Let Love In
By Terri Botta
Disclaimer: I don't own the Southern Vampires. Sole copyright belongs to Charlaine Harris. I'm poor so don't sue.
Rating: M for later chapters.
Timeframe: Post-From Dead to Worse
Pairing: Eric/Sookie
Summary: Eric decides that it's time for him and Sookie to come to an understanding.
A/N: Hey all, sorry this took so long. Holiday stuff. The first half is in Eric's POV, and the second is in Sookie's. Enjoy. Also, there will be a Chapter 26.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Because efficiency is his middle name, and because most of the Sheriff issues are paltry requests not worth his attention, he finishes his backlog of work in record time. As such he is back on display at his usual table in the center of the bar by eleven. The return of the Master is a significant event, and each of his subordinates comes to greet him and welcome him back. He acknowledges them with a nod as he stretches his long legs out from the chair. His body posture is one of casual ease, his face bored, but his senses are on high alert, his gaze sharp and predatory.
Fangbangers approach him, but he sends them all away with a scowl. He is not in the mood for their company, and none of them are customers to whom he would pay special attention. Pam comes to sit beside him in her usual spot, and he acknowledges her with a tilt of his head. The necklace he gave her is still around her throat, the gold gleaming in the muted light of the bar. He can tell that she is pleased, in more ways than one.
"You are glad I am back," he states.
"Things run more smoothly when you are here. There are fewer incidents and your subjects know to behave themselves," his child replied, surveying the crowd with a critical eye.
He smiles indulgently and flicks a hand at one of the barmaids. Her eyes widen, and she scurries to get him a TrueBlood. His smile spreads as he savors the feeling of power. He likes it very much. He hears Pam chuckle and he looks sidelong at her. She has a smug expression on her face.
"What?" he asks.
"You missed being here."
He lets out a breath through his nose. "Of course."
The barmaid nearly trips bringing him his drink. She is new and she reeks of fear. He lifts a lip at her when she fumbles with the lid on the bottle, his fangs down, and he delights in the trembling of her hands. She finally gets the bottle open and places it on the table with the requisite napkin. He wants to laugh, but that would ruin the effect. Another flick of his hand sends the girl skittering away, and Pam chuckles again.
"You still enjoy intimidating the staff," she states.
He sips the TrueBlood, frowning and remembering – too late – that he has a freeze dried pod of Bloodvine AB neg in his car, along with three freeze dried fey Bloodvine pods, but he will never drink them here. The bar wouldn't survive the encounter, and possibly several human employees and guests wouldn't either.
"Of course," he answers again.
"It is good to see that the human has not defanged you quite yet."
He scoffs and holds out his hand for her blackberry. She gives it to him without question. He is considering getting one of these multi-use cell phones for himself, but he wants the technology to be a bit more advanced before he does. He likes things to work and new technology is often, how do they say? Full of bugs. He uses Pam as a tester for such things and so far she likes it.
He opens the web browser and surfs quickly to the page for the dress he bought for Sookie. He pulls up the image and hands the Blackberry back to Pam.
"The dress Sookie will wear on Wednesday when I announce our bonding," he explains.
She looks at the image and smiles. "She will never wear it."
"She will," he insists with confidence.
"She will refuse and be difficult."
"She will not."
The smile spreads on his child's face and a feral gleam comes into her eyes. "Will you punish her as you punished me?"
He knows she is referring to the public spanking. Of all his punishments, that is the one that made the most impression on her. There is an almost gleeful anticipation in her voice, as if she is looking forward to someone else suffering the same humiliation. She does not realize that, should he ever be forced to discipline his mate, he will never do so where other eyes can see.
"There will be no need," he states with authority.
She gives him a short laugh, as if he is being stupid, and puts the phone away. "I will bring my paddle, just in case."
He grunts and turns his head. His eyes fall on another of his subjects, a female vampire displaced from southern Louisiana by the hurricanes. She had come north and requested permission to relocate into his Area, and, since she had followed all of the proper protocols and procedures he requires, he had allowed her to stay. She put in her weekly allotted hours at Fangtasia with no complaint, and gave him no trouble.
As far as subordinates go, she is a favorable one, and he decides that she will suit for his purposes. He flicks a hand to call a barmaid over. There is always one watching for his slightest movement, and she presents herself within seconds. It is a different one from the girl he scared earlier.
"Yes, Master?"
"Tell the vampire Cynthia that I require her presence," he orders.
She bows and goes immediately to fulfill her duty. A moment later, Cynthia is approaching his table. The female is tall and skinny, with long red hair and a pale complexion that is white even for a vampire. She must have been fair-skinned as a human, and vampirism has only accentuated her pallor. She is fine-boned with long limbs and delicate hands, and it is the skill of those hands that he requires.
"You called me, Master?" she asks, her green eyes concerned. All of his subjects know he does not summon them unless he needs something.
"It has come to my attention that you have some skill as an artist on the computer," he says.
"Yes, Master. I was a graphic artist in life."
"I require a notice to be designed and released for tomorrow. I am assigning this task to you."
"Yes, Master."
"It does not have to be fancy, but I would like some small embellishment to make it look formal," he instructs.
He sees that she is taking all of this in, her vampire mind squirreling away the details and memorizing the facts.
"The notice is for an Area-wide meeting to be held here on Wednesday at 10pm. All Area Five vampires are expected to attend."
Cynthia nods. "Do you have anything you wish to add? Something that gives a hint as to what the meeting will entail?"
He considers that for a moment, mulling over how much he should reveal ahead of time. The announcement of his bonding, and Sookie's official position by his side, will come as no surprise, but he does not want to give too much away too soon.
"No. Only that attendance is mandatory, and the event is semi-formal. I expect my subjects to be dressed appropriately."
"And you need this by tomorrow, Master?"
He nods. "I do."
"If you will release me for the night, I can go back to my house and have a draft completed for your approval before the bar closes."
He flicks his hand. "Go."
She bows to him and disappears. He stretches his legs and takes a drink from his TrueBlood, surveying the bar to see who was watching. The matter of how the attackers knew when to set the ambush is still unresolved, and any one of the newer, stupider members of his retinue could be responsible. If he discovers who was insolent enough to spy on him, he will make sure that the idiot will be the last one to breach his privacy, ever.
Of course, since this is his first night back from his "vacation," all eyes are on him. He can hear them gossiping, trying to judge where he has been and what he was doing with whom based on how he looks.
"He looks relaxed," he hears someone say, and he smiles as he turns his head to catch more snippets of conversations buzzing around him.
"Who's the hunk?"
"That's Master Eric."
"Is he available?"
"You can ask. If he doesn't kick you in the head, he's available."
Smart one, that. He scans the crowd to find the one who was speaking, but is distracted by another voice dripping with contempt.
"I heard he took that little blond human with him. I wonder if he finally fucked the bitch senseless and killed her."
It is one of his kind, but not one he knows well. It is a male, a transplant from New Orleans. He is standing with Indira near the bar.
"Shh, you must never speak ill of Miss Sookie where the Master can hear!" his little Indian female admonishes.
The male laughs cuttingly. "I'm only saying what the rest of us are thinking. The Master has been defanged by a human woman who holds him by the balls. We're all waiting for him to have his way with her, then get rid of her so the rest of us can finally relax."
Beside him Pam scowls, but he shakes his head slightly. Normally he would have dealt with the insult swiftly, but he stays his hand because he wants to hear what Indira has to say. Since he is going to announce his bonding, and put Sookie on the payroll, it is best to test the waters and see who will be against him.
"It's true that Master Eric has been on edge lately, but I don't think Miss Sookie has anything to do with it. Things have been very tense since Nevada took over…"
"Maxwell Lee told me Eric's stopped fucking the fangbangers. That is not Nevada, that is a sign that his human female wants him tamed."
Indira makes a sound of helplessness. "You know how humans are. They want one partner. They have to worry about disease and pregnancy."
"So his bitch imposes her human morals on the Master? Why would he tolerate such an insult if he was not her cuckold?"
Indira laughs. "Master Eric is no one's cuckold, and you would do well to remember that."
The male snorts. "Maybe I will do us all a favor and kill the bitch myself. He has not declared her his and, from what I hear, she keeps him tethered while flaunting another male under his nose."
"If you harm Sookie Stackhouse, the Master will skin you alive, wait for it to grow back, then skin you again. Then he will chain you in silver and leave you out for the sun," Indira warns with complete seriousness.
He licks his lips and smirks, turning his head away so the insolent fool will not see the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Pam chuckles beside him.
"Creative, that one. She knows you well," she says in Old Norse.
"Who is that asshole?" he replies in the same language. He pretends to be interested in a fangbanger dancing on the small dance floor. She is dressed in a miniskirt and fishnet pantyhose and little else.
"His name is Peter."
"Is he… attached to anyone?"
"His nest was destroyed by Katrina. He is the sole survivor."
"Hmm. Does he have a maker?"
"I do not know."
"Tell Bill Compton to look him up. I want to know who I will have to pay restitution to when I kill him."
Pam snickers.
"The Master has heard you!" Indira gasps.
"No, he hasn't. He is too busy watching that human whore and wishing he was allowed to take her. If I was him, I would say fuck the little human bitch and do as I pleased," Peter scoffed.
"You need to shut up and get out of here. If you stay away for a while, he might calm down enough to let you live."
"You worry too much."
"I know my master."
He knows the idiot is about to deny what Indira already knows, so he turns his head and pierces the asshole with a withering glare, making sure the insubordinate knows he has been seen and heard and noted. Peter has the sense to look abashed, but it will not be enough to save him. He keeps his eyes on the displaced vampire as the underling carefully makes his way out of the bar.
"Find out where he nests. I will find him and have a talk with him… later," he tells Pam in Old Norse.
"Of course."
He flicks a glance at Indira, who is looking tense and uncertain, and he gives her a slight, reassuring nod. She has defended the Master's bonded, and therefore she is still in his favor. She sees his acknowledgement and relaxes, but the concern does not leave her eyes. She knows that Peter's days among them are numbered.
It is the last incident as the night progresses. Pam sits beside him for most of the evening, but leaves the table at intervals to see to the running of the bar. Around twelve-thirty, Cynthia returns with a printout of the notice she has designed. It is simple and elegant, with crisp flowing script and a thin black stripe border. There is one small black rose graphic in the upper right-hand corner. He approves the design and sends her to the bookkeeper's office with Pam to make copies to put up around the bar and for his underlings to take with them to spread the word.
Left to his own devices, he finds himself entertaining himself with memories of his trip, and he grows eager for Last Call so he can rejoin his bonded. They are too far away from each other, and have been too long apart. He can already tell that the distance is going to be a problem, and he hopes that she will soon see her way to his side full time. Mates should share a nest, and spend most of their time together. He knows better than to try to force her to leave her work and her home, but he has not given up on a secret campaign to make her realize for herself that she belongs with him, just as he worked quietly to convince her that their bond was worth renewing. He has to make her think it was all her idea or she will balk and refuse him just for spite. He hates that about her. It shows an immaturity that is undesirable in a woman her age.
His mate is proud and headstrong and independent. He values these qualities, and he does not wish to see her cowed or broken. At the same time, she had best learn the art of yielding to him when he wishes because he will not always bend to her will. He has done a great deal of bending – far more bending than any powerful vampire such as himself ought to have bent – and he has no intention of bending much further. His subjects already think he is henpecked, they think him tamed and defanged. If they believe this, then he must prove to them that he is not, and swiftly, else they think him weak and challenge his authority.
Killing the fool who dared to threaten his bonded will send a very clear message, but he must also demonstrate his ability to control his mate, and that will not be so easy. For all her seeming knowledge of the Supernaturals, she is woefully naïve when it comes to playing the complicated games within the Supe power structure. She thinks it is perfectly acceptable for her to defy him in public, to undermine his position by making him appear weak and submissive.
Of all the memories that returned to him when he recalled the time when he was cursed, the ones of how he yielded to her and looked to her for guidance were the most unsettling. He was glad to find that his submission had bothered his bonded, too. If she had wanted to keep control over him, he would have had no choice but to sever the bond, and that would not have been pleasant for either of them.
Frankly, he isn't certain he could do it anyway.
As happy and elated as he is that Sookie has accepted their bond, it is also deeply disconcerting how strongly he feels about her. He once told her that he hated having feelings, that thinking of her and feeling for her was a distraction he could do without, but the bond is fast becoming the most important thing in his life, and that is a frightening prospect. To forget who he is, and what he must do, is a deadly mistake that could cost them both of their lives if he isn't careful.
Since she already has a reputation for being… difficult, and he already has a reputation for being a rogue and working outside the vampire norms, her independence will not be seen as out of the ordinary, but she will have to learn to play the game and fast. At his level, his peers are incredibly powerful, and most of them do not make themselves vulnerable to humans. She is his biggest weakness, and, if they do end up having to run, he has no doubts that it will be because his mate is too stubborn to get with the program.
But he must admit that he is happier than he has been in many, many centuries, and her love has lifted tons of weight off his shoulders. He remembers what he was thinking when he promised to go back with her, to leave all he had built in order to stay with her. He had been planning to sell his half of Fangtasia to Pam, then take the money and begin a new venture in Bon Temps. He hadn't decided what that venture would be because he hadn't thought that far ahead, but he'd been certain that the capital from the sale of the business would earn him enough money to have time to make a plan. He'd had it all worked out in his mind; living with her, helping her, having amazing sex with her every night, laughing and snuggling and being with her every possible moment.
He'd been such a lovesick sap, but part of him still longs for that simple life – the one without the political minefield that he has to traverse every night. It will be even more dangerous if he has to drag a recalcitrant human through it with him. Of all the humans who could have touched him, Sookie Stackhouse has to be the worst.
He shakes his head, remembering all the insults to his pride and position she has thrown at him: refusing to tell him the truth of their relationship, making him blackmail it out of her and then still not telling him everything, flaunting the tiger under his nose, snubbing him for a shifter – a shifter! She even refused him in front of the shifter and all but kicked dirt at him. He should have killed her for that alone. She'd enjoyed defying him, thought she could get away with it, and he'd let her. It is no wonder why his underlings think he is defanged.
It makes him angry. Why does he love her? She is stubborn, willful and infuriating. Why can he not bear to think of her being harmed? He was like this even before they bonded in Rhodes. He's been intrigued by her ever since Dallas, and more since giving her his blood in quantity in Jackson. Her hold on him is stronger than any human has ever had, and he does not understand why. Why did he let himself get so tangled up with her? Why did he let himself be brought so low?
He still has not figured out why he was running down the road near her house that New Years. Not even the return of his memories has brought that answer to light. Of all the places he could have gone when the witch cursed him, why was it to Sookie's house he was headed? He knows now that, even in his black void of nothingness, it was no mistake that he'd ended up where he did. Was he supposed to be running to the person he hated? Loved? Was he supposed to be running home?
If there is anyone who has cause to regret his time being cursed, it is him. Sookie thinks she is the one who lost the most there, but he begs to differ. He is the one irrevocably changed. He is the one now caught in a slow spiral of inevitable death and sorrow. Finding his way to her house and loving her was the worst thing that could ever have happened to him, and he sometimes wonders if Hallow intended him to be destroyed that way. Maybe she had meant for him to run to the one who had rejected him as he had rejected her offer, and she sent him to the one who would be the cause of his eventual demise. Maybe their love was all part of the curse born from Hallow's twisted mind.
It pains him to think that, but he can't rule it out. If the witch's plan truly was to destroy him, she's done a good job of it. If he cannot get Sookie to toe the line, he will lose everything, and both of them will probably die in the process. A thousand year-old Master vampire brought down by a twenty-seven year-old human.
What a joke. Maybe he should just kill her himself, then meet the sun before it gets any worse.
The pain that lances through him at the thought is almost enough to take his nonexistent breath away, and he has to stop himself from involuntarily touching his chest, but his little shiver is enough to bring a barmaid rushing over. Since he did not give the signal for blood, the young woman does not know what he wants.
"Master?" she asks, simpering a bit.
He has to think fast to cover his slip. "Find Pam and inquire about the status of the notice."
She bows. "Yes, Master."
After she is gone, he takes stock of what just happened, and he probes his own mental state. Not too long ago, he was happy and eagerly awaiting the close of business. Now he is angry and on-edge, and he wonders if he is not completely responsible for his emotions. He reaches out across the bond, stretching to see how well he can feel her at such a distance, and he is disturbed by what he senses. He concentrates harder, tuning out the noise and bustle of the bar, and lets his awareness slip into the bond.
He is too far away to hear his mate's thoughts (not for long!) but he can gauge her overall emotional state, and she is very unhappy. He picks through her feelings, trying to determine the source of her distress, but things are too jumbled, and he cannot distill them down to a single commonality.
What he does know is that he does not like what he feels. She is not regretting their bond, per se, but she is pushing at it, and that is the cause of his emotional upset. He should have known he was being influenced, because he has never rejected their bond the way his mate has, and he has never been upset enough to want her dead – no matter what he might have led her to believe. If he'd wanted her dead, she would have been dead months ago.
But she is upset, and that makes him upset and protective. He looks at his watch. It is only 1am. Technically he has another hour before the bar closes, but now that he is aware of his mate's distress, it is consuming all of his attention. He tries sending strength and calm through the bond, but it has little effect. By the time Pam presents herself, he is gritting his teeth and ready to rip heads off.
"You wished to see me?" his child asks.
"Yes. I am leaving. Please see to the posting and distribution of the notices," he says, rising to his feet.
Pam gives him a raised eyebrow look, but he does not have to explain himself to her.
"I will see you tomorrow night. I will be here by eight," he tells her over his shoulder because he is already heading for the rear door, his long strides forcing the thinning crowd to part before him like the Red Sea: Make way. The Master is coming, make way.
He hits the back door hard enough to nearly rip it off its hinges, and he is already in his car before he realizes that he left his bag in his office. No matter. He has clothes at the Ruston house, and that is where he and his mate will spend the night. Judging by her emotional state, she is definitely going to need the privacy and safety of their secret nest. He throws the car into sixth as he merges onto the Interstate, gunning the engine for all it is worth. Without his bonded in the car to freak out about his heavy foot, he is free to break land speeds. He reaches out to her as he puts the miles behind him, the Corvette slicing through the night like a finely honed blade, and tries to bridge the gap between them.
'I am coming, my lover. I am coming.'
He is coming, and woe betide anyone who gets in his way.
88888888
Her first day back to work had started out all right. Sam was happy to have her back, didn't ask too many questions about what had happened while she was away, and seemed to have brushed off Eric's hanging up on him. He liked his gifts, and genuinely appeared to be accepting of her choices, even if he wasn't too overjoyed about them. He was the only one who knew she'd gone away with Eric, and since no one else was asking, she wasn't telling. She didn't need the aggravation.
Friday night was always very busy, and the customers kept her hopping. All of the regulars wanted to know where she had been for five days, and she'd been happy to tell them about her trip north and the snow. She promised pictures and set a mental reminder to ask Eric how to print out the pictures from her phone. It was amazing how a 1000 year-old vampire was more computer literate than she was.
She was glad to be busy. It kept her mind off of what was happening with Victor and Eric, and the danger they were in. For a few short hours, she could put all the badness aside, and just be Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid. There were no vampires waiting to kill her, no undead Vikings trying to sneak her off early (although that might be fun!), no Weres lurking in the dark parking lot, and the only shifter in the bar was her boss. Yep. As close to normal as her life had been for the past two years.
Humming to herself, she glanced at the clock. It was midnight. Two hours to go. Three hours before she would see Eric again. She wondered what he was doing; if he was picking up the reins of his normal life the way she was. She couldn't imagine Eric having any trouble reasserting his authority over his minions. She smiled as she pictured him sitting at his table, surveying the crowd and keeping order with a single look. For a second the bond opened, and she got a quick flash of him enjoying himself by scaring a fangbanger. He was very pleased with himself, and she ducked her head to hide her eye roll. Her Viking was going to be insufferable tonight.
The crowd was starting to thin down a little, finally, and she was able to catch a break. She caught Sam's eye and smiled at him. She was happy, really happy, for the first time in a long time. His eyes were hooded, but he did smile back. She wanted to stick out her tongue and raspberry him for trying to put a damper on her buzz.
Everything was going fine until, in the process of cleaning a spill on her shirt, she pulled the necklace Eric had given her out from its place against her skin, and it was still out, gleaming in the light, when she returned to her duties.
"Whoa, pretty necklace, Sookie. Where'd you get that?" Tanya asked her as she returned to the bar for refills. The woman had been much more pleasant to deal with since Octavia and Amelia had broken Tanya's connection to Sandra Pelt.
"It was a gift," she answered with a smile.
"It looks old."
She nodded. "It is old," she confirmed.
"Ooh, does Sookie have a new boyfriend?" Tanya teased.
It just so happened that her former BFF, Arlene, was within earshot, and Arlene's eyes shot up. Sookie saw them fall on her necklace and her face drew down in a deep scowl.
"More like old boyfriend," the redhead sniped.
"Old boyfriend?" Catfish Hennessey asked. "Sookie you back with that vampire Bill?"
She tried not to slam the beer down on the table as she brought him his refill. "Not that it's any of your business, but no, I am not seeing Bill Compton."
But of course, her denial wasn't enough to keep their minds from whirring, and since she was tired and missing Eric, her shields weren't as strong as they should have been. Pretty soon she was privy to just about every nasty thought buzzing through the bar patrons' heads.
'Pretty girl like that screwing a vampire.'
'Stupid vamp whore.'
'Crazy Sookie Stackhouse never did have any sense.'
'They're gonna find her body somewhere, throat all ripped out.'
'What? Human guys not good enough for her? She's gotta fuck a dead guy?'
Their disapproval flooded into her, and she struggled to fill orders without snapping or bursting into tears. Even Sam was thinking that she was stupid to trust Eric, and that she was probably going to get seriously hurt, maybe even killed. After the ambush of last night, he was probably right.
All of the arguments against dating Bill came back with a vengeance, only now it was worse because the vampire she was bound to was Eric. It had been bad enough with Bill, but at least their pairing had been somewhat acceptable. Bill was a loner. He had no nest, he did not associate with other vampires often, and he did his best to mainstream. He was practically the poster boy for mainstreaming vampires. If any vampire was going to be acceptable to human society, it was Bill.
Eric, on the other hand, was Eric: head honcho vampire and political shark. If Bill was the poster boy for mainstreaming vampires, Eric was the poster boy for enterprising vampires capitalizing on humanity's morbid fascination with death. He was intimidating and dangerous. He owned a vampire bar. He ruled Area Five. No one could say that Eric gave a crap about fitting into human society unless there was profit to be made there.
In vampire society, Eric had throngs of subjects under him, and very few of them were going to be happy that he'd bonded to a human. That would make their relationship unwanted on two fronts. Humans wouldn't accept them because he was a vampire. Vampires wouldn't accept them because she was human – at least not as anything other than his "pet." If she and Eric ever decided to get married, no one would be happy for her, and she'd spend the rest of her life being known as Bon Temps' fangbanger bride. However long that lasted. The odds of them being able to have a long-term relationship were ridiculously high, and she couldn't believe that she'd agreed to re-bond with him.
She had to have been out of her mind. It had to have been the sex, the magic on the island, how totally amazing he had looked in those leather pants. She'd been under a spell, but now that the spell had been broken, cold, hard reality was sinking in. She was stupid and crazy, and she was going to get herself killed. Eric was a devious, conniving, manipulative bastard who had probably staged the whole thing just to get her back into his bed.
But how could he have lied to her in the bond? How could he have hidden anything from her when they were so closely tied? He loved her. She knew that he did. What they had shared and felt on Isle Elena wasn't staged or fake. It was real and it was wonderful. Eric had been sweet and loving and gentle, and he'd stayed that way now that they were back. He'd even been nice to Amelia. Was that all an act? Could he be having second thoughts about what they'd done? No. The only thing she'd felt when the bond opened had been contentment and pride.
Well, of course he was proud. He'd gotten her. He'd gotten her blood, her body, her heart. He'd gotten everything she'd had to offer, and with almost no resistance or trouble from her. Like a stupid idiot, she'd just hopped back into bed with him and declared her love after some flowers and chocolates and pretty words. Who knew she'd be that easy?
Now she was permanently bonded to Eric Northman, stuck in the middle of a possible turf war between rival vampires, and once again dragged into the kind of danger that often proved fatal to mere mortals such as herself. She truly had to be insane to have allowed herself to be manipulated so expertly. And she'd always thought of herself as smarter than her boobs and blond hair suggested. Oh, how wrong she'd been.
Her emotional state crashed, and she was left feeling bereft and used. If Eric had been there at that moment, she probably would have slapped him. As it was, she was seriously considering letting him have it with both barrels when he got to her house that night and telling him to take his undead ass back to Shreveport.
It was while she was in this ever so happy happy joy joy mood, that her brother chose to walk into Merlotte's. He even sat in her section. Yippee, her night was now complete.
"Hey, Sis," he said sullenly as she went to his table to get his order.
"What'll ya have?" she asked harshly, holding her pen so tightly she thought she might snap it in two. She'd had enough vampire blood to be stronger than she was used to, so she needed to be careful.
"A beer and a cheeseburger with fries," he answered, lowering his eyes when she glared at him.
"Beer and cheeseburger with fries. Comin' right up."
She was about to stalk away when she heard Jason clear his throat.
"Uhh, Sookie?"
She whirled to face him, her jaw tight and her arms stiff at her sides. "Yes?" she answered tersely. She so did not want to deal with him right now. Behind the bar, Sam was watching them with hawk eyes.
"Crystal told me she heard from Calvin who heard it from Tray Dawson that you're seeing that Eric vampire again."
She sent daggers at him with her eyes. "It's none of your damn business who I'm seeing, Jason Stackhouse!"
"Eric? You mean that big, blond vampire who owns the demon bar in Shreveport?" Arlene asked, her eyes wide. In her tone of voice she could have said "that vampire who eats babies and dances on corpses every night."
She gritted her teeth. "Yes. Eric owns Fangtasia."
"Did he give you that necklace, Sookie?" Jason questioned.
She huffed and dropped her goldgubbe down her shirt and out of sight. "None of your business!" she hissed and stomped off to deliver her order. Sam gave her a concerned look, but she shook her head angrily and locked herself down.
A surge of strength and comfort came through the bond, and it was so strong it almost made her swoon, but she fought it back and gripped the edge of the bar until it passed.
Great. Now Eric knew she was upset and he was trying to "help."
'When he promised not to do that anymore,' she thought angrily, needing someone to blame and deciding the dead guy was a good target. She pushed back through the bond and all but screamed across it, 'Leave me alone!'
She got Jason's beer, ignoring Sam's worried look, and took her brother his drink.
"Here. Your food'll be up in a few minutes," she said, setting down the frosty mug.
"Thanks, Sookie. You know I'm just worried about you, right? I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you forced me to break my friend's hand," she whispered angrily, leaning close to him.
"I didn't know it was gonna go down that way, you gotta believe me. Anyway, we're not talking about me. We're talking about you. This obsession you have with dead guys is no good, Sookie, and you know it. Eric's bad news."
She saw red, and in some tiny rat corner of her brain, she knew Eric was on his way, and the thought of her Viking coming in and smashing her brother through the window was a thrilling fantasy.
"You gave up the right to lecture me on my life choices years ago, Jason Stackhouse, so don't you dare tell me what is or is not good for me because you don't have a clue," she scolded, then stomped back to the bar.
The moment she said it, she knew she meant it. No one had any right to judge her for the choices she had made. She was a grown woman, she knew her own mind, and she wasn't breaking any laws or being unfaithful. Other than being cursed with a disability that made human men think she was defective and Supe men think she was irresistible, she was a normal, red-blooded woman who wanted to be loved and valued just like anybody else. And if the man who had given her those things just happened to be dead, well then tough doo-doo on anyone who didn't like it. They didn't have to live her life.
She wondered if her sudden improved mood was because she knew Eric was on his way, but she shoved it aside and worked on calming herself down, otherwise her undead Viking was going to come in like The Avenger – possibly even with sword swinging if he strapped it on before he got there. She was smiling at the image as she brought Jason his food, and marveling at the emotional rollercoaster she was riding on. She hadn't been on a real rollercoaster since High School, but somehow the freefall still felt the same.
Ten minutes later, Eric came into range. She'd been feeling him getting closer and closer, but she really knew he was almost there when she heard his thoughts.
'Lover? My lover, can you hear me now?'
She busied herself with drying some glassware so she could hide her preoccupation. 'Yes, I can hear you.'
'I'm coming. I will be there soon. What has happened? What is wrong?'
'It's nothing. I'm better now,' she assured him. It was true. It was as if all of her earlier doubt and upset had been swept away by just knowing he was on his way. Who else in her life had ever dropped everything just to come running to her side? He had to have left Fangtasia early in order to arrive when he was, and she wondered if he'd felt her upset and had just walked out.
'Tell me,' he answered.
She toyed with the idea of not telling him, but he was going to know anyway because Jason was still at the table in her section and not showing any signs of leaving.
'Jason's here.'
'I… see. I am glad. I have some unfinished business with him.'
What unfinished business Eric could have with Jason was beyond her, but the edge of violence in his thoughts made her worry. She looked about the bar, and noted that almost everyone had gone. Even Tanya had already left after cleaning up her section. All that was left were Jason, Arlene, Catfish, two college kids slumming from Ruston, Jane Bodehouse, Sam, and herself. That was good. Fewer people to get out if Eric came in pissed off.
'But your brother was not the one who made you so upset,' Eric sent to her. He was coming in a lot clearer now, and she was really feeling him. He'd be there any minute.
'I really don't want to talk about it,' she sent back. She managed to catch Sam's eye and mouth "Eric's coming," just to give her boss a heads up. She saw Sam's eyes widen, then he nodded gravely.
'My lover, you are hurting and upset. I can feel it. I left Fangtasia to come to you because I knew you needed me. Why do you keep the things that hurt you away from me?'
His heartfelt words made her all gooey inside, and she was reminded of all the reasons why she had been so easily persuaded back to his bed. He knew the right things to say and do, and he was there when she needed him. And now, with him so close and the bond so strong, she knew he wasn't lying to her or deceiving her about how he felt. His love and care washed over her like cool water, and all the tension in her shoulders released and drained out of her.
'Really, it's okay…' she tried, but she knew before he could say anything that he had already gotten snippets of the things she had heard from her memory, and he was none too pleased.
'We will speak of these things in private, my lover. We must be too far apart if such petty and blatantly untrue things can shake your faith in me and our bond,' he admonished gently.
'I know. I'm sorry…'
'I am here.' He was in the parking lot. She could almost hear the Corvette's purr right before he turned off the engine.
'I know.'
'I love you.'
'I love you, too. Please don't wreck the bar.'
'I would never. I will be the epitome of restraint.'
He came in the door and the sight of him took her breath away. He'd let his hair loose, and it framed his face like a golden mane, wild and shining. He was a Norse God, his eyes blazing, his presence filling the bar as he paused in the doorframe. He saw her, made his way to her side faster than anyone could see, and drew her into his arms for a kiss. Sparks flew from her fingertips when they touched, their bond flaring and wrapping around them.
"My lover," he whispered so lowly only she could hear.
"Mmmm," she sighed, leaning into his embrace, feeling safe and beautiful. The moment she was in his arms everything made sense again. She was complete and whole again, and all was right with the world. Maybe there was some logic in his statement that they were too far apart…
He held her a moment more, humming happily in that way that always made her feel cherished, but then her brother decided to be an idiot and try to interfere.
"You should leave my sister alone," Jason stated.
"Oh really?" her Viking replied. His voice was velvet over steel. Too bad Jason was too much of an idiot to hear it.
"Yeah, she doesn't need to be dragged into your vampire shit. She's a hell of a lot better off dating someone who isn't a dead guy."
"Because human men have treated her so well," Eric said drolly.
"They've treated her a hell of a lot better than vamps! At least with real guys no one thinks my sister's a fangbanging whore."
"Jason!" she shrieked, horrified.
Eric's hand shot out so fast, she didn't even see it move. All she knew was the next second, Jason was writhing on the floor, moaning and grabbing his jaw, blood pooling in his mouth. Eric had slapped him across the face. She didn't even have time to scream, although Jason was making enough noise for both of them.
"You will never speak of my lover in such terms ever again."
Jason let out a strangled gasp and let out a gurgled, "You broke my jaw!" Which sounded more like "yophh rooooke mmmpphhh awwwwhh!"
"I owed you that for striking Sookie after her grandmother was killed," her Viking said harshly, then he reached down and grabbed Jason by the shoulders, swinging him up to the bar as if he weighed no more than an sack of potatoes, and shoving him onto a bar stool.
While she watched in horror, Eric seized Jason's hand and slapped it flat on the bar, then, while he was holding Jason's wrist, he brought his fist up and prepared to smash Jason's hand the way she'd smashed Calvin Norris's. Jason screamed bloody murder, which was hard to do with his cracked jaw.
"Eric! Stop!" she cried, reaching to put her hand in the path of danger. She was lucky her lover had vampire reflexes; otherwise she would have been in a world of hurt.
Eric scowled at her, his fangs down. "Why do you stop me? He owes you the pain."
Gotta love those Supes. They took the "eye for an eye" thing literally. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down.
"Yes. I know. But I'm not like that. I'm not vengeful, and breaking his hand doesn't make what he did to me go away," she tried to explain. 'If you break his hand for me, that makes you no better than him. You shouldn't lower yourself to his level.'
'If he had been one of my subjects, and he had done that to you, I would have killed him,' he replied coldly, but he did relax his fist. "You are too good for him, my lover."
She sighed and looked at her brother. He was bleeding from the mouth, blazing mad, and cursing up a storm now that the danger had passed. His thoughts were black snakes twisting around each other and eating their own tails, and she was starting to rethink her decision to stop Eric.
"Yeah, I know," she agreed sadly. She turned to Sam who was looking shocked and wary. She half expected him to break a pool cue in half and threaten Eric with it. She made a gesture for calm. "Sam, you know the… customs better than I do. If I let Eric break Jason's hand what will his… in-laws think?"
She had to be careful what she said because non-Supes were in the bar.
Jason's eyes widened and he started struggling, but Eric still had his wrist pinned to the bar. Sam looked at her, trying to figure out what she meant. Because she and Calvin had stood for Jason and Crystal at their wedding, technically she had agreed to what that could entail, but now her vampire lover was seeking vengeance for the pain Jason had caused her. In the Supe world, that might be normal.
"By his own admission, he conspired to make sure his wife's infidelity would be discovered. He is as guilty as the woman, and a coward for allowing Sookie to face the consequences of something that was ultimately his responsibility. He betrayed her trust," Eric stated, speaking like a prosecutor trying to convince the judge that the accused deserved the death penalty.
"Yes," Sam agreed and Jason started screaming, which was an agonizing sound because he couldn't move his jaw. "You have claimed her?" her boss asked her bonded over her head.
Eric nodded. "Yes."
"Then it is your right, but… I gotta be honest, he ain't worth it."
Eric seemed to digest this, and she got the feeling that the two of them had been talking about Supe political crap that she didn't understand. But what was really odd about the whole thing was that Sam was completely calm and talking to Eric as if they were… well… not friends, but colleagues. Oh, yeah, colleagues in the Keep Sookie Happy Club. It was just like the night Sam called Eric in order to get her to talk about what had happened. She scowled. Men.
"Do I get a say in this?" she snapped peevishly.
"Of course." "Sure." Both partners in crime replied in unison.
"Then I've decided that I'd rather you not break Jason's hand."
Eric leveled her with a look, his face stony, then abruptly released her brother's wrist.
"As you wish, my lover. His punishment is your decision."
Jason moaned with relief and gave her a grateful look. She glared at him.
"I didn't do it for you. I did it because I don't want what he does to you on my conscience," she snarled.
Eric stood at her shoulder, looming over her like a big, white grizzly bear. "Know this. If you ever harm her again, I will kill you."
During all of this, Arlene and Catfish had been huddled together with twin expressions of disgust and fear on their faces, the two students from Ruston had bailed without paying their bill, and Jane Bodehouse had barely looked up from her beer, but now she was thinking that the whole situation was mighty funny. As things calmed down, Catfish was thinking he might be able to get the drop on Eric if Eric was distracted; he'd been the one who'd staked Charles Twinning after all.
"Don't you dare, Shirley Hennessey," she warned, using Catfish's real name, then turned to Sam. "Sam, you got a first aid kit in your office, right?"
"In the storeroom," her boss corrected.
"Would you be willing to take Jason back there and I'll fix him up some?"
Sam nodded.
"Arlene, start cleaning up for Last Call," he said, then took Jason by the arm to drag him back to the storage room. She and Eric followed.
"Do you think Dr. Ludwig would come out here this time of night?" she asked when they were out of non-Supe sight.
Eric blinked at her and shrugged. "It is possible, but why? Do you not want him to suffer?"
Part of her did, and that scared her. "You broke his jaw, Eric. He'll have to go to the hospital if we can't get him healed. If he does that, there will be questions."
She gave him a look and he nodded, understanding, but couching his understanding with a disdainful thought about silly human social mores. In his book, Jason deserved to have his jaw broken every six weeks for the next year, just to get the point across. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Call Dr. Ludwig. Please?"
Her Viking gave a suffering sigh and pulled out his cell phone. She heard him talking to Pam while she went to see what could be done for Jason. Sam had given him some whiskey to help dull the pain, and Jason was looking less pissed-off, but his face was starting to swell and it wasn't going to be pretty.
"I've asked Eric to call Dr. Ludwig," she said.
Sam looked at her in surprise, but nodded. "Okay."
"I don't want questions," she explained, then commanded her brother's attention. "I'm gonna see about getting you healed. I do this, we're even, understand? You leave Eric alone. Got it?"
Jason grimaced as much as his swollen face would allow and nodded.
"Do you want me to give him my blood?" she heard Eric ask from behind her.
"No!" she refused vehemently as her brother made a furious negative sound through his bloody lips.
Eric seemed disappointed. He was thinking that if he got his blood in Jason, then he could control Jason pretty easily, and that might solve a whole host of problems.
"No," she repeated more firmly.
Her Viking shrugged. "As you wish. Dr. Ludwig will be here momentarily."
"How…" she began, but cut off when the little woman blipped into the storeroom.
"I am here. What is so urgent that you needed me to come to this backwater at this time of night?" the doctor demanded, then caught sight of Jason. "Never mind, I see the problem."
"I owe him the healing," Eric admitted grudgingly, casting Sookie an unhappy look. He was still thinking that it was better to let Jason suffer.
"I'm going to go back to the bar and help Arlene," she stated and didn't wait for anyone to naysay her.
Back in the front, Arlene was busy closing up the bar because it was only ten minutes to two. Catfish and Jane were still there. Catfish was waiting to see what had happened with Jason, and Jane… well, Jane…
"I called her son," Arlene said snappishly as she wiped down the bar.
"Thanks," she answered, going over to the table where the two college kids had been sitting, and collecting the empty plates and mugs. They'd stiffed her for $30.
'I will pay it,' came her vampire's immediate response.
For once she didn't argue. It was his fault they'd run out anyway. Seeing a vampire come storming in and breaking someone's jaw was enough to send anyone running. She concentrated on her work and kept her shields up because she so did not want to know what Catfish and Arlene were thinking. It was much easier to block now that Eric was there.
About fifteen minutes later, Sam came back out leading Jason. Eric followed. There was no sign of Dr. Ludwig, and she guessed the doctor had just blipped home, wherever home was. Her brother's head was wrapped in a dressing that supported his jaw, and his face was black and blue, but his eyes were bright. Catfish stood up.
"You need me to take him to the hospital?" Jason's boss asked.
"Nah. He's okay. Guy's got rocks for bones," Sam replied. "He shouldn't drive home though."
Catfish nodded. "I'll take him."
"Thanks, Catfish," she said.
The man gave her a withering look that prompted Eric to lift one lip and show a bit of fang, before taking Jason out into the night. She was relieved to see them both go. Jane's son came in a minute later to collect his inebriated mother, and they left in short order after the boy paid Jane's tab. That left only, her, Arlene, Sam and Eric in the bar.
"Sam, I'm gone," Arlene called, breezing out the door. She hadn't bothered to acknowledge Sookie or Eric on her way out.
Oh yeah, that was another person who was now convinced that she was beyond saving. With all the people in Bon Temps who thought she was so wonderful, maybe going to work for Eric full-time wasn't such a bad idea. The only person she'd really miss was Sam… and maybe Terry. Terry was always nice to her.
She looked at Eric, but his mind and face were suspiciously blank on the subject. She sighed. She was tired and worn out, and she wanted the night to be over. Eric felt her weariness and came over to put his arm around her, tucking her in next to his body. She practically sagged with weariness, and she didn't care if Eric held her in front of Sam. It struck her, then, that Sam was taking all of this remarkably well, and she turned to him, feeling guilty for once again being the cause of his upset.
"Sam… thanks," she said, knowing it was inadequate, but it was all she had.
She watched Eric and Sam exchange another one of those looks that made her very uncomfortable.
"I don't appreciate someone coming in and beating up my customers, but in this case, I'll make an exception," her boss answered.
"Jason's not that bad, Sam…"
She stopped because Sam gave her such a glare that it shocked her.
"You haven't been involved with Supes long enough to understand how serious what Jason did was. Yeah, Crystal broke her vows, but he was the one who manipulated the Seconds, and that's a big breach of trust. I don't even think Jason knows how serious what he did was, but he'd better learn and fast. Supes aren't forgiving, Sookie. As far as I'm concerned, Jason got what he deserved, and if it had been up to me, I would've let Eric break his hand."
The admission gave her pause because she suddenly had to reorient her view of her boss. Her confusion and shock must have shown on her face because Sam looked at Eric and shook his head sadly.
"She doesn't understand, does she?"
"No," Eric admitted in a tone of voice that said that little fact was exasperating and a source of deep frustration.
The two Supes sighed in unison.
"You should take her home. She worked hard tonight," Sam said.
"I intend to, but first, would it be possible for Sookie to work the dayshift on Wednesday? I am planning a meeting at Fangtasia that requires her presence."
Sam's eyes widened and his face grew grave. "You're making the announcement?"
"Yes."
"Okay then. I think I already had her down for lunch that day anyway."
"Good."
Okay, she was getting just a little fed up with being talked about as if she wasn't there. "Hello? I'm still here, y'know!"
Eric smiled down at her, his eyes warm. "Of course, my lover. Are you ready to go? Have you finished all of your work?"
"Yeah."
"Go on, Sook. I'll see you tomorrow," Sam told her, giving Eric the shoo motion.
Eric turned, somehow managing to turn her in the same smooth movement, and guided her out to the parking lot.
"I will follow you to your house. We are staying in Ruston tonight, yes?" he asked, presenting her to her car.
Half of her wanted to say that all she wanted to do was sleep in her own bed, but there was no privacy at her Gran's with Amelia and Octavia there, and no safe place for Eric to bed down during the day. And if she had to choose sleeping alone in her own bed or sleeping with Eric at the Ruston house, she'd choose Ruston.
'It is not a choice, my lover. I will stay with you no matter where you wish to go.'
Which boiled it down to privacy or no privacy? She chose privacy. 'Ruston.'
'As you wish.'
It was his new catchphrase. She was starting to think she was Buttercup in The Princess Bride.
'The what?' her Viking asked.
'It's a movie. Never mind,' she answered as she got into her car. Eric was already headed for his. A thousand years old, and he had missed most of the pivotal films in movie history.
'I heard that,' Eric complained.
'Yeah, yeah, yeah.' She started her car and pulled out of the lot. Eric's Corvette fell in behind her.
'My lover, if you really want to rent a bunch of "chick flicks" and make me sit through them, you're going to have to make it worth my while.'
'What? Like watch them naked?' she joked as she turned onto the road.
'That's an idea,' he replied brightly.
'Sex between each film?'
'Even better.'
She rolled her eyes. 'You're insatiable.'
'You're just figuring that out?'
She laughed in spite of herself and shook her head. She turned onto Hummingbird Road and eased down her driveway a few moments later. Her house was dark and silent, which meant her two boarders had already gone to bed.
They stayed long enough for her to leave a note for Octavia and Amelia telling them that she was spending the night with Eric and leaving her cell number in case of an emergency. Then she packed a change of clothes in her overnight bag and tried to put in a nightgown, but Eric promptly pounced on it and took it out.
'Planning on sleeping alone?' he asked, waggling his eyebrows as he held up the cotton shift.
'In case you haven't noticed, it's November and you don't have any body heat.'
'I will furnish our nest with an electric blanket to warm your chilly mortal toes.'
'Is there one there now?'
'No.'
'Then Holly Hobbie goes back in the bag,' she said, holding out her hand for the nightgown. He looked reluctant, so she wiggled her fingers at him, and he relented, handing her the shift with a shake of his head. She shoved the nightgown back into the bag and stuffed the fabulous bathrobe she'd gotten on Isle Elena in there, too.
'My subjects will think you have defanged me,' he complained sullenly.
There was an edge to it, a warning that put a single cold finger at the back of her neck, and she paused.
'Eric… I'll never make you look weak in front of your subjects,' she promised.
He blinked at her, surprised, then he nodded. 'That would be the safest and wisest thing to do.'
She'd definitely hit something dead on. The vampire hierarchy was based on age, intelligence and strength. Eric could not appear to be henpecked by a human woman, and the understanding brought new clarity to her. In a way, she'd always known it, but it was only now that it was truly coming home to roost. No matter how amiable and reasonable Eric might be with her in private, once they were in public, he had to be the leader and she had to accept that even if it sometimes rankled her American sensibilities.
'Ready to go?' he asked.
'Yep.'
He smiled at her, and they left as silently as they had come, taking the Taurus and leaving her Malibu and his Corvette parked behind the house.
"Is the announcement Wednesday night when you will tell everyone that we're bonded?" she asked when they were both in the car and headed down Hummingbird Road. Eric was driving again.
"Yes." It was a simple answer, but she felt that there was more to it.
"You will tell them that I am yours," she pressed.
He nodded and she could feel his tension in the bond. He knew how she felt about being possessed, but she was fast figuring out that it wasn't about how either of them really felt, but more about how it looked.
"Yes, I will declare you as mine," he finally answered, his voice careful.
She licked her lip, swallowing that and accepting it. "Okay. That's okay. Will you tell them that you are mine?"
She saw him consider her words and knew he was thinking hard, but she refrained from tapping his mind to see what he was thinking.
"I… will tell any human or Supe that I am faithful to you."
"That you have a companion," she said, remembering Bill's words that first trip to Fangtasia. The night her world changed forever.
"That, too, but more. I will say I am your bonded, that you are… my mate, and I am yours."
She processed that as he merged onto to the Interstate. "Eric… are we… married now, by vamp standards?"
"What we have is deeper and more profound than any words or scraps of paper."
Well, that was her answer.
"But… I have told you that I will marry you according to your human customs anytime, if that is what you wish."
She nodded and tried to picture it like she had on Isle Elena: her in white, him in a tux – the tux he'd worn that one time she went to the Dracula's birthday party at Fangtasia – flowers, cake and candles. Who would stand for her? Pam? Amelia? They were possibly the only two women on the planet who would be happy for her, and Pam's happiness was iffy. Who would give her away? Jason? (Yeah, right!) Sam? Niall? (Oh that would be good. A fairy at a vampire wedding.) Who would Eric ask to be his Best Man? Clancy? Russell Eddington? Sam? Some vamp she didn't know? Who would officiate? Where would they have the ceremony?
Vegas came to mind and she giggled. "We could get married in Vegas with one of those Elvis impersonators as the priest."
"You want Bubba to be our officiant?" he blurted with great offense.
The look on his face made her burst out laughing.
"I could walk down the aisle to The Hawaiian Wedding Song, and we could dance to Viva Las Vegas as our first dance," she teased.
"I am not wearing a white spangled jumpsuit or cutting my hair into sideburns."
"What would happen if you cut your hair?" She'd never asked Bill about how vampires regenerated. She knew that they remained forever as they were when they died, but she didn't know what would happen if say… one of them wanted a new hairstyle or a tattoo.
"It would grow back over the course of the day."
She looked at his long locks. "Just a day?"
He nodded.
Wow. That was impressive. No bad hair days or unfixable "hair accidents."
"Wow."
"I can show you. I can shave my head before dawn, and you can watch it grow back while I am asleep."
"You just said you wouldn't cut your hair."
"I said I wouldn't cut it to sideburns," he corrected.
Somehow the idea of him shaving his head just so she could watch his hair grow back was just creepy, but touching in its own way. She knew he pampered and fussed over his golden locks. Apparently, Vikings had a hair fetish. She remembered reading that one of the most common artifacts found in archeological digs from the Viking Era were combs. Not that she'd been looking that sort of thing up or anything.
The fact that he was willing to make the sacrifice was, actually, really nice. Who else would shave his head for her? It had to be love.
"Ah. Well, while I appreciate the offer, you don't have to do that for me."
"I do cut it sometimes. If I dye it, then I will shave it off at the end of the night, and it will be back to normal the following evening. And I've used my hair for things in a pinch for rope or binding. Our hair is very strong."
She blinked. That was very interesting. She'd never even thought about that, and since he seemed to be in a chatty mood, she continued the conversation.
"What happens to the cut hair? Does it flake away like vamp bodies do?"
"No. It lasts forever unless you burn it."
"Really?"
He nodded. "I will make you a braid of my hair as a present sometime and give it to you. For your birthday, perhaps."
She tried to imagine him giving her a lock of his hair as a keepsake, and she found that she liked the idea. "That'd be really sweet of you."
"Anything for you, my lover," he replied, completely without guile.
They were "home," the little cottage softly lit by diffused security lights that came on when they tripped the motion sensors. It was still as charming as the first time she'd seen it, and she smiled at Eric as he pressed a button on the overhead console to open the garage door.
"I am glad you like our nest," he said softly.
"I do. I really do," she assured him.
He leaned over to kiss her as he unbuckled her seatbelt. "I know."
They both got out of the car, and she moved to go to the door, but Eric was suddenly in front of her, looking down at her with warm eyes. Before she had a chance to ask what was going on, he bent down and kissed her forcefully. She reached up to grab his arms because he was making her knees go weak. When he finally pulled back, she was panting and her heart was hammering in her chest. He gave her his signature smirk, and she knew she was in trouble.
"I may not have seen The Princess Bride, my lover, but I have seen Gone With the Wind."
And with that he picked her up and carried her, Rhett-style, into the house.
TBC…