A/N: Hey, guys. So something went wrong with my original post but hey! I got it fixed. I take full responsibility for saving the day. On a side note, I really wanted to thank everyone who's stuck with Runa and I from day one. To know that people like this story brings me so much joy and I appreciate everyone who gives me that support. I haven't always had that for my writing and sure I've gotten bad reviews but with the good always comes a sprinkle of good and all of my followers definitely count as that.

Anyway, enough of me wasting your time - please send me a little review if you could and on with the story!


Chapter 17: Dirty Dreams

In my dreams, Eric didn't let me leave.

In my dreams, he was there in a second, growling and furious as he took me against the wall. And then afterward, he would quiet, lapping at the bites he had left along my neck.

Sometimes I would close my eyes and find myself with him, staring into those endless eyes, his skin against mine. We would whisper to each other, secret things under trees, the base of mountains or in the smoky hall of Fangtasia. I would tell him the things that hurt to say, the things that were buried at the very bottom of the well of my being.

Sometimes we wouldn't speak at all and I could simply stare at the expanse of his shoulders, his narrow waist. I would go into the forest and grab fresh berries to mash. Together we would paint each other, his fingers strong and sure as he ran his fingers along my breasts, down my ribs. He would teach me to paint his face, guiding my fingers along his face, down his chest, over his heart.

And then the morning would come and I would wake. And the emptiness would follow.

At first, it was just an uneasy feeling in my stomach when I woke, a tightness in my throat that would eventually loosen the longer I was awake and in the sun among all the living things. I wanted to stay there, I began to realize. I wanted to stay there with Eric where he would tell me about his Gods and I would tell him about my people, my dreams and my tree.

"Stay." For the last four days, I had been trying to keep myself awake, afraid of whatever was growing inside of me when I went to sleep. And also tired of the dull ache that was starting to build up somewhere in the general area that I supposed my heart would be.

"You don't want me to stay," I snapped, trying not to look over at where Eric lounged on the office sofa, a tank top stretched across the impressive expanse of his chest. Damn. Why did he have to look so enticing all the time? Didn't he have some flaw? I gnawed at my lip. I supposed being a giant dick most of the time could be considered that flaw.

"If I didn't want you to stay then I wouldn't have said it," he scoffed, a brow quirking over those striking eyes. His shoulders rolled and bulged as he leaned back farther on his ugly, green couch, throwing an arm over the back. "Why are you always so…" His lips tipped down and then up, his nose wrinkling. "Human?"

"I was raised by humans," I sighed, frustrated. "And so were you for that matter."

"Vikings are hardly human," Eric scoffed, rolling his eyes. His eyes roamed freely down my bartender gear, a short shirt and tight pants. Sex appeal got me major tips. I had fallen asleep in them. Eric's teeth flashed. "I like your outfit."

"Stop that," I snapped, running a hand through my hair in agitation as I looked around the dimly lit office light. Eric's smile all but disappeared, his eyes shuttering as he watched me.

"Why do you always do that?" he mused, his long legs stretching out in front of him. His head tipped to the side. "We could be fucking but instead you choose to struggle around with some internal battle."

"Oh yeah," I bit out sarcastically. "Feelings really suck."

"This struggle that you have…" His eyes shown like a crystal ocean, his head tipping back until it hit the back of the couch. "Seems unnecessary."

I snarled, my shoulders tensing. Of course, he would say that. Things were so straight forward in his world. There was force and cunning plans and a world that he could easily grasp in his palm if he felt the urge. "My sister is dating a vampire which led into a suicide pact that I have with her in debt to another vampire –" Eric winked, his head still resting against the couch even as he smirked over at me. "My friends and family are slowly being picked off and tortured and I'm some kind of weird monster freak – a race that is filled with a bunch of batshit crazy motherfuckers who want nothing more to do with me – that knows little to nothing about my powers and history – and – and now this. You. In my dreams every night." His eyes lingered on the bit of my stomach that my shirt showed. "God. Why am I even talking to you about this? You're not even real."

Wind tickled over my face seconds before he was towering over me, his hands going to my waist. His voice was gravelly when he answered me. "Do I not feel real to you?"

I blinked, gulping back my own yearning. "You – you do seem real but… but you're not." That little admission felt like a tear down my insides, a rip through my heart. "All you are is what I want you to be. What I want for him to be – the real Eric."

"If you think that my blood is so weak to give you only a shadow of myself than you've severely underestimated me, Runa," he murmured, his lips traveling over the scars at my neck that he had given me only a day before. I hadn't thought that they would linger in this dream as well. "You are scared of so many things, little mare. When all you need to do is ask for my help – talk to me like you do in these dreams and I will give you the world."

"Your help always comes with strings," I breathed, clutching at his shirt as I heard the gentle click of his fangs before they were raking along the sensitive skin of my neck. His hands dragged me closer to him.

"Not for you," he murmured.

"How am I supposed to believe you?" It came out sounding more like a plea than a question.

"I can't make you trust me," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. "You'll just have to make that leap for yourself."

And then there was the sharp press of his fangs as he bit into the tender skin at my shoulder, groaning.


I woke slowly, feeling the ripple of the sheets beneath me and the cool, balmy air wafting in through my open window. The sound of the cicadas hiding in the mossy trees around our house, drifted in and out, amplifying for a moment before settling. My whole body tingled, the clothes from my shift at the bar making my nostrils fill with the sharp tang of beer and cigarette smoke.

I blinked, taking in my room. Sookie and I didn't live on any neighborhood or near any of the main roads. That meant that the only light in our house at night came from the stars.

But tonight was different.

Tonight my walls were painted purple.

My insides bubbled like a stew that had been put on high heat. My ears prickled, picking up on the distant screech of tires and rubber on gravel. Ever since I had gotten Eric's blood in me, all of my senses had been heightened. Food tasted better, colors seemed brighter, my skin felt hyper-sensitive to the fibers in my clothes – two days ago I had flipped a chair by accident, sending it crashing into the ceiling of Merlotte's.

I hissed out a breath as my palms burned, twitching into my comforter. It felt like my skin was a pot, my insides the soupy content being cooked. Was this some sort of warning from the mares? I hadn't gotten any dreams, any messages from them in the week that followed my near death. When I had first remembered the cryptic warnings that they had given me, I had been scared.

Was drinking the blood of a vampire breaking their strange, nonsensical rules? I had been in a cold sweat after the first of my dreams with Eric, waiting for the almost divine justice that those mares seemed to specialize in. But as minutes turned to hours and then days, I realized that maybe they didn't even know. Maybe they still thought I was dead. There was a strange sort of silence that had grown inside of me, something that I think humans called peace.

My heart constricted as a dribble of sweat rolled down my temple, the heat in my stomach amping up another degree. How stupid could I be? Of course, they knew I was still here. They had just waited long enough to lull me into a false sense of security, the vindictive bitches.

Sookie! I tried, desperately trying to run backwards along that line that we seemed to share. Sookie, please! I need you! Somethings wrong.

My skin tingled, tightening almost painfully, the purplish glow sparking along my body fizzling and dying out until there was nothing but the darkness of the night. And somehow that was almost worse, paralyzed in my own bed, my body burning with no one there to help me. I let out a low whine, trying to mentally will myself to get up. The fire inside of me kicked up another notch making me still.

Stop, I hissed mentally, forcing as much of my own will into that one word. Stop now.

Cold wood slammed into my back, the floor unforgiving as I crashed into it. My nose went slamming into something hard and metal, a sickening crack jarring me for a moment before the warm splash of blood dribbled down my lip.

"Fuck," I gritted out, rolling and slamming my head into a metal rod under my bed.

"I'VE GOT A BAT, YOU BLOODSUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!" Light spilled into my room, blinding me momentarily while I tried to squirm my way out from under my bed.

Sookie let out a shriek, the metal bat that she had slamming down into my hand as I wiggled farther out from under the box spring, dust bunnies clinging to me. White-hot pain shot up my arm, forcing a scream from me. Oh my god, I think she broke something.

"SOOKIE!" I yelped, hoping like crazy that she wouldn't swing again. The edge of my blanket was blocking my view of anything other than a small sliver of my door, Sookie's legs and the rather sickening sight of my fingers turning an alarming shade of red and purple.

"Runa?" my sister gasped, the bat dropping to her side to my relief. Wide brown eyes came into view as she got to her knees. "What the hell happened?"

I blinked up at her and then the cross fencing of my bed. "I think I just went through my bed."


It was hard to explain a broken nose, especially when it healed quickly enough to look like it had happened a few weeks ago.

"Oh, sweetie, what in the hell happened to you?" Arlene gushed, her face scrunching up as she halted in her route to a nearby table. I resisted the urge to grimace, swiping my long, dark hair into a ponytail.

"I fell out of my bed and bruised it," I grumbled. Not a complete lie. But also definitely not the truth.

I quickly skirted around her to the bar, giving Tara a smile as she cleaned off the back counter. It was a Tuesday night so we didn't have a full bar. What we did have were a series of regulars and two of our harder drunks in the neighborhood.

Her eyes widened as they fell on the yellowish bruise and the swelling that was slowly going down. I had cracked it back into place after Sookie had cleaned me up a bit, her screaming as I did it. Eric's blood had been in me for a little over a week now and it seemed to be running just as strong as the first day – that point underlined by the fact that my nose had healed so quickly.

"Jesus, girl," Tara gasped, stepping closer to me as I stuffed my satchel and jacket beneath the counter. "What the hell happened? You look like you got jumped by a gorilla."

I had had to wrap my hand up too, the whole entire thing had quickly become swollen and ugly and it hurt like a motherfucker. Special thanks went out to my spritely sister for slamming a wooden bat into my hand.

"Bed, metal rod," I grunted, tightening the wrap around my hand and tugging on an elastic glove over it before I started cutting limes, oranges and lemons. It was going to be a painful night if the resulting tingle of pain was any indication. But I liked my tips and I wasn't willing to give up on them, especially when Eric's blood was already helping me to heal so quickly.

"That happened last night?" Tara whispered, her eyes skeptical as she took in the yellowish-green bruises ringing my eyes and swollen nose. A brow tipped up, her hands going to rest on her hips. "That sure don't look like no fresh bruise."

"Good genes," I said, giving a tense smile as I moved on to ringing some glasses with fresh salt.

"Good genes?" she repeated. Finally, after a long pause, she moved closer, her voice dropping so that only I could hear her. "Runa, Sookie told me."

My lips thinned, my heart dropping even as I continued rolling the glasses. "Of course she did."

Tara and I had never been very close. Sure I had watched all of the drama with her and her Mama. I had watched her long for my brother with a sort of transfixed horror. I had gone through all the highs and lows of her life and yet my interest in her and her cousin had never really peaked. We had never connected in the deep way that I had seen others.

And even with Sookie there was always a sort of distance. It was like even our deepest connections were only surface. There had always been something strange about the Stackhouse's – something that didn't mesh well with other humans.

"You know you've gone batshit crazy right?" she questioned bluntly and I resisted the urge to snap at her.

"I also almost died," I stated blandly, casting a scathing glance her way. "Did my sister tell you that?"

"No," Tara admitted almost reluctantly. Her eyes moved along my body uncertainly. So Sookie hadn't told her about the attack at all.

"Eric Northman saved my life," I whispered, the words a truth that I hadn't fully acknowledged up until this point. "And I won't disrespect him by say that I regret it."

There was a moment of silence that was filled with clinking glasses and Terry hollering from the back.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Tara finally whispers, her voice wavering for a moment. "You and your sister have gone through a lot and I don't want to see either of you hurt. Just promise me you'll be careful okay?"

There was another moment of tense silence where Tara's dark eyes caught mine, holding them like she could force the message into my brain with the intensity of her gaze alone. A wave of irritation pricked through me. Who the hell had been taking care of everything for the last few weeks? Who had gone along with Sookie's absurd plan? When did she think that it was right to talk about something that was so intimate?

"Yeah," I snapped, slamming the glass down and storming toward the exit. "Where did you say Sookie was?"

"I didn't-" I snarled, baring my teeth as I snapped around at the defensive answer.

"Where is she?"

Tara's eyes widened. "I – I think she went out to talk to Sam-"

I slammed around the corner before she could finish, nearly colliding with Arlene as she came out with a full platter.

"Woah, honey!" she blurted, scuttling into the corner as I bolted passed. "What the hell's going on?"

I heard her before I saw her, her voice hard against the gentle sway of the Louisiana bayou outside. I pushed open the door just as Sookie came rushing in, Sam looking like a whipped dog. Which seemed to be a default setting for his facial features whenever he was around my sister.

But the door swung shut behind her before I could catch more than a passing glance at him, his arms wrapped tightly around a wooden crate of clementines.

"God, he's such an asshole," Sookie fumed, running an irritated hand through her hair. Her eyes blazed as she shuffled around in front of me. "He's leaving – did you know that? Just up and leaving without a word-"

"Did you tell Tara about Eric and I?" I cut in, my eyes narrowing on her. Honestly, I couldn't care less where the hell Sam Merlotte was going. He had always been a little too clingy for me. Maybe a little time out of bum-fuck Louisiana would be good for getting that giant, Sookie shaped stick out of his ass.

Besides there was another major problem that came with Sam potentially scampering away – he would be leaving the girl that he had been infatuated with for years now.

So, yeah. He wasn't going anywhere.

"I – um –" The look on her face was enough to solidify my anger.

"How dare you?" I hissed, not caring that Terry had halted in his route to one of the back-storage pantries, slowly backing up with a wide-eyed sort of terror. My anger rolled through me with a fury that nearly blinded me. "Who the fuck do you think you are to tell anyone who I let into my bed?"

"Bed?" Sookie stuttered out, her cheeks heating as her shoulders went up. "Runa – what the fuck – did you let him fuck-?"

"No," I snarled, my own shoulders rising as her feet widened. She looked like she was ready to fight me. Well, fuck. We had been in a few hair-pulling tiffs and I was certainly feeling in that mood right now. "I drank his blood – something just as intimate and extremely more dangerous to tell random people-"

"Tara isn't some stranger-" Sookie argued back.

"She's not my best goddamn friend either," I bit out, my blood boiling. "Or have you forgotten that just a month ago one of Jason's best friends was running around slaughtering girls that he thought were fang bangers?"

"How could I ever forget that?" Sookie hissed and involuntarily I flinched, watching the flare of pain snap through her eyes. And then I was thinking about the open door, the blood on our welcome mat, spilling from the kitchen, from my- I cut that off, turning away.

"Don't talk about my personal life to whoever the fuck you want to," I whispered, clenching my fists as my fingers gave an uncomfortable tingle, lighting a frantic purple before fading to translucency. My powers were run on emotions and right now I was almost quivering with how angry I was.

"Why is this upsetting you so much?" Sookie called out and I heard the defiant lilt in her voice. Like she was angry that I wasn't as easily pushed around like her little boy toys. "You can't possibly be emotionally invested in a psychotic, narcissistic vampire."

My blood ran cold, an irrational argument taking over as her words struck through me, clanking around like a bunch of change that had been tossed into an empty bucket. A loud part of me wanted to fight rabidly against the disturbing ideas of having any sort of attachment to a man as powerful as Eric. It made me feel vulnerable. And I hated that more than anything else in the world.

But I couldn't ignore the dreams or the way that he treated me any longer.

"My emotions are private," I finally said, not turning around. "And if you want to air them out to other people and create a little play out of my life then you do that. Just know that we'll have some serious problems."

I let that sink in, my eyes catching hers as she went a few shades lighter.

"Runa-" Sookie started and from her tone, I could tell that it wouldn't be an apology. More like a passive-aggressive threat about us being family.

"I don't want to hear it," I muttered, wheeling to make my way back to the bar where Tara was still standing, working worriedly at reorganizing the alcohol stock. Her eyes ran over me with barely concealed panic.

"Is everything alright?" she asked hesitantly, one of the few times she had ever shown any sign of nervousness in her life.

"Fine," I snapped, yanking on another pair of elastic gloves just as Sookie wandered by, her expression slightly dazed as she wobbled over to a new table. "You're good to go whenever you want to."

"Um…okay." Tara grabbed her purse quickly. In recent days, she had moved into our house and I had walked into her and my sister crying in random parts of the house on more occasions than not. Usually, I slowly backed away, wanting no part of sifting through Gran's stuff. It seemed almost barbaric to just rifle through her clothing and pictures like… like her life was something that needed to be thrown out.

I made it through the rest of the evening in a sort of haze, serving the bar and restaurant with a single-mindedness that had me idling for most the night. In that way, Sam and I seemed to be in the same boat. Which was a miserable position to find myself in.

"Miss Stackhouse." I glanced up at the deep, southern accented voice to find Bill. He had come into Merlotte's on more than one occasion, waiting for Sookie with me at the bar so that he wouldn't be subjected to any of the other waitresses dancing around the whole vampire, not eating dilemma. Plus, they really didn't appreciate the idea of waiting on someone who would only have a ten-dollar bill at best. His shadowed eyes met my indignant ones. Begrudgingly, I yanked out a bottle of TruBlood and popped it into the microwave. It was late enough in the evening for most of the restaurant to have already emptied out and my remaining lot was so drunk that they barely even flinched at the sight of Bill.

"This seems like a particularly quiet night," Bill commented as I wiped up my counter, yanking off my apron for a new one that wasn't stained with cocktail syrup and vodka.

Sookie was closing out her last table, transferring over her section to a new server named Daphne that Arlene thought was dumber than a pile of rocks. And frankly, I had to agree with her. At the beginning over her service, she asked me if I did the brandy stew sear or if she had to go to the back to put it in. I had handed the drink menu to her in answer.

"I have a favor to ask you," I started, getting a mop and starting to warm up a bucket with heavy cleaners. I would be here until close in another four hours but there wasn't any harm in starting clean up early. Especially on a night as dead as this one.

One brow quirked as Bill leaned forward, obviously intrigued. "Yes?"

"The tickets are scheduled for a time where I'll be working the bar," I said, pouring a mixture of bleach and Pinesol into the bucket – something that I was sure would probably knock someone out if they had to inhale it for too long. It would help clear out my little birdies quick enough. "I need you to message Eric and tell him to book a later flight."

"Later flight…" Bill repeated slowly, his brows creasing. "Are you sure that you would like to go alone? The flight is actually a private jet."

My brows furrowed. Well, damn. "If he's able to accommodate me then I would really appreciate it. If not, I'll see if I can possibly get a replacement."

That was easier said than done. Sam had planned his little getaway real quickly, leaving the rest of the restaurant to scramble under the sudden loss. That left the bar with only two members that were qualified to run it. And on that list was Tara who had been blowing off shifts with a surprising nonchalance that came specifically from a mysterious benefactor that she only mentioned in a dreamy, idyllic way that made me uncomfortable.

"I will send your request along," Bill said uneasily, nodding in thanks as I gave him his heated drink. "However, I think it's important to mention that Eric isn't particularly the charitable type."

"Then let's hope that the mood strikes him," I said with a stiff smile.

"Bill." I stiffened. My sister hadn't spoken to me once throughout the evening, leaving her alcohol orders on my counter like little messages from a child. It was more than irritating. It was ridiculous. I set the steaming bucket down with a thump, grabbing up a mop. She hadn't acknowledged me all night so I certainly wasn't going to do her the favor.

"Yes, darling," he said, sending me a curious glance as I continued to mop up aggressively at one corner of the bar floor. "Are you two…"

"Not tonight, honey," Sookie snapped, yanking on her hoodie with a wrath that surprised me. "Let's go."

Still uncertain, he got up, his eyes flicking between the two of us for a moment longer before he finally gave up. "I will send your message along."

I could feel Sookie's sharp glance from a mile away. I didn't look up, giving a nod of acknowledgment and then scrubbing at the floor until a layer of sludge started to peel off and my shoulders were beginning to ache. They had left in the silent way that all vampires arrived and exited. As if they were never there in the first place.

One of the more prominent reasons that I had decided to stick with my schedule was because of the growing tension between my sister and I. The flight was scheduled for an earlier time before the sunset, meaning that Bill and Jessica would be in dead in a couple of caskets in the back while Sookie and I had to stare at each other over our airplane food.

"Rutha," a chirpy voice said from somewhere behind me. I closed my eyes, praying for a little bit of patience before I turned to Daphne, our newest airhead. Daphne was a bubbly girl with dirty blonde hair and dark eyes and a serious penchant for gaudy jewelry. And also a penchant for calling me by the wrong fucking name.

"Runa," I snapped, sighing.

"Oh," she giggled, slapping her head lightly. "Duh."

"What's up?" I asked, peeling off my gloves to rewrap my wrist.

"Well, um I was wondering if you could maybe train me?" she bubbled, running a hand through the section of salt that I had just set out to ring a couple of glasses. She made a little bunny doodle in it, grinning at me. "I was like wondering how long it took you to get good with the bar? It's got to be as easy as serving."

"Which you're fantastic at already," Arlene quipped sarcastically as she passed with a full tray of dirty dishes. She rolled her eyes to me, huffing.

Daphne's performance in the dining area was less than stellar. Half the time she didn't even know where the plates were even going. The other half she was daydreaming so much that she tripped and sent food and glass all over the place. And god forbid she clean it up quickly.

"It took me a whole year of being a trainee for Sam to let me move up to the barkeep position," I stated blandly. "And every week there's a new drink coming out, a new way of doing the cocktails so training is always in season."

"Oh," Daphne said lamely, her gaze dropping unhappily to the salt doodles that she was currently engrossed in. Her lips opened and closed for a moment before she looked up at me hopefully. "But I'm sure you're such a good teacher that you can have me up and going in like a week."

Was she trying to flirt with me? God, I hated people who didn't want to work for their money.

"Too bad I'm going on vacation," I said with a false pout that she immediately copied. One of the fans overhead kicked in, spluttering to life.

"Oooohhhh," Daphne wowed. "Spooky."

"Yeah. It's been-" I stopped, my nose catching on something – My head snapped around, catching the startled look flash across the blondes face quickly. But I didn't care. I wasn't focused on that. What I was focused on was that smell. The smell of mud and decay. A smell that I had had a very personal experience with only a few nights before.

"What-" Her words were cut off on a gasp as I reached out, one of my hands curling around her wrist.

And I came up with… nothing. Nothing and everything all at once, a combination that made me grit my teeth. It was like the roar of trees in the middle of a hurricane. Her fears were there but… it was like she thrived off of them. Like she enjoyed racing towards the chaos and jumping in.

"You're scaring me," Daphne whimpered, her eyes widening as she tried to pull away from me.

She wasn't the person. The creature that had attacked us didn't have any fears. But the same sort of chaos that I felt in that thing was reflected in Daphne. And I wasn't quite sure how to receive that.

"My bad," I muttered, pulling away more confused than I had ever been. Turning away from Daphne's frightened face, I quickly grabbed up the bucket to dump it in the back.

Daphne was a mystery to me. She didn't seem to have any ties to Louisiana. No family. Minimal friends. I had no clue who she was or where she came from.

But if she was as dangerous as that thing that had attacked Sookie and I then I needed to be careful. Going after her directly would get me killed so it was imperative that I sniffed around before I did anything too rash.

My phone gave a soft ding from my pocket. Normally, I didn't get very many messages. Mainly because I didn't have that many friends. Curious, I pulled it out of my pocket.

Have any dirty dreams, love?