Eric held her in his arms. He wasn't remotely fond of humans' irrepressible ability to cry, but Rio's weeping was different than what he remembered of her mother's tears; Rio cried like a thunderstorm, full of gray clouds and lightning. Eric relished the wildness of Louisiana storms—not hurricanes, of course, which were damaging to business, but all the crashing and booming suited his temperament. Lots of show backed up with lots of power.

As he held her, Eric's thoughts cast back over the past few days—had it only been days? With Ailling dead and the bar destroyed, he would be free to return to Louisiana. Oh, the King would likely huff and puff a bit, but with Sandy never receiving his report, and Filipe knowing nothing of Rio, it would likely be a simple conversation to convince the King that this particular ill wind had never blown any good—or whatever that strange human expression was. With Lander to blame for all the mess and no one to prove any different, Eric could go home with his reputation intact. He wanted Rio to come with him; no matter how long it took to convince her, he would not leave without her. He loved her and he would never let her face Niall alone.

When Rio had finally exhausted herself and was reduced to snuffling, Eric's shirt was soaked. He put a finger under her chin and tipped up her face. Even in the aftermath of such emotion, she was lovely—not at all red or puffy, just… wet. But wet like leaves after a summer shower, her eyes shimmering liquidly like dripping ferns and vines.

With aching tenderness, Eric kissed Rio's face dry. Her lashes, black and spiked with her tears, lay on her delicate cheekbones and he licked them dry as well. Her lips were reddened by sobbing, and he kissed each corner of her mouth.

He lay back on the big couch, pulling her on top of him. He stroked her back like he was calming an orphaned animal, humming in his chest to soothe her. She lay on him limply. As the vibrations from inside him began to fill her up, she lifted her hand to his face, letting one finger trace the nobility of his brow and nose, the sculpted perfection of his mouth, the strong set of his chin. She noticed when his crooning became his rumble of joy and arousal, and she shifted enough to unbutton his shirt.

Slipping her hand inside, Rio gently scratched his smooth, marble skin through his blond chest hair. Eric sighed and slipped his own hand down her dress, but his fingers were slow and gentle. She felt him growing hard under her and unzipped his jeans to free him. She hitched up one leg and slid onto him, and they lay connected together while exploring each other's skin with unhurried care.

Neither of them knew which one felt their mounting need first. Eric held Rio and rolled them onto their sides, and she lifted her leg to rest on his hip. They moved against each other, and the love they made was meltingly tender. They came with whispers, not screams, and sighed their finish into each other's mouths.

"I love you, my Fairest," Eric said simply.

"And I you, Eric," Rio echoed.

Eric shivered—it was the first time outside of sex she had called him by his name—and pressed against her, drawing her tight to him. He had lost all the others; this one he would never let go.

Eric rubbed his cheek on her shoulder. Up on the couch's back, he saw her hat, with the bronze figures he had noticed from the first, gleaming dully on their leather thong. He pulled it closer to study, and asked her what they were.

Rio touched the little figures with reverence. "Each was given me by my teachers. Kind of like a graduation gift, I guess. This one you know already"—she touched one charm, and Eric could see it resembled a sword—oddly, he did feel as if he knew it, but in a different way than she meant… "I got it when I mastered the element of fire (he thought she had certainly mastered him, but he didn't interrupt). This"—here she fingered what appeared to be a tiny cup—"when I mastered water. This one"—Eric thought from the catch in her voice that she might cry again as she touched three linked circles—"is the stages of womanhood. I got it when I first menstruated and was taught the arts of love making."

Eric touched a finger to the circles too, and said, "You must have been a star pupil."

She smiled wistfully, and turned the hat so he could see a five-pointed charm: "Actually, the star is for love, for uniting the spirit under all the elements. It is sort of my PhD." She hesitated and said brokenly, "Niall gave it to me."

Eric looked at her, feeling his tenderness for her fill him with caring and concern. He had not felt these things in a long time, and he did not take them for granted.

"I would have you with me," Eric's words startled him, but he knew he was speaking his heart. He sat up, taking her hand and holding it over the center of his chest. "Rio, I know my heart no longer beats, but in my spirit, it beats for you."

Her eyes turned every shade of green he had ever seen. She whispered, "Eric…"

She made his name sound like a song only she could sing.

"You saved me." Eric said.

"I had to," Rio shrugged.

"Share blood with me," he said.

Rio's eyes dilated. "I can't! You know I… can't."

That stung Eric and he hung his head, "You don't love me then." It wasn't a question.

Rio's hands flew to cradle his face, "Oh but I do. I do love you, Eric."

"Then why…?" Eric almost whined, before anger started building in him and he thrust himself to his feet. "Is it Niall?"

"Yes."

"You won't bond with me because of Niall?!"

"Yes."

"Always Niall! I will kill him and you will be mine!"

"NO!" Rio was on her feet. "Yes." She shook her head, swinging her hair until it covered her face, and from inside its grandeur she whispered, "I don't know."

In a blink, Eric stepped to her and swept back her hair, cupping her chin in his hand, and lifting her eyes to his, which were the blue of the sky and the ocean. His love shone from them like sunlight piercing storm clouds.

"Then bond with me. You will have my strength." Rio smiled a bit at that and Eric realized he was being ridiculous: only an hour ago he had seen her raze Diablo's. He tried again. "I will be able to protect you. With our bond, you will never have to be away from my side. And with my blood in you, I will always be able to find you."

Rio nodded inside his large, strong, cool hands, "I love the way that sounds."

Eric's eyes blazed. "Then you'll do it? You will bond with me?"

Exhausted from the emotional whirlwind that had engulfed them these few days, and wanting his love more than she had ever wanted anything, including her freedom, Rio nodded again.

Trembling with emotion, Eric kissed her and swept her up in his a powerful embrace. He pressed his mouth to her hair and said, "I promise to always love you and protect you and keep you safe. I promise my life in honor to you. I promise to forever be yours."

Rio looked at him for a long moment. He could see the love swimming in the depthless pools of her green eyes. "And I promise to be yours."

Eric was vibrating with happiness; it threatened to overwhelm him. His mind dithered, going into overdrive, spinning out of control. Rio must have sensed his complete loss of focus, because she said, "We should leave Nevada. Now that Al is… gone, and my lust for you"—Eric rumbled and she smiled and pressed herself even tighter to him—"has become love, Niall will find me here."

Her words brought Eric's practicality to the fore, and he stepped back. She could almost see the wheels turning in his brain.

"Mmm," Eric said almost to himself. "I can protect you better on my own territory, where I am on familiar ground, with those who owe me fealty on alert." He looked around the room and asked, "Can you tune my house to us as you have done here?"

She merely smiled at him, "I thought you said you weren't ever silly?"

He grinned at her, a disconcerting sight, since his fangs had run out in his excitement; he was positively gleeful at the prospect of bonding with this extraordinary being and fighting the battle of his life.

"Fairest, I must go. I have to inform the King of my leaving and make our travel arrangements." Rio looked at his mouth, waiting for more. He knew what she needed to hear, so he said, "I will return for you as soon as I am able; I won't be long." Rio bobbed her head; she understood.

Eric took her face between his hands and touched his lips to hers, putting all his love in the kiss. He felt hers flowing back. When he drew apart, she lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing her middle finger between them. He raised his eyebrows, questioning. "Bite, a little," she requested, and he pressed his fangs into her finger. He watched her eyes as he sucked in a bit of her blood—they darkened from emerald to the color of snow-line evergreens, and he thought wistfully of his homeland, before her blood went down his throat. It enflamed him, made him high, and filled him with wild love.

Rio leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth, right next to her finger, and sighed, "To remember me by," before pulling her finger away. She sucked it through her own pouting lips, taking her blood and his saliva with it, watching him all the while. He wondered how anyone who looked like such an innocent angel could be so wicked.

"As if I could forget," Eric smiled, and was gone.

Rio climbed the stairs. She felt old and tired. She sat on the floor, pulling her guitar to her. As her fingers plucked random notes, her thoughts played tag with each other: Niall could surely feel her happiness and contentment by now. If not that, the pleasures she experienced through Eric's extraordinary lovemaking would be a giant red flag waving in front of Niall's bullish essence. He was certainly coming for her. She could not quite sense him yet, but she knew she would soon. Putting distance between them might just buy her time to… might buy her some time.

Niall would kill Eric. Of that, she had no doubt. Eric's insistence on protecting her would only hasten his death (and this time, he would be well and truly dead; there wouldn't even be a body to mourn). Rio briefly entertained the thought of waiting for Eric, talking to him, explaining. But there was no explanation he would accept. He would tell her matter-of-factly that he would protect her from anything—he would believe he could—and that would be that. He could not forget her and he would not leave her.

The idea of Eric gone from the world wasn't conceivable. As long as she knew he was somewhere, charging through life with all the vitality of his Viking heritage, she could stand any fate.

With the sound of a butterfly sighing, Rio stood up. She put on her scarred suede jacket, swung her guitar over her shoulder and went downstairs.

She took her hat from the back of the couch, fingering the talismans on the leather thong. Then she twisted her hair into a rope, and tucked it under the crown of her hat. She looked around the room. She was having trouble recognizing it. Nothing would ever look the same. She stepped out the door, pausing long enough to lay her palm flat on the weathered wood. Then she got in her truck and drove away.

8888888

An hour later, Eric swung his Corvette to the curb in front of Rio's house. He grabbed his leather satchel of belongings from the seat beside him and stowed it in the trunk, leaving it open for Rio's things (what little she had—he had noticed she led a spare life). He bounded onto the porch, not hesitating for the door to swing open for him, and was brought up short when it didn't. Eric raised an automatic hand to knock, then his brain caught up. He scowled at the door. He stepped off the porch, and looked at the house. The windows looked… dark. Opaque. Dead.

"Fairest?" Eric whispered. But he knew.

He threw back his head and howled like a wolf: RIOoooo!

He stood for a moment, his cry echoing back to him unanswered. A tear trickled down his cheek. Then he got in his car. She couldn't be gone. She simply… could… not… be… gone. His grip was distorting the steering wheel. She said she would be his bonded. She promised. He slammed his fist into the dashboard, smashing his digital music player.

Eric cursed. He didn't know a lot about fairies, but they always kept their word. They always kept their… then, slowly, a smile tweaked up the corners of his sculpted lips. He popped the car into gear and sped off toward the rising sun.