"And how the hell do you know my name? What problems?" Sookie asked, affronted by his tone. Then she covered her mouth with a gasp; Sookie didn't curse, especially in front of strangers. Gran would have her beat for even thinking it in her head. The vampire was unfazed.
"Unimportant," he drolled with his strange, unplaceable accent.
"You tell me right now or I'm not takin' off those chains," she hesitated, "Again."
He rolled his eyes to the heavens in an actor's histrionic display before making steady, unblinking eye contact with her. In contrast to his languid actions, her heart was racing. She saw his hands flex on the ground, the chains sizzling his skin in response to the movement. He clearly wasn't used to being told no, or being negotiated with. And it wasn't something he approved of.
"I don't make deals with humans," he responded. "Though I do believe your shifter mentioned it once or twice when he locked me down here. Mentioned might not be the right word."
"My what?"
They stared at each other once more, her at the top of the stairs and him still trapped below. He clearly wasn't going to answer the question, though she was unsure of why. She felt like she was having a conversation in which she only spoke half the language. It was infuriating. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of Sam loading out to his truck as the other waitresses packed up to go home.
"Sookie, are you leavin'?" Arlene asked from the kitchen.
"Yeah, just grabbin' a few things! You go on without me!" she called before looking back to the vampire. It occurred to her then that she didn't even know his name. She turned away from him slowly, making the hair rise on the back of her neck in an automatic response even though he was chained down and unable to move. But instead of leaving, she closed the door with the now-broken lock and turned back to him, descending the stairs. He shifted slightly in response, pushing himself up with his hands into a more proper seated position, his long legs splayed out before him awkwardly, covered in dried blood. His or mine? she wondered.
Moments from the night prior flashed in her mind in bursts, dazzling snapshots that overlapped the present. His limp body. His cracked lips. His fangs, tearing into the sensitive skin of her neck like it was no barrier at all. He seemed to remember as well, his nose flaring as she drew closer, tilting his head to the side and examining the approach like a predator with its prey. She knelt down before him, close but not close enough, peering up at him through her lashes innocently. He swallowed.
"What's your name?" she asked quietly.
"Unimportant," he said again, though softer this time, nearly conversational. The force gone from his tone. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so," she replied, though she edged closer still.
"Yet you saved me," he contemplated, as if puzzling over it himself.
"Well, you weren't bound to hurt anyone at that point," she breathed. "But now…" she trailed off, looking at him questioningly.
"I won't hurt you," he said, then seemed to check himself. "The shifter, though, I make no promises." He smiled a wicked grin then, transforming his features into something raw and feral, something she'd seen in the vampire PSAs the church put out but never in real life. In those, the vampires went around killing, savage and ruthless. They cared only for blood. They had no moral compass. And, most importantly, they were not to be trusted.
It scared her and she shifted away once more, a pull in the fluctuating dance they seemed to be taking part in. Closer. Farther. Closer. Farther. He looked at her then almost as though he was disappointed in her. As though he expected more.
"What happened to my brave girl?" he asked, his mouth dropping from his smile into an earnest question. Her eyes widened in anger. Excitement. Both.
"I'm not your… your… anythin'" she spluttered, worrying he could hear how her heart skipped a beat. As if to prove this to herself she reached forward and yanked the chains off both of his wrists in one smooth motion, dropping them haphazardly to the side.
"A shame," he allowed.
He stood up in a flash, towering over her kneeling form like he'd been waiting for her to stand up for ages. He reached one pale hand down to her, wrist still coated in blood though he didn't seem to mind. She didn't take it and instead stood up on her own. He let his hand drop. Even as she stood at full height he had to be over a foot taller than her. She blinked rapidly, disconcerted about being so close to an unchained vampire. No, not an unchained vampire. This vampire. She didn't feel this way with Bill. Here, she sensed danger and something more. Something that pulled her in closer instead of letting her go. He gazed down at her calmly then reached up and grabbed her ponytail.
"Hey," she began to protest. He brought his pointer finger up and pressed it to her lips, shushing her like a child he couldn't be bothered to discipline properly. With gentle pressure he pulled on her ponytail until her head tilted in response, exposing her neck with the slightly camouflaged wounds. He grunted under his breath appreciatively as he examined them, then pulled his finger from her lips and pressed them to his own. He opened his mouth slowly and dropped his fangs with a click, causing her to jump slightly but remain in place under the pressure of his hand in her hair. He pressed his pointer finger to his fang until his nose wrinkled, pulling it away to reveal a single drop of vampire blood: V.
She knew of V only through what she saw on the news or what she heard in the thoughts of the bar patrons. Dangerous, intoxicating, addicting. Supposedly there was nothing like it, though Sookie herself wouldn't know. She'd never tried and she didn't intend to start now. Before she could pull further away, the vampire moved his finger from his mouth to her neck wounds, pressing down and rubbing with surprisingly gentle circles. He pulled his hand away before he spoke:
"My name is Eric Northman."
She paused, waiting for him to offer up more information. He didn't.
"And how did you get to be burnin' up outside in the daytime yesterday, Eric?" she asked with an intense awareness of the fact that he still held her ponytail in his large hand.
He retracted his fangs and smirked at her.
"Unimportant."
With a rush of wind, he was gone.
x
She was back on the porch swing again, wearing her best white dress. The sun was high in the sky. She swatted at the gnats circling her for her perfume. In the distance, Jason worked on his truck, a nameless girl flirting with him from the passenger's seat. She could smell her gran's baking, and she knew for sure it was pie. Apple pie. She could already taste the caramelized syrup melting on her tongue, the tart bite of the green skin, the delicate airy whipped cream. She hoped it would be done soon and smiled to herself, wondering how she could possibly be so blessed.
"Jason!" she called, beckoning him over.
"How're ya doin', Sook?" he asked. "The long shifts at Merlotte's gettin' you down any?"
"Can't be any worse than that road work you've been doin', Jay," she said, shoving his shoulder playfully as he sat beside her on the swing.
"Think I'm gonna be promoted soon," he grinned cheerily, clearly proud of himself. "Been puttin' in the hours, might even get to head up my own small crew."
"That's great!" Sookie exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. They sat, content, for a few moments, Jason using the heels of his work boots to gently rock them back and forth. She tried to listen in to his thoughts but heard nothing more than the cry of the cicadas and the chirp of crickets in tall grass. She closed her eyes for only a moment and when she opened them again the sun had already set. They were bathed in darkness save for the porch light hanging above their heads. His girlfriend was gone and she could smell no pie.
"We should get you inside. Ain't safe out here in Bon Temps after the sun sets. Not after you saved that vamp," Jason said, standing and holding out his hand.
"It's my fault? I didn't mean to hurt nobody." As the words came out of her mouth, she felt a disturbing sense of deja vu. Had this happened before? She was about to grab Jason's hand when he appeared: the silhouette. It wrapped its arms around Jason's body from behind, pulling him back from the light and into the shadows.
"Who are you?" she screamed.
There was a pause. Dead silence. Jason didn't move. He didn't struggle.
"My name is Eric Northman." And then he bit.
Sookie woke up with her hand clutching her own neck as if she herself had been bitten. It was the early morning hours and she was wrapped up safe and sound in her bed, though the sheets were twisted and wet as a result of her nightmare. This was the second one in as many nights, and it was so visceral and raw it felt more like a memory than a fiction. She worked to calm her breathing down, watching through her curtains as the sun began to lighten up the sky. If she kept up like this she'd never get any sleep.
She padded over to her bathroom, examining herself in the mirror. She was still a slightly pale and drawn from losing so much blood but her color was beginning to come back. Her eyes were a bit hooded and her hair a bit dull. She leaned in close to examine the marks on her neck and was shocked to find them completely and totally healed. Not even a hint of a scar. V could do that? She was in awe. That wasn't just a drug; that was magic.
After her shower she went downstairs to join her gran who was cooking up a plate of eggs for the two of them. It felt like she hadn't seen her in weeks, what with all the events that'd happened in the past few days. She felt she'd lived a lifetime.
"How're you feelin', dear?" she asked, putting a plate of eggs and a cup of sweet tea in front of Sookie. "You've looked a bit off these past few days. Are you sleepin' alright?"
"Just a couple nightmares is all," Sookie confessed, though she didn't want to get into it.
"Well I think you're spending too much time at Merlotte's. Cut down a shift or two, it's not good for a young girl like you."
Sookie gave her gran a smile, wishing for all the world that her biggest problem was the number of shifts she had at Merlotte's.
"It's somethin' else, isn't it? Is it a boy?" Gran asked, hopeful yet playful. Sookie took a sip of her sweet tea to hide her blush, letting her hair fall in front of her face.
"Gran," she chided.
"Alright, alright. You can keep him to yourself. For now."
"I gotta get ready. I'm on lunch shift today," Sookie said, hopping up from the table. "Thanks much for the eggs, Gran." She hopped around the table, kissing her on the cheek. Her gran waved her off, opening up the newspaper and burying her face in the funnies.
When she got to Merlotte's, Sam was already furious with her. He pulled her around the back of the bar before she could even say hello to the rest of the staff, opening up the door to the storage room and following her down the rickety old steps. She noticed with a slight smile that there was still a bit of Eric's blood on the chip packets. He wasn't able to get all of it off then.
"What do you notice missin' from this storage room, Sookie?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest. "I think it might be a blood suckin' vamp."
"You're mad at me for lettin' him go? What was your master plan, Sam? Keep a vampire locked in your basement? I'm pretty sure a few of those romance writers have already beat you to that premise."
"He's dangerous, Sookie. In case you forgot, he almost killed you."
"Yeah, well, he didn't. Plus, he's gone now and out of both our hair. We can just forget about it."
She tried to push past him and back upstairs to start her shift but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey," he said softly. "You know I'm just tryin' to look out for you, right?" She nodded, probing tentatively into his mind and finding nothing but protective tenderness. This was what she valued most about Sam: his loyalty. You couldn't find a better, more trustworthy being. Not unless you switched species to a dog.
"I know. And thanks, Sam. I mean it. For helpin' me and him. I know it wasn't easy."
"I get a feelin' he may come back, Sook. That vampire… he's someone you gotta watch out for. He's old. And powerful. And he's known for manipulatin' people. I don't want to see him manipulate you."
She paused, catching on.
"Wait, are you tellin' me you know Eric Northman? Like, you knew him before we saved him?"
Sam clutched the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Yeah. I didn't recognize him until we brought him down here, but yeah. He's local. Shreveport. He owns the vampire bar there, Fangtasia, and he's got his hand in some of the businesses around here. Just don't mess with him, okay? The less attention he gives us the better."
"Fangtasia," she laughed at the name. How corny. "I don't plan on ever seein' him again, Sam. And given how fast he bolted out of here I'm sure he'd say the same about me," she continued, trying to fight off her own latent disappointment. She couldn't deny that though the last two days had been crazy, they were two of the most exciting days she'd ever lived in her life. And she craved Eric and what he could give. His silence. His void. His peace.
Together, they went back upstairs to take care of the growing lunch rush. It was a typical day filled with the usual customers getting their usual orders. This type of shift Sookie could do with her eyes closed. Sometimes she even considered giving it a try. She was daydreaming by the bar when Arlene walked up, snapping her fingers in front of Sookie's face.
"Wake up, someone's here to see you," she said, gesturing to the door.
"Sorry Arlene," Sookie apologized. Maybe the lack of sleep and blood really was getting to her. "I'll be right back."
Sookie went out the front door expecting to see Jason or Gran but finding herself face to face with a stranger. She was older, maybe in her late thirties, but dressed much younger. She had on thigh high boots, a mini skirt, and what could only loosely be described as a shirt as it hardly covered anything above the waist. But the strangest part was her expression: vacant, childlike, sweet. She blinked rapidly like her eyes were adjusting to the sun, innocently parting her painted lips.
"Are you Sookie Stackhouse?" she asked, eyes wide and empty.
"I am, and you are?" Sookie responded warily. This girl was nuts.
"My name's Ginger. I work for Fangtasia. I'm here to extend an invitation from Mast-" she cut herself off, swallowed, then continued pleasantly like nothing had happened, "from Eric Northman for you to join him tonight at our bar. I can take you there myself."
Sookie laughed first in surprise, then in humor. Eric Northman extends an invitation? Join him at a vampire bar? Drive in a car with someone who doesn't even look like she can see two feet in front of her? He had to be out of his mind to think she'd agree to this.
"I'll pass, but tell him thank you for the invitation," Sookie laughed, turning to go back inside to help Arlene with the customers.
"Wait!" Ginger cried urgently, grabbing Sookie's arm before she could leave. "I can't leave until you say yes."
"Beg your pardon?"
"You have to say yes."
Sookie peered at the girl. There was something about her vacant expression that felt like more than just a weird personality quirk. She looked at her false eyelashes, at her large hoop earrings, at her neck, absolutely covered in vampire bites. Then she took a peek inside Ginger's mind. It was hazy, like wading through thick fog, not crisp like most people's thoughts were when Sookie concentrated hard enough. She searched through wisps of memories until she found the one that was overpowering everything else: a memory of Eric himself, staring at Ginger with his eyes wide open and his pupils dilated so far the blue was nearly gone. He was mere inches from her face, unblinking. He still had blood on his ears and in his hair, so the moment must've occurred just after he'd left Merlotte's. Ginger, he was saying, soft and smooth like reading a bedtime story, you are to do anything you can to find Sookie Stackhouse. You are to invite her to Fangtasia by my request, and then you are not to leave until she agrees. Getting her to agree will be the only thing that matters to you. Do you understand?
Sookie wrenched herself from Ginger's mind in disgust.
"Please say yes," Ginger begged. Sookie felt herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Ginger was glamoured, and there was no way she was leaving until Sookie said yes, that was for certain.
"Fine," Sookie agreed bitterly. "But I'll drive myself."
At least it'll give me the opportunity to yell at him in person, Sookie thought to herself. She was unprepared for Ginger's exultation when she threw her arms around Sookie's shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Sookie patted her naked back awkwardly as she attempted to extricate herself from the girl. Sookie sighed. Oh, Eric. There must be worse ways to be asked out, but she was hard-pressed to think of any examples at that exact moment.
x
Sookie drove down the highway with the windows open. The air conditioning in her old Honda Civic didn't work, but she didn't mind. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair, the air cooling her skin, sticky from the Louisiana humidity. She wore her second-best dress, too scared to wear her favorite due to its recurring appearances in her nightmares. She wasn't entirely sure what one was meant to wear to a vampire bar, but she felt comfortable in the pale yellow linen and the sweetheart neckline with a knot that tied in the back. In her mind, she ran through all the things she wanted to say to Eric or, if given the courage at the moment, scream at him. The list was long; it made the drive to Shreveport feel like only minutes.
Her nerves appeared in a flurry, taking root in her stomach and traveling upward through her chest. The parking lot was packed and the people outside definitely didn't look like the people she normally hung around with. Lined up outside the club before the ID check, they were clad in leather and their thoughts hovered between anticipation, fear, and lust. A deadly combination she was beginning to know all too well. She received a few glances, a few up-and-downs, but most of the other club-goers were human and she was clearly not the main event tonight. Reaching the front of the line, she was surprised to find the bouncer was not a man but a woman. Deathly pale, immaculately made-up and dressed to kill. Sookie forced herself not to take a step back when the woman sucked her teeth, giving her the most deliberate up-and-down she'd received so far.
"Well, well, well," she said, baring pearly white teeth, "What do we have here? ID please."
Sookie took her ID out of her bag, raising her chin defiantly. The woman read her ID and seemed to come to some type of understanding or recognition. She raised an elegantly sculpted eyebrow.
"For you, Sweetheart, no cover."
The volume of the music quadrupled when she pushed open the heavy red door to Fangtasia. The booming bass of surface level EDM made the space throb steadily; the overly red and black decor dripped around her like a gushing wound. She was shocked not only by the sheer amount of people crammed into the room but also by their range. There were vampires of course. Some milled about, some danced, some looked bored out of their wits. But there were also humans, humans of all sorts. Some looked mindless like Ginger had earlier in the day, scantily clad and covered with bite marks on more than just their necks. Others looked like models, confidently showing off their beauty though their minds belied their insecurities. Some lusted after V; their thoughts were hazy mush, thick as porridge. All were desperate for something. Sex. Blood. Attention. Danger. She felt assaulted by their hunger, so overwhelmed she didn't even try to search out Eric. Instead, she went straight to the bar and pushed her way toward an open stool.
The bartender came over, glancing at her with slight appraisal. He had long, straight, black hair and looked like what she imagined vampires looked like before she knew they were real. Curiously, it made her want to laugh.
"What are you drinkin'?" he asked, not at all unpleasantly.
"Gin and tonic please," she answered politely. He came back with her drink, charging five dollars before disappearing to the other end of the bar. She downed the glass quickly in an attempt to enhance her courage, signaling for another. Then, she swiveled around in her chair to see if she could find Eric.
That proved to be easy. He sat above the dance floor on a slightly elevated stage in what could only be described as a throne. His huge body was draped over it, seemingly casual, legs parted and arms dangling over the sides. For the first time since she'd met him, he was clean and put-together, blonde hair combed back behind his ears, all black skin-tight wife beater and black denim. He looked impossibly bored and stared into the middle distance, though many before him seemed to be vying for his attention. She decided to count how long it took for him to blink, and managed to reach up to 45 before he closed his eyes slowly and put a finger to his temple. How he was able to zone out in this boisterous environment caused her to giggle behind her hand, it seemed ridiculous. His eyes snapped open then, zeroing in on her, his whole body seeming to wake up. She could see the small, predatory smile curling on his lips from across the club. She felt locked in, like a deer in front of an approaching semi. All that hate she was prepping in the car turned to liquid inside her as though he cast a spell. Slowly, he lifted his hand, and with two fingers slowly beckoned her to him.
And that sure as heck snapped her out of it. She whipped back around to face the bartender. She'd already been summoned by Eric Northman once today and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of succeeding a second time.
Only a moment passed before he appeared anyway.
"Move," she heard Eric say softly somewhere above her left shoulder. She glanced over to see him forcibly remove the man sitting next to her by wrapping a hand in the nape of his T-shirt and flinging him to the side and onto the ground. She watched as he scuffled away on the floor, his head bowed.
"Dude, Eric Northman just touched your neck," she heard the man's friend say, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood. "You're so fuckin' lucky."
"You ignored my summons," Eric said, his voice was reprimanding but a smile still played on his lips. Indulgent.
"I prefer to be an autonomous being, thank you very much," Sookie responded, finishing her drink.
"We all have our masters," Eric responded thoughtfully, waving over the bartender. "Get her another. And I'll… take AB positive." The bartender raised his eyebrow at Eric, though he got both drinks, at vampire speed this time, for the two of them.
"Bon appetit," he snarked, mostly to Eric. Eric shook his head quickly, so quickly Sookie wondered if she'd imagined the entire exchange.
Eric took a sip then grimaced at the taste before speaking.
"Thank you for coming," he said softly. She strained to hear him over the music.
"It's not like I had a choice," Sookie responded, swirling the ice in her glass.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" His hand tensed around his bottle.
"It means you glamoured that poor girl within an inch of her life so she'd get me to agree to come, that's what it means," Sookie said hotly, the alcohol and the heat causing her cheeks to flush. Her anger swelled up inside her, bolstered by gin and exacerbated by the hum of thoughts she was struggling to block out. They all seemed to take aim right at her.
"And how do you know that, Miss Stackhouse?" he asked slowly.
Sookie scrambled for an explanation that didn't involve spilling all of her secrets to this relative stranger.
"I saw it on one of those church specials," she stumbled uneasily, "they showed the signs."
"Hm," he responded, seeming to contemplate this.
"Have you…" she started, then tried again, "Have you tried to glamour me?"
"No," he said sharply, then took back control of the conversation with tampered aggression. "It seems I owe you, Miss Stackhouse."
"Owe me what? A 'thank you for saving my life'? Because that's true. And call me Sookie for gosh sake."
"I'm afraid I'm a little rusty with gratitude... Sookie." He paused a moment before saying her name, like he was unsure if he should heed her request.
"Well then maybe you should practice," she responded.
The small, knowing smile appeared on his lips again. He was enjoying this little exchange, she could feel it. His body was turned toward hers, too big for the stool, limbs everywhere. Eyes all over the bar were staring at them, tuned into their conversation in varying degrees of curiosity, stress, jealousy, rage. She felt all of that emotion pressing in on her, and tried valiantly to push it out once more.
"Thank you, Sookie, for saving my life," he finally said, though he looked pained to do it.
"You're welcome," she smiled widely, baring her gap tooth. He looked down at her lips then up at her eyes again without a degree of shame.
"Sookie, as you might imagine, I don't like to have any debts," he said, seriously now. Almost businesslike. "I would like to offer my services. To you. In exchange for saving my life."
"Services," she repeated flatly. "And what kind of services are we talkin' here?" She raised both eyebrows in surprise, her brain suddenly going in the direction of some very different kind of services. Naughty. He seemed to read her mind and chuckled softly.
"Not in that way, though I certainly wouldn't turn it down," he said emphatically. "In protection."
"Protection from what? I'm not in any danger. Worst thing that's happened in Bon Temps is when I got a flat one time and that was in the afternoon so I'm pretty sure I'd still have to rely on Jason's beat up towin' service if it happened again,'' she laughed.
"You'd be surprised." He was smirking again, like he knew something she didn't. "I'm a very strong vampire, Sookie, and can protect you from any threats."
"I did hear you were old," she allowed, which caused him to laugh again.
"Flattering," he dead-panned.
"And why do I feel like if I agree to this you're gettin' more than evenin' up our debt?"
"After a thousand years I've learned to hedge my bets," he grinned cheekily.
"A thousand years?" she gaped. He put two fingers under her chin and closed her mouth with a snap. Then he placed his palm flat against her neck where he'd once bit into the flesh, his eyes drifting closed for a moment then opening back up. She stayed perfectly still, as though they were locked together and any movement on her part would break it. She didn't even breathe.
"Would you dance with me?" he asked, his hand out like they were in a 19th century ballroom instead of surrounded by leather, strippers, and the thump of repetitive dance music.
When she took his hand, everything went quiet. The thoughts in the bar became a distant hum, the sensation of being crowded upon, covered up, buried, was completely forgotten. His void enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cool winter day and she sighed against him in relief. He looked at her with undisguised curiosity, a flicker of reflection in his icy blue eyes. He was trying to figure her out, but he was failing.
But they didn't dance. They swayed. Together, his hand respectfully on the small of her back, pulling her to him, their chests touching. Her face found its way into the crook of his neck and she felt his cheek rest against the top of her head. He moved his hand from hers to the side of her face, dragging his fingers through her blonde hair, then leaving his palm pressed there, on her cheek and over her ear, his fingers still threaded through her hair. Around them the music pumped incessantly, the crowd throbbed to its beat, the lights flashed. And yet she finally, for perhaps the first time in her life, felt calm. She grabbed the back of his shirt, willing herself to imprint on this moment, to remember it forever after it inevitably came to an end. Her few moments of peace in the unlikeliest of circumstances, with the unlikeliest of people.
Eventually, he pulled away, both his hands wrapping under her chin and behind her head as he tilted her face up to his. He looked down at her with surprising tenderness, with a level of concern she rarely saw in anyone, supernatural or otherwise. To her surprise, it scared her more than anything. She pulled away from him rapidly, leaving him with his arms slightly outstretched, a look of confusion on his face.
"I need another drink," she said in a rush, pushing through the patrons to the bar. Without his touch the noise of the crowd seemed to re-emerge tenfold and with a sickening punch. She downed another drink quickly then scanned the bar with her eyes. He was nowhere to be found. She placed her hands over her ears, attempting to tamp out the noise that was streaming at all frequencies directly into her brain.
Imagine what it would taste like just for one quick bite imagine how it feel just for one time I know it would
But what if she says no to me then how would I go on with living if
Sex was okay the last time so maybe I should try someone else this time but
This music is shit and this place is bound to get raided by the cops just look
Can't believe Eric stuck with that blonde bitch what a waste of a cover charge she isn't
Maybe if I go back to his office he'll
She abandoned her drink and practically ran through the crowd, bursting into the parking lot on the brink of tears. It had never been that bad before. That all-encompassing. She'd learned ages ago how to function, how to use her shields to get through the day. And what, that all came crashing down because of fifteen minutes with a vampire? The world seemed to spin before her eyes, the horizon playing tricks on her. She sat down on the curb, her face in her hands. Though she could still hear the thoughts of Fangtasia, they were mercifully muffled by distance. She stared up at the night sky, at the stars twinkling back at her, and listened to the wind. Her eyes drifted closed, her mind searching for peace. And then she found it.
Eric Northman stood above her, his void pressing down.
"Come," he said. "Let me drive you home."
"My car is here," she protested.
"You're drunk. And I'll get it back to you." His voice was gentle but firm as he led her patiently to a red Corvette, opening the passenger's side door for her.
"Of course," she laughed, relaxing into the buttery seats.
"I need the leg room," he winked, pulling out onto the highway.
They were content not to speak, country music playing low on the radio between them. She rested her head against the side of the open window, leaning it partially out as the wind ran through her hair once more. Outside, Louisiana was black as death, the trees only shapes, the world reduced to its most abstract expression. She wondered what it would be like to live only at night, to see things only in the shadows of their former selves, to lose the vibrancy of color, the hypnotism of sunlight, the euphoria of birth. She looked over at his carefully neutral face as he drove, whipping through the curves of the road like he'd driven them countless times. He probably had. He'd been everywhere, she assumed. Where else would you go if you lived a thousand years if not everywhere?
As they pulled into Bon Temps one of Sookie's favorite songs came on the radio.
"I love this one," she smiled, reaching over to turn it up. It hit the chorus and she sang along, letting her voice bleed out into the night. "I've had some time to think about you and watch the sun sink like a stone. I've had some time to think about you on the long ride home."
Eric looked over at her for the first time since leaving Fangtasia and grinned. It was so joyful, borderline innocent, that the next words out of his mouth caused her to laugh in shock.
"You're a horrible singer," he said.
"Why thank you," she continued to chuckle, belting out the next verse for his benefit.
They pulled up the dirt road outside of Sookie's house. The only light on was the lamp in Gran's room, flickering behind sheer white curtains. The cicadas chorused together in song, a choir hidden in the leaves. Eric's Corvette didn't fit here. Eric didn't fit here. But he didn't seem to mind.
"Thank you for coming tonight," he said after cutting the engine. "Even though I did leave you little choice."
"No choice," she corrected, but with a wink. "And look, you're already improving with your gratitude."
"I'm a bit too old to change, Sookie."
"Can always teach an old dog new tricks," she smiled.
"I'm not sure that's the saying," he said, but he didn't fully correct her.
"How do you know where I live, anyway?" she asked.
He tapped his temple vaguely and grinned. She scoffed under her breath, moving to unbuckle.
"Wait," he said, stopping her with a hand on her wrist. "I was serious, earlier at the bar. About the debt. I will protect you. And you will have nothing to fear from me. I will pay my debt to you."
"So do we wait for danger, then?" she asked playfully.
"I worry you attract danger," he said seriously, then seemed to lighten up. "You were the one who found me in the woods after all."
"And you never told me why you were there in the first place," she reminded him.
"Nor do I intend to, Miss Stackhouse."
She rolled her eyes at him and moved to open the door again, but he was around her in a flash and opening it up himself with vampire speed.
"Show off," she muttered, walking with him up the steps. "I think I know the way from here."
"I can't go any farther anyway," Eric said solemnly, then stepped closer to her with a wicked grin. "Not, of course, without an invitation."
Her heart fluttered in her chest, imagining all the things that could happen if she invited him inside. She blinked rapidly to keep her brain from short-circuiting. Focus, she chided herself. But he was very close to her then, and he smelled clean and cool, like water in a river during springtime. She looked up into his eyes, struggling to remain grounded as he towered over her. Though this was the porch she grew up on, she felt she was on entirely new territory. She was with another person. Someone who wanted something from her. And she couldn't hear what it was he wanted, though she had a hunch. She couldn't hear anything at all.
The desire to touch him was ultimately what made up her mind. To relive even a moment of the peace she felt earlier was what she wanted more than all else. She craved it.
She reached up and pressed her lips to his, standing on her tiptoes to do it. He grunted out a breath of air, and she knew then that for all his talk, he was still surprised. He responded immediately, wasting no time, threading his fingers back into her hair and grasping until she could feel a tinge of pain on her scalp. He clutched her to him with unexpected force, though she still felt like she couldn't get close enough. He walked them both backward, pressing her into the siding, lifting her legs up one and then the other until her ankles interlocked behind his back. She grabbed his neck tightly as he lifted so she would have the height advantage and she tore into him without inhibition, daring him to eat her alive.
"You are very, very beautiful," he whispered against her lips, his eyes barely parted, milky with lust. He sucked her lips, dragging his teeth along her chin and neck then back up to her lips again. She'd never felt anything like this, his power humming beneath her. She felt like a live wire. If he touched her in the right place, she'd be sure to explode. She crashed her lips back into his with force, grabbing his lower lip between her teeth, biting down to give him a taste of his own medicine. She yanked until he leaned into her further and moaned, pressing his forehead to hers. She was about to go in again when she heard the click of his fangs dropping and she pulled back.
"Involuntary," he breathed, dipping his head toward hers. She dodged him, pushing on his chest to let her down. He eyed her, then reluctantly set her feet back down on the porch. "You are afraid of me again?" he asked her less with disappointment and more with self-loathing.
"No," she assured him, stepping forward until she was inches from him once more. Slowly, she reached her pointer finger up to the fang, pressing experimentally into its sharp tip. His nose flared and scrunched as she did so, his hand moving to her neck, keeping her in place as she examined him. "They're incredible."
He gently took her hand in his own, cradling it, pulling it from his mouth and retracting his fangs with a click. He placed one kiss on her pointer finger and released it, opening the porch's outer screen door.
"Goodnight, Miss Stackhouse," he said with his signature small smile.
She stepped in the door, pulling it closed to just a crack.
"Call me Sookie."
x
At some point in the night Eric had returned her Honda, but even still she barely made her shift on time. Another nightmare of course. At Merlotte's, things were really starting to get going, what with groups of guys playing pool, a few out-of-towners sharing stories at the bar, and plenty of folks milling about the tables like they owned the place. Sookie was racing around, handing out pints as fast as she could though people seemed to keep drinking them even faster. Everyone's thoughts were louder than usual, her shields still on the fritz from the night before, so when she did feel the void outside on her third hour of the shift her shoulders practically sank with relief.
She watched the entrance, entirely expecting to see Eric's tall form duck through the doorway. Maybe he was already starting to pay back his debt, though the only danger she could see in here was maybe an errant dart thrown by a drunk flying her way. But it wasn't Eric who walked through the door. It was Bill.
He made eye contact with her immediately and smiled softly. It felt like an impossibly long time ago she'd seen him, though it couldn't've been more than a handful of nights. He held her eyes and sat down at an empty table in her section, the restaurant audibly quieting down around him. Though voices were lowered, thoughts were absolutely not. They were positively screaming. All of Bon Temps knew about Bill Compton and they were dying to see what was going to happen next. Sookie steeled herself with a passive smile and approached.
"Good evening, Miss Stackhouse," he said with his Southern drawl, pulling out the chair next to him. Glancing around quickly, she sat down on the edge of her seat. She was going to speak when he held out his hand on the table, palm up. She stared at it, feeling his void pressing out to her, begging her to take it in, promising her peace. She simply couldn't resist, sliding her hand into his, reveling in the silence like an addict finally getting their next hit. He stared at her, calculating, as the anxiety and tension exited her body in a grateful sigh.
"What can I get for you tonight?" she finally asked, listening only to the sound of the distant bar music.
He leaned forward, peering up at her.
"What are you?" he breathed instead of answering her question, puzzling over her expression the same way Eric did the night before at Fangtasia.
"I'm a waitress," she smiled innocently.
He was about to speak again when a loud noise banged someplace behind Sookie's right shoulder. She whipped around in time with gasps and shrieks to see Eric at the entrance to the bar, the door blown clean off its hinges.
"Eric," she gasped as he flew over at blinding speed, throwing Bill down from his seat and to the floor, his hand clenched around Bill's neck. Beer spilled and tables flipped as people fought their way through the new gaping exit and out into the night. The last place they wanted to be was caught in the crossfire of two vampires. Eric and Bill hissed at each other, though Eric clearly overpowered the other vampire in strength and brute force.
"Surprised to see me?" Eric asked, his voice cocky as he slammed Bill's head into the floor.
"Get off me or I take it to the Queen," Bill growled through his fangs. "I've harmed no one in your area."
Instead Eric squeezed harder, coming dangerously close to Bill's face, nearly whispering.
"Then leave it," he ground out, his voice low. "Next time, I won't wait for a reason."
Eric released Bill, and the vampire shot back up to standing position, brushing off his jacket like he'd only dirtied it up a bit on accident.
"Sheriff," Bill nodded, bowing sarcastically. Then he turned to Sookie, whose face was pale and blank. "Sookie," he smiled politely. Eric moved his body to the left, effectively blocking their eye contact. He jerked his head to the door, an order for Bill to follow, then turned to Sookie after Bill shot outside. He approached her slowly, like a poacher to a frightened animal, holding out his hands to prove they could do no harm. But she'd just seen those hands. She'd seen the harm. He reached out to touch her face and she flinched backwards.
"He wasn't doin' anythin' wrong." Sookie spoke softly to the floor.
"He's a vampire, Sookie," Eric sneered. "He absolutely has and he absolutely will."
Her eyes shot up to his face.
"But you won't?" she asked, incredulously. "You're a vampire too last I checked."
"I won't. I am in your debt," he said fiercely.
She sighed, walking slowly to the door and out of the now empty bar.
"I'm going home," she said.
"I'll come with you."
"No," she looked back at him sadly. "You won't."
x
A few miles away, on his old family property, Bill Compton was making an important phone call. He fidgeted while he waited for a response, something he never did. Not since becoming a vampire. But he hated to disappoint his Queen and that is what he was about to do. He looked up at the night sky, hoping she was distracted with her pets and wouldn't answer. He wasn't so lucky.
"What," she answered with a snap.
"I'm afraid," Bill drawled reluctantly, "We have a complication."
x
the song is the long ride home by patty griffin, take a listen. i borrowed a scene from the true blood pilot at the end there with a bit of revisionist history. i know it's been ages since you've heard from me, but i'd love to hear from you. xoxo