"Very charming," he says, looking around the few rooms in the house he can see.
I smile and move away from the door, running into the jamb of the living room entryway. I stand still, almost afraid to breathe because I'll disturb the peace that has filled the space. I watch him as he takes everything in—committing each detail to memory. The threadbare couch; the tattered afghan resting on the wingback chair; the nick on the corner of the coffee table caused by Jason in his younger days.
It seems like an hour has passed, but it is only a moment. The trance is broken as his eyes flick to mine. Eric walks toward me, slowly, calculating.
"I would offer you something to drink, but…" I shiver as his eyes dart to my neck.
He smiles, tongue running over his teeth before slipping out to lick his lips. I back away and feel the edge of the molding dig into my shoulder blade. He stops close enough to touch me, but keeps his hands at his sides. The long fingers flex as he makes up his mind about something. He dips his head to the side of mine, lips hovering just above my ear. The coolness of his breath sends goose bumps down my arms and I freeze, wanting him to touch me but unable to bear his closeness.
He whispers, his voice husky, "I will have you before the night is through."
He follows up his words by pinning me against the wall. He frames my head with each of his hands, closing me into the small space that is our connection. His knee rests between my thighs, forcing our bodies even closer together. I am completely and totally his.
"Ungh… O-okay…"
He smirks, knowing the reaction I'm having to him; feeling the way my body heels to his call. I'm fighting the shiver that wants to run down my spine but realize it's a battle I can't win. The air is humming with electricity and we aren't even touching. It's still there. Whatever we had, have—it's still between us.
"But I must make sure you are safe, first. Did you sense the being beyond the tree line?" I didn't realize he could feel the presence in the yard too. Duh!
I nod. I can't speak. I'm afraid of what I might say, which might be along the lines of… well, it wouldn't have anything to do with whoever's outside.
He leans so close a few strands of his hair brush my bared shoulder. I tremble and he runs a single finger along the area his hair has just touched. "Is there another entry point to the house?" he whispers so softly, I can barely hear him.
I nod and point toward the kitchen. His eyes bounce from the windows to the doors and back to me in an instant.
"Wait here." Before I can take a breath, he's gone.
I'm still not used to how fast he moves. My hair flies around my face, settling on my shoulders in the wake of his departure. I barely hear the door open and close but know he's no longer in the house. I stand, clutching the woodwork of the wall behind me, anxious to know what's going on. I check to make sure Gran is still asleep. Her brain pattern is a dull hum in my mind. Knowing that she's asleep takes some of the distress away.
A muffled thud and aqueous crunch grab my attention. I lean away from the spot I'm tethered to, peering through the nearest window trying to see what's going on. It's too dark in the yard and the porch light is out. There is another loud thud and I can't bear to stand here waiting any longer. I walk to the door and open it a crack. I'm surprised by a blur that flashes through the wavering blades of grass and slams into a tree. Leaves float down from the branches in an orchestrated symphony of whispers, fluttering to their untimely death.
I step forward just a bit to see more, but the filtered moonlight grants me a few hazy snippets of action at any given moment. One of the blurs is topped with yellow (which has to be Eric) and the other appears to be a shadowy figure. I'm not sure who (or what) it is, but the form doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. I'm about to turn away and go back into the house when I see Eric fall and hit the ground with a thunderous roar. He's back on his feet in a second but I'm out the door and bounding down the driveway to reach him.
He lurches forward, slamming the dark figure against a tree and turns when he hears my labored breathing behind him. His fangs are extended, lips pulled back from his bared teeth in anger.
"I told you to wait!" he yells.
I shiver, nervousness washing over me.
"I couldn't… just stand there… while you were being… hurt," I squeak between pants.
Eric slams the figure, which appears to be a man, against the tree again as it struggles in his grasp. I look up as another shower of needles from a pine tree rains down on them. Now that I am closer, I can see that the mysterious figure is none other than Tray's so-called friend, Bill. What is he doing here?
"I was not being hurt. You should have waited." He shakes his head, fury rolling off him. "Stubborn woman," he grumbles.
I look at Bill again. Sure enough, it's him. Same pale skin, dark hair and eyes, cool demeanor—even with his back against a tree and leaves in his hair.
"I'm sorry." I pause, waiting for my apology to sink in before asking the next question. "Why are you fighting with Bill?"
"You know him?" he asks with raised brows.
"Yes. He's Tray's friend from the yacht. Well, actually not really his friend," I murmur. "I didn't get to tell you about that."
"He's vampire. Did you know that?" he asks, ignoring my ramble.
"No. Are you sure?"
He looks at me with a cocked brow as if to say, "Are you kidding me?" I try reading Bill's mind and find it is a blank, just like Eric's. Why didn't I notice that before? Bill has been staring at me the entire conversation and I get a bad feeling.
"Did he tell you why he was here? How'd he make it back after the accident?" I ask Eric as Bill doesn't really look like he can say much.
"Both very good questions. What are you doing here, William T. Compton?"
Eric's grip tightens on Bill's neck but Bill doesn't appear fazed by the hand squeezing into his flesh. He doesn't need to breathe, so I guess there's that.
"Speak now or I will end you," Eric growls.
"I… I owe my allegiance to… our Queen. I don't have to tell you anything, sheriff." Bill spits the word at Eric as if its meaning is nothing to him.
"Ah… But you reside here in Bon Temps and therefore you do owe me your allegiance. I am your sheriff and you will answer me!"
Bill struggles against Eric's hold on his person, but Eric barely moves an inch. I am amazed by his strength and control, yet frightened he may snap at any point and kill Bill. I know what he is capable of and I don't ever want to see that again if I don't have to.
I speak calmly, slowly, trying to pull him back from the edge. "Eric. Maybe if you let him down he'll be more willing to answer your questions. It can't be comfortable having his throat crushed. Pretty soon he won't be able to speak at all."
I cower when he turns to look at me, but he smiles and says, "Always the voice of reason."
Eric releases him and gravity takes hold of Bill's body, pulling it down the tree in a crumpled, motionless heap which lies at Eric's feet. Eric grimaces at the form in front of him and moves swiftly to my side.
"Go back into the house. I will come for you once I've finished dealing with this piece of—"
We both turn as the soft swish of the front door opening interrupts Eric's statement. Gran.
"Sookie, sweetheart. What's going on? I heard some noise and couldn't find you in your bedroom."
"Everything's okay, Gran. Go back to bed."
As I look her over, I notice she has the shotgun from the hall closet under her arm. She's nothing if not prepared.
Eric looks at me apologetically before bending to pick up Bill and walking off down the driveway. He doesn't zoom away as usual; he takes his time placing careful steps along the graveled paving. I'm not sure where he's going or when he'll be back but I need to get Gran back into the house and in bed—preferably.
"Sookie, who were those men?"
"Um, well the blond is Eric. He's a friend. The other guy is Bill. He was on the yacht with me when it uh, well… you know."
"Oh. Was he coming to check up on you? And at so late an hour, too. I know I'm not as young as you kids today but there's nothing wrong with calling on a person in the daylight hours."
As I usher Gran back into the house, I shake my head. Boy, if she only knew.
