'Cowboy up, Stackhouse, you can do this,' Jason gave himself a pep talk as he gently pulled the door of his sister's bedroom shut behind him. 'He's no different from all the fucktards in this town, salivating over your sister. He maybe rich but it doesn't mean he craps gold. And who cares if he's so goddamn tall and smirks like Cary Grant?'

Jason groaned audibly. Did he just compare Eric Northman to Cary Grant?

'Ah, shit!'

He buttoned up his maroon and black checked shirt before he straightened his collar in an attempt to give off a look that said, 'I don't give a shit if you're Eric Northman. I'm still the man of the house.' He quietly made his way downstairs and cleared his throat loudly when he reached the second to the last step.

Eric fixed his gaze into the landing of the white and stained oak staircase and his shoulders sagged when he found himself staring at the wrong Stackhouse.

The Viking marched toward Jason with guarded steps before he stole a glance at the foyer, expecting to see another Stackhouse.

"She'll be down in a minute," Jason answered in a tight voice, answering his unspoken query. "I don't suppose you have a hotel lying around in Louisiana, do you?"

Eric pressed his lips together, taking in Jason's not-so-subtle dismissal. "I'm not leaving. Unless she tells me otherwise," was his curt reply.

"Ya. That's what I thought you'd say," Jason said, his lips twisting into a scowl.

They started sizing each other up as Jason gripped the arched volute at the end of the railing. He instantly regretted his decision to go all the way down the steps because now he was forced to stretch his neck to make up for the height difference. He was significantly shorter than Eric in his five-foot-ten frame but at least he was muscular. The older Stackhouse had a jock's body with the certain amount of virility and smugness that came along with it.

Jason darted his eyes at the top of the stairs before he turned his gaze at the Viking. "Can we talk?" he asked nudging his head at the door.

Eric didn't need to be told twice as he trailed Jason who started making his way into the front porch.

Alcide was standing rigidly beside his white Ford F150 that was parked beside Jason's sorry excuse for a pick-up truck. He jogged toward Jason and Eric as soon as he spotted them at the dimly lit porch. The three men that Sookie said were part of her and Eric's security detail had formed a half-circle around Alcide next to the trucks. The trio of imposing men remained rooted to their position, watching Eric and Jason with an air of cool nonchalance.

'Arrogant thugs!' Jason deduced. He was having trouble picturing his sister surrounded by hired muscle. But Sookie said they were an unavoidable necessity.

"You okay, man?" asked Alcide in a rumbling voice when he was only a couple of feet from Jason. And although his question was meant for Jason it was Eric who had his full attention.

Jason tucked both his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, man. All's good. Nothin' I can't handle," he said in a genial tone.

"You sure?" the wolfish man queried, unconvinced. He shot daggers at Eric as though that simple act would make the Viking recoil. No such luck.

Jason bobbed his head. "Sure, bubba. I'll see you later, 'kay? Big day," Jason responded as he tapped Alcide's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Drive safe, bubba."

A look of utter indignation flashed across Alcide's scruffy face as he stared at Jason then at Eric. But Alcide didn't object. He gave Jason a stiff nod, blatantly ignoring the Viking, before he stomped back to his SUV that was parked at the middle of the dirt and gravel driveway.

Jason watched his friend drive away before he circled toward the backyard and went straight into the small tool shed that had certainly seen better days. It was the only part of the house that didn't get much attention from its residents. It was already showing some signs of aging with its weathered floorboards and creaky door. Its white paint was already chipping away but it was still unquestionably sturdy. Eric silently followed him inside but opted to leave the door slightly ajar.

Jason stepped inside and reached for the pull string of the hanging light bulb.

The bulb swayed gently hovering over the thick puff of dust that floated underneath. There was a long wooden table at the middle of the room filled with small clay pots, shovels of different sizes and a long rusty rake. Jason sidestepped the table and made his way to the back. He pushed a small red metal tool box to the other side with his foot before he crouched. He brushed the filth off the surface with his hands to reveal a small metal latch. Jason reached for it and it slid with a little resistance because of the amount of rust it accumulated over the years.

Jason pulled the door of the access hatch open and retrieved a burlap sack - the only thing hidden inside the shallow compartment. He walked over to the table and moved the shovels to the edge before he placed the brown bag on top. He untied the sisal rope around the sack and then unfolded the grimy cloth to reveal a long double barrel shotgun.

The male Stackhouse lifted the rifle and aimed it at Eric. To Jason's surprise, the Viking didn't even blink.

"You don't think I can do it?" Jason asked in a tone that was meant to provoke the Viking.

Eric snorted, taking a few steps forward. "Sure you can. I just don't think you're that stupid."

Jason kept the shotgun raised at Eric for a few more seconds before he lowered it. He turned the gun around, holding it by its muzzle, and pointed its butt to the approaching Viking.

Eric didn't hesitate to grab it by its stock. He ran his palm across the wooden stock and felt the smooth engraving across it. He lifted it toward the light to read the writing.

To Adele, my divining rod. - E

"It belonged to my granddaddy – E, for Earl. Gran didn't know he had it until after he died. It was lying on top of his body the night he was found inside the barn. For some reason my gran hated it, but couldn't seem to throw it away. She kept it here, hidden all these years," Jason said as he seized the small bench under the worktable and sat down.

Jason rested his elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of him. He kept his gaze trained on the Viking who was examining the weaponry like a gun expert. Jason had no doubt Eric knew his way around firearms considering his line of work, not to mention the fact that he was Eric fucking Northman.

"About three months before my dad died he called and told me about that. He said 'Jason, when you're old enough I want you to learn how to use it. Use it to protect your sister.'" Jason paused when Eric tore his eyes from the gun and onto him. "Sookie told me about the slimebag Longshadow and Russell Edgington and Compton, that two-faced sonofabitch. She told me you plan to make them all pay for what they did… to our dad." He swallowed the bile that rose to his throat.

Eric put the rifle back on top of the burlap sack and leaned his palm against the table.

"That's why I want you to have that. It isn't much. Heck, I don't even know if it still works. But I want you to have it. As my way of paying you forward. No free lunch - gran always say," Jason said, his fingers tracing the cold steel of the barrel.

Eric's lips barely moved as he replied a solemn, "Thank you."

Jason sneered, huffing through his nose. "Don't thank me yet. I still won't hesitate to kick you in the nuts if you hurt my sister."

'Maybe break both your kneecaps first then punch you in the face,' Jason added to himself.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Eric said unsmilingly.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. "Sookie likes to think she's a hooligan. That she's so damn tough and that no one can hurt her. Don't buy it. Not for a sec," he uttered. "She still cries every time she watches Love Story or Home Alone or that cartoon with the old man who tied a buncha balloons to his house. Then she'll use that trick where she'll fake a yawn to cover her mouth but she's really wiping her snot so no one will notice her sniffin'."

Eric chuckled. Jason made a quick double take at the Viking, making sure the laughter was coming from him. It was. And it was distractingly disarming.

"She easily gets cold so remind her to always bring a sweater. She hates collard greens and peanut butter. She likes her meat medium well. But she won't turn away bloody meat - afraid she might offend the cook. She likes her bread with the edges burnt. That's how daddy used to do it. And don't tell her what your favorite food is. She'll pretend to be allergic to it so you can have it all to yourself." Jason tittered softly. "Mine's shrimp. Every time we have those big ass shrimps she'll tell gran to give her share to me because it makes her itch. I know she's just fakin' it but I'm a jerk and I don't get to eat shrimps a lot so I let her do it for me."

Jason scratched his left eye with the back of his hand. It was his tell, Sookie had told him. Every time he was feeling nervous or guilty he would touch his face. 'To hide the shame,' he deduced.

"She hates fireworks. And don't give her flowers or pets. Anythin' that dies easily." Jason saw Eric smile – not smirk - and it made the Viking a little bit likeable. Maybe his sister was right, maybe Eric Northman was capable of loving another human being.

'Eric Northman already had one Stackhouse fooled. The likes of him should always be taken with a grain of salt,' Jason reminded himself.

Jason coughed before he cleared his throat. "Eric, can I ask you one thing?" He stood up, his face devoid of any gaiety. "Sookie thinks you love her. Now, I don't give a bum fuck if you really do, because I know how easy it is for someone like you to lie like a fuckin' rug. But if one day you realize you can't take care of her anymore…" Jason paused to make sure he wouldn't choke up or croak, "can you bring her back here? To me."

The Viking gave his head a slight shake, his expression changing from offended to incredulous. "Do they preach pessimism here? Or is it just a Stackhouse thing?" he retorted capped by a biting chortle.

"You think that's funny?" Jason snapped, slamming his fists on the table.

Eric stopped snickering abruptly as his expression hardened, darkness clouding his eyes. "Yes, Jason, it's fucking hilarious," he spat without a hint of levity. "Do you have any idea the kind of hell your sister has put me through? Did you think I just winked at her and she magically threw herself at me? Do you know how many times Sookie has put me through the wringer?" He sucked in a sharp breath. "Why do you think I'd leave Vegas to go to this podunk town? To get laid?"

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Jason snarled, detesting Eric's jab at his hometown. 'Uppity prick.'

Eric's jaw set tightly, his gaze losing focus. "Because I'm a junkie, Jason. And Sookie's my fix. She's my one addiction I can't seem to flush out of my system. Believe me I tried."

'Damn fuck!' Maybe he had made a mistake dismissing Alcide. This conversation just went from Hangover to American Psycho very quickly.

Jason shifted his weight to the table. "What if she's the one who wants to call it quits? What then?" Jason asked in the steadiest voice he could muster.

Eric smirked. "Now we're on the same page."

"What d'ya mean?" Jason's brows knotted in confusion.

"What I mean is between me and your sister, I'm the one who requires protective custody." The Viking ran his fingers through his hair, taking deliberate breaths. He gripped the coarse edge of the worktable so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "I'd ask her to marry me right this instant if there was a slightest possibility she would say yes."

Jason felt his heartbeat accelerate dangerously fast. He could feel his palms sweat on top of the rough surface of the wooden desk.

"But we both know that's not going to happen," Eric grumbled with a thousand-yard stare.

Jason wanted to nod his head in assent but even his body would not let him lie. Somehow he knew Eric was wrong. Sookie was not the same girl who had left Bon Temps seven weeks ago.

Eric Northman had already taken his sister. And the funny thing was Eric Northman had no fucking clue.

E/S

"Where've you two been?" Sookie said as she bounced off the rocking chair and practically jumped off the porch steps and raced toward them when they emerged from the side of the house.

She spied the imposing weapon slinging over Eric's shoulder. "Where'd you get that?" she asked the Viking as soon as reached him. "Jason, what the hell is this?" she turned to her brother who was eyeing her with an unreadable expression.

"Hey, you're the one who wants me to give him a warm welcome," Jason dead-panned with a casual shrug.

"And this is your idea of hospitality?" Sookie yelled, aghast. "When I said welcome I meant shaking his hand and offering him a cold can of Bud. Not drag him out to god-knows-where and give him somethin' you can kill each other with!"

"See what I have to deal with?" Eric asked Jason sardonically, waving his hand up and down at the irate Sookie.

Jason smiled begrudgingly. "At least you had a choice - I didn't."

Sookie gasped before she swung a solid punch on Jason's gut, making her brother double over. She then whisked her body to face Eric but before she could land a blow on the Viking, Eric had caught her wrist and pulled her flush against him.

"Tsk, tsk. Wrong move, Stackhouse, you should have hit me first," Eric chided in a raspy voice. "You've eliminated the element of surprise."

Sookie tried to yank her wrist out of his grip. "Let me go and I'll surprise you," she cooed.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jason screeched. "I'm right here!"

Sookie buried her face in Eric's chest, her shoulder quaked as she muffled her laughs.

"This isn't Las Vegas, chump. If you're stayin' in Casa El Stackhouse you'll have to abide by my rules," Jason declared, crossing his arms over his torso. "Rule one: you two will not be sleepin' in the same bed. We have three rooms, Sook, you sleep at gran's. You," he jabbed a finger at Eric, "can choose between Sookie's room or the couch."

The Viking turned to the smiling Sookie. "The couch sounds fine. As long as we get to keep our tradition," Eric purred, lifting her face with a finger under her chin.

Jason noticed his sister bite her lip and blush like a goddamn groupie. He knew he was missing some kind of inside joke and he already decided he didn't like its punchline.

"No!" Jason exclaimed, throwing both his hands in the air. "No couch! And again, I stress Rule-Fucking-One. There is no chance in hell I'd leave you two alone. You're like two horny matchsticks. You'd set this house on fire if I turn my back on both a you. If there's someone gettin' some action today it should be me! It's my wedding day for fuck's sake!" The vein on Jason's neck was throbbing with every syllable spat out. "And can you please put some distance from each other? Please? That kind of closeness is not good for my blood pressure."

Sookie suppressed another fit of giggles as she eventually complied. Eric, on the other hand, lingered just a little bit before he finally let her back away.

"Thank you," Jason said exasperatedly. He took another deep breath before he resumed. "And there will be no trying on wedding dresses. Not now. Not here. Not yet." He shot Eric a pointed glance before he glared at his sister. "Understood?"

Sookie, who was oblivious to the meaningful exchange between the two men, looked contrite as she tugged at the hem of her oversized blue t-shirt with a picture of a furry cat on it. Eric found Sookie's hand with ease and weaved his fingers with hers. That gesture made Jason feel a little bit queasy.

"We owe you an apology. You can be sure that Sookie and I will be making amends," Eric said in his business tone. Sookie looked up at Eric and arched her brow quizzically.

"Ya better do, because I won't be able to look at that fuckin' white dress without seein' my sister in it. That's the kind of weird I'm not down with. Don't matter what you y'all say about us in the south – but we don't go marryin' our relatives."

"Jason!" Sookie squealed, her face burning to a blazing vermillion.

Eric pinched her hand softly before he spoke. "I've already made the call. My associate will be here tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements."

Sookie locked her eyes with Eric as she mouthed, "Pam?"

The Viking nodded with a roguish smile tugging at the side of his lips. "You know her - always looking for an excuse to crash the party."

Jason watched his sibling grimace and then giggle as she leaned gently against Eric's shoulder. When did Sookie turn into such a giggler, he thought in disbelief. Even the way she said Eric's name was appallingly melodious, it was making Jason's skin crawl.

The male Stackhouse heard his smitten sibling mutter something about leather and humidity and Eric responded with a low growl before he dipped his head to murmur something inaudible to her ear. Jason fought the urge to ask them what they were gushing about. If Sookie's girlish chuckle that was followed by a slap to the Viking's chest (that was obviously lacking conviction) were any indication, it was another one of their funny stories that only the two of them would understand.

Jason started to make his way back inside the house and gestured for the love-fucking-birds to follow. He was glad he had kept a couple of bottles of Red Bull in the fridge. God knows he would need them. Because there would be no way he would let those two out of his sight tonight.

'Cheese and rice, please gimme a baby boy.' Because he didn't know if he could still handle another girl in the family.

E/S

It appeared that Sookie and Eric were capable of keeping their hands off each other, Jason thought as he peered at his sister's room where the Viking was sleeping like a log. His entire body swaddled inside the blanket. He closed the door that was a little ajar as he decided to give their guest more snooze time before Michele and the rest of the bridal entourage arrived at noon.

He put his old gray varsity shirt before he marched downstairs to make himself a strong cup of coffee. He would need the caffeine after the night he just had. He was glad he didn't finish the keg at his bachelor party down at Fantasia – the most popular night club in Shreveport – or he would have had an awful headache while he was muttering 'I do's'.

The unmistakable rumbling of cars outside caused him to take a U-turn to the front door on his way to the kitchen. He swept the curtain of one of the frosted door panels to peek outside. Jason blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn't imagining the line of luxury cars – a red Corvette, a silver A5 Audi, a white Land Rover and a black Cadillac Escalade – squeezing through their modest driveway.

"Good, Pam's here." Jason heard Eric say from the foyer and immediately whipped his head in the direction of the voice. The male Stackhouse's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when he saw Eric emerging from the upstairs bathroom followed by his sister, both looking freshly showered.

"Shut my mouth!" Jason yelled. "How – what—I just saw you sleepin' in her room!"

'Dammit! I've been duped!' Jason thought it was dumb of him to fall for the pillows-under-the-blanket trick. Northern Louisiana in August was definitely a no-blanket weather.

Sookie ran downstairs, a disgustingly happy smile on her face, her hair still dripping wet. She was wearing an unfamiliar yellow sundress while Eric was sporting a blue and gray plaid shirt and stonewashed jeans. There was something very domestic about the way they looked together and Jason didn't like it. Not one bit.

Eric sauntered down the steps - a cheshire grin on his lips— probably the result of a very heated shower, Jason thought grimly.

"I clearly remember Jason's rule was strictly no sleeping together. He didn't say anything about bathing together. Did he, sweetheart?" Eric drawled indulgently as he took his post behind Sookie, wrapping his arms around her middle.

Sookie drew her brows in mock confusion, pressing her index finger on her chin, before she shook her head. "Nope. Nothing's said about communal shower."

Jason's jaw dropped. He could feel his cholesterol level rising as he contemplated ways he could pummel a Viking.

But before Jason could clench his hands into fists, they laughed. Sookie and the bastard behind her were cackling like a couple of brats.

"Oh my lord, you should have seen the look on your face, Jase!" Sookie spat haltingly amid her guffaws.

'What. The. Fuck.'

"Relax, Jase. Nothin' happened. We took separate baths. I swear. We're just messin' with you," Sookie said as her laughter tapered off. "You're takin' this big brother role way too seriously. C'mon, smooth your worry lines and let's go meet Pam. You'll love her."

Jason's hand flew to his temple and searched for the 'worry lines' he was certain he didn't have. He had flawless skin, dammit, as smooth as a baby's buttocks his former partners would gush. It was his thing.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he confirmed the lack of crease on his forehead.

'Dog burn it, Sook!' Forty days with that Viking and she was already pulling pranks like a pro. Jason groaned. Eric Northman was a bad influence to his sister. That he was sure of.

He walked over to the porch and spotted Sookie throw her arms around the neck of a beautiful blonde. The newcomer was gorgeous in a crisp white blouse and short black skirt that accentuated her legs that seemed to go on forever. Sookie was grinning from ear to ear as she beamed at the visitor.

Sookie was gleaming.

And Jason realized he liked that his sister was glowing. She had been in a bad place for a long time. She rarely smiled, much less laughed. She deserved the sunshine. Jason watched Eric walk up to Sookie, and like last night, their hands found each other in the most natural of ways. Sookie glanced back to the house and waved at Jason to come over.

The older Stackhouse waved back as he sighed. Eric Northman was, without question, a bad influence. But if Eric Northman could make his sister smile like that more often, then maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

E/S

The soft knocks at the door startled Sookie as she was pinning some loose hair in her chignon. She was wearing the pale pink one-shoulder bridesmaid dress that Pam insisted she wore.

"It's open," she called out, knowing exactly who was at the other side of the door.

Eric stepped in, debonair and dashing in his black suit paired with a black tie and white shirt. It was simple but still not simple enough not to draw crowds. He would surely be the talk of the town. The celebrity that the locals would embrace and gush over for months.

"You do know it's rude to look prettier than the bride," he husked taking languid strides toward her.

She stood up from her seat and faced him. "You're one to talk," she replied, her eyes raking his form. He was holding a blue flat box with one hand and a wrist corsage of pink alstroemeria blossoms in the other.

Eric came through with his promise to make amends for Sookie's faux pax last night. He almost made Michele faint when he walked up to her house and apologized for the unfortunate demise of her bridal gown. He had told the petite brunette that he accidentally set it on fire when he and Jason were having celebratory cigars for the upcoming matrimony.

"Who would've thought that tulle and chiffon were so flammable? Good thing your future husband was quick to put out the fire," Eric had quipped with a nod in the direction of the discomfited Jason. Eric's explanation was downright preposterous. Who would light up a tobacco in a room full of delicate gowns? But even the Bon Temps' locals, who knew very little of the Viking's reputation, were astute enough not to dispute his claim.

The Viking's notorious charm proved its usefulness when he offered to replace not only the charred dresses but also supply the entire matrimonial accouterment of the wedding party. Sheriff Bud Dearborn looked relieved but still pretended to protest. Long story short, Eric Northman won the Dearborns over with his checkbook and patented smirk.

Pam had booked the biggest suite at the Remington in Shreveport. It was an hour drive from the chapel in Bon Temps but Michele didn't mind. She was promised a queenly treatment by the Viking and she was not about to say no to that.

Michele had quickly forgotten about her Alexander McQueen knockoff when Pam started lining up original Vera Wangs and Monique Lhuilliers that had been flown all the way from Vegas for her to choose from. The bridesmaids, along with Sookie, were brought to the couturier in downtown Shreveport to handpick their gowns as long as they keep up with the pink motif. (And under strict orders not to get something that would outshine the bride.)

Michele's two cousins, who had taken the train from Arkansas to Nola, were elated to ditch their hideous dresses that the bride had so cunningly chosen for them. Two hours later they were driving back to the hotel where Emmanuel– Pam's personal stylist – and his crew were waiting to get them all dolled up.

Sookie politely turned down Manny's services. Still remorseful for what she did to Michele's dress, she opted to go back to Bon Temps. She insisted to help the organizers that Pam had brought with her from Vegas with the last-minute touch ups at the reception, which would be held at the town hall. The Southerner had not seen Eric since he had left with Jason to talk to the Dearborns. As the ceremony drew closer, Sookie could only steel herself for the badgering she would suffer by bringing the man who was the biggest hurricane to hit the Gulf coast after Katrina.

If only Katrina was as beautiful as her Viking, she mused as she kept staring at him.

Eric held up the corsage to her as he put the jewellery box on top of the dresser. (Of course she could tell it was a Tiffany's box. She only hoped it wasn't as expensive as the farmhouse itself.) She wanted to tell him she didn't need any more accessories. He was already too much.

She quirked her brow when he reached for her hand.

"Before you start telling me how you hate flowers, this is technically not a gift. All the bridesmaids are required to wear this - bride's order," Eric said as he tied the intricate bouquet around her wrist.

"It's scary how well you know me," she hushed, studying him closely as he held up her arm and placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

"I can read minds, didn't you know?"

"Oh really?" she cooed. "And what am I thinkin' right now?"

Eric stifled a grin as he locked gazes with her. "You're thinking…" he began drawing circles in her palm, "damn, my boyfriend looks very hot tonight, maybe we should just skip the wedding and go straight to the honeymoon."

Sookie tossed her head back and laughed, her other palm pressed against his chest.

"But because I'm the voice of reason, I'll tell you, no, Sookie we can't do that to your brother. But you will insist on it and I will be utterly helpless against you," he continued.

"Helpless?" she asked, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down.

"Utterly," he rasped.

"You're really good at this mind-reading thing," she murmured, her fingers playing with the short hair at his nape.

"I have to be. To live up to my billing because apparently, I'm it," he said, his lips tugging at the side.

Sookie drew back, stunned. "You heard that?"

He nodded. "With my super hearing ability."

"You cocky jerk!" she squeaked, more embarrassed than annoyed. "So I guess that's why you think it's okay to give me somethin' criminally expensive," she chided, tilting her head toward the box at the dresser.

"Oh that?" he queried casually. "Go on, open it."

Sookie bit her lip before she untangled her arms around his neck and reached for the intimidating package. She pulled the white velvet ribbon and lifted the cover. Inside was a pearl necklace, the silvery-white gem with the iridescent glow that made the chain more enchanting when struck with light.

Sookie's breath hitched as she raised her head to look at the Viking who was eyeing her every move. "Eric, it's…"

"Not for you," the Viking cut her off, making her eyebrows shoot up to her temple. "It's our gift for Michele. Every bride needs a perfect set of pearls. And this…" he pulled a long white envelope from the inner pocket of his suit. "is for Jason."

Sookie took the envelope that had the North's insignia on it. She quickly read the note inside it and couldn't help but strangle a small gasp. It was a gift certificate for Jason and Michele Stackhouse for a two-week all expense paid vacation in Las Vegas.

"Pam suggested Paris but I thought a Parisian getaway is overrated and too much of a cliche. And I thought Jason would like to spend his honeymoon closer to his sister," he said, stroking her cheek tenderly. "I only hope he won't try to cockblock me every chance he gets. I won't tolerate that. They're getting blue as we speak." He bobbed his head, pointing in the direction of his crotch.

Sookie couldn't help but chortle. She swallowed thickly as she felt her eyes burn. She had promised herself she wasn't going to cry but she should have known Eric would not make it easy for her.

"You're too good to me," she said as she choked back a sob. She thanked her lucky stars that Pam was still downstairs and could help her fix her make-up should she mess it up.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he murmured, his tapered fingers now caressing her neck, admiring Pam's handiwork at covering Sookie's faded hickeys a few inches above her breasts.

"I think I've seen enough." She had seen enough. She was certain Eric still had something extremely romantic up his sleeves. Something that would blow her away. But he didn't really have to, she was already sold.

So she did the only logical thing she could do to convey her message. She kissed him. She captured his lips and let her tongue do the talking.

He was the first to pull away, breathing heavily against her cheek. "We should go while I can still restrain myself from tearing your clothes apart."

Sookie chuckled as she wiped the lipstick smear around his mouth. "I should warn you, though. I cannot promise that you won't be swarmed with women. Hormonal and horny women. They will not care if you're with me. And there's a big possibility that you'd be kidnapped by my former boss and turned into a sex slave."

The Viking's booming laughter echoed across the walls. He smirked as he ran his fingers through his slightly tousled hair. "You should know by now, Sookie, everywhere I go there will be women – and other times some very enthusiastic men, too."

'Lucky me.'

E/S

"Do we really have to go to church in this?" Sookie whined as Eric ushered her inside the red Corvette. "What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves?"

"We'll be using the back door. They won't even see us coming," Eric replied with a wink. He directed his gaze to Pam who was lounging at the side of the passenger door of the silver Audi. Jake Purifoy would be the leggy blonde's designated driver as they formed a convoy for Eric and Sookie with Roman and Clancy behind them in the Land Rover.

"I'll be right back," Eric told his high-strung passenger before he sauntered toward his second-in-command.

"Did you bring it?" he asked Pam in a hushed tone.

Pamela, who exuded cool elegance in her magenta strapless, knee-length cocktail dress, nodded yes. "It's in the car. I don't trust the hotel safe here."

"Have you opened it?" Eric asked again, stealing a casual glimpse at the Corvette.

"I haven't. It's encrypted. I assume you know the code," Pam replied. "The courier was in a hurry to get back to Zurich. But he assured me that the case is the only content of Godric's safety deposit box."

Eric knew the code of the specially-designed metal attaché case that was lying inside the backseat of the Audi. It was the number equivalent of Eric's second name, Johan, in random order. Godric had the same combination for his safety deposit box in London. Very few people knew of the Viking's full name, he doubted anyone would be clever enough to jumble them either.

"I'll get to it after the reception. Don't let it out of your sight. The Bugsy is in there," Eric whispered conspiratorially.

"But it's not the Bugsy you're concerned about, am I right?" Pam inquired, directing her eyes toward the girl inside the red Corvette.

Eric gave Pam an admonishing glare. She had been pestering him with incisive questions since he had called her last night and asked her to bring the package that came in yesterday from the Swiss bank. He had missed the arrival of the messenger when he jetted off to Louisiana hastily after he had gotten rid of the Federal agents. Pam knew that aside from the Benjamin Siegel platinum chip, there was one more thing inside the case that Godric had kept hidden. Something Godric treasured most among all his material possessions: Eric's mother's engagement ring. The ring that had taken Godric five years to purchase. Because his lovely Sonja deserved nothing but the best.

"I want it resized first thing tomorrow. Go to New Orleans. I don't think this town has a decent jeweller," he grumbled, checking the time in his wrist.

"Why not wait until we're back in Vegas then? Do you plan to propose right away? Aren't you jumping the gun a bit here, Eric?" Pam asked, staring at him probingly. "Are you even sure she's ready? Are you ready?"

He shot Pam a poignant glance before he dropped his gaze back to the case. "I don't know."

"What kind of answer is that?" the leggy blonde snapped. "Are you or are you not?"

"I am," he spat quickly.

"And Sookie?"

The mild shaking of his head was almost indiscernible.

"What if she says no?"

"Then I'd ask her again, and again, and again. Until I get the right answer."

"Why don't we wait until you get the answer you want, then we'll have it resized. I love Sookie and all but I think this whole thing is a bit premature, don't you?"

He cast another glance at Sookie then raised his finger, asking for another minute when she started beckoning him with urgent flicks of hand.

"Have it done tomorrow, Pam. I want it to be ready when she is," Eric said before he started marching back to the car.

That ring was made for a Northman, he thought. And there was no doubt in his mind that Sookie Stackhouse would be a Northman.

A/N: I don't own Eric.

Thank you, thank you to all who had taken the time to read and leave reviews. This chapter's a bit slow but it'll pick up pace soon, I promise. Check out lei's gorgeous banners at fantasybanners dot wordpress dot com. Thank you!

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