AN: I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this so far! Here's a new chapter, let me know what you think and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter Five

Two months had come and gone, and Maria counted every single day. Two months out of forty-eight was barely a dent. In fact, it was barely a notch, almost unnoticeable, but it was two months still gone.

She still lived at Northman's, too. It was something she wished she could change, but when she told him she wanted a place of her own, he flat-out refused. She wasn't surprised. Maria had no delusions about her station. While she might verbally express that she was an employee, she knew she was a slave. She'd been bought and sold like property, so she was very aware of her status. That being said, she was also aware that she had an extreme amount of freedom already.

And while sometimes she wished she lived alone, sometimes she actually was. Northman didn't sleep at his house every day. He did at first, for a couple of weeks because he wanted to keep an eye on her as best he could, but that overbearing side of his began to dwindle. Eventually, it got to the point that if he needed or wanted to sleep at Fangtasia, he would, which left her alone in the house. She liked that. Maria had been alone most of her life. People made her uncomfortable.

Working at Fangtasia was an odd experience, and one she couldn't quite classify. The "uniform" she could do without, but pushing your tits high so that people could gawk made sense. She would work the bar, tend to the stock, or clean when it closed. If there was nothing for her to do, she'd take her stance behind Northman. She knew it stroked his ego. How could it not when the man had an actual throne in his club? It was safe to say he fancied himself royalty, so she catered to that while she had to.

Maria had met Ginger her second night at the club. Ginger was… interesting, to say the least. The woman was small, and unbelievably thin. She couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and was constantly covered in bite marks. At first, she wondered why no one bothered to heal Ginger after feedings, but she learned why within a week or so. Clearly, no one wanted to bond themselves in that way to the neurotic woman. Then again, would she be so crazy if they didn't torture her? There was probably a time when Ginger was actually normal, though that was likely a long time ago.

With two cases of TrueBlood in her arms, stacked one on the other, Maria entered the club. She shimmied her way behind the bar and past Pam. As delicately as possible, she set them down and tore into the first so she could restock the supply. Through the weeks, she bothered with hiding her strength less and less. What was the point? She'd never truly show them how strong she was, but Eric wasn't an idiot. She could tell he knew she was lying that day when he asked what she was, and even if he didn't, he saw what she did to Anthony and his men. No simple human or were could've done that. Thankfully, he hadn't broached the subject again, but he did watch her like a hawk.

As Maria opened the second box of TrueBlood, Pam sauntered over. With her hand on her hip and her typical level of smooth sass, she spoke.

"There's a shipment comin' in tomorrow at eight." She said. "I need you to sign for it. Ginger's… well, she's two shades above useless when it comes to doin' it fast."

"Fine," Maria replied. When she put the last bottle in the cooler, she picked up her boxes and stood. Pam was directly in her path and showed no signs of moving. "Excuse me."

A wicked grin twisted Pam's fiery red lips. She arched a brow and let her sapphire eyes drag over Maria's body.

"You don't like bein' here, do you?" She asked as she met Maria's gaze again.

"Should I?"

"Oh, come on." Pam cooed as she stepped closer. She didn't stop until she was nearly pressed against Maria. "We're not so bad, are we?"

"You're better than being starved and chained up in a box." She replied coldly. "But I wouldn't brag about it. Excuse me."

Pam smiled wide, flashing her perfect teeth, and shifted just enough to the side that Maria could pass her. Maria rolled her eyes and left, slipping into the back again so she could throw the empty boxes into the compactor.

Ever since she'd arrived, Pam took to teasing. It didn't bother Maria in the least, but some nights, like tonight, she just wasn't in the mood for the blonde's biting tongue.

After tossing the boxes away, feeling only brief respite from the sweltering club outside, Maria returned. She walked through the halls with a practiced ease and familiarity that bothered her to have. When she turned the corner, ready to dip into the stock room again for the third case of TrueBlood needed up front, she was confronted by Northman. He stood in the hall, tall and imposing with his head tilted forward as he stared at her. She wasn't certain why he did that. Perhaps it was because he liked the way his hair fell into his face? Maybe he thought he looked more intimidating? She didn't know, but she could tell by his grin that he wanted to feed. Maria let out a soft sigh and her shoulders slumped, but that didn't stop her from joining him in his office.

Northman fed daily from her. Thankfully, he'd become more careful after the first night. The idiot almost killed her. She might be able to heal, but it was nowhere near fast enough to keep up with what he'd done to her. She knew from the beginning that he was greedy and his daily "rations" were simply proof of that. Vampires only needed to feed once every few days, or week, but no, not Northman.

He closed the door behind them when they entered his office. She turned to face him. Northman held out his hand, a silent command for her wrist. Maria handed it over. She was no longer afraid to touch him because she'd found a nice pair of thin leather gloves. She felt protected wearing them. Nothing would get through.

Maria handed over her right wrist. He clasped it firmly and tugged her close, delighting in any reaction he could get from her. Rarely one was given. Maria refused to give him what he wanted, and he knew it, but he tried anyway.

Northman lifted her to his mouth and bit down. Maria felt every centimeter of his fangs pierce her skin. She'd grown accustomed to the sensation, but still winced. One could only get so used to being stabbed.

He drank freely from her veins. One thing she would never get used to was the feeling of having her blood drawn through the puncture wounds, pulled out by the mouth of another. It didn't disgust her like it probably should. It intrigued her. How annoying must it be to work so hard for food. Humans only had to pop it into their mouths and chew. Surely slicing her wrist and filling a glass to drink from would be easier? Perhaps they got something else out of it? She'd never ask. Why bother? But one question did come to mind, again. It'd been plaguing her for weeks, and she finally felt the need to ask.

As Northman fed, she finally spoke.

"Why do you only bite my wrists and neck?"

Apparently, he found her question curious and stopped. He stood upright, her blood glistening on his lips as he looked down at her. A devilish glint flashed in his stormy eyes.

"Why?" He asked leadingly. "Where else would you like me to bite?"

Northman smiled a wicked smile as he dragged his eyes all over her. Maria could feel them as easily as tangible hands, feel the way they dug into her. She felt heat gather in her cheeks, but didn't her best to remain stoic.

"Don't flatter yourself." She told him.

Northman met her eyes again and chuckled. "Don't tease."

She scowled. "Are you done?"

Still grinning, she watched Northman pierce his tongue with the pointed tip of his fang. When he brought her wrist to his mouth again, he dragged it along her flesh, sealing the wounds left behind. When they closed, he sucked the remainder off before dropping her wrist. If anything, he was thorough. Northman rarely left a trace behind for her to clean off.

"Why ask if it's not what you want?" He asked with a teasing tone that wasn't lost on her.

"Anthony used to bite…" Maria stopped herself. Actually, the memories flashing through her mind made her stop.

They still tormented her, woke her up in the middle of the day. What he did would never fully leave her, but she could cope, and did. Closing her eyes, she took in a few breaths to steady herself before looking up at Northman again. When she did, she noticed an odd expression on his face. He was no longer grinning and teasing. Instead, he was blank and, if she looked a little closer, angry. She didn't know why or what prompted it. She highly doubted the disgust she felt at the memories or the fear –no matter how slight- was strong enough for Northman to feel, too. Nevertheless, he didn't look pleased. Still, she moved past it.

"Other things." She replied. "At least until I nearly took his ear off."

The smile returned, accompanied by a small scoff of a laugh. "Of course you did."

His voice held no patronizing tone, which disarmed her more than it should. In fact, he sounded almost proud.

"How about this?" He said. "I'll bite something else," His eyes immediately drifted to her exposed cleavage and lingered. "When you ask me to bite something else." He looked at her again. "Deal?"

She glowered in response, something he seemed to enjoy. "Can I get back to work?"

Without a word, Northman stepped aside and let her leave. After she closed the door behind her, Maria couldn't fight the shudder that tore through her as an image of her and Northman wrapped around one another, their naked bodies entwined and his fangs piercing her breast flashed in her mind. It was as uncomfortable as the sex-dreams she had about him whenever she drank his blood. True, he was perhaps one of the sexiest men she'd ever seen, but he was a dick, and, as she'd said before, she had no intentions whatsoever of sleeping with him.

When closing time came, Maria wasn't surprised that Northman joined her at his house. He'd spent the previous three nights at Fangtasia and she assumed he felt that was enough time without her under thumb.

Under his roof, the pair barely spoke. There was nothing that needed to be said between them, so why bother with useless speech? Maria was relieved he seemed to be like her in that regard. She was never one for forced conversation. The waste of breath was rarely, if ever, worth it.

Maria had just finished her dinner as the sun began to peak over the horizon behind the house. The sky was a brilliant pale blue and the smell of rain and dew filled her nose. She liked eating outside on Northman's back porch, and he preferred it, too. He told her she couldn't keep food in the house, or cook it, because he smelled nothing but rot when it was around. He was an asshole when he explained it, but she respected his wishes. It was his house, after all, even if she was a captive in it. There were some things she couldn't unlearn, no matter how old she became or what the situation was. Manners were one of those things.

When she finished, she crunched up the paper bags and plastic containers from her fast food and walked to the side of the house. She deposited them in the trash before returning inside.

"How can you eat that swill?" Northman asked as she walked through the back door into the kitchen.

"I don't have a choice." She told him plainly as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. Drinks were all she was permitted because smell couldn't escape the plastic container until she opened it. "Trust me, McDonalds is far from my first choice."

"I can taste it in you. Stop it."

Maria stared at him. She hoped he could see how frustrated she was because she wasn't bothering to hide it.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do, hm?" She snapped angrily. For some reason, she didn't fear speaking to him so rudely. Though, in truth, she wasn't afraid to speak to anyone like that. Her father always did say she ran her mouth too much. "I have to eat, too, but I can't keep food in the house and you won't let me move out, so what else is there?"

Northman said nothing for a moment. He continued to lean against his countertop with his arms crossed in front of him. She could practically see his mind working out a solution, one where he still got what he wanted, while catering to her needs, too. She doubted he'd be willing to call it "compromise", but if he wanted her to taste better, that's what he had to do. It was unlikely he was willing to endure four years of subpar blood.

"I'll put a refrigerator in the garage." He finally said. "You can keep whatever you like it there, but continue to eat outside."

"And to cook it?"

He scowled. "Don't push me."

"Fucking asshole," she scoffed as she turned to walk away.

Before she could take a step, Northman was in front of her again, staring down his nose. "You need to learn some respect." His voice was filled with warning, but she didn't care.

Something inside her snapped. There was no lead up to it, no indication it was coming, but the anger she had towards Northman erupted within her and since violence wasn't an option, she spouted her vitriol.

"For you?" She didn't bother hiding her sarcasm and annoyance. "Are you kidding? I show you nothing but respect. I do everything you tell me to do. I let you gnaw on me like a chew toy just to get your fix. I sleep when you do, I work at your fucking club for free, and I barely eat because I can't be more than a few yards away and you hate the smell of human food. I shook my ass on a fucking pole, because you wanted some goddamned entertainment and to see me humiliated. And on top of that, you want me to watch my mouth, too? Fine, whatever you say, Master. Can I go brush my teeth now, Master? Can I go to sleep?"

His jaw was tight as she sent vicious barbs at him. She saw his rage through his stormy eyes, saw how angry he was becoming, but she couldn't stop. Once opened, the floodgates refused to close again. Everything tumbled from her mouth, and honestly, she didn't care. Fuck Eric Northman.

"I should-"

"What?" she interrupted. "Lock me in the box again?" She jutted her chin forward. "Then do it." She said through her teeth.

Northman reacted swiftly. Almost before she could fathom it, he had her pinned to a wall by her throat. His fangs were bared as he hissed an unnatural sound. She felt his cold, long, steely fingers enclose almost entirely around her throat, squeezing it just enough to cut off most of her precious air. His eyes burned with fury.

"You want to kill me, don't you?" Her words were choked and forced, barely able to make it past her lips, but she managed. "Then do it. Trust me when I say, there's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done already, except death." She inched closer, as much as his death-grip would allow, further instilling her point. "I'm not afraid of you."

She noticed the corner of his eye twitch ever-so-slightly. He believed her, she could tell.

They remained like that for minutes, each waiting for the other to react. They waited there so long, in fact, that Northman began to bleed because the sun had fully risen. He didn't know what to do with her. He didn't know if he should punish her for being insolent, to shove her back into the box, or flat-out kill her. Either way, they were both things she told him to do, things she challenged him to do, so she knew he didn't like them as options.

Finally, the statue Northman had become began to move. He inched closer to her, nearly brushing her nose with his.

"I want you out of my sight." His voice was low and threatening. "You will stay in your room until I say otherwise. Do you understand me?" She didn't reply. He shook her sharply once. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she hissed.

Northman didn't reply. Instead, he lobbed her away, throwing her through the air like he had the night she danced. Maria caught herself easily before she would have slammed into another wall. She knew immediately he hadn't tossed her as hard as he could have, which was restraint on his part. In fact, she was well aware that every time he "assaulted" her, it was nowhere near his full strength. He used only enough force to show her he had the ability. He used it to intimidate her. Maria highly doubted that if she were human, he'd use the same tactics.

When she stood again, Maria charged to her room, slamming the door behind her when she made it. Her hands were shaking, her entire body trembling. She wanted to fight. She wanted to sink her teeth into Northman and tear his flesh for a change. But she didn't. She didn't do anything.

Eric was still seething long after he retired to his room. It took him well over an hour just to calm. If it hadn't been morning, he would have hunted just to gain some form of satisfaction when he killed something. The Girl in the Box infuriated him to a level he hadn't experienced before. She hit every nerve he possessed and some he didn't even know he had. She was defiant and brash and loud. She was too proud and too goddamn stupid to know how dangerous it was.

And still, he preferred it to blind submission.

She was sold to him, her life given without her consent. He expected resistance like any rational being would. If she'd simply rolled over and accepted her fate, he knew he wouldn't have enjoyed her nearly as much, and probably killed her weeks ago. But did she have to be so fucking defiant? Did she have to challenge and taunt him at every turn? Her one and only saving grace was that she hadn't done it in front of others, only in the privacy of his own home. Without hesitation he would have put her in the box for that.

Around noon, Eric finally relaxed enough he thought he could drift to sleep. He'd leave her in her room for a few days, away from him and everything else. She'd probably escape to eat, however. He'd decide later if he'd let her think she got away with it or not.

As he began to drift, his body and mind caressing the veil between asleep and awake, a bolt of fear, pure and powerful, shot through him. It shocked Eric, forcing him upright in his bed. His eyes were wide, his breathing heavy, and he knew his heart would be racing if it could. He had never felt anything so intense in his life, and it terrified even him.

A split second later, before his mind had a chance to calm, an ear-splitting scream roared through the halls of his house. The high-pitched shriek threatened to burst his sensitive eardrums for the few seconds it lasted. He knew immediately who the pain-filled sound belonged to.

In an instant, Eric was on his feet and in the girl's room, standing beside her bed to see what had caused the panic. His teeth were bared, his muscles primed, and his eyes darting to find the monster hiding in the shadows, but there wasn't one. There was nothing, except her.

Eric's brows knit in confusion as he looked down at the young woman sleeping in her bed. He approached her cautiously and took everything into account. Her skin was glistening with beads of sweat and pink with exertion despite his house being a balmy sixty-degrees. Her lips were parted as she breathed heavily, nearly all the blankets had been kicked off her body, and her face was twisted in agony.

As he stood there, she began to whimper. It was a soft, delicate, and pathetic sound he hadn't thought her capable of making. And, before he could come to terms with everything, she screamed again. He felt the vibrations of it hit him as hard as the fear she was experiencing. It was dizzying, and enough to make the ancient vampire nearly double over. He had to put an end to it, if anything to save himself.

Eric sat on the bed beside the now-thrashing young woman. Whatever she was fighting in her nightmare, it didn't look at though she was winning.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed.

"Hey," He said, loudly enough she should have been able to hear it. "Wake up." She didn't respond. "Wake up!"

Without warning, she wrenched her hands free with a surprising level of strength and lashed out. Eric felt the flesh on his cheek split open, felt the point of her fingernails slice through it almost effortlessly as she shot up.

The moment she was awake, she scrambled away from him, clamoring to get to the other side of the bed. He didn't move, still a little stunned by what had just happened.

It took her a little while to calm again, to steady her heart and breathing, and when she did, her gaze fell immediately to his cheek. Eric felt it stitching itself up. When it had, he rolled his head lazily toward her.

"Well, that was unnecessary." He said sardonically.

Her mouth gaped open as she struggled to find words. "I'm sorry." She finally said. "I'm… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

He didn't speak. Too many things were vying for his attention in his mind, but first and foremost was her fear. Of all the things that he had known happened to her, not once did she display the slightest inkling of the emotion. But something in her head, something unseen, terrified her to the point she attacked him.

She continued to stare at him, tendrils of hair clinging to her sweating skin, her face still reflecting her fear and worry. Eric lingered for only a moment before he rose to his feet and left her room. He didn't know what to do with her, so he chose to go to bed. It wasn't as though he was going to comfort the woman. He wasn't that sort of person even with those who knew him well, so he wasn't going to wrap his arms around the scared little girl and hold her close. The thought alone actually made him quite uncomfortable, so he simply left her to settle herself.

As he laid down in his bed again, staring up at the thick tapestry ceiling of his canopy bed, he did wonder about the nightmare. What horrible creature haunted her dreams to the point it left her screaming and waking in a cold sweat?

Eventually Eric closed his eyes, intending once more to sleep after the jarring situation. His body slumped and his mind emptied, but in the distance he heard the soft, gentle words coming from the guest bedroom. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. She was praying, in Russian.

"Grant me the strength of my father, and of our ancient line. May it banish the darkness that has marked me. Grant me the strength of my father, and of our ancient line. May it banish the darkness that had marked me."

Over and over, with her gentle voice, she repeated the prayer, begging some unseen force for aid. Perhaps it brought her comfort, Eric couldn't say, but the sound of her voice and the constant whisper lulled him back to sleep.