Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 54 Flash, Bang, Wallop
SPOV
Flash frying things came much easier than I suspect the apple stuff is going to. I feel guilty about marring the beauty of Fiji's beaches but the small child in me revelled in the ability to shoot fiery light out of my palms. I mean, really, who gets to do that stuff in real life?
That wasn't all the light could do. I managed to create my own pyrotechnic display, make glass out of sand and finally, after many false starts, push things with it without turning them to slag. Apparently this is the bare bones of 'popping' things from one place to another, there was talk about Newtons, which Eric seemed to understand, and I filed under 'didn't finish High School' to worry about later.
All in all I regressed back further than my inner teenager, revelling in the fact it felt so natural, so easy. I think Eric and Niall got caught up in my excitement too. Bursts of otherworldly light and laughter will probably be my abiding memory of this night, despite the ramifications.
I've been slowly coming to terms with not being human. The torched palm trees on Fiji and the white glow reflected on Eric's perfect face, they're the final proof that I'm not.
I didn't even realise I was getting tired until Niall leaned down to whisper in my ear.
"Lesson number two my child. No one can defy the laws of physics, energy must be re-charged. Sleep. Eat well. Do things that make you happy. Practise with the apple. I will see you again soon."
EPOV
I manage to catch her before she crumples to the sand.
"Was that wise?" I snap at him.
"She is tired, she needs to rest, I was just helping. You caught her did you not?" He shrugs. "Stars forbid she be mortally injured by colliding unexpectedly with wet sand."
There is little point pretending or posturing with him so I allow myself to scowl at him. Again.
"Take her home." He chuckles. "You and I will have our opportunity to talk and I have pressing matters to attend to. If you think vampires are difficult to rule . . . ."
And just like that we are in my room.
Fatalistic acceptance. I am going to have to find something constructive to do with the aggressive residue it leaves behind.
Sookie stirs as I lay her on the bed.
"Would you like me to undress you?" I whisper in her ear.
"M-kay."
Hm. It is not the definite 'no' I received last time I asked the question.
Fortunately for her I am not in the habit of forcing my, albeit pleasurable attention, on semi-comatose fairies.
Nevertheless I allow my poor throbbing fangs to run down as I gently remove the clothes from her glistening body. The heat and exertions of Fiji have bathed her in a far more human glow and though I long to lick every bead of moisture from her skin I restrain myself to tasting her neck and shoulders after I have draped the sheets carefully around her.
"Mm, good." She murmurs, wriggling down into the bed.
"It certainly would be." I assure her but she's already slipped back into a deep sleep.
I sigh, resting my forehead on the edge of the bed, breathing in her scent and mine from the fabric.
Complicated. This is all so complicated.
I meant what I said last night. I am done and I am hers. I just do not know what that means for either of us.
There is so much about our situation I cannot predict and will probably not be able to control, only so much of which my normally infallible mind can latch onto.
I sit back on my haunches, running my hand through my hair as I watch her breathe.
Like Niall I do not believe her true identity can be concealed forever, already Pam, Thalia and Charles are aware and though I would trust them with my life, and hers, I cannot guarantee that they will never be placed in a position to reveal what they know. Then there is the dog. His loyalty to her is strong but he is only a were, the weakest link currently in a chain that I fear will only grow and grow. I could kill him. Tactically that is the best course of action. But it would not solve the problem, merely truncate it temporarily, eventually a new weak link would grow in his place.
There is another reason why that is not the answer. Sookie. She would not understand my logic. No, that does not do her justice, she would. But she would not deem her safety to be more important than his life, she would gladly, if naively, trust him with it. Am I going to have to adapt my approach to risk management?
She would, for all her emerging powers, be safer in Faery.
The Fae are not invulnerable, there are very good reasons why they hate vampire and why her Great Grandfather sealed the portals and removed them from our realm. For all the damage they inflicted on us and their other enemies their numbers were depleted and they do not reproduce as quickly as we do.
There is still the issue of Rhodes and the aftermath to deal with. The Council of Monarchs convened have not yet called for an accounting, but they will and I have yet to formulate an explanation for my apparent failure to bring the culprits to justice.
I cannot tell the truth. Sookie is Fae. Her continued existence would not be tolerated. Or worse.
Fuck.
I and mine would die with her.
And what of the Prince? He has already shown his preference to protect her and he is powerful, but he is not omnipotent and has other obligations, as do I, so many variables . . . .
I said we would work things out together and she needs to know these things, weigh her options, the implications, make an informed choice.
If she leaves so be it, for all the upheaval she has caused she is but a moment in my timeline.
Squatting here, staring at her while she sleeps will accomplish nothing. I need to speak to the others and, if I work for a few hours, I should be able to keep tomorrow night free.
…..
The others are waiting in my office.
"Sookie?" Charles asks.
"Is sleeping." I inform him, scowling at the familiarity as I sink into the chair behind my desk.
They are watching me expectantly.
"You all know what she is?"
Four sober nods.
"Then you are aware that this is a secret that can never be revealed?"
Another round of nods.
"Good."
Silence. Do they really understand just what a dangerous secret I am asking them to keep?
"Master." Thalia says quietly. "She is yours. We all know this. We will do whatever you ask of us."
"I should not ask anything of you in this regard." I snap.
"We know that too Your Majesty." Charles responds. "But you must know that we have discussed it and your secret is safe with us."
My eyes flick to my child.
"Eric." She drawls. "She has made life considerably less boring already and you know how I abhor boredom."
"You will not be bored." I remind her. "You have an Area to run."
"Yes Master and unless you require my continued presence I must return to it tomorrow at first dark."
"We will talk before you leave."
"Of course." She murmurs, bowing her head briefly.
"Thalia, I ask that you remain here, there are matters we must discuss."
"Master." She responds, dipping her own head.
"Herveaux, you will remain? I will not have time for you tomorrow night but we too have much to discuss."
"I will Your Majesty. Vladimir has already allocated me accommodation."
"Very well." I nod. "You may leave."
They all rise and I call Charles back, waiting for the door to close before I speak.
"I need a clear night tomorrow. Report."
"Your Majesty." He folds himself back into his chair and does just that.
…..
With dawn approaching I take my laptop back to my room so that I can work longer. There was surprisingly little to attend to, Charles is already an excellent Second and I am able to strip down and settle on the bed beside Sookie as I read the reports from my myriad spies and contacts.
The sun has already risen by the time I am done and I can feel it tugging me into death.
Carefully I set the laptop on the floor and turn out the lights, laying back.
There is something else tugging at me and instinctively I roll sideways, wrapping my arms and legs around it, drawing it tightly into me, where it belongs . . . .
SPOV
Awareness seeps back gradually, I can't ever remember having this much trouble waking up, or the sheets ever feeling quite so heavy.
Groaning I finally make it all the way back to reality.
I'm in Eric's bed again but despite the strength of his scent he isn't here.
He is here in the Palace though, I can feel him, pensive and a little sad.
Feeling like a voyeur I sift through the minds until I find the one that's focussed on him.
Pam, she's heading back to Shreveport, waving goodbye to him as she climbs into the car. Watching him as she turns through the gates.
And then I feel guilty for intruding, pulling back, dragging my shields up behind me but still scouting for trouble before the drawbridge is all the way closed. I learnt my lesson in Rhodes.
What do I do now?
Last night was easy, ish, there was Felipe and then Niall to get through. Now there's nothing . . . .
Jeez.
Still feeling woolly and half asleep I get up and stagger into Eric's bathroom, I need a shower, I can feel the salt of last night's sweat clinging to me like a crust.
The hot water soothes my aching muscles, pounding down on my head, waking me up but tangling my hair into knots I can't work out without shampoo. Ugh. There's nothing in the shower stall and I step out to investigate the counter.
Aha.
Looking up I glance in the mirror and gasp.
Eric is stood in the doorway, clad in jeans and a black wife beater. His eyes are black too. And his fangs are down, glistening in the recessed lighting.
I watch, mesmerised, as he crosses the space between us, reaching around me to take the shampoo bottle from my hand and set it back on the counter.
Even though I see them move in the mirror I still jump as his hands come to rest on my shoulders, fingers curling over them, thumbs pressing into the muscles at the base of my neck.
"You are tense." He observes quietly.
Understatement of the century. I don't know how to do, this . . . . any of it . . . . I missed the ceiling last night but it's got my name on it right now . . . .
I should be freaking out about my ability to incinerate innocent palm trees with nothing more than an act of will. I should be freaking out because I'm stood here, naked, in front of a man who can smell and feel how much I want him. I should be freaking out over my hair, I can feel the water evaporating and the knots tightening . . . .
But there's only Eric, his hands on my body and his eyes in the mirror, those eyes haven't left mine though I can feel the skin all over my body prickle as if they're raking over it. Locked. He hasn't closed the door behind him but we're locked in place, steam billowing around us from the shower, condensation forming on the mirror, on his cool skin. Locked in place by each other. Holding on for grim death even if neither us knows why. Magic, Niall said I should trust the magic holding us together, but I can't. It speaks of coercion, cosmic forces, a lack of free will and that's something I've always been afraid of.
I can't trust that, I'd be even crazier than Bon Temps assumes if I did. But I can trust Eric, and myself. I can trust the look in our eyes and what I can feel in our bond. I probably shouldn't but Gran used to say that nothing good in life came without risks. Somehow I don't think she was talking about falling in love with your 'natural enemy' but she took up with a fairy, maybe she knew more than I've been giving her credit for.
"Sookie . . . ."
I whip round, fastening my hands on his biceps. "Eric . . . ."
"We need to talk." He groans, closing the space between us until I can feel the rough fabric of his clothes pressed against me.
Me looking up, him looking down.
"Please Eric, not words, not now."
He raises an eyebrow and I stretch up on my toes, pulling on his arms for leverage, attempting to press my lips to his. He resists for a moment and then lowers his head, opening his mouth over mine, groaning again as my tongue curls round one of his fangs before delving fully into his mouth. His arms close around my back, lifting me easily, and I climb him like a monkey, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
When I can no longer breathe he tilts his head back, screwing up his face and retracting his fangs.
My teeth fasten on the corded tendons of his neck, biting down, and he growls, vibrating our bodies.
"All of me?" He demands as I lick and kiss the spot I violated.
"All of you . . . ."
The rushing air chills my skin for a moment before my back hits the bed and his body presses me further into it. His hips roll into me and I moan, even though the denim of his jeans and the buttons are almost painful. My hands release his arms and tangle in the material of his shirt tugging at it desperately, somehow, with his help, I manage to get it over his head and fling it away. I already feel better for having his skin against mine, sliding, as he continues to grind into me.
My hands drop down to push fruitlessly at the jeans on his hips and a part of me marvels at his ability to kiss me so passionately and thoroughly while he reaches down and disposes of them in one quick easy movement, lord knows they should have got stuck on his boots . . . .
I arch my back and scream silently into his mouth as the next roll of his hips plunges him deeply inside me. Oh god . . . . without breaking the desperation of our kiss he hooks his arms under my legs . . . . forcing them to unlock, pushing them up until my calves are resting just under his shoulder blades . . . . I want . . . . I need . . . . he withdraws, pulling nearly all the way out of me, wrenching his mouth from mine . . . . and suddenly . . . .I ache . . . . looking up into his eyes in confusion . . . .
They're burning and my body burns as he pushes slowly back inside until we are flush together. Holding us there, locked. And I still ache . . . .
"You should be afraid of how much I want you." He growls, ghosting his lips over mine.
"I'm not." I murmur, ghosting them back. "All of you, show me . . . ."
His mouth crashes into mine again and I'm gone, every thought chased from my head by sensation, emotion, him.
Hard, fast, deep, blurry. Aching, hot, desperate. Together. In everything . . . . heartbeat . . . . breathing . . . . thrusting bodies . . . . bond . . . . letting go . . . . tightening . . . . releasing . . . . screaming . . . . roaring . . . . glowing . . . .
Black.
