasha had kept her distance so far and, if what Eric said was right, it was likely she'd cut her losses and she'd be moving onto the next sucker.

Ha. The next sucker.

"We don't have to worry about her anymore, so let me brighten your night with something far more important," said Pam. Eric glanced her way, intrigued.

"Oh?"

She grabbed the garment back and held it aloft, opening it teasingly slowly to reveal a custom Prada tuxedo.

"You don't even know the balls I had to break to have this made on such short notice," Pam said proudly, stroking the satin lapels of the jacket lovingly. "But Eric you are going to look like a fucking king in this,"

Eric's expression dissolved into an indulgent grin. "It's beautiful, Pam,"

"Just wait until you see what I'm wearing," she said. "Vampires will either want to be us, fuck us, or stake us,"

He chuckled, drawing her in for a quick kiss. She took it as an apology for his recent behavior, and knew that things had been smoothed out between them once more.

"Jesus Christ, Sasha, your hand-eye coordination ain't for shit,"

Sasha rolled her eyes at Jason Stackhouse's taunt, knocking her shoulder into his as she went to take his spot before the dartboard. She closed an eye, squared her back and shoulders, angled her hips. She threw the dart—

And missed. Gloriously. It impaled itself in the wall just to the left of the dartboard.

Hoyt let out a loud peal of laughter, clapping Sasha on her shoulders. "Jason's mean, but he's also right. You know you're supposed to hit the dartboard, not everything around it, right?"

Sasha scowled good-naturedly at the boys as they continued teasing the hell out of her. Since meeting them for lunch, they'd been playing darts for some half an hour, where they all quickly learned that Sasha was impressively terrible at the game. She would have suggested pool—she was at least half-decent at that game—but when she'd realized that today was one of Jason's rare days without brooding and bloodshot eyes, she hadn't minded playing at her expense. Jason's sister had been missing for nearly a month now, and from whispers she heard around, most presumed her dead.

He'd now thrown himself into becoming a deputy, and from what Sasha saw, that wasn't going exactly swimmingly. Jason was frustrating Hoyt to know end, who was attempting to help him study for the written exam. But Jason seemed more concerned with his physical fitness test than the written exam, which was silly, because she'd seen him shirtless before. His morning jogging route took him right past Sasha's rented bungalow, and they'd taken to running together in the mornings. She'd been grateful for the exercise; since leaving California, she felt like all she'd really done was sit around and gain wait from eating at Merlotte's and drinking more than she ordinarily would have. But mostly, the running was good for clearing her head, and it was familiar routine to get back to. For Jason, it seemed an escape from the studying he was dreading.

Running, escaping, avoiding. She could relate. She was still in Bon Temps, Louisiana. It had now been a whole three weeks since the Camaro had broken down outside of the small town, two whole weeks longer than she'd planned on staying. She was also still avoiding Montgomery Manor, and she'd added Fangtasia to her list of places to avoid.

Two whole weeks since she'd visited Fangtasia.

"Fuck off," said Sasha, sticking her tongue out childishly at the two men. Hoyt wasn't playing, just observing as he finished up his second burger. He offered plenty commentary, though, suggesting how she should hold her wrist and how she should stand.

"Go on, Sasha," said Jason. "Your turn again,"

"Yeah, 'n this time try aimin' for anywhere but the dartboard. Maybe you'll hit it that way," added Hoyt oh-so helpfully. Sasha laughed. She lined up her shot, threw.

"Aha!" she cheered. She'd hit the dartboard—even if it had only been the outer most ring, she'd hit her mark. Sort of.

"Told ya," said Hoyt, grinning. "How's Jack?"

"Jack's fine, thanks for asking," said Sasha, smiling at him. Hoyt wasn't crazy about the newborn's obvious crush on his girlfriend, but he also recognized that he must be going through something very difficult with his newfound vampirism, just as Jess had. Truly though, Hoyt couldn't even begin to imagine.

Over the last two weeks, Jack swore up and down that he was fine. But he was also spending more and more time at Fangtasia feeding, and she couldn't help but wonder if this newfound blood thirst was less linked with his newborn status and more with the whole mess with Peter. He still refused to talk to her about it, and Sasha had chosen to trust that while he was at Fangtasia, Eric Northman was keeping an eye on Jack.

Trust; she'd have to trust the Sheriff was doing so, because she hadn't exactly seen nor spoken to him since that night two weeks ago when he'd all but kicked her out of his club.

"How about you, you all right, Sasha?" asked Hoyt.

"I'm good," assured Sasha. Good and dumb, she thought. And there it was, once again on her mind. Eric Northman and their last encounter. She still didn't know how to feel about that night, but out of the mess of complex emotions, one thought rang startlingly clear: she'd been stupid. She still wasn't sure what she'd said to the trigger the Viking just as she had. Had it been her observations of him, or the fact that she'd been so accurate? He'd been the one to initiate their little game, he'd been the one to accept her terms. Had he so grossly underestimated her that when she'd read him correctly, he'd panicked? He didn't seem the type.

And yet, there with his fury, every time Sasha thought back to that moment he'd snapped, she could have sworn that she'd detected a hint of panic, like he'd been terrified that she'd seen something of him, something real and close to his core. Had it been her insinuations regarding the woman in his life? No, it couldn't be that. She refused to believe he'd act so strangely over something like that, although it did leave her very curious. Who was this woman—because Sasha believed without a shadow of a doubt that there was a woman—and what was she like?

Incredible, decided Sasha. Absolutely incredible to keep the attention of a vampire like him.

Whatever it was, Sasha had kept her distance, and Eric his. Maybe he'd lost whatever interest in her he had, or maybe this was his mercy: she'd managed to offend him, and he'd let her walk out of his bar in one piece. Still, Sasha regretted that night, if only because she would have liked to part from him on good terms. She'd never met a creature like Eric Northman, and she suspected she never would again. She was certain she'd be seeing him tonight in any case, though it would probably be nothing more than a curt hello and goodbye between them.

Oh well.

Sasha moved to lean against the wooden pillar nearest them, reaching for her lemonade on the high table Hoyt was sitting at.

"All right, how about this, since I'm a nice guy and all," said Jason, winking at her. "You make this one last shot, anywhere on the board, and I'll buy all our drinks and lunch. Hoyt's too,"

"Yeah, real nice," said Hoyt rolling his eyes. "He always makes these bets when he knows he can't lose,"

Jason argued indignantly that wasn't true at all; Sasha laughed and went to grab a dart. Again she lined herself up, focusing on the central red bull's eye of the dartboard. As she focused, she felt a tingling current start beneath her skin, making its way down her arm to the tips of her fingers where they wrapped around the dart in her hand. Then it died out once it reached her hand, negated by the ring's binding power. A small voice in her head whispered that if she just removed that ring, she'd make the shot. She shook her head distractedly.

Smack. The dart hit the wall and fell to the floor.

"So, I guess I'm buying," said Sasha.

"Nah, but only 'cause you're leavin' tomorrow," said Jason, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "But no you lost. Like, real, real bad."

As Jason went to go pay their tab, Sasha began to feel the anxiousness that had befallen her all week long.

Tonight, her two worlds would be colliding. Through their friendship with Jessica Hamby, she and Jack had been invited to her maker's coronation. The chance to attend a vampire coronation had once again put the breaks on her plans for a quick getaway from Bon Temps. But after discussing it with Eoin, who'd agreed to meet her in Louisiana as he'd been tasked by the King of California with accompanying his envoy to the coronation, she'd agreed to stay put. It was, after all, only two more weeks.

"Hey, Sasha?"

Sasha looked up to find Hoyt watching her a little anxiously. Jason had left, presumably to go settle their tab.

"What's up, Hoyt?"
"I uh," Hoyt scratched up at the back of his head, shifting a little uncomfortably. "I…look, you're goin' to that vampire party tonight, right?" he asked.

Party; she nearly cringed at the word. Like she'd willingly stick around this godforsaken small town of Bon Temps for just any vampire party. But a vampire coronation? Hell fucking yeah she'd slum it in Bon Temps for the chance at one of those. Literally history in the making, and she'd be getting front row seats. Would there be drama? Would the vampires that wanted Northman in charge make a fuss, or would things go smoothly?

Jessica had been very excited, walking around Merlotte's every night with an extra bounce to her step. But it seemed that for whatever reason, she wasn't so excited to be sharing the news with her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I'm going," said Sasha. Hoyt nodded.

"Look, I know your friends with Jess, so I don't wanna put you in a weird position or nothing just… she said I couldn't go because it wasn't really a human event…and well, you're human so…" he trailed off uncomfortably, and Sasha had to suppressed a look of pity. It was very apparent to her that the relationship between Jess and Hoyt was rocky, borne of the differences between a human and a vampire. Jack had mentioned seeing Jessica at Fangtasia more than once, and that she'd begged him not to say anything to Hoyt about it.

"I'm only going because I'll be meeting some friends coming in from out of state," said Sasha. "I'm introducing Jack to them. I'm sure Bill advised Jessica not to have you come; sometimes it's better not to let other vampires know who your human significant other is. There are those that would use you against Jess, and with Bill moving up in the vampire world…"

"So you're saying this isn't about me? She won't be breaking up with me?" specified Hoyt.

"Um, no?" said Sasha. God, this really wasn't her business. But Hoyt appeared satisfied by her response, and he thanked her profusely. She checked her watch.

"Well, I need to get going, have a lot of pampering to start," said Sasha. "So I'm going to get out. I'll see you guys tomorrow afternoon for goodbyes,"

Yes, tomorrow she'd be saying goodbye to her new friends and, if she could muster up the courage, to her grandmother's ghost. She just had to get through tonight, and inevitably bumping into Eric Northman.

The Compton mansion had undergone extensive renovation, rivaled only by the Bellefleur residence. But for the coronation for the new Vampire King of Louisiana, the place and its sprawling grounds had been magnificently decorated in a tasteful but decadent display of opulence.

"This is crazy!" Jack whispered gleefully. Sasha grinned at him, reaching up to fix the bow tie at his throat, reminding him for the hundredth time to quit fiddling with it. She'd already taken enough pictures of him to max out the disposable camera she'd bought for the occasion; Jack had complained during every picture, teasing her that this wasn't the prom and she wasn't his mother.

"I mean, a king! In Louisiana!" he said in awe.

"Of Louisiana," she reminded him. "Goodness, Jack, your cummerbund," she sighed, reaching to fix that too. Jack simply held his arms up and out of the way, chattering excitedly.

"So does that mean Jess is a princess? She looks like a princess," he went on. "She's a princess right?"

Sasha laughed. "No, it does not make her a princess. Vampires don't follow lines of succession. I see you've been paying attention to my lectures," she reminded. She stepped away from him, looking him over.

"Tonight's going to be awesome," said Jack. "And since we're friends with Jess, that basically makes us VIP, right?"

"Probably," agreed Sasha, if only to indulge him. "I've always wanted to attend a vampire coronation. This is a dream come true,"

"This is a fucking nightmare,"

Eric glared at Pam in warning as he handed their invitations to the young vampire at the door. She checked their names off her list and then welcomed them through.

"Fine," said Pam, not sparing the woman a look. In Swedish, she said, "This is a fucking nightmare, Eric,"

Eric sighed in exasperation. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. "Do try to remember that Compton is looking for any excuse to kill us. I wouldn't have been so worried before, but if he has the resources of a king, it's starting to become cause for concern,"

He felt her ire, but she fixed on a much more pleasant expression with her smile, bringing one to his face. Eric carefully brushed her curled hair behind a shoulder, then slid his arm around her thin waist. His lips brushed across her cheek. "You are absolutely spectacular,"

She smiled, patting the black satin lapels of his jacket. Her gown was a deep wine red, a mixture of satin and chiffon that paired beautifully with his tux. "I know. The ladies at Prada asked for pictures of me at the event so they could display them in store,"

Eric chuckled, letting go of her to grab two flutes of blood champagne when a passing waiter offered them up. He handed one to Pam, eyes grazing over the crowd in the ballroom they found themselves in. It hadn't been too heavily decorated, and the few decorations were simply there to accentuate the grandeur of the home already present.

Then there was the crowd. There were too many familiar faces. Monarchs were unable or unwilling to leave their own states and had sent representatives, as was tradition. Eric spotted a few local Sheriffs and trusted advisors in the mix.

As he looked, his gaze met that of a tall vampire. She had long red hair curled to perfection and bright green slanted eyes. Her lips were painted red to match her gown. She sauntered over, dipping her head respectfully.

"Sheriff Northman," she greeted. "And Miss de Beufort,"
"Do we know you?" asked Pam. Her typical abrasiveness appeared her preferred accessory for the evening.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure. I'm Meredith Cane, progeny of Sheriff Catherine Meridian of Area Four," she said, smiling to Eric. Eric nodded in recognition, taking a sip of his blood.
"Yes, Catherine," he nodded. Casually he asked, "Is your Maker present tonight?"

"Unfortunately she had business to attend to," said Meredith. "But she wished for me to convey her greetings, and that she hopes that the occasion will rise soon so you two may see each other again,"

"I'll bet," muttered Pam. She knew of Catherine Meridian's…infatuation with him, though their initial meeting was before her time. Pam had met the other vampire on a single occasion, and that had been enough for her; Eric knew she despised Catherine with a particular passion. Eric was far more neutral in his emotions towards the vampire, though she was often too much to handle, coming off as too desperate for his fancy. He'd had her once, and that had been enough for him. The same could not be said for Catherine Meridian, and she'd been not so subtly lusting after him since.

"Please, return my greetings," said Eric. Though it was strange she was absent from her king's coronation, Eric was grateful. "Tell the Sheriff I'm sure opportunity will arise in the future,"

"Of course, Sheriff Northman," She purred. "The pleasure was all mine,"

Meredith smiled, dipping her head. Then she sauntered away, melting into the crowd.

"Figures her progeny is just as despicable," muttered Pam. "But she liked you. You could probably fuck her, and then Catherine wouldn't want to touch you again. I hear that on top of being a heinous bitch, she's also very jealous."

Eric chuckled. "I think I'd be signing her death warrant if I slept with her. Catherine has a reputation for being rather sadistic,"

"True," laughed Pam. "Let's do a round and see if there's anyone that's actually tolerable to—oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,"

Eric followed her gaze, wondering what had soured her further. When he found Pam's source of disdain, for one wild moment Eric thought his heart had beat again, just once, in his chest. He reached up absently to feel the spot, logic telling him that it was a mere reflex, his body connecting it to whatever emotion he was currently experiencing…

Sasha Buckley was standing just inside the foyer, dressed to kill. Her gown was a simple yet stunning piece, ivory silk that was draped over her like water. Her neck and shoulders were bare, exposing the sharpness of her collarbones. Mock sleeves looped around her forearms, drooping, and the sweetheart neckline of the dress was tastefully appropriate, just barely hinting at her breasts. The dress was fitted at the bodice, cinching in her waist, hugging down her curves until it pooled at her feet in an excess of fabric.

But it was everything. She wore no jewelry around her neck, and the exposed toffee of her collarbones and the slope of her neck were already drawing attention. Her hair had been blown out into elegant waves and then pinned just above her shoulders. Her make up was simple, lips painted matte red. She looked like one of the Old Hollywood starlets he'd dined on once upon a time.

Vampires were turning to her like she had a homing beacon flashing above her, causing a stir of jealously in their human companions, interest in others. If Sasha noticed the attention she was good at hiding it, turning to smile at the young vampire next to her. Eric only now noticed Jack. He had cleaned up nicely for the occasion, looking smart in a designer tuxedo and his long hair carefully gelled and combed. No doubt, Sasha's fine handiwork.

"Oh great, you too," muttered Pam. Eric barely heard her; his ears were thrumming with the primal urge to cut down every vampire that stood between them and claim her for himself.

Fuck. He'd told himself over the past two weeks that she could not have such an effect on him. As far as he could tell, no other vampire was as acutely affected by her blood or presence as he was, and he refused to make a fool of himself. If she was a succubus after all, he'd resist her song at all costs—he was a thousand year old vampire after all, and he would not be bested—but he would be cautious. He would lull her into a false sense of security, and then he would strike. But he was absolutely not taste her blood, knowing that might be too great a risk.

"Still doubt my theory?" bit back Eric.

Sasha hadn't spotted them; she was whispering to Jack, pointing things out in the room as they made their way further into the foyer. When Eric listened in, he heard that she was excitedly pointing out the historical significance of the building's architecture. Jack was feigning interest.

A vampire approached Sasha and Jack from behind. He was a male dressed smartly enough in slacks and a dress shirt and bow tie, but his tuxedo coat had been replaced by a leather jacket.

"Say love," said the vampire, his Irish accent thick as he came to stop just behind them. He looked her over quite deliberately. "Anyone ever tell you that you look like vampire bait?"

Next to her, Jack stiffened, eyes narrowing. Sasha placed a delicate hand on his forearm.

"Anyone ever tell you that having an accent doesn't automatically make you charming?" Sasha shot back as she turned to face the vampire. Her cool tone contradicted the playfulness in her eyes.

"Glad to see that mouth of yours is still intact, little dove," said Irish. "Especially since your good sense isn't. You are in so much trouble,"

"Jack, this is Eoin McGinty," said Sasha. "Eoin, this is Jack Connors,"

Recognition flashed in Jack's eyes, and he loosened considerably, shaking the Irishman's hand excitedly.

"Pleasure to meet you! I've heard a lot about you!" he said enthusiastically. Eoin glanced at Sasha before shaking his hand.

"So you're the newborn," he said appraising him. "Nice to meet you, lad,"

"The others?" asked Sasha.

"Right here, dearest,"

Eric watched as two more vampires joined the trio. The one that had spoken was a statuesque female, thin and with long, fine pale gold hair. Her eyes were a cold crystalline, sparking with dangerous mischief as she reached them. They matched her tailored powder blue tuxedo to a T. She strode up to Sasha and kissed her right on the lips. The kiss lasted a little too long to be friendly, and when the blonde pulled away, Sasha was left looking stiff.

"Darling, you look absolutely delicious," the vampire was saying. "I'd taste you right here and now if he wouldn't rip my fangs out," she said, eyeing Eoin. Her eyes flashed to Jack.

"And who's this?"

Sasha made quick introductions, stating, "Jack, this is Mimi. Mimi, Jack. He's off limits,"

"Sasha's adopted Jack," said Eoin, not tearing his eyes away from Sasha. "She's his stand in maker, as it were,"

Mimi laughed, the high-pitched, bell-like sound drawing eyes. "Now that is just the silliest, most charming thing I've ever heard. Sasha dearest, you do realize you're a breather, right?"

"Can we not do this here, please?" asked Sasha. It was the most muted that Eric had ever observed her to be; even when around him, when she was displeased or annoyed, she had an inner sort of fire that prevented her from being ignored. Now she appeared…subdued. Not at all the succubus minx he'd been making her out to be over the last few weeks.

What the fuck? Eric was about to voice his conflicting ideas to Pam, but then another vampire entered the mix.

He was tall, slender, and handsome in the sort of way one expected an English prince to be, and for some reason that he couldn't quite fathom, immediately rubbed Eric the wrong way.

"It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like much longer," he said pleasantly upon arrival to their little group. And there it was, the posh British accent that made Eric roll his eyes. "Sasha, you look beautiful as ever," the vampire continued pompously, leaning in and kissing both her cheeks. "You are positively glowing,"

"Thank you, James,"

James. His name was fucking James.

"You're looking very handsome—Ferragamo?" Sasha asked politely of his pressed tuxedo.

"Yes, good eye as usual," chuckled James. "You know my love affair with Italian suits,"

"You're fucking kidding me," muttered Eric. This James character had to go.

"You're telling me," spat Pam. The haughtiness of her tone caused Eric to look over at her, surprised by the force of her bitterness. "Because you know that contact of mine in California? The one I contacted about information on the girl after you asked me to, the same one that said she didn't know anything? That's her right there,"

Eric looked back to Mimi. Once again she was laughing.

"Oh, just fuck already you two," laughed Mimi. "You've have been dancing around each other for years. I suppose I understand you waiting when she was fifteen, Jimmy dear, but look at her now. She's a fine little thing, isn't she?"

"Madeline, that isn't exactly appropriate to say—" began James, appearing affronted by her words.

"So," Sasha said loudly, pointedly ignoring the blonde. She glanced at Eoin. "Just you three?"

"I'm here on an official capacity on behalf of our king," said Mimi. The words sounded reluctant. "These two are here to babysit me, go figure. King Jakande, in all his fine wisdom, didn't think I should be left to the others to be managed. Apparently I have a reputation for being inapproiate, demanding, and capricious. Imagine that?"

"Others?" asked Sasha.

"Two Sheriffs from the north," supplied James. "I don't know if you remember them. Henry Mason and Aiyana Blackwater?"

"Yes, the ones that are completely boring,"

"Mason's retiring," said James, shooting Mimi a look. "So he's acting out his final duties,"

"Mason's retiring? When?" Sasha asked interestedly. By now, Eric was not at all surprised that she was aware of the ins-and-outs of California's vampire politics. "He'll be hard to replace, what with the relationship he's built with the pack up there,"

Mimi smirked at Eoin. Sasha gasped.

"You're taking over for him? You're tapped for Sheriff?"

"No," said Eoin, jaw tight. "But it seems the King has graciously offered me the job. We all know it's really a punishment,"

"No, it isn't," said Mimi, rolling her eyes. "There's a lot of potential to Area 8,"

"It's fucking Area 8," groaned Eoin.

"This is so confusing," said Jack. "But so cool,"

Tossing her hair over a shoulder and fixing a fierce scowl on her features, Pam announced, "I'm done listening in. I'm going over there,"

Naturally, Eric followed.

"Madeline. Hi." Pam said shortly, her eyes frosty as she came up to the blonde.

"Pamela," said Mimi, her smirk falling for the first time all evening. Then her eyes turned to Eric, and they slanted with interest, though Eric thought that it was something of a façade to hide being so caught unawares. "And the Eric Northman. What a pleasure," she all but purred. "You know I've always wanted to meet the Viking, Pamela,"

"Are you going to introduce us to your friends, Sasha?" asked Eric. Eyes darted between them, and Sasha ignored the pointed look Eoin shot her way. Sasha seemed to have a hard time meeting Eric's eyes for once, too.

She made quick introductions.

"Oh, we've met," said Pam, her eyes narrowed in Mimi's direction. "Funny, I didn't realize you two had as well,"

"And how do you three know each other?" James asked politely in an attempt to diffuse the apparent tension of the situation.

"It's a bit of a long, intimate story," said Eric. His eyes fell to her. "Right, Sasha?"

"Well, we all happen to have the time," said Eoin.

"Eric gave me a ride into town after my car broke down—"

"You mean my car that you stole, which is impossible because that car has never had a problem with it since it came into my possession—"

"—and then I didn't realize he was Sheriff until I went to his club to discuss Jack's situation," said Sasha, ignoring Eoin's rambling.

"My maker turned me, Released me, and then dipped," Jack supplied helpfully. "In case not everyone was up to speed about me,"

"That is absolutely awful," said James, horrified. Jack shrugged.

"Well you certainly stay busy," remarked Mimi. "Bit surprised to still see you have a pulse, really,"

"So people keep telling me," muttered Sasha. Again, she was somewhat…subdued. Eric had wondered often what she'd be like around the vampires she insisted on calling her nest; this wasn't what he expected of a vampire-mind-influencing succubus. This was a girl surrounded by family, thought Eric. Content, but exposed to the complicate nature of family ties.

"And you all know our girl here how?" asked Eric. Again Eoin shot a look at Sasha—Eric was somewhat satisfied to see that the Irishman was unnerved by his relationship with Sasha.

"We're nest mates," said Eoin. "I'm sure she's mentioned,"

"Not much," said Eric.

"Yeah well, it's a bit of a long, intimate story," Eoin said flatly. "You know how that goes,"

"Stad," said Sasha to Eoin. Eric filed away that to some degree, Sasha Buckley spoke yet another language, in this case the Irishman's.

"Eric, can I speak to you for a moment?" asked Sasha.

"Go for it," said Pam dryly. "I think we just now established we're all friends here,"

"I am this close to a conniption," muttered Sasha.

"Wow, what's going on here?"

Jessica Hamby had now joined the mix. Jack stumbled over himself to greet her, and as he introduced the redhead to the others, Eric took his chance to take Sasha by the elbow and steer her away.

Before Sasha could fully catch her breath, Eric had her outside on one of the balconies, away from the event. He slipped his hand into the pockets of his slacks, cocking his head down at the little vixen.

"Sasha Buckley," he purred. "Alone at last,"

Hey everyone! Welcome to all the new followers and readers, and reviewers, because we got a lot last time! Pam butted her way in unexpectedly in this chapter, so it all ended up being a lot longer than expected. Therefore I'm adding an extra chapter to my outline, which is technically this chapter. Originally this chapter and the next chapter were all one chapter, but given the nature of what's about to happen, I thought it best to split up the two! Because of that, chapter 12 should be out tomorrow, Oct. 14th.

Liza: I'm glad you enjoyed Eric's perspective! I have a lot of fun going in depth with it. I will say that Eric's frustration with his feelings towards Sasha aren't necessarily tied into Sookie; it's more the fact that she's human and that she tests his control and authority, not necessarily as Sheriff, but just as him always being the one in control of a situation or even just conversation. I think that, being a one thousand year old vampire, he's used to being the most powerful/in control being always. And so in the show, when Godric went missing, when he was up against Russel, etc. that was where he started to panic a bit and get uncomfortable. But yes, this definitely makes him weary of Sasha!

Mika: That is so sweet! There's nothing more flattering than to hear that! Stay tuned!