A/N: Sorry for the delay, but life happens. Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed my story. I'm a bit behind on my responses, but I will try to get to them over the next week as several of you have asked me specific questions.

As for this chapter, yes, the pain and drama continue. Sorry, but growing up is hard work. However, I promise the next one will be nice and fluffy. Also, a villain will be revealed, a secret will be discovered, and there will even be a few ripped off heads!

As a reminder, Alex is still 15. Both she and Godric have a ways to go to adjust their view of each other, and change is rarely comfortable. Bear with me, and I promise, things will not only get better but also much more exciting! One more chapter to go in this arc (and its 90% written) and then … time jump again! (That chapter is also almost completely written.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing of True Blood. Boo hiss.

Also, thank you to several readers (you know who you are) who have helped me plot bounce this chapter. You guys are amazing!

Chapter 10E

Alex limped painfully into the shared common room, relieved to see that she was alone in the dark room. Not bothering to turn on any lights, she curled up in one of the chairs facing the floor to ceiling windows and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her braided hair was still damp from her shower, the cold weight of it draped over her left shoulder, the memory of feeling Godric's hands against her scalp now seemed like a distant dream.

"It's just not fair," she murmured and looked down at the wooden hair ornament balanced precariously on her raised knee. When Godric had presented it to her earlier, the words he had said as he waited for her to take it from his hand … the look in his eyes … she had thought … she had so hoped …

Her eyes burned, and the city lights blurred in her vision as she choked back tears. Her head ached, the pain from earlier never having fully gone away. Why had he given this to her if he was just going to ignore her all night? What had she done wrong?

She scrubbed at her eyes, remembering all the beautiful vampires and humans at the ball. Maybe he really did prefer women like those donors, and he only saw her as a — she shuddered at the thought — friend. Or worse, just some little girl that he had to keep saving as a favor to her dad. Maybe she had completely misunderstood the entire situation, and this was just a gift? Like the laptop and camera he gave her for Christmas?

She pressed her forehead against her knees, the hurt spiking viciously through her chest at the thought. Why was life so confusing? Why did she keep having these doubts, and why couldn't she figure out her own emotions? Sometimes she just knew that there was something special between them, but then she would start over-thinking everything until she was so twisted up and anxious she just wanted to scream.

She shivered in the cool air, her wet hair not helping. She wished she had brought in a blanket or jacket, especially since she still wasn't comfortable being in her room and would probably sleep in the common area again.

Her thoughts turned back over her horrible evening. Was Godric trying to drive her nuts? Why had he ignored her?

"Alex."

She jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

"My apologies," he said softly from beside her. "I called your name, but you appear to be deep in thought this eve."

"Please, I really want to be by myself right now." She wanted to be left alone for a while, her feelings still raw from earlier. Suddenly, she knew exactly what it was she felt beyond the hurt and the pain.

Disappointment.

She was angry with her brothers, and absolutely furious with her father, but for some reason it was Godric's actions hurt the most. He had disappointed her deeply, the crushing realization of how he had manipulated her making her chest twist painfully.

"Alexandra."

"Yeah?"

He stared at her, concerned at her listless reply, and her oddly muted scent of pain. "We should talk about what occurred this eve."

Anger started to brew, and she struggled to swallow it down. "What's there to talk about?"

"Everything tonight was for your safety," Godric said, and rested a hand on the small one that clutched his blood-token.

Her safety?!

Furious, she shoved his hand away and leaped to her feet, hiding a wince when her feet painfully hit the floor. "It's always about my safety!" she said. "When will I be allowed to just live my life? When will I even be consulted when something concerns me, instead of being left to stumble in the dark, trying to make sense of everything? I spent the entire night thinking —" She cut herself off, refusing to finish the statement.

"Little one—"

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, glaring into annoyingly calm grey eyes. "I am not a 'little one' or a 'child.'"

Godric paused and raised an eyebrow at her insensible behavior. "Then stop acting like one."

She threw her hands up in the air and stalked over to the windows. She had to tell herself that no matter how annoyed she was with him, no matter how disappointed, it would be a really bad idea to wallop him over the head with one of the beaded couch pillows.

No matter how much he totally deserved it.

He took two quick steps towards her and spun her around to face him. "This is not a game, Alex. The enemy we are trying to uncover wants to kill you, do you not understand that?" he asked. "Not to mention the way you looked tonight was—" he bit off what he was going to say, struggling to find his legendary calm.

Alex turned her face away and closed her eyes, the hurt and shame making her throat feel tight. "Ugly," she whispered. "I must have looked ugly."

His anger came to a screeching halt. "Excuse me?"

"It was nice of Isabel to help me get ready, but … I guess not even her hundreds of years of experience could make me pretty." She swallowed heavily and fiddled with the hem of her well-worn t-shirt. "E-Especially compared to all the other women I saw tonight, so it's not surprising that n-no one wanted—"

"Stop."

She jerked, surprised at his harsh tone, and her gaze flew up to meet his.

"I do not ever," he said firmly, his hand moving to cup her chin, "want to hear you speak of yourself in such a disgusting way again."

"But—"

"No."

"Just because you don't want me to say it doesn't—mph!" Her words were cut off when his fingers pressed gently against her mouth.

Godric wondered how was it that Alex could make him come so close to losing his composure, something that had not truly happened in several centuries. How could she possible think such a thing? Did she truly not know how she had looked in that damned dress? More eyes than he had been comfortable with had rested on her this eve, and many a vampire had commented favorably on her developing form and figure.

It pricked at his temper, how easily and lustfully they spoke of her petite form. He knew that bets were already being placed on just who her mate would be, and he had gritted his teeth when one particularly young idiot had asked him for his opinion. It irritated him even more that one of his oldest friends, Pierre, was considered one of the top candidates.

"Alex, besides the fact that you are remarkably lovely even," he added with a teasing smile, "when your hair gives new meaning to the term 'bedhead', how could you possibly think that you were less than beautiful this eve? I know you received many compliments before you even left the suite. I also assume that there was a mirror in your dressing room. How can you think so poorly of yourself?"

She mumbled something, a blush staining her cheeks while her heart gave a happy thump. He thought she was 'lovely' and 'beautiful'? Really? Her? Even though she was short and had cranky red hair?

"Even with vampire hearing, I did not catch that, lit—" Godric caught himself with a wry smile, "—Alex."

"I said that …" she tried to look away, but his hand was still on her chin. "Um, that … that-you-didn't-say-anything-to-me-at-all-and-you-looked-disgusted," she finished in a rush.

At his surprised look, she tried to desperately backpedal, embarrassed that he now had to realize how much his opinion meant to her. "I know that Gabriel said you did something that made them not ask me to dance, but I saw how their fangs came down each time one of the donors walked by. When they looked back at me, their fangs went back up. I'm not an idiot," she grumbled, raising her chin stubbornly. "I know what that means. It means I'm not pretty … or … or … um, you know."

She coughed awkwardly and shifted nervously on her feet. Talking to Godric and explaining how unappealing she knew herself to be was a nightmare. "I just wish I knew why I was so different," she said sadly.

"Alex …" He trailed off. He cursed the promise he had given Theron so many years ago. How was he supposed to explain to her that those younglings downstairs were unable to go against their instincts that would not let them even show their fangs to a Fated Mate? That it was a safety measure her kind had, and that none younger than perhaps nine centuries would have the strength to deny those urges.

As for himself, surely he had complimented her on her appearance, regardless of his shock? He cast his mind back, and to his intense embarrassment— an emotion he had not felt for at least seventy-five years— he realized that he had done nothing other than giving her his token. He had been so distracted by that dress, and how he was going to rip apart anyone who dared try and touch her, that he had not spoken a single word to her until they were in the elevator.

Before he could explain, Alex spoke, her voice and expression surprisingly firm and direct.

"I'm not a vampire, Godric. I've been raised as one, and maybe that makes me not really a human. I don't know." She hesitated, her eyes locked with his. "I'm mortal, and I have no idea if anyone will ever feel the call to be my Maker. I may die tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that. Nobody knows what my future holds, and I just want to experience what I can of life before that happens. I will never be as old as my family, but that doesn't mean that they have the right, that any of you have the right, to talk over my head and treat me like a kid for the rest of my days. I may still be young, but I'm not stupid. I just wish you had told me."

One thing had been bugging her for the last hour. "How did you keep all of them from asking me to dance? I saw you at the ball, you never even looked in my direction … even when you weren't dancing with the Queen and those other women." She blushed, realizing she had just admitted to watching him throughout the night.

"Why are you really angry, Alex? I know you're frustrated by how tightly you are protected, but did you truly wish to dance with those you earlier called 'jerks'?" He lifted a teasing eyebrow as he said the modern colloquialism, feeling like he was finally getting to the root of the matter, and why she had looked at him as if he had betrayed her.

"No, I didn't," Alex said grudgingly. "But it still would've been nice to have been asked."

"So are you truly only angry because we did not consult with you on our actions this eve? Or is it only because you felt overlooked?"

She bit her lip and refused to answer.

After a moment, Godric shook his head and turned to leave. "Perhaps tomorrow after some reflection you will be more inclined to answer the question." He had just reached the door to his nest when her soft whisper made him stop.

"It didn't really surprise me, my brothers did not think about me," she said, her gaze firmly on the city. "I know they've changed a lot of their lives to raise me, and that they try and temper some of the more sexual and violent aspects of vampiric life around me. I'm not as blind and deaf as they think, and I have a very good idea of what a typical nest is like. I don't begrudge them a night where they can be as their nature dictates, without the burden of a fragile, mortal sister. They were also busy looking for our enemy, as well as making sure our nest's standing remains strong in the changing political climate. Isabel had to work as your Second during the gala, and Eric —" she scoffed at the very thought of the Viking doing anything nice that didn't benefit himself or his bloodline. "Well, Eric was busy enjoying the local, er, flavor."

Godric moved back towards her as he listened to her halting words. The pause, this time, was longer.

"But … but I thought … " she trailed off, struggling with how to say what she felt.

"Thought what, Firefly?"

Her lips trembled slightly. His words were said in the gentle tone that had always made her feel safe, even as a small girl. The pull she felt in her chest, the need she had to open up to him, to explain something she barely understood herself, was consuming.

"I thought that since we're friends that at least you would want to dance with me … a-and it disappointed and hurt me to realize that you didn't. That when given a choice, you also prefer others of your own kind. Or that maybe I just looked so bad that you didn't want to be seen next to me in public. Or … or maybe I'm good enough to be friends with here, but not out where people can see us."

Her voice hitched, and she looked up at him, searching for something and not knowing what. "G-Godric, I'm always on the outside looking in, and … I … and …" her voice caught again, but she somehow forced out the words. "I should have known better. Shouldn't have thought that maybe tonight would be d-different."

He reacted without thinking, pulling her into a close hug, completely taken aback by her thoughts and pain. Had she truly wanted to dance with him?

"Shh, Alex. Please, Firefly, do not think so ill of yourself." Instinctually needing to soothe, he began to rock slightly side to side, his purrs the only sound beside her uneven breaths.

He remembered the dance with the Illinois Queen and her three Children, and how boring and unpleasant it had been. Had she really thought he would enjoy spending time with such … what did Eric call such women? Ah, yes. Floozies. How could she believe herself so inferior? How could she even think he could be interested in such vapid women? How had Theron not seen her low self-esteem, and hastened to correct it?

The last statement she said caught his attention. "What do you mean by 'different'?"

She pulled away from the comfort of his arms. She wished she could stay in them longer, but she was embarrassed to admit to Godric just how ostracized she was by humans. What a great way to feel like a complete and total loser. "Dad signed me up for dance classes when we lived in Russia. We had just moved there from China, and I was so happy because things with my friends had turned weird. They no longer wanted anything to do with me, the guys especially. I thought maybe Russia would be different. A new start, ya know?"

She looked up at him, relaxing when he gave her a nod to continue her story. "The first day I was so excited because I had listened to my brothers talk about the balls they had gone to for years." She smiled briefly, bitterly. "I had just turned twelve, and Dad even let me buy a new dress and shoes because I wanted so badly to make a good first impression. When I walked in my first class … it was like China all over again, and its never changed since then. I tried to make friends, but it was already hard because I'm not very good at being human."

She shrugged, trying to act like it didn't bother her, fiddling with the carved wooden comb in her hand. "So yeah. Nobody ever wanted to dance with me in my classes. The teacher would sometimes force one of the boys to partner me, but I spent most of the time watching from the sidelines. Human kids aren't very nice. At least most adults try to be somewhat polite, but kids and teenagers are horrible."

She jumped, startled by the sudden, deep growl that she could feel in her bones. "Godric?"

"How many?"

"What?" she asked, confused.

"How many classes were you forced to sit through, thinking that there was something wrong with you?"

She shrugged. "It was twice a week for four months." She stared, confused when his growl only deepened. Movement caught her attention and she looked over to where Pam stood frozen in the doorway before the female vanished in response to her grand-maker's glare. Alex blinked when he turned his attention back towards her, confused at what had clearly terrified the female vampire. Godric was angry, but it wasn't like he was going to rip her heart out or anything. Pam really was a wuss.

Why," Godric asked dangerously, "did Theron allow you to be continually humiliated?"

"I, um, never told him. I never told Brian or George either."

He closed his eyes, searching for control. He was angry at the situation he found himself in, bound by his word to her father to not tell her what she was, and furious that such harm had fallen upon her under her nest's care. "They were fools, all of them." He stepped closer, his hand coming up to gently run down her still damp braid, his eyes never leaving hers. "You are not ugly, and there is nothing wrong with you."

She blushed bright red, the heat blazing across her cheeks even as her gaze never left his. "Really?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Really."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Godric."

Guilt filled him at the look of trust in her eyes. Would she still trust him, any of them, when she finally learned what she was? Would she understand that her father only wanted the best for her, and give her as normal a childhood as possible? Godric had planned to keep the true meaning of his gift secret, but he would not, could not, let her continue to believe that she was alone.

"You asked earlier how I was able to influence the others away from you."

She blinked, taken aback by the apparent non-sequitur. "Yes?"

It was his turn to look out the glass to the city below, his hands clasped behind his back. He was unused to explaining his inner thoughts and feelings and rarely did so even to his own progeny. The fact that he was willing to try with Alex was oddly surprising, but it just felt right.

"The comb I gave you is no ordinary hair ornament." He watched her reflection in the glass as she looked down at the small object in her hand. "The dark color is not from some stain, as you may have thought. Two years ago I carved this for you from the oak tree in my garden. It was to be ready in the event that there was ever a time you needed further protection than what your nest or your mat—" he stopped himself, and smoothly changed directions, "—maturing fighting abilities could handle. Once a week for the last two years, I bathed the wood in my blood until it soaked into the very heart of the grain. Until the scent would be easily detectable decades from now, and act as a warning and deterrent to all Supernaturals."

He turned towards her, his face serious. "The blood does not just carry my scent, Alex, it carries the full weight of my power and years. It is a gift of my bloodline, to be able to imbue our power into our blood, and to transfer it to an object."

"The blood is sacred," she whispered. No wonder the vampires at the ball did not ask her to dance. He had claimed his interest in her, had admitted that she mattered enough to him to part with his blood. Her heart pounded, and her hands trembled as they protectively cupped the most beautiful gift she had ever been given.

His eyes searched hers. "Yes."

"You … " speechless, she just stared at him. It was a vampire's greatest law, and at the heart of The Code. Everything revolved around blood, and for him to give her this meant the world to her. That he trusted her enough to hold and guard some of his blood was the greatest compliment she had ever been given.

Joy.

She grinned when she realized that she had been right about this being a huge hint at his interest in her as a companion and bondmate. After her shower, she had looked at the copy she had made of her father's book, and double checked to see if maybe she had been wrong about his gift. Thank the gods that she had taken the opportunity last year in Venice to 'borrow' several of the books her dad had refused to show her until she was older. It had been both a fascinating and eye-opening experience on the true nature of vampires, and she still blushed at the memory of the vampire version of the Kama Sutra she had stumbled across. She may or may not have taken some pictures with her camera to study later, and had decided that she really needed to work on her yoga if she was going to have a chance in hell of keeping up.

"Alex?"

Warmth moved within her, the odd feeling coming from her chest and spreading until she felt it from her fingers to her toes. It surrounded her, and the distant pain of her headache from earlier in the evening finally went away.

"Thank you," she said, wincing slightly when her voice cracked. She couldn't speak of their future Courting, was unable to do so until she reached her majority, but she gave him as significant a look as she could. "I love it," she said. "You honor me."

He smiled, charmed more by her shyly pleased response than from any of the practiced flirtations of those at the ball. "You please me greatly by accepting my token, Firefly."

She hid another smile, contemplating how wonderful it would be when she turned eighteen, and they could Court properly. She was already considering what Initiation into Courtship gift she could give Godric when it came time to approach him.

Could life get any better than this?

Godric smiled at Alex's pleasure as he told her the true nature of his gift. He was glad she understood the solemnity behind it, and that what had happened at the dance had not been because of there being anything wrong with her.

His eyes traced over her blushing features as he remembered how captivating she had looked. Pleasure filled him when she immediately unbraided her hair, setting the comb in her now loose tresses. He had always liked red hair as the color had been both rare and exotic when he had been human, and the shade she bore was particularly attractive. He remembered the warm, silky feel of it as it draped over his arms in the elevator, and he could still smell traces of her scent upon his skin.

Yes, she had looked lovely earlier, but this … this is what he looked forward to each night that he rose. She was relaxed and happy, and it pleased him that she did not fear him.

Feeling unusually playful, he gave a teasing smile as he performed one of the overly extravagant bows from the 17th-century French court of King Louis XIV. "My lady, would you honor me with a dance?"

Surprised, Alex giggled and gestured at his tuxedo-clad form. "Godric, I'm in my pajamas. Flannel pajamas! I'm hardly dressed for dancing with someone as grand looking as you."

His smile only widened, and a dimple flashed. "I disagree, but if it makes you uncomfortable …" he trailed off with a shrug, and with quick movements he removed his tie and jacket, untucked his shirt, and rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves.

Her eyes widened as they traveled over him. She had thought he looked both amazing and intimidating in a tux, but now … now he looked more like her Godric. The one she spent the scant few hours they had alone together before the others rose. Not the aloof Sheriff Godric of Area 9, but just her Godric who liked to quietly read, and who surprisingly enjoyed watching zombie movies. Even if he made snarky comments the entire time about how unrealistic they were. He had even watched The Princess Bride without complaint, which was more than she could say for her brothers.

She wanted to touch him, to … to … Her knees grew oddly weak, and she sank down onto a nearby chair.

"I'm not even wearing shoes," she blurted as her hands tugged nervously on the hem of her shirt. Why hadn't she put on something nicer, instead of her favorite pair of well-worn pajamas? The shirt even had a hole in the shoulder!

He shrugged carelessly and toed off his dress shoes and socks to stand barefoot on the wood floor, his hand never lowering. "Easily fixed, my lady."

Gods above, even his feet were sexy. She hadn't even known feet could be sexy. She so wanted to dance with him, but then reality hit, and her shoulders slumped. "I want to dance with you, good sir, but I can't."

"Why not?" he asked softly as he crouched next to her sitting form.

She became momentarily lost in his grey eyes, the words dying on her lips unsaid. Old eyes. Ancient eyes. Eyes that had seen so much she wondered sometimes how he could ever find her interesting.

"Humans, at least this human, aren't meant to stand in six-inch heels for hours at a time," she said apologetically. "Especially when I've never worn them before, and the shoes are new. My feet are killing me."

Godric frowned and quickly picked up a sock covered foot. His hand paused as he reached for her ankle, the habits and manners of a century past rearing their head. He remembered when seeing a woman's ankle was positively indecent. "May I?"

She was worried he would be disgusted. What if her feet stunk? She had washed them in the shower, and the socks were clean, but … they were feet. Thank the gods Pam had insisted she get a pedicure, so at least her toenails looked pretty. "They're kind of gross looking right now."

He started to gently ease off her sock. "I survived viewing the results of the Black Plague, and the various poxes and wars throughout history, Alex. I think I can look at an injury you received from your insensible footwear without …" his voice trailed off.

Her foot was swollen, and her toes bore the beginnings of several painful looking blisters. Where the straps had dug into her skin and rubbed the flesh raw, and he could see the beginnings of several bruises on her fair skin.

He slid his hand to the bottom of her heel, his touch delicate, and his anger increased when he felt the heat emanating from the ball of her foot from where her weight had bore down on them from her too-tall heels. He barely even noticed the dark red nail polish, even though he off-handedly thought that it looked wonderful against her pale skin.

"Does the other one look the same?" he asked quietly, his grey eyes stern when he glanced up at her. His fingers moved softly and soothingly over the abused appendage, his thumb pressing gently into her arch. Her skin was so very warm and soft, and he could feel the blood rushing through her veins, as well as the beat of her heart under his thumb.

"Yeah. I didn't think they would be that bad, really. I couldn't feel them after the first hour of standing. It didn't get really painful until I sat down after my shower and they started swelling up and throbbing like crazy." Her voice was equally quiet as she watched him run cool fingers over her aching skin.

She shivered at his touch, not wanting him to stop, and glad that she wasn't ticklish. Well, not ticklish on her feet.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked nervously when he moved to sit on the other chair, his hands easily shifting her so that both her feet rested on his thighs. She cursed her fair skin, knowing that she was blushing again.

He shot her an amused look as he cupped her feet in his hands. "My lower body temperature should help cool the inflammation, and in twenty minutes I do believe I have a spot on your dance card." His lopsided smile was achingly sweet. "I have it on good authority that every woman dreams about her very first dance."

Her lips trembled, and the blossoming warmth in her chest took her breath away. Was it silly that the fact he was willing to cuddle her feet made her feel all gooey deep inside? She nodded, and for a moment felt really young and unsure of how to, as Bennet would say, 'make a move'. Should she do something? What could she do that wouldn't have her blushing like an idiot, or proving just how inexperienced she was? She had to wait until she was eighteen until she could approach him to start Courting, but maybe … maybe …

The silence was broken only by her shaky breaths. "Um, do you even like to dance?" she asked, and tried not to whimper when he began to massage her toes. She couldn't help but flex her feet and marvel at his firm yet gentle hold.

"It depends on my partner, but nine times out of ten, I prefer to abstain. The only reason I did so tonight was to fulfill my duties as the oldest, unmated vampire present, and as such I was required to open the dance with the Queen. Although," he smiled darkly, "I do not believe she enjoyed the experience. The other three females are her Children, and as such it would have been considered an insult to not have partnered them in at least one dance. Tensions are already high enough without adding to them further."

"The Queen is coo-coo bananas then." Alex slapped a hand over her mouth. Why couldn't a hole open up and swallow her before she humiliated herself even more? Was it possible to be this bad at flirting? Pam had made it look so easy when they had been at the spa, and Alex had carefully watched Isabel's actions towards several men. She had even practiced some flirty comments in the mirror while her family slept, but instead of sounding like a female 007, she always babbled like an idiot.

Life was seriously not fair.

Godric kindly pretended not to hear her comment, although he rather enjoyed the heady smell of the blood rushing to her face. Few women these days truly blushed, and he enjoyed her lack of calculated flirting.

Absentmindedly, his thumbs moved to brush in soothing circles over her ankles. It was relaxing to have this quiet time with her, especially since they were unable to spend their normal afternoon together earlier this eve.

Was he trying to melt her into a puddle of goo? All she could think about was how softly his hands cradled her feet even as he went into downtime. She tried to discreetly look at him in his rumpled fancy clothes and untucked shirt like the men on the covers of the bodice ripper romance novels she secretly read. Thank the gods he was zoned out so that she had a moment to compose herself before she started babbling about how pretty he looked in the moonlight, or some other such nonsense.

Even though he really was so handsome it took her breath away.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered and smiled when his eyes immediately opened and met hers. At his nod, she made a show of looking left and right for any listeners. "I hated the shoes. Don't tell Pam, okay? She made a huge deal about me wearing my first heels. Some metaphor about going from a girl to a woman, and how it was the most important transition of my life, or something like that. I stopped listening after the first half-hour."

He rolled his eyes, easily able to imagine his grand-progeny giving such a speech. He leaned forward and said in the same low tone, "I had noticed you left them in the elevator."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said with an impish look. She loved this playful side of him and thought that he looked even more handsome than normal.

Godric interrupted her internal musings. "Are you ready for your dance, my lady?"

She nodded and tried to stand, only to be swept up in his arms. "What?!" she sputtered, trying her best to ignore how nice it felt to be cradled against him.

He smiled down at her and settled her so that she stood securely on his bare feet. With careful strength, he supported her so that very little of her weight actually rested on her bruised limbs.

"What will be dancing to this night, my lord?" she asked and hoped she didn't embarrass herself. At least she didn't have to worry about stepping on his toes since she was already on them!

"I believe a Venetian waltz would be appropriate for your very first real dance," he murmured as he began to move them easily around the room. She relaxed and tried to ignore the distracting feeling of his muscles bunching and moving under the hands she braced on his strong shoulders.

When he softly began to hum an old ballad, she cuddled closer, her head against his shoulder with her nose just inches away from his neck. His left arm slid firmly around her waist, easily adjusting his hold. She didn't care that technically she was supposed to be dancing with 'locked arms' and 'a respectable distance between her and her partner'. What did that matter when with each breath she could smell his wonderful scent of oak and warmth?

He danced them around the chairs, and between the sofa and coffee table, the faint light of the illuminated city casting shadows across the wood floors.

Contentment.

"This is nice," she muttered into his shoulder.

The humming briefly stopped. "Am I forgiven, then?"

She shivered when he breathed the question into her ear. "Always," she promised. The feel of his bare feet under hers was oddly thrilling, and she never wanted this to end. She felt at peace, her troubles falling away as they moved slowly around their own personal dance floor.

Several minutes later, Godric slowed to a halt, carefully lifting and lowering her onto the sofa. For a moment that seemed to last for hours, he remained crouched next to her, a bubble of silence enclosing them. She looked nervously down at her twiddling fingers. She wanted to say something charming and flirtatious, but her mind was completely blank.

When he sighed, she looked up, completely dazzled by the sight of him. He had never looked more handsome, his eyes a gentle grey with the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Her mind began to whirl. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? Her only experience being kissed had involved drool and her nose being smashed against a cheek. Godric had to be better at it than that boy, right?

"Thank you, my lady," he said and tucked a soft strand of hair behind her ear before he took her hand in his. "I enjoyed our dance."

She cleared her throat nervously. "Y-you're welcome, Godric. Thank you for my first dance." His eyes met hers, and the intensity of his gaze made her feel special, like she was the only girl in the world. His unexpectedly serious tone thus took her by surprise.

"Alex, I am not perfect. I have walked this world for 2000 years, but I am still just a man and I make mistakes. I am sorry that our … that my oversight caused you such distress."

"I …" She started, a strange, shifting feeling moving within her.

He was not perfect.

It was an earth-shattering thought, even though it really should not have been.

Oh, gods! What had she done?!

"No!" Filled with loathing, she tried to jerk away from him. "Let me go," she said, her voice shaking so much it was barely understandable. "Godric," she pleaded, "please!"

"Alex?!" Godric asked, alarmed. He ignored how she tried to escape his grasp. What was going on? Her heart was beating triple time in her chest, the sound echoing in his ears while her scent pricked at his instincts to help her.

He stared at her, his eyes intent upon hers when he finally came to what he believed to be the logical reason behind her response. Disappointment and disillusionment speared through him, more painful than he would have thought possible.

"Is it that hard to believe that I am just a man?" he asked bitterly. Her stunned silence seemed answer enough. He was about to release her, to move away and give her the space she seemed to so desperately want, when she suddenly collapsed forward, her forehead resting against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Tears burned in her eyes, only to be soaked up by his expensive shirt. "Godric," she whispered desperately, "can you forgive me?" She felt out of control, unable to concentrate beyond the pain in her head and chest. He had been so kind to her the last few days, and her repayment was to throw temper tantrums when he did not seem to magically know what she thought and felt.

Surprised at her words, he stood motionless, before her trembling form caused him to pull her close. "Shh, Firefly. Whatever distresses you so, we will fix it together." His hands moved up and down her back, trying to soothe her obvious turmoil.

"I'm such a horrible person."

"No," Godric firmly denied. "You are not 'horrible', and I refuse to allow you to speak of yourself in such a way." He shook his head in disbelief. "Why would you even think that?"

Too humiliated to tell him just how smug she had been the last few days, convinced that she alone was smart enough to see through Godric's reputation to the true man within, she pressed her head back against his shoulder. It stung — deeply — to realize she was no better than anyone else. Granted, she didn't fear Godric, but how much kinder was it to always expect him to be perfect?

Godric frowned down at the girl he held in his arms. "Let me help you. What ails you?" he coaxed, concerned by the pain he sensed within her.

Her words were muffled by his shoulder, and her own gasping breaths. "I-I can't … I don't … I didn't mean to …" her voice trailed off, unable to actually tell him what was wrong. "I was so —! He even told me —! But I didn't listen! I thought he was jealous!" She suddenly reared back, her eyes searching his. "Godric, why didn't I listen?"

"Alex, I have no clue what you are talking about."

She deflated, vaguely aware of how he had moved to sit next to her, shifting her until she leaned against his side, his arm over her shoulders.

Alex covered her eyes with her hands, her head and chest aching like they did earlier in the evening, the previous happiness forgotten. Why was it so hard to think right now? That strange sense of something she sometimes felt shifted again. Whatever it was, it was huge and life altering to such a degree that nothing would ever be the same again.

She wouldn't be the same again. Her hands gripped at Godric's arm, her fingers digging into the taut muscle of his forearm.

No.

She wasn't ready for … for whatever it was. She wanted it, though, yearned for whatever it was with every fiber of her being, even though she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the time was not yet right.

Whatever that meant.

Alex mentally huffed and shook her head, impatient that once again she 'let her imagination run wild' like Gabriel often said. The slight shifting of her companion next to her on the couch brought her out of her thoughts. For a vampire, his small movement may as well have been a shout for her immediate attention.

She looked up at him, stricken with guilt and self-loathing. "I'm so sorry, Godric. I didn't mean to be so unfair to you." She willed him to believe her. No, she needed him to believe her. She had wronged him, and she didn't deserve one ounce of his friendship. Her emotions felt out of control, and she wished she knew why she felt so off-kilter.

"You don't owe me an apology," Godric said softly, pushing her hair back from her forehead. Delicately, he rubbed his thumb over the blue pigmentation under her eyes, worried at her pallor. Did she not get any sleep the night before? Without Isabel's expert makeup application, he could clearly see the dark blue bruises from exhaustion under her eyes, and he was not happy. Guilt wormed its way through him. He should have known something was wrong, and should never have left her alone last night.

"Yeah," she said stubbornly. "I do. I know what its like to be judged unfairly. How much it sucks for people to not even bother to see the truth." She shook her head when he tried to speak. "Can we just stay like this for a minute? Please?"

Godric rested his chin on her head, finding his own comfort in her presence. With the patience of an Ancient vampire, he murmured, "Take whatever time you need. I am not going anywhere."

She nodded, grateful for his understanding as her thoughts turned inward. It completely and totally sucked that Eric was even a tiny bit right. It rankled that he was right that she didn't really know Godric — not yet at least! — and that she saw him through the rose-tinted glasses of childhood. Before Chicago, the grand sum of their total interaction since she was five-years-old was really only minutes in length, and only when he had been saving her life. It hadn't exactly been conducive to them chatting and getting to know each other. Was it so shocking then that her hero worship had never really gone away? That she had expected perfection from him, without realizing how unfair that really was?

It still didn't make the Viking any less of a jerk, though.

Alex smiled when she felt Godric once again stroke her hair. No, her Godric wasn't perfect, but— she smiled softly and rubbed her cheek against his sturdy shoulder— she had a feeling that he was so very perfectly imperfect for her. She remembered the first time she saw him as a little girl, even though she had been sick and hurt. She had opened her eyes, confused and scared about where she was, and he had been standing at the foot of the bed speaking with Dr. Ludwig. He had turned to look at her, and she had thought he had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. There had been an instant shock that had tingled down to her toes, and she had known that he needed her … that even though he didn't show it, he was so very sad and lonely and just as lost as her. She still adored him, but it was deeper, stronger, and made her yearn for things she didn't fully understand.

"Godric," she said softly, twisting awkwardly on the sofa so she could press her face into his throat. She relaxed when he allowed the intimacy, curling further into him. Yearning filled her, and for the first time she truly understood just what he offered her by allowing her so close. She knew him better now, had been shocked at just how private and aloof he acted to everyone outside of his nest and bloodline. To everyone except her. She had found herself watching him more and more over the last few days, the need to be near him increasing each day. She breathed in his scent, the smell of oak and warmth and home soothing her upset, and feeding her determination to grow up faster.

When he began to softly purr, she smiled and let out a happy sigh. Minutes passed in this fashion, the silence only broken by the sound of his low rumble, and her own soft inhales. She realized that he was timing his breathing to match her own, his chest moving in sync with hers. Affection, deep and endless made her heart swell for this man who carried the weight of so many on his shoulders, yet willingly sat there and let her have this time with no questions asked.

She leaned back and smiled at him, the expression tremulous. It was like she saw him for the first time, that her mind understood the truth that her heart had always known.

He was so very, very beautiful ... and one day, she couldn't wait to make him hers.

"Are you well now?" he asked softly, his hand pressed gently between her shoulder blades, his thumb moving soothingly back and forth. He could sense that something had changed, and could see the difference in how she looked at him. For a single, quivering moment he felt trapped in her gaze as if she were the vampire, and he the human.

"Yes," she answered simply. She reluctantly let go of him. "I just realized how hard growing up can be."

"Do you want to talk about it?" The little smile she gave him was enigmatic, and reminded him oddly of the Mona Lisa. It was as if she knew something he did not, and was not inclined to share her secret.

Alex ignored the question and carefully looked him over, disregarding the distractions of his suit and pretty eyes. He was pale, much too pale. Eric's words from the night before rang in her mind. Had Godric still not fed, even though he had lost so much blood defying the sun while he guarded over her sleep? How had no one noticed? How had she not noticed? Had she really allowed herself to be so distracted by a silly ball that she had overlooked how worn and tired Godric looked?

Well, she couldn't change the past, but she could damn well make sure that from now on she wouldn't overlook her hard-working sheriff's health. Yes, her silly vampire really did need someone to pamper him and, lucky for Godric, she was more than willing to do the job.

She reached up to brush her fingers against his cheek. "I'm worried about you, Godric. You're so pale. Paler than normal, I mean. Did you, at least, have one of those nasty bottled drinks after staying up all day yesterday guarding me?"

Godric rose abruptly from the couch and walked to the windows. "I am fine, Alex." His voice left little doubt that the subject was closed, as not even Isabel pestered him when he used that tone.

Alex fiddled with her fingers, unsure how to break the thick tension around them, but she was really worried. Did he really think she would just drop the subject like she was one of his underlings? Ha! Hmm, hadn't there been something in The Code about blood offerings done in the old ways? To seal a friendship, or to give thanks for aid? Her dad had told her she was not allowed to offer her blood until she was eighteen, but this was Godric, and he had bled to keep her safe. Surely her dad would understand and agree?

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that she really wanted to see his fangs again.

"No, you're not," she argued. "You're too pale." When he continued to look out over the night skyline, his hands clasped behind his back in what she — in her mind —referred to as his 'Sheriff's Pose' she decided it was better to just go for it. George and Bryan made sure she had a healthy diet, she exercised and was young, so she hoped her blood didn't taste bad.

Alex really wished that she had AB- blood because she often heard her brothers moaning about how rare and delicious it was. Josiah did tell her that her B- blood was still pretty rare, so it had to be decently tasty and special, right?

With a grimace at her poor feet, she rose and limped the two yards to stand beside Godric. She ignored the distinct vibe he gave of wanting to be left alone since in her opinion he was alone far too often. Seriously, Isabel and Stan really needed to learn that they should ignore Godric's grumpy behavior, and not let him wallow in his bad moods.

She wondered how badly it would piss him off if she told him he was acting like an angsty Edward from Twilight.

With a deep breath for courage, she lifted her trembling wrist and brought it to her mouth for a kiss before she offered it to him. "Sheriff Godric of Area Nine in Texas, I offer my blood to you to nourish you in your time of need, to replace the ancient and sacred blood you have spilled in my defense. Let the blood-magic of our nests mingle, and my life bolster yours."

Godric whipped around when she began the words he had first heard two millennia ago, and were used when a vampire wished to give deep thanks to another. Vampires did not share their blood, especially with each other, lightly. His eyes met Alex's, surprised at how steady her gaze was as she offered him something he would never be able to take.

The sudden flare of want and desire shocked him, and his fangs descended with a snick. He hid them, aware that his son was watching from the shadows and that Eric must now be fully aware of just how he hungered for Alex's blood.

No, not Alex's. He was not that twisted of a monster. Obviously this was just proof that he needed to feed more often than once every few months.

"Um, Godric?"

"I decline," he said with forced calm around his hidden fangs. His gums ached, but he forced his fangs to retract. He would not let her see what her offer had done to him. Such a lack of self-control was disgusting, and he would not have her fear him.

Alex's jaw dropped, insult over-powering the warmth she had felt before. She loved him, was beginning to really understand exactly what that meant, and had started to hope and believe that he cared for her too. There had to be some reason for this because his actions and words this night were not that of someone who thought her unworthy.

"You're … refusing?" Feeling like an idiot, she hastily pulled back her still-offered wrist, turning away to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks even though she knew he would scent it in the air. The only times she had ever seen her brothers reject a human was when there was something seriously wrong with the donor.

"I have B- blood … do you not like that type?" she asked hesitantly. Maybe he preferred the positive blood group? If so, how could they ever bond? Blood was everything to a vampire!

Godric swallowed a growl and harshly bit his tongue, the welling blood only partially helping to calm his bloodlust before the cut healed. He preferred the Rh negative blood with its higher copper content, and enjoyed either B- or O- the most. He had always deeply loathed the sour flavor of A+/- blood, and so was one of the rare vampires who despised AB+/- humans. He had always imagined the taste to be akin to that of half-rotten sewage, although he had been forced in his early days to make do with whatever blood was available.

He mentally cursed. Why couldn't she be of that much-disliked blood group? "There is nothing wrong with your blood type," he finally managed to say.

"Is it … um … do I smell bad then?" Alex asked, her lips numb from shock. She had never really thought about it, but did she smell that bad that he couldn't even take a moment to consider biting her? Her brothers had never mentioned it, and she would have thought, at least, Gabriel would have said something if she smelled … off putting. She had even made Bennet go with her to buy hair and body care products that wouldn't make her smell awful to her family. So either there was something wrong with her blood, or something so wrong with her that he couldn't even bring himself to drop his fangs for a taste.

Her eyes felt hot, and she bit her lip. He was the first vampire she had ever offered her blood to, the only vampire she had ever even considered asking to bite her … and he didn't want her. Did he like experienced humans who had been bitten before, and knew what to expect? Beautiful donors who knew all sorts of skills that she had only read about in her borrowed books? Was she really that inadequate?

It hurt. A lot.

Godric winced. It was obvious she knew the gravity of his refusal, and how big of an insult his refusal could be viewed as.

"Firefly," he said softly, laying his hands on her shoulders and gently turning her around to face him. He had to will his fangs back up into his gums, the effort surprisingly hard as his instincts raged to bite and drink what she had so sweetly offered. "It has nothing to do with your generous offer, and everything to do with my dislike of live feedings. I have not bit a human in over five years. Plus," he added, relieved to have come up with the perfect excuse, "you know that with The Great Revelation coming that it is illegal for me to bite you before you are a legal adult. Theron would be well within his rights to break our centuries-old alliance if I treated you with such a lack of respect, and I must also act as a role model for my own Area."

He smiled ruefully when her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled up at him. Unbidden, his mind went back to the last time he had endured a live feeding. Ironically, it was when Alex was ten-years-old and had taken ill, and he had defied the sun for several days so he could read to her while she was in the hospital. He had had to feed on twenty donors over a period of several weeks to regain his full strength, and it had been … upsetting.

"So it's not because you think my blood is nasty or … I don't know … I smell odd?" she clarified. She was really disappointed, but at least it wasn't because of anything to do with her.

Godric laughed at the very idea. Odd? No, she definitely did not smell odd. She smelled wonderful, like his favorite flower that had grown at the edge of the sea when he had been a human boy. Not even her moon time could diminish her wonderful scent.

"No, lit— Alex," he corrected himself. "I am honored by your offer, but I have not bitten a human in five years, and I have no plans on changing that this evening."

"Why?" Her brothers loved feeding, and she had walked in on many conversations where they dreamily described how soft a specific human's throat or thigh had been, or how delicious their blood. "Does that practically make you almost a vegetarian vampire since you only drink from bagged blood?" she teased, knowing what was coming next from a talk she had had with Isabel.

Godric snorted, having had the unfortunate experience of being forced to listen to the Twilight movies. Super hearing was occasionally a curse, and for some reason Stan had been briefly addicted to the movies and watched them incessantly at the nest. Well, that is until the DVDs had had an 'unfortunate accident'.

"Hardly," he said dryly. Trying to make her feel better, he added, "I prefer the Rh- blood groups, particularly B- and O-. There is nothing wrong with you, Alexandra. I am truly honored, dear one, that you would offer such a gift to me."

Alex blushed, gratified by the implied compliment and really excited that he liked her blood type. He had even called her 'dear one'!

She pushed the issue. "But you will drink bagged blood tonight, right? I'm worried about you, Godric."

Godric felt his self-control start to fray when she laid her hand on his chest, her concern obvious in her dark eyes. Warmth spread through him from where she touched him, burning across his cold skin.

Against his will, his eyes trailed down her neck to his preferred spot to bite when he was not feeding from the femoral artery. He imagined how soft her skin would be, and how wonderful she would smell with his nose pressed to her throat, her scent rising and growing musky with the pleasure of his bite. Her heart beat steadily, the sound slow and strong, and he could see the skin delicately pulse as each gush of blood pushed through her veins. He leaned ever so slightly forward, his need growing ever louder and insistent …

"Maker?"

Godric jerked out of his daze, his gaze meeting his son's, horrified at what he had almost done.

"Yes, my Child?"

The Viking's cold, blue gaze met his. "I need to speak with you. Alone."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Subtle, Eric. Real subtle," she muttered, not caring that he would be able to hear her.

"Run along, small human child, so the adults can talk," he snidely retorted. He enjoyed her attitude, but would rather suck silver than admit it.

"Small fanged, shifter-biter," she snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest as she eye-balled his blank face. She would never tell him that she was starting to enjoy their snarky banter, or that it reminded her of her relationship with Gabriel. Ugh.

He glared down at the girl with the full force of all his years, irritated that she was clearly unimpressed. "Harpy brat."

In response, she made a rude hand gesture she had learned from Bennett that had been popular about five hundred years ago. Translated, it meant something like 'go suck a diseased goat, you bastard son of an emasculated pig' and she smirked when his left eye twitched.

Gotcha. Firefly -1, Viking- 0.

"Enough."

Alex and Eric's heads snapped towards Godric, startled at the Ancient's tone.

Alex felt her entire body turn hot. Somehow she didn't think that this was the best way to convince Godric that she wasn't a child anymore.

"Sorry," she said to Eric, completely not meaning it. By the narrow-eyed look he shot her, she could tell he knew it, too.

Turning away from him, she smiled shyly up at Godric. "Thank you for my dance," she said softly.

Godric bowed, and watched with darkened eyes as she limped her way back through the door to her nest's side of the suite. Without looking at his son, he walked to the fireplace, his hands gripping the mantle. How could he be so weak?

"Master."

Godric refused to look at his progeny until he had regained control over his fangs. It was humiliating that Alex's request had caused him to act like a baby vampire. She did not know, could not understand, what she was offering.

Eric came to his Maker's side and fell to his knees in supplication. He could not lose Godric, not when the solution was so fucking easy. He had come in on the tail end of their conversation, and he had been shocked at Alex's offer.

"Father, you can't be so uncontrolled around a Fated Mate. If you are so in need of blood that you can actually drop fang around her, then not only would you be given the True Death once caught, but her blood would make your ending one of extreme agony. Please, Godric, I know you despise it, but let me order you a donor." Eric hesitated, and grudgingly added, "I know you … care … for her. What if you lose control and hurt her?"

"I would never harm her!" Godric snarled, disgusted at the very idea.

Eric shuddered at the rage his father gave off. "Maker, you dropped fang at her. At a Fated Mate! It has to be because you are starving yourself." At Godric's stubborn look, he finally snapped. "We're fucking vampires, Godric! We drink blood, and unless you want to come back to yourself to find her body dead and drained on the floor, then you'll sink your fangs into some blood bag's throat tonight!"

Godric bowed his head and gritted his teeth. He despised his need for blood, hated the glorious feel of his fangs sliding easily through human skin as their life-giving blood pumped hotly into his mouth. A vampire had two options when feeding, and since he refused to cause further unnecessary harm that meant his bite gave pleasure, even as he loathed their response to such artificial feelings. He was disinterested in sexual activity, although he had kept that fact from his nosy son who would be horrified to realize that Godric had not fed that particular urge in almost fifty years.

"Fine, my Child, order a donor from the hotel. Yet be discrete, I would not want Alex to discover this after I refused her." Godric sighed and turned away. At the door to the suite, he kept his back to Eric and said, "I would prefer A+ blood this evening."

Eric stared at the closed door, worry eating at his insides as he realized the reason why Godric had requested his most despised blood type.

Fuck.

Godric sat on his bed and stared at the wall. Disgust twisted in his stomach and his hands fisted in the coverlet. He did not want to do this, especially not coming on the heels of Alex's sweetly innocent offer. It was insulting to her, yet he had no other choice. Bagged blood was filling and normally acceptable, but it, unfortunately, lacked the satiation of living blood. He had often wondered if some magical property of the blood, perhaps some spark that the human soul gave it, was lost once the blood was removed.

He firmed his resolve since even the chance that he may still be hungry was too much to risk around Alex. He could not, would not, lose control and have her join the legion of those left broken by his hands. If that happened, the new Authority wouldn't have to hunt him down, he would voluntarily meet the sun and the agony of its golden touch.

Eric quickly made the call to the donor rooms. Unfortunately many of the tastiest blood types had been sampled rather heavily at the ball, but they promised to find an A+ human female to send up to the room in the next 10 minutes. Feeling peckish, he ordered one for himself as well to celebrate a job well done. Not his favorite blood type, but it would do. It was late so he doubted Alex would still be awake, or if she was that she would search out his Maker so close to dawn. Thus he felt safe enough to have his own bedtime snack. He sincerely doubted Godric actually expected him to stand guard over his doorway!

As he opened the door and nodded at the two attractive women, looking them over critically. The blonde A+ was close enough to Godric's preferred body type, small and with decent enough curves, that he doubted his Maker would be able to deny his instincts. He pointed the donor off to his Maker's room and turned to his own brunet nightcap. Yes, all Godric needed was a good fuck and feed, and everything would go back to normal.

Alex limped back into her room, too content to care about the intruder she had had two nights ago, and collapsed onto her bed. Tonight had turned into the best night of her life, and she snuggled into the mound of pillows as she thought of them dancing. She fiddled with the comb in her hand, and watched as the light played off the dark wood. Curious, she raised it to her nose for a tentative sniff.

Nothing.

Well, nothing but the faint smell of lacquer that he had coated over his blood. She really wished she could sense whatever Supernaturals did that caused them such fear. Silly vampires.

She was too keyed up to sleep, and she puttered around the room, putting away dropped clothes and scattered belongings. She picked up the camera Godric had gotten her and flopped onto her stomach on the bed and started to go through the series of pictures she had taken around the nest. She paused on her favorite one. It was when she had taken the selfie of Godric and her on the couch with the Chicago skyline behind them, each of them with an earbud in one ear. She grinned when she saw the happy expression on her face, and even Godric had a small smile, although he was looking at her and not the camera.

She looked over at her nightstand and squealed when she saw George's handwriting on a Walgreens envelope. She had emailed him the .jpeg files from her camera and asked for him to print the pictures off for her and put them in her room, but she wasn't sure that he would get it done before he was off for Christmas. She glanced at the clock and saw that there was still about forty-five minutes until dawn, and with sudden exuberance, she decided that he needed a copy of this picture right now. Besides, it wasn't as if he would actually be asleep yet.

Humming excitedly to herself, she found the copy she wanted to give him and scrawled a quick message on the back, along with the date and place where it had been taken. With a skip to her step, she left her room.

The nest was silent with everyone tucked into their rooms for the coming dawn. Quietly, she moved into the shared common room and through the door into Godric's nest. The lights were still on in the hallways, which was sort of weird since vampires didn't need them, but she shrugged it off. At least she could see where she was going.

She raised her hand to knock on Godric's door when she froze. The faint sound of female moaning could be heard, and her eyes widened.

"Yeah, baby. Your fangs feel so good!"

Confusion.

Understanding.

Pain.

Alex started to shake. No. No. He wouldn't do this to her, not Godric! He wouldn't …

A noise caught her attention. She turned and watched with blank eyes as a gorgeous woman dressed in the extremely short, red satin robe of a donor staggered out of Eric's room. Her satisfied smile, and visible fang marks on her throat and wrist made Alex's head whip back towards Godric's door as the pleasure filled moans grew louder and louder.

He had lied to her. Had stood there and lied directly to her face.

Devastation rocked her to the core, and she physically staggered under the weight of it. He had denied her freely offered blood, offered in the old ways that her father had taught her to be sacrosanct. He would rather feed off some stranger that didn't care about him, rather than her. He had said that he didn't bite donors because he hated it. He had lied to her … and the only reason had to be was that he thought her blood was inferior and dirty, and not even worthy of a single sip to keep the peace between their nests.

The blood is sacred.

A tear ran down her cheek as the taunts she had heard from other humans filled her mind.

Weird. Unnatural. Freaky.

She shuddered at the realization that for all of his pretty words, she was still not good enough. Was never good enough for anyone. Eric had warned her that Godric was an expert at lying, had tried to protect her by letting her know that his Maker was just being kind to the poor, lonely daughter of an allied nest. If Godric lied now … then what else had he said that was untrue?

She gave a soundless sob, her mind going back through the few treasured memories she had of him. She had held the words he had told her so many years ago, that she was a beautiful soul, like a shield against all the loneliness and hurt she felt at always being excluded. Of not being human enough for humans, but still not Supernatural enough to fit in with even the weakest of Supes. She had thought that the last few days had been as important to him as they were to her … but it had all been an elaborate lie.

Pain.

Agony.

Tearing.

She gagged, the sudden sensation in her chest making her stomach heave. Something precious was being ripped from the very root of her being, and it was the worst pain she had ever felt in her entire life. Worse than when her appendix had burst, or when she had badly broken her arm hang-gliding.

Was this what it felt like to have a broken heart?

"Hey, kid, what are you doing?" the other donor asked curiously, her eyes still partially glazed with satisfied pleasure.

The photo and comb tumbled from numb fingers to the floor. She had thought … she had hoped …

The sudden, white-hot bolt of agony had her desperately clasp onto the back of a nearby chair, her fingernails digging into the soft leather. Her shoulders hunched forward as her hand rose to press against her sternum, but to her distant surprise, there was no blood to show the gaping wound she felt to her core. Her migraine was back, the agony of it causing her vision to tunnel.

She backed away from the door on trembling legs, her quick, gasping breaths loud in the living room as her world shattered around her.

"Kid … are you okay?" the woman asked, and flinched when the girl raised pained eyes to meet her own. Those eyes blazed out of an alarmingly pale face, the soft keening noises the girl made had the woman's throat go tight in empathy. "Holy shit! You need to sit down, okay? Just breathe, it's gonna be okay."

"Oh, yes! Yes! Bite harder! Oh, yeeeeeees!"

The orgasmic wail drove like a spike into Alex's heart as another surge of pain shot through her chest, ripping her insides to pieces. Overwhelmed, lost, and in unbelievable pain, her mind shut down.

Reacting on instinct, she moved to get far away from what had wounded her. Without ever uttering a single word, she dashed past the donor, flung upon the suite door, and sprinted desperately down the hotel corridor as the female's wails echoed continually in her mind.

Godric opened the door for his donor, and reluctantly motioned for the woman to sit on the bed. He supposed she was attractive by this culture's standards, but he was uninterested in her personal charms.

When she went to remove her robe, he gently corrected her. "You may leave it on, I will only be taking your blood this eve. What is your name?"

The woman looked startled. "Um, Beth. I mean, my name is Bethany."

"Thank you, Bethany. I will only need a few mouthfuls, and then you can go."

She was obviously disappointed, but was professional enough not to argue. "We offer a full-service feeding experience, satisfaction guaranteed. I am required to tell you that all donors are regularly screened for health, and we have already been glamoured by the donor stable master for absolute confidentiality as well as to keep silent on the existence of vampires. Bruises, broken bones, internal damage, amputation, cosmetic and/or permanent injury, death, and blood loss equaling or exceeding half of my available blood volume will be charged as an extra fee to the room along with any medical bills accrued. If death or permanent injury occurs, a flat fee of $175,000 will be added to your bill. Do you understand and agree to these provisions?" She held out an iPad Mini and Godric glanced over the short statement before he clicked the Accept button.

He sat down next to her, but shook his head when she offered her throat. No. That was too intimate of a spot. Gently, he lifted her wrist and folded back the sleeve of her robe. She was the requested A+, and it was not her fault that he did not actually want to feed on her.

"Take a deep breath," he kindly told her, and on her exhale he carefully bit.

Living blood flooded his mouth, and ran hotly down his throat. Warmth spread from his core, and he smothered a groan at the rarely felt sensation, even as he withheld a gag at the rancid flavor of A+ blood.

His inner monster, the one he kept carefully chained and shoved in the darkest recesses of his mind, began to fight for freedom. For some reason, his vampire side was more enraged than usual as it desperately fought to escape his iron control. If he didn't know better, he would think it was actually furious at him for feeding. He ignored the thought since it went against everything he knew of his baser instincts that only wished to fuck, feed and destroy. With impressive willpower, Godric kept control and turned his attention to his moaning donor.

Carefully, he swallowed several mouthfuls of blood as the woman began to react with increasing fervor. He remembered when he enjoyed this aspect of feeding, when he would have gladly used her willing body until he could ring no more pleasure from her. Yet now he could only feel guilt, his pleasure in drinking live blood muted by the twisting emotion. He kept a steadying hand on her back to ground her, but when she reached for him he quickly pulled away.

"No," he said softly. "I do not like that. Be still." At his stern gaze, Bethany swallowed heavily, her eyes wide.

"S-sorry," she said and shuddered. "I've just … um … it's never felt this good before. Are you sure you don't want …" Her voice trailed off, and she shifted, opening her legs. "If you want to you can, ya know, feed from my thigh," she said eagerly.

Denial, swift and immediate, moved through him, and it took all of his control not to growl his displeasure. "No, thank you, Bethany. All I require of you is your blood. If you need sexual satisfaction from a partner, there are others in the nest who may oblige you." After a short pause, he asked, "May I continue?"

She sulked, but once more offered up her wrist. Godric leaned down to take two more mouthfuls. At the last gentle pull, she found her release, and he politely sealed the two wounds closed with his saliva as he patiently waited for her to regain her composure.

His head snapped up, and he looked to the door. He was suddenly uneasy, as if something called for his attention. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The feeling pulled at him and demanded he follow. He cursed the fact that he had been so involved with forcing down Bethany's blood that he had temporarily ignored his surroundings, trusting his son to keep what was happening a secret.

He was in the living room before Bethany even realized he had gone.

As soon as the door opened, he reeled back so abruptly that his impact cracked the plaster wall.

Confusion.

Anguish.

Alex.

Her distinctive scent was almost overwhelmed by the acrid smell of her pain and betrayal. His keen eyes saw the two items on the floor, and his heart dropped at the sight of the small comb and photograph. He looked around for his son, and to his fury saw a second donor standing in front of Eric's bedroom.

Anger exploded outwards, and he yanked on one of his bonds with the force of 1000 years. His son was on his knees before him seconds later, shocked at the strength of his Call, his shoulders bowed under the heavy weight of it.

"I told you to make sure Alex did not enter my nest this night," Godric said softly. "Yet I find that instead you tended to your own selfish needs. Perhaps it was my mistake to treat you like an equal, my Child, and I should have made it a Command?"

Eric shuddered at the tone, knowing exactly what it meant of his Master's mood. "Master … I—"

"No," Godric cut off. He turned towards the donor. "What happened?"

The woman swallowed, and reluctantly answered, terrified of the power the young looking vampire gave off in waves that rose the hair on her arms. She glanced at a clearly terrified Bethany who quickly edged past the two vampires and came to stand next to her. "I-I came out of the room, and the girl was standing in front of your door. She didn't say anything, but … um …"

"Spit it out!" Eric snapped. The girl's scent pulled at him, and he shuddered as his instincts clamored that he find and help her.

The donor jumped and quickly blurted out, "She looked horrible, all pale and clammy, and the look on her face …" The woman shook her head. "I tried to get her to sit down, but then Beth, uh, screamed, and she … she ran out the door."

Godric growled, fangs fully out and his eyes pitch black. His anger was so great that even Eric shuddered from the waves of it moving out from his Maker in ever expanding rings. This was a version of his father he had not seen in centuries, and one who was perfectly capable of destroying the hotel, and everyone in it. Only the King of Mississippi, Russell Edgington, was stronger but it was debatable if even he could win against Death. What had he done?

"Child," Godric hissed. "If she dies …" His gaze drilled into his son's, the threat clear.

Eric shuddered and, for the first time in centuries, was truly terrified of his Maker.

The next moment, Godric was gone.

Her legs and arms pumped as Alex ran down the corridor to the stairwell. Her head hurt so badly that her eyes went in and out of focus, but she kept going. She hit the door running, her feet pounding the stairs as she descended several floors. She needed to get away, get as far away as possible!

Her pain felt like a wave that had pulled back from the shore, and she feared what would happen when it crashed upon her. She could feel it coming, feel the agony rocketing back towards her stronger than before. She needed to hide, needed someplace safe and warm where nobody could find her. Grey eyes flashed across her mind's eye, and she tripped, rolling down the last two steps.

She sprung to her feet and ran down two more floors, the pain of her fall only adding to the flood of emotion she could feel barreling towards her. The discomfort in her bare feet was a distant feeling, and she blindly picked a random exit several floors down. Her breath choked in her chest and her heart felt like it was going to explode, but the pain kept coming closer and closer, rolling towards her like a tsunami.

When cold arms abruptly halted her flight, the wave of emotions hit, and she screamed.