A/N: Thanks for your patience with this next installment. It's extra long, to hopefully make up for not posting twice last week. I'm on a busy work period, lots of deadlines, and so I'll probably be updating more slowly for a bit.

Tell me if you think the chapters are getting too long. I don't want it to feel arduous to get through. I want you looking forward to these updates!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, except Dr. Gumby. They belong to Charlaine Harris.

Chapter 13: Dear Abby

Sookie's POV

Tears were coming from my eyes, and for a miracle they weren't of the sad-sap variety.

Eric's expression when he realized that paper Dr. Gumby left for him was a Dear Abby column was priceless. I wished I had a photo of it to keep in my wallet and refer to any time I started feeling light life was getting just a little too serious. I'd had to climb on his lap and remind him that the doc didn't know who he was once he was outside the house to keep him from grabbing that sword and heading out after the doctor. I was proud of myself, I thought, still wiping tears from my eyes. I'd saved a life tonight, and I wasn't even at risk of getting beaten up.

Ah. I needed that laugh. I took a deep breath and steadied myself, but no. The laughter just kept coming. But you could hardly blame me. That was one heck of a session. Sheesh. When Dr. Gumby wants to cover a lot of ground, he wants to cover a lot of ground.

I was ready for something light.

So I thought I'd toy with Eric some more. He scowled at me when I tried to stifle another giggle and I couldn't help it. I reached right over to him to grab that paper out of his hand. Oh, if only Pam knew. I couldn't wait to hear what she would say.

I should have known.

Despite the fact that he didn't move a muscle until my hand was practically on the paper, it was out of my grasp the second I thought I'd seized it. Damn vampire speed. I fell forward in surprise and landed back against the arm of the sofa. I nearly toppled off.

"Oof."

I looked up at him. Now Eric was laughing, crumpling the paper in to a tight ball. He was holding it just out of my reach, staring into the fireplace. His beautiful mouth was a thin line and only twitched occasionally with the threat of laughter.

"Come on, Eric," I said, purring up against him. "Let me read it. I want to see what Dear Abby thinks is the right way is to woo a human. I can give you pointers, too, if you want them."

So I couldn't resist jabbing him a little, sue me. The idea of him taking pointers on anything from me made me want to laugh even more, but I held it in. He was getting that lethal look on his face.

He cast his eyes down at me and then back at the fireplace. He moved the ball of paper toward me and when I reached for it, he pulled it away again, leaning back and throwing it in the air and catching it before I righted myself. He still wasn't looking at me but now the sides of his mouth were curled up just a little.

I placed my hand on his stomach and pushed myself upright. He raised an eyebrow at me. Oh, it was on.

"Eric," I said. I did my best to stare him down, and I caught his eyes with my own. Oh wow. His eyes were deep blue and full of challenge. I narrowed my gaze at him and gave as good as I got.

I traced the fingers of one hand down his stomach until I reached the lip of his shirt. I held his eyes and reached under his shirt, running my fingers up the hard planes of his stomach to his chest. I felt him shudder but his eyes never left mine, and neither did the challenge in his eyes.

"Sookie," he said coolly and raised the other eyebrow, too.

I found his nipple with my fingers and squeezed it between my index and middle fingers, tugging sharply.

I could feel my face growing flush, and heard him growl. I leaned in and put my mouth a hair's breath from his own and said, "Let's see what Dear Abby has to say."

With my hand still on his nipple, I reached the other up as fast as I could for the paper in his outstretched hand. But just like that, it was gone and I fell against his chest.

Eric let out a loud laugh, right in my face.

I scowled and pressed myself against him, rubbing just a little. That quieted him right up. His arms went around me--even the one holding the paper--and he pulled me close.

"You must be feeling better," he whispered in my ear, and I could feel that his fangs were extended just a little by the way they tickled my earlobe. "Your creativity is coming back."

I shivered and pressed my ear against his cool mouth. But I wasn't willing to give up yet. I might be creative, but I'm also determined.

I slipped off his lap and knelt between his legs, which he splayed out in front of him like he owned the place. I smiled to myself. He might as well be sitting in this throne at Fangtasia for the way he was carrying on.

"The doctor says I'm going to get better," I said, nuzzling my face into his belly. I felt a thrill, a giddiness at the prospect, and looked up at him. He felt so good against my cheek and I felt his muscles ripple a little. He smirked and nodded. I let my hands roam up under his shirt and both found his nipples and twisted a little. He slumped down in his seat, bringing his now burgeoning (as my romance novels would call it) gracious plenty closer to my bosoms.

I closed the distance and pressed them against him and heard him growl.

"My lover," he said, and his hands flew to my face, caressing my hair and my face. I turned my face toward his palm and placed my hand against it, pressing it into me.

And then as quick as I could, I plucked the paper from his hand and fell back on my knees, away from him, curling into a ball and clutching it to me. I was sure he was going to pounce on me, but he didn't.

I didn't dare move because I knew the second I opened myself for attack, I was going to get it.

I kind of wanted it.

Instead, all I heard was him chuckling to himself, and the creak of the sofa as he stood.

"You are so much trouble, Sookie," he drawled as I heard him retreat to the kitchen at the back of the house.

When I was sure he was gone, I uncurled a little and started smoothing the paper out on the floor.

I had just read, "DEAR ABBY," when I felt something... hovering... over me. I looked up and for a split second, I saw Eric hanging there in the air, a predatory look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

And then he was on me, and the paper was gone and his hands pinned mine down to the floor. He pressed his knee between mine and settled between my legs, growling and chuckling at once.

"My little warrior," he said between kisses. I felt his fangs on my lower lip and couldn't breathe right. "You are so adorable when you're plotting. I may let you win more often."

I glared at him and kicked against his weight, but that only brought his leg down harder between my legs and made me gasp. Eric chuckled and kissed along my jawline and to my ear.

"You have excellent defensive instincts. But you must always be prepared for ambush."

I heaved against him, half wanting him to let me go and half just wanting to feel him.

"You cheat," I panted as his mouth found my neck. I craned up to offer it to him without thinking. "You flew."

He chuckled against my neck and my chest and I felt his excitement heavy on my leg. He always did like a fight, even if it wasn't much of one.

"It is not cheating if it comes naturally to me," he said coolly, and held my arms more tightly. He was kissing and nipping his way down my neck, enjoying my helpless state, no doubt, when a told panic shot through me.

I couldn't explain it, even now, but it was like the room fell away and my body remembered another time I couldn't move my arms--remembered my hands numb and my wrists pinched and suddenly my gasps for breath weren't pleasant. My vision clouded with tears and I didn't know where I was anymore.

I felt cold and clammy. I was struggling and writhing and kicking against him, and all I could hear was... laughter.

He was laughing at me. They were laughing at me. Oh. Oh god. I have to... I have to get away. I have to get loose! I turned my head to the side and my body tensed.

"No!" I sobbed. "They'll be... here. They'll... they'll kill you."

Even to my own ears I didn't sound convincing. I knew in that moment that they would kill me. The hopelessness sank into me and congealed in my belly and I lost the will to fight. The pressure on my thighs and between them became too much, I knew they were cutting and bitting again. I felt the sting and burn of flesh torn away, and my leg twitched in protest. My breathing became heavy, and it was wet with something--blood I was sure. I was bleeding inside. I just knew it. And I knew no one was coming for me.

"No," I sobbed, but I didn't try. I couldn't even hit. My arms had lost all feeling. All the energy went right out of me. I was shivering, and everything became dim.

This is what it feels like to die, I thought absently as everything went dark.

Eric's POV

I knew the moment she lost consciousness. One moment, she was moaning in pleasure and wiggling seductively under me and the next I felt her arms tense and then she started babbling about killing and I knew immediately that she was in the grips of her devil again.

I released her just at that moment but it showed no effect. I immediately recognized my error. It had been so long since I had been ambushed bodily that I had forgotten how fresh it still was for her. I growled to myself about my miscalculation and looked in horror as she did not relax or move her arms. She kept them pinned there herself, as if by some dark magic. I wondered in that moment if the fairies' dark arts hadn't had their intended effect after all, if they weren't still working her even now. I would have to consult Dr. Ludwig about whether there were still a spell on her.

And then her tensed body went slack and she was lost to my world. Only that I could hear her heart beating and shallow breaths did I restrain myself from doing something drastic. As it was, I was tempted to tear open my veins and feed her my blood. Would that undo the magic? I wondered. It hadn't yet.

Only after I had watched her for an hour, stroking her, did I feel comfortable leaving her side for a few minutes. I busied myself setting a fire in the fireplace and then I retreated to what was swiftly becoming my bedroom (to my chagrin)--far enough from Sookie's ears but not so far that I couldn't hear her and be with her instantly should she need me. I retrieved my phone from my bag.

I spoke to Dr. Ludwig, and she told me nothing different than what the demon himself had said. She'd been referring clients to him for centuries, and none had met a rapid end as a result of their work. All expressed pleasure at the results, if not at the methods. I had nodded into the phone and snapped it closed.

After emailing my attorney, I unfurled the despicable photocopy:

DEAR ABBY: In my 350 years vampire I have never met a more frustrating human than this woman I have claimed. I find myself unable to resist her charms and also unable to please her with my behavior. She does not wish to be released from me, but she also has the temerity to complain that I am not romantic. She wants me to court her. I do not understand this term.

I have done more for her than any other human companion I have ever had: I have offered to move her into my daytime resting place. I have given her a car and all the designer clothes she could desire. She no longer need work. And while she says she appreciates it, she always tells me that this does not count as wooing. What could be more courtly than accounting for her every need? She tells me she wants more of my time, but honestly, I am at a loss for how to please this perplexing woman. What is the difference between wooing her and what I have done? Why does it not please her when it has pleased others? What say you?

BE STILL MY HEART, Duluth, MN

DEAR STILL: Be glad she's not impressed by your fancy car and expensive gifts. It means she thinks of you as her beau--not her bank card.

Now, let's help you woo this lady who had captured your still heart. The first thing to understand is that you and your lady friend think of relationships differently. Vampires, as a rule, are pragmatic: When you think of caring, you think big. You think nice cars and fancy jewelry. But human women--human women who aren't golddiggers or fang-diggers--are romantics, and romantics treasure the small things. Hand written notes, flowers you picked yourself, and, most of all, your time and attention, are what make a woman feel cherished. It's not that you can't provide your lady with a car and jewelry. It's just that it comes later--after you've showered her with your affection in small ways.

In other words, you're used to going at vampire speed, but to woo a woman, you must slow down.

Here's what you do:

-- Leave the luxe at home: To you, a car is an appropriate first-date gift. To her, it's a signal that you think of her as someone who can be bought. A quality woman will bristle at such a gesture. Try something small. Pick flowers from her garden and bring her a bouquet. The fact that you took the time to gather them for her will mean more to her than any money you could spend.

--Stay home: It may be nothing to you to travel to one of the luxurious hotels catering to vampires around the world, but to her, that's a big step. If you're newly dating, start small and stick close to home. Take her to the movies. Take her dancing. Squire her around town. Show everyone you're proud to have her on your arm.

--Think of the unexpected: Everyone knows vampires have plenty of money to lavish on their human companions. That takes no real effort. What does take effort is to notice the things she loves and surround her with them.

--Date date date: It may take months for a woman to feel comfortable enough moving in with you. In the meantime, date her, meet her friends. Become a normal part of her life so she can feel comfortable having her life while having you in it.

--Observe human rituals: Vampires are not often attuned to human holidays, aside from Halloween. But to win your lady's heart, pay attention to the calendar: Her birthday, Christmas, and especially Valentine's Day are all important to remember and honor. Do you know when they are? And, though I know there are some vampire rituals that can bind humans to vampires more permanently than any human ceremony, don't poo-poo human marriage rituals. When you're ready, such a ceremony may be very important to your human lady's warm-blooded heart.

If she's a quality woman--and it sounds like she is--she'll be putty in your cold hands. The fact that you are willing to ask such a question means you're a good man and a good vampire.

ABBY

I snarled. Drivel. How could Pam read this garbage? Start small. Become part of her life. Avoid gifts! Ridiculous.

Though I had to admit: This sounded like my Sookie.

I folded the paper and placed it in my back pocket.

I found myself lost in thought as I wandered into Sookie's bedroom and began to appraise it. I strode to her bedside and began opening drawers, seeking proof. In the first, I found the note I had given her the day I arrived here this week. It seemed water-marked somehow. I sniffed it. Her tears. It had made her cry? Why did she keep it? I moved to her dresser. In the top drawer, behind her panties, I found the cards that accompanied her negligee, her coat and the gravel in her driveway.

Hmmm.

In her closet I found a box filled with little items that seemed unrelated: The brochure from her hotel stay in Dallas. Her airline tickets to Dallas and to Rhodes. A menu. A shred of ice blue satin. The invitation to Dracula's birthday. A cocktail napkin from Josephine's and one from Hair of the Dog. A wrap. Last year's Men of Fangtasia calendar. A photo of she and Compton in some church. Several hospital bracelets. A receipt for many items from a Super Walmart. An LSA sweatshirt.

The last surprised me. I picked it up and smelled it. I recognized the scent. It was mine.

And under it all, a small envelope. I opened it. It contained a note and when I opened it, a photo slid out. I almost laughed, but I didn't want to wake her. It was the photo of myself from the calendar shoot, holding my hand out to her. It was the card I'd given her when I sought to convince her to yield to me. This pleased me.

I sat on her bed and rested my face in my hands. I felt again as I had that moment last year when I had remembered every caress, peel of laughter and moment of kindness that had passed between Sookie and I when I was cursed.

I ignored the other items in the box and focused on this: This strong, willful girl was sentimental about me. I had had an effect on her. I growled to myself in victory. For a moment I reveled in Sookie's scent all around me and my fangs came down completely.

Then I pulled the paper out and looked at it again. Fangdiggers. I had known many. I thought of her worthless friend Tara, how she had accepted cars and cash and other gifts from that vile vampire Franklin Mott, and been surprised when he had passed her on to Mickey like so much cattle. I glanced back at the hateful column. I recalled the girl's broken body on the rain drenched floor, and I could not resist a smile.

That night, Sookie told me what we had been to each other during those missing days.

We had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn't. We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you ever had.... You offered to give up your position as sheriff and come live with me. And get a job.

A low rumbling of laughter shook my chest. She had been so proud when she had said it, so superior. She had loved having some power over me. I shook my head. If she only knew how much power she possessed...

Then I grew grave. Power, indeed. Power enough to shame me in front of the demon this night, to rescind our bond if not my invitation. My Sookie.

Was she even my Sookie?

Though I would not acknowledge such doubt to any other creature, tonight's meeting with the demon therapist disturbed me greatly. She hated out bond--the bond I had worked so hard to nurture. She wished it cut down and I wondered if she wished it destroyed forever. Would she rather be rid of me for good? No. I would not allow the thought. I looked in the box and at my photo.

She is mine and she will be mine.

At least I held some ground this night: She could not rescind my invitation during our time together and I doubted she would threaten it anymore, since I knew it to be an idle threat. All I had to do to achieve it was give up the bond I'd crafted so carefully. The whole experience had been distasteful. The rejection cut through me like a stake and I growled lowly in my chest.

There are worse vampires to be bonded to. Indeed, I thought with disgust, images of Mickey, wet with rain, shaking Tara like a drained body, flashing through my mind. I shook my head.

Don't you dare think of saying no or so help me I will rescind your invitation right now. In front of the demon, no less. I wondered at my weakness for this human. At one point, I could have killed her and been free of this obsession, but I was sure now that moment had now passed.

The look of rage in her eyes had been so intense when she had threatened my access to her home. She has no fear, I marveled again. She is still so naive about my world. I wondered when she would understand, and when she did, if she would stay. I rubbed my hand over my chin and flipped open my phone.

"Fangtasia, the bar with bite." My child's tone dripped with disinterest. I was already predisposed to dark temper and this did nothing to aid my mood. I had admonished her to imbue her greeting with a bit of venom countless times.

"Now that's no way to greet the vermin," I said threateningly into the receiver. This night I would take no impertinence from my child. It was bad enough to suffer it at the hand of my Bonded.

"Master. How is our favorite telepath?"

"Asleep," I said shortly. "By dawn I expect to have all the columns you have on wooing humans and human-vampire relations in my inbox. Scan them if you must, but you may also include links."

"Well it's about time," she deadpanned. "Am I--"

"I'm warning you, Pam," I growled.

"Of course Master."

"And send a list of all important human holidays. Do we have a record of Sookie's birthday?"

"I will have to check, Master, but I don't expect so."

I nodded. I pulled her Men of Fangtasia calendar out of the box and flipped through it. Ah, there it is. March 30, marked in her jagged handwriting.

"Nevermind. Have there been any messages? Any contact by de Castro or Madden? Sandy?"

"Of course not, Master," she said. "I would have called immediately, as you requested."

"Very good. Good night Pam."

"Oh and Master?"

"Yes?"

"Dear Abby says you should be 'open and honest' with your paramour--that's what humans call their bondeds. Vampires often err on the side of secrecy, but she says it wins a human's heart faster when they feel you are as open with them as they are with you. Though of course, in our Sookie's case, that's not very open."

I scowled at the phone.

"I will have those columns for you by dawn, Master. Give her a squeeze for me," she purred.

I hung up.

***

Studying Sookie's limp frame, I covered her with my robe and then propped her head on that disgusting afghan. I had planned to replace it, perhaps with something cashmere since she enjoyed my robe so much, but it appeared now I would be forced to wait. Wooing rituals, indeed. I petted her temple, attempting to comfort her.

I chuckled sardonically.

"Brynhildr," I whispered in my first tongue. "Valkyrie, shieldmaiden." I sat next to her sleeping form, playing with her hair restrained in its high ponytail. It seemed impossible that the task of winning my Sookie should become rockier, but I feared it just had.

In my first tongue, I recited a poem from my human life:

From sunrise to sundown no paragon had she.

All boundless as her beauty was her strength peerless too,

An evil plight hung o'er the knight who dared her love to woo.

For he must try three bouts with her; the whirling spear to fling;

To pitch the massive stone; and then to follow with a spring;

And should he beat in every feat his wooing well has sped,

But he who fails must lose his love, and likewise lose his head.

Sookie's POV

My side felt warm, almost hot, and dry. I could hear my own breathing and some kind or crackling, but that was all. I opened and closed my mouth carefully. It felt sticky and dry. I turned my head and tested my neck. It would be bruised from strangling.

It didn't hurt. I took a deep breath. It was smoky and warm and smelled like Gran's biscuits and something dry and cool and delicious. I curled toward the warmth instinctively and felt a whisper of a hand over my cheek.

A voice said something in a language I didn't now.

I froze, and couldn't breathe. The voice came from behind me and suddenly I felt enveloped in a cool, strong embrace. I didn't realize I was shivering until I felt his arms on me and they helped still me. I opened my eyes and they came into focus on my fireplace. I recognized the soot-covered red bricks at the top and the chipped tile from when Jason and I had wrestled as kids. I looked down and my afghan was curled under my head as a pillow. I slowly understood where I was. The fire warmed my face and dried my tears almost as soon as they dripped from my eyes.

"Oh thank goodness," I sighed. "Praise the lord."

I was still shivering, and I pulled the blanket on top of me tighter against my mouth. It was so soft. I looked down and realized it wasn't a blanket at all, but Eric's soft white robe.

And then the evening came back to me: The doctor's visit. I might get better fast. I might not have these fits much longer. It had been music to my ears and I almost smiled at the memory. Eric gave permission (ha!) for my friends to visit, if I had any left. Eric was to help me go... outside. A tremor of fear added to the shivers I was already feeling. He was to "lay with me" as often as possible. Oh my god, I'd said I wanted to light-tight a room. In front of the doctor! And I'd been excited! I'd said there were worse vampires to be bonded to. I groaned to myself. Worse indeed. Here he'd lit a fire and was taking care of me and I treated him like the lesser of two evils. Absently I remembered that he had been in that moment. He'd saved me and suckered me all at once.

And then I remembered the worst part. We'd been teasing each other, having a playful moment for once, and I'd fallen out. Again. Lord have mercy but I was a mess! Just call me Fainting Fanny. I thought back shakily: I'd collapsed just about every night since he'd been here. I'd screamed at him last night. I'd yelled at him tonight in front of Dr. Gumby. And then when he was teasing me, when we were being playful and I was having a moment of peace, I'd gone and had another attack and passed out. Well hell.

A cold terror shot through me and I knew it in my bones, as a cold, hard truth. I was too much trouble. He would leave. He'd get tired of my terrors and my anger--no matter how justified--and he'd pack away this lovely robe and his big suitcase and that stupid sword, and he'd never come back. I'd lose him. I was in a million emotional pieces all over again.

I couldn't have that. I had to do something.

I made to turn to him. I had to apologize. I had to do something to show him that I wanted him here. The thought was irrational and I knew it. And I knew when I was healthy again, I'd regret it, but just now it seemed like if I lost him I would disappear, and I had enough drive to live that I couldn't accept that.

"Be still, lover," he said, kissing my shoulder. I shrank away from his kisses, confused. "You've had a shock."

"Please, Eric," I whispered, shaking. I was crying again and I turned my face toward him, offering him my tears, offering anything so I could keep him, just a while longer. "Please. I need you." Please don't leave. I couldn't say it. My pride wouldn't allow it. I sighed and a shiver racked my body.

He opened his arms and allowed me to turn into his chest, tangling my legs with his to get as close as possible. I felt him on every inch of me, even through the robe, and I felt my lungs catching. I couldn't get enough air. I couldn't get enough of him. I reached my arms around him and clinched tightly, just shaking and shivering and needing, needing.

"Hold me close," I mouthed, but I knew he could hear me. I rubbed my face on his chest and knew I'd just ruined another of his shirts. I felt his chest expand as he breathed in my scent, rubbing his hands in long strokes down my back and into my hair. Safe, safe, safe, I thought over and over. It was calming. I was so sorry for what I had done to him.

He shushed me, smoothing my hair, and then, out of nowhere, he began speaking. I eased into the feel of his chest rumbling soothingly against my ear. This closeness, feeling his voice vibrate through me, I knew he was here, and would listen to anything to keep hearing it.

But what he said shocked the hell out of me.

"When I'd been vampire about 50 years, I was ambushed by a rival nest of vampires," Eric whispered, stroking my exposed neck with his cool fingertips. "At that time, most vampires were warriors, like me. We needed to be. It was a very different time for our kind. We went to ground every day and roamed the dark woods, dirty and starving."

The thought of Eric ever hiding and hunting through the woods shocked me. I couldn't imagine him without his Corvette and cocky swagger.

"There were fewer people then and the vampires that survived were ruthless. They--we--thought nothing of destroying our own kind to secure a meal for the night. I knew many food-weak vampires then.

"I was still with my maker, and had been assigned to bring meals back, one for each of us," he said softly, kissing my hair. I bristled. I knew what he meant. McPeople. Except it was no happy meal, not for the humans at least. I felt the bile rise in my throat and I tensed to hold it down. "We thought of them only as food, Sookie. At the time, vampires were very different kinds of creatures, and so was our relationship with humans. There was no room for any thoughts or feelings other than survival. Every night ran the very real risk of being my final.

"The men I came upon that night were rogues, thieves who were themselves hiding in the wood waiting for travelers they could rob and kill, perhaps kidnap for ransom. I flew down on them from the trees and carried them quickly toward my maker's nest, the urge to please him uncontrollable and my hunger great.

"I was nearly back to our nest, a spot in a cave, when I felt the lash of silver on my skin for the first time." I flinched at the image of my big, strong Viking falling to earth, feeling that pain. I'd seen those red marks criss-crossing his face before. I'd seen what it had done to Bill, and I knew it was nothing to take lightly. But Eric just stroked my back soothingly and said all this coolly, like he was reporting the weather. "I was so close to the nest that I'd let down my guard, ceased my usual surveillance, and I found myself in searing pain and fallen to the ground.

"The men I'd captured were quickly taken from me. My hunger and rage were great, but they were no match for the five vampires that had taken me. They were ancient and very very strong. They acted on a code of behavior even more brutal than my own. They were from a time when vampires were nothing but scavengers. They'd made an existence for themselves not out of hunting their food but of hunting the young who procured it--and then torturing those vampire and taking their food. They strapped me to a boulder and wrapped me with silver and forced me to watch as they fed from those men. They stabbed me with silver tipped swords, waiting for the wounds to close before doing it again."

It was almost too much to hear. The memory of silver tipped teeth made me shake again and I began sobbing. I shook my head into Eric's big, cool chest. I had the irrational desire to throw my ponytail to the side and offer him my neck, as if that could make up for that centuries-old hunger.

"I heard them deciding whether to leave me strapped to the rock to meet the sun," Eric continued softly, brushing his lips against my temple, calming me. "I had never felt so helpless, Sookie. Not in my human life and not since becoming vampire. My survival depended completely upon them. My maker did not come for me. He was cruel. I have told you of him, yes?"

I nodded.

"When the men had left and I was yet strapped to that rock, and dawn was approaching, my maker finally arrived. Using his cloak to protect his hands, he removed the silver from me and carried me to the cave, where I lay useless for several nights, waiting for the silver to leave my system. All that time, my maker berated me to never let down my guard again. He taught me that the attack we most had to fear was ambush--not war. He trained me to watch, to heed any changes in my surroundings. I survived many future attacks because of that training. But I never wanted you to have to experience it."

The thought of Eric being tortured, of not being saved by his maker, of being made to suffer on purpose, sent me over the edge and I began swatting at his chest and shaking harder.

"Why... why are you telling me this?" I could tell I was blubbering but I couldn't do a thing about it. "You weren't... You weren't trying to teach me a lesson, were you? I... I didn't think you were that cruel. I... don't understand."

I sobbed loudly and not just for myself, but I couldn't think about that right then. I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. Eric turned me and laid me on my back so I could breathe.

"Shhhh," he said quietly. "Shhh. No, I'm not that cruel, not to you, anyway." Here he let out a strangled laugh. "I didn't leave you to suffer. I came for you as quickly as I could. I would have torn through the heavens to reach you."

He was caressing my face now and I could hardly take it.

"I tell you this... because I want you to know that even the strongest, even trained warriors and vampires, are caught unaware, are taken and tortured and powerless at times. You should think no less of yourself for it."

Yeah, well, shoulda coulda woulda. I felt the dead thing in me stir and rattle me from the inside out.

"I know what it feels like, my lover: To be abandoned. To be tortured," he said softly as he kissed me. "I know it doesn't look that way. My body heals, carries none of the marks. For some, that makes a vampire all the more fun to torture. They can do the same thing over and over again because we heal so quickly."

I pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes. His blue eyes were burning, boring into me with something strong in them, something strong and soft that I couldn't place. And remorse. I studied him for a long while, seeing him in his vampire youth (if you could call 50 years young--and you could, when you were talking about Eric). I'd seen a look of terror and confusion in his eyes before, when he had nothing to cling to. The thought that his maker had done that to him on purpose just chapped my hide. The idea that someone would cut the same spot over and over just to cause more suffering--well, I'd felt it but I could hardly match that with the flawless vampire in front of me right now.

Realization dawned just then and I reached up to kiss him. I'd never thought of it. It had never occurred to me that his smooth strong skin had ever been hurt, not seriously. He healed so fast it couldn't have really been painful, I'd thought. It had never occurred to me that pain was pain whether it was fast or slow. His cool skin seemed impenetrable. It just didn't show it. It hid it better than my body could.

I furrowed my brow at him and looked him deep in his eyes for a long time. If I could have, I would have pressed my mind into him and... I don't know what. So instead I just kissed him again, pressing harder with my lips.

When I pulled back, he was gazing at me, a blank expression on his face, but his brows a little furrowed. Slowly I leaned over to him, lifting his shirt, and he allowed me to remove it.

I ran my hands down his chest to his stomach and studied it. This flesh, I thought as I examined it in the firelight--this flesh has known pain and suffering. It has been out of control, helpless. I could hardly believe it. I kissed his collarbone.

"Show me where," I whispered, and looked into his eyes.

He watched my face intently and I felt like I were in a petri dish suddenly. Then he took my hand in his big, cool one. We both turned to watch the progress of my fingers. They landed on the side on his abdomen, near his perfect stomach muscles.

"This spot they liked especially," he said, a quiet coolness in his voice that hadn't been there before.

He ran my fingertips over one muscle in particular, over and over again. If he were human, getting stabbed just there probably would have pierced his liver, nicked his intestine, maybe been enough to kill him, slowly and painfully. As it was, he had no use for those organs anymore. But feeling it... That was something else. "They stabbed this spot over and over, letting it heal and then breaking it open again."

I knew what it felt like to be healing and then broken open over and over again. My stitches burned suddenly in sympathy. Before I could think about it, I leaned down and kissed the spot softly, running my tongue over it and his fingers. It felt smooth and perfect. It was hard to believe it had ever been torn.

I looked up and Eric was gazing at me with blank astonishment, almost suspicious. He looked at me for a long moment. Finally, he blinked and twitched a little and then moved his hand up, mine with it, to just over his heart, above his beautiful brown nipple. It was a spot I knew well. It was were he'd cut himself in Rhodes and asked me to drink. It's where he'd cemented our bond.

He rubbed my finger over his smooth pec tracing a line about an inch thick. I looked up at him and his brow was furrowed, his eyes clouded.

"They left this spot open," he started softly. "The rest of my chest was covered with silver. But here they left open and they delighted in plunging the knife in, placing it between the ribs. They shoved it deep and it came through my back."

Now it was my turn to be astonished. I didn't know much about stabbings other than what I saw on CSI, but I was sure that in humans, that would be a death blow. He said it so coolly, it was hard to believe that it had happened to his own body. I looked in his eyes, studying him.

I leaned down and licked the spot, watching him. My free hand ran around his back. I kissed the spot again and murmured against his flesh, pressing with my fingers on his back, "Is this where it came through?"

Eric seemed to be holding his breath, though I knew that was just plain impossible. He was looking at me with that expressionless gaze again, studying me. Finally he said, "A little lower."

I moved my fingers and he nodded.

I kissed again. "Turn over."

He obliged and I found the spot I was holding with my fingers and kissed it. "That right?"

"Yes," he said, his voice a little strangled.

"Where else?"

He raised up again and looked at me, cupping my cheek in his palm. I turned my head slightly to kiss it. "Where else?" I repeated.

He seemed to consider for a moment whether to tell me any more. But then he slowly curled his hand into a fist before me and held his knuckles up for my view. I shivered. Calvin Norris's mangled hand flashed through my mind and I felt nauseous. I took his big hand in both of mine and I looked up at him. I knew my face was painted with horror.

"Your hand?" I asked, though of course I knew the answer. His look was growing stranger by the moment.

He nodded and held up the other one, too,looking at it like he was trying to decide if he needed a manicure. He didn't fool me for a second. "Both of them."

I began kissing each knuckle carefully, tenderly. I'd seen what it looked like. I'd heard the yelps and seen the color drain from Calvin's face. I knew what torture it was. I was still kissing, but my eyes grew cloudy and I knew I would start crying at any moment. I remembered the snap of my bones, the creaking of them, and the joy the Things had taken in those sounds. I started sniffling against his hand.

I looked up at him, barely seeing and let out a strangled sob. I pressed his hand into my eyes to cover them. I could hardly speak. You'd think after what I'd been through, I'd believe beings were capable of any cruelty, but this shocked me.

"They... they did it more than once?"

His brow was heavy and his eyes were nothing but blue slits now. He looked dangerous suddenly. But somehow, I knew he wasn't mad at me, that no matter how much he suffered, he'd never take it out on me. I don't know why I believed it now, after everything, I believed it. But I did.

He nodded.

I finished with one hand and lifted the other to my mouth, kissing his fingertips and then his palm before flipping his hand over and starting on his knuckles.

"They knew I couldn't struggle if my hands were healing," he whispered as he watched my ministrations intently, his voice cool. "Bones knitting back together hurt more than flesh closing. You... You know the feeling."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded against his cold hand anyway.

When I was done, I laid his hand back on his chest and he just looked at me, and I'll be damned if Eric Northman didn't look unsure. I ran my hand along his cheekbone and he twitched. I was grateful I didn't know what he was thinking, but I couldn't help wanting a little glimpse. "More?" I asked, kissing him softly on his lips.

He took his hand away and I watched as he moved it to his neck, right over his big vein there. I looked at him in surprise.

"There?"

He nodded.

"They knew I was weak from hunger and that cutting me would make me weaker still."

I ran fingernails over the spot. It didn't pulse--his heart didn't beat--but it plumped out under the pressure of my fingers nonetheless. I cocked my head, studying the spot, and felt him shiver. This spot had been such a source of pleasure for me--and for him, I was sure of it. How odd that it had been used in such a cruel way. I felt like a vampire for thinking it, but I couldn't help regretting the waste of his blood.

I looked into his eyes, and I knew I was blushing. "Did you lose a lot of blood?"

He captured my fingers and held them there. I felt and saw him nod. I nodded back, serious. I'd been strangled. I knew what it felt like to have your neck crushed. I leaned down and replaced my fingers with my mouth, sucking just a little.

That elicited a groan from him and from me.

And just like that, I was laying on top of him and he was pulling my shirt over my head. Once it was off, I pressed up against his chest and looked him in the eyes.

"Where else?" I asked it softly, not wanting to dredge up more memories for him, but I somehow found that I had to know. I had to know how broken he had been, had to know how he'd gotten better.

He reached up and unclasped my bra and it sagged off my shoulders, my breasts falling forward out of the lacy cups. He reached up and tugged lightly at my hair band, releasing my hair as well. It fell loose and it felt so nice to have it free I shook it.

"Where?" I asked. I knew this was the last chance, that soon I wouldn't be able to think, and I had to know.

He reached up and traced a spot from his eye to his mouth, a big arch. I placed a hand on his cheek, taking his fingers in mine. "Your face?" I asked, unable, unwilling to stop myself. I felt myself tear up. I knew what it felt like for your face to be black and blue and crusted with blood. "You're beautiful face?"

He nodded, ever unreadable. I leaned down and the bra straps fell to my elbows. I quickly raised my arm and let it fall completely, throwing it onto the couch. I settled over him, my mouth caressing his eyelid. I kissed him, soft, feather-light kisses from the corner of his eye to his mouth. I felt something warm and intense well in me. They'd hurt my baby, was all I could think as I kissed him over and over again. Unaccountably, I wanted them to suffer. Needed them to. I knew that made me a bad Christian, that I should want to turn the other cheek and forgive their trespasses, but I was clean out of forgiveness just now.

And then I was just kissing him, in long, soft, slow kisses that made me tingle and move a little on him, and he was kissing back. I wrapped my arms around his head, cocooning him, keeping him close and as safe as my frail human body could. My body temperature shot up about 10 degrees.

"Even after all these years, you never forget?" I whispered against his mouth. I dreaded the question, but I had to know. Would I always think of my body as a war zone? Would I ever be able to feel just pleasure in those spots again?

I felt him shake his head. "In my thousand years, the memory has faded but it does not disappear," he murmured against my mouth between soft kisses. I felt myself panting against him and almost couldn't care about his answer now. "Perhaps because I am vampire... and the healing was swift... and my retribution was final..." Here he smiled against my mouth and I couldn't help but be proud of him. "... I took it as a lesson. I don't... Ugh." His hips bucked into me.

For a moment, I was lost in the sensation of it, of his mouth and his body being so strong. It calmed me in a way I could never have imagined. He'd been through awful things, and he was strong and vital. And what he was doing to me made me feel the same--at least the vital part. I shivered, my nipples chill against his cool chest, my side burning with the heat of the fire, the rest of me rocked with a zing of pure pleasure. I began doing some moving of my own.

Just when I thought I couldn't care less about anything else, he pulled my face back with both his hands and looked at me squarely in the eye, passion playing with fierceness in his eyes. He reached his head up and kissed me hard on the lips.

"I don't want to forget, and neither should you, Sookie," he said seriously, nipping at my lower lip with his fangs out. "I want to remember and let every future would-be attacker suffer the pain those vampires escaped that first night."

He raised an eyebrow. A challenge. I knew if it were working, he'd be sending strength and rage and determination through the bond. He wanted me to do the same. He wanted this pain to make me stronger. I searched his eyes.

"I'm not sure I'm strong enough, Eric," I answered his unspoken question, barely a whisper. I let my gaze drop to his Adam's apple. "I'm just human. I'm more... breakable than you." I'm broken, I'm damaged goods, I wanted to say. I'll never be the same again.

And just in that moment, I felt more broken than I had in days. I pressed my cheek to his chest and felt all the power leave me. I just melted into his cool body, shivering a little.

"You are," he murmured into my hair, kissing me. His fingers traced patterns down my bare back that made me shiver. "You are, dear heart. You have no idea your strength."

I felt his body tense with conviction and I wished I deserved such faith. It was such an odd sensation I wondered if the bond hadn't opened, just a little bit. His mouth found my head and kissed me there and he held me to him tightly. I let out a deep breath I didn't know I had been holding, feeling unaccountably safe and right in his arms.

I don't know how long we laid like that, but it was so sweet I wanted to stay there forever. My mind cleared for what seemed like the first time and I just relaxed into him.

Eventually, my mind started working again and I found myself enjoying the strength, the toughness of him. And to know... Oh, to know that he had suffered, too, that he had had no control over this glorious body... I could suddenly see why he had wanted to kiss me... there... that first night, and the next. I ran my hands down his sides, my cheek still pressed against his unbreathing chest, and grasped at what I could reach of his butt.

"You are so beautiful," I whispered to him, shivering a little at what his hands were doing to my rear. I turned and reached for a nipple, sucking it into my mouth and biting just a little. He moaned approvingly. My hips began moving against him and his fingers grasped tighter, slipping between my legs in a sweet, slow rhythm.

My warrior, my brave, strong warrior, I wanted to say, but it was just a passing fancy, so I let it go. Instead I said, "Your body is beautiful. You are so strong--stronger having been through all that. I... I love your body."

I felt Eric grow still for a second and then a light chuckle came from his chest, moving me up and down on him in a delicious way.

"Oh, my lover," he growled softly in my ear. "Do you wish to honor what this old body has suffered? There is much more, you know."

He pulled me back to look me in the eye with that mischievous glint. He raised an eyebrow. Oh, he was loving this.

And in a way, so was I. Eric's cockiness was reassuring after that tale. I leaned in and bit softly at his collarbone. He groaned and pressed into me. I felt his gracious plenty growing hard against my thigh.

I leaned up against him, straddling him effortlessly (hallelujah for that).

He reached up and traced my collarbone to the nipple of one breast. It hardened under his touch and I stifled a gasp. He traced up to a pink half circle near it, the remnant of one of the thing's bites, and looked in my eye.

"Gorgeous," he breathed. Suddenly, he was sitting up and holding me to him closely, kissing that scar. I could hardly breathe with wanting him. I pressed up and into his cool mouth, offering my nipple. He took it softly at first, sucking with the barest of pressure. And then a little harder, and harder still until I was falling against him with every suck, pressing hard into him. His fangs grazed me and I groaned. I could feel the pleasure building, bouncing up and down my body to the bundle of nerves down south. I sighed in relief and joy.

I never wanted to leave his arms and I was so grateful that he was still here, that I hadn't driven him away just yet. And for him to share all that with me--I knew it wasn't easy, what with his vampire secrecy and all. I pulled back from him, sad to lose his mouth on my nipple, but determined to honor his body in some way similar to how he had honored mine.

I pressed him, indicating I wanted him to lay back and he did. His hands ran roughly up my sides, watching me intently, his eyes hooded and lethal-looking. I fell forward on him, rubbing myself against his chest and holding his hands down. I slipped them under my knees, to hold them still. He wrapped his big hands around them and began rubbing lightly.

"Let me, Eric," I breathed against his mouth, before I pressed my lips and tongue against him, tickling his tongue with my own, swirling around one fang and then the other. He growled deep in his chest and I felt it everywhere.

He just lay still. I kissed again at where his scar had been on his face. Pressing lightly and gently, wishing I could go back in time and heal it, that my blood was strong enough to do that.

And so I explored his body, stopping at all the spots I knew he'd been hurt. I kissed along his neck, sucking there for a bit, enjoying his pungent, dry scent against my nose and mouth and teeth. I kissed to his shoulder, where I remember it had been slashed by the fairy when Eric had defended me in Dr. Ludwig's hospital. I kissed back to his nipple and the spot where they'd skewered him over and over again.

I turned him on his stomach gently and kissed around his shoulders, loving his muscles under his skin as I traveled down his spine and over to the spot where the sword had pierced through. I kissed and sucked there and massaged with my hands at his sides and shoulders softly.

I knew there were countless battles in his undead life, and that likely he had experienced some small gashes and bites at them all. I paid attention to all his soft parts and licked along his side till he was back on his back and I could reach the first spot he showed me. I was inching down and couldn't resist kissing on his strong abs and the v that led to his very strained jeans.

I looked up to see Eric watching me with tender eyes rimmed with red.

"You know," was all he said. I leaned up and kissed him tenderly, slowly and then deeply on the lips for a long while.

"Yes," I finally said, and kissed each of his eyes while I reached down and started unbuckling his pants. I kissed that side of his mouth again, the side where he'd been sliced. I shivered remembering how I'd been sliced, and remembering the little red swirls Eric had given me as a gift.

I straightened up and took his hand and placed it on my face. I kissed the palm and sucked at his thumb and then looked at him.

"Watch me," I said and sighed deeply as I finally got his jeans unzipped.

In no time his jeans were off and I was nestled between his legs. He'd gone commando, even to our therapy appointment, and I had to smile at that. But only for a second because then I was busy kissing and licking his hipbones down to his thighs. These strong legs, I thought, feeling his cool skin and the muscles rhythmically tense and release underneath it. They had carried him far. My hands were busy running up over his skin, memorizing it, relishing it, and my eyes were intent on Eric's, because I knew he'd like that.

He was playing with my hair, moving it around, flipping it this way and that, caressing my face. A few times it looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but he didn't and I was too covered in his scent and worked up by his body to question it.

I kissed around, between his legs and and onto the soft skin of his inner thighs. I nuzzled into the soft, golden curls. If it were possible, he smelled good even there. I guess it's like Bill once told me: No bacteria, no smell. But it was not proper to think of one man when I was with another so I just focused back on the beautiful body under me and began nibbling and tickling until finally, I licked the base of his gracious plenty and nuzzled into his balls beneath.

He growled softly and it ignited a flush and a rush in me that made me quake.

My warrior, I wanted to say again, and I almost did. But then it caught in my throat and a blush covered me. Then my mouth was busy with other things.

He groaned in relief and watched me more determinedly than ever as I licked and suckled and caressed the soft cool skin here, taking his tip into my mouth. I'd done this with him before, a few times, I remembered with no small amount of lust. But this was somehow different. It was like I was making love to a different creature, like we were back in that cave, and he were still healing.

It might have seemed like that to him, too, because I'd never seen this look on his face before. It was like he was memorizing me, like I was a wonder to behold. I knew that couldn't be the case after all the years he'd been on this earth and all the women he'd been with. But I couldn't shake that impression, and I suppose I didn't want to. I could live with that illusion a little longer, I decided with the small part of my brain that could think about anything but the feel and taste of him just now.

And then the thought passed and I concentrated on taking every strong feeling I'd had toward him--all the rage and the sorrow and fear and lust and need, especially need, and tenderness and this new fierceness I felt toward him--and tried to express it with my mouth and hands. I pressed him deeper into me than I ever had before. I sucked harder and swirled my tongue and was rewarded with tiny and then not so tiny gasps and growls. They lit a fire in me and I felt like that fire in the fireplace had hopped right over to me and would consume me in a second. I loved this. It was all I could think. I love this. I love this. I love... this.

"S... Sookie," he groaned. His hips were rocking into me and his stomach muscles were rippling in the sexiest way I could imagine. My fingers ran from his hips, over his belly and then down, tickling and massaging his balls. He sucked in an unnecessary breath and watched.

"Yes... You..." he groaned. "I..."

And then he lost his ability to speak.

I moved faster, found myself rubbing my thighs together desperately as his movements and sounds escalated, taking me right along with him. I opened my mouth wider to take more of him, wanting all of him that I could get.

His hand was now curled around my hair and guiding my motions. His legs had spread wide and he was up on an elbow, watching me, nearly snarling, and I'd never felt so powerful. I moved more quickly in time with his thrusts, a surge of strength spasming through me. I moaned against him, long and low, nearly sobbing with it.

And just like that, I felt his balls tighten and his head swell and I sucked as hard as I could, massaging my hand on him to draw out as much of him as I could get. I moaned again and he shuddered and twitched and groaned out loud.

"S-sookie! Ah, mine!"

I heard him as if he were far away. He might have been done, but I wasn't. I continued to lick and suckle and nuzzle against him, not wanting to give him up just yet. My hands glided around his hips to his award-winning butt, stroking him like he were a beast to be soothed. I felt him catch my hand in his. He laced his fingers with mine. It was such a human gesture I had to peer up. I was vibrating with need, not nearly sated.

He pulled my hand to his mouth, kissed it and then grazed it with his fangs. I felt a small prick and then him sucking my finger and I nearly came unraveled around him. I moaned against him and he stirred back to life. I chuckled to myself. Yes, the rest of him might be dead, but this part? It certainly was not.

"Perfect," he murmured as he sucked my fingertips into his mouth and rubbed my hand against his face. I almost wished he would stop saying things like that to me, since I knew it couldn't be fact. But it did my wrecked female pride good so I just held onto it as another small gift.

I peered up at him and he had that kind of abandoned, relaxed look he'd had when he'd been cursed. I couldn't believe his sweetness. That thought, this feeling, this oddly familiar moment in front of the fireplace, made me want all of him again and I began moving my mouth on him in earnest. I couldn't say what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I just let myself be carried on this wave of lust and emotion, enjoying the ride, and enjoying him, not wanting it to end.

He let me go a while longer, until he was completely hard and throbbing again against my lips. And then he pulled me up as if I were a ragdoll, pulling me to curl me in his lap, caressing my side and my breasts and my belly and between my legs. I sobbed with need when he did that and threw my head back. But he was only teasing and he wanted my attention, so he pulled his fingers away. I looked up, dazed, and he was looking at me with such... I'd almost say devotion, but I didn't know what that looked like on his face and it was a crazy thought anyway, my mind was so clouded by lust... I almost didn't dare breathe.

He ran his fingers over my lips and studied them carefully for a long while before pulling me to him and taking my lips with his. He was soft and teasing, languorous (I think that's the right word; sounds right) and slow. And so sweet. Sweeter than I'd ever seen him, felt him. He held my chin with his fingers, keeping me to him, as if I wanted to go anywhere else.

My fingers played along his neck and into his hair. Something shifted inside me with a thunk and I sobbed. But I fought hard and I kept it in check, refusing to let the tears fall and ruin this. I beat back the dead thing to stay in my vampire's embrace, just a little while longer.

"So," he started softly, looking into my eyes. "You wish to be wooed."

It wasn't a question, not exactly, but it seemed like one by the way he was studying my face. Just the thought of it conjured images of Eric in a bow tie and high waters, with a bouquet of grocery-store flowers in his hand. I imagined him tugging at his collar nervously. The image made me smile broadly and laugh despite myself. Eric's gaze turned blank at that and I thought I must have just offended him.

I brought my fingers to his lips and traced them, kissing lightly. I was so confused just then, and I'm sure the look in my eye showed it. What did it mean if he wooed me? Did it mean that this was something, that what we were doing here was more than comforting one another? I felt a deep, old pain well up and ripple through me, and I couldn't consider it just now. I shoved it aside.

If it meant I could have more of Eric, like this, I would do it, damn the consequences. My heart protested but I just nodded and focused on his lips, kissing him.

I looked up at him and couldn't say what he saw in my eyes. Whatever it was, he frowned for a moment and then kissed me again.

"Then you shall be. Starting tomorrow night," he said, certain.

And then his hand reached down and started stroking my stomach, his fingers teasing under the band of the jeans I'd forgotten I was wearing. They were low and when he reached, his long fingers stroked a very sensitive spot. My breathing caught and Eric chuckled his menacing chuckle. My body thrilled to the sound.

He leaned me over and growled against my ear, "But for now, lover, I believe you are overdressed."

A/N: The poem in Eric's POV is another real one, this one called the "Niflung" in Old Norsk. It's about Bynhildr, a female warrior and handmaiden of Odin. I thought that was appropriate for our telepath. And the last line was perfect for our Viking!

Tell me what you think, if you made it all the way through.