Chapter 27: Sweet '69

Olivia jumped into oblivion, embarrassing the darkness completely with her whole body. She didn't fight it this time, the wickedness she always felt whenever Eric was this close. And he was so close. There were no butterflies in her stomach, only fire. This was better than the kiss that haunted her dreams. There was no way her mind could have possibly known it would feel like this.

His mouth was relentless, enjoying every bit of hers. He kissed her with the eagerness of someone who had been waiting for it for a very long time. Her hands grabbed his biceps, firm and cold like marble, trying to steady herself on her tippy toes. Eric's hands squeezed her waist tight and suddenly her feet were off the floor. He lifted her and pushed her hips on top of the car behind them, making her sit on top of the trunk. Her hips were now conveniently in line with his.

Liv wrapped her legs around him, pulling closer, and when his hips pressed against her body, Eric let out a small groan. She could feel all of his hard cock pressing against the middle of her legs through his jeans, and the sheer size of him made her heart skip several beats.

His hands trailed up her spine and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and their mouth apart, finally letting her breathe. The night was dark, but the scene was painted red by the glow of tail lights beneath her. The trees around them watched like old sentries on a forgotten road. Everything trembled by the force of the freight train rolling over the steel tracks. Or maybe that was her heart beating, she couldn't tell. She watched his eyes darken with lust, studying her every curve; deciding what part of her he should take next. If Eric looked like the devil himself ready to take her to perdition, she was never so glad to have sinned.

He dove in for a kiss again, this time trailing down her neck. That was when she felt it - the edge of his fangs on her skin. She was back in the Queen's greenhouse suddenly, all feeling in her legs turned into numbness. The Queen's eyes looked at her revulsion. The red light that painted the surroundings made it seem like everything was covered in blood. Her blood.

"Stop," her voice barely left her body. Then another fear paralyzed her. What if he didn't?

But nothing happened. Eric had somehow heard her. His hands loosened his grip on her body, eyes were fixed on her neck, teeth showing and every muscle on his body was tense.

"Stop!" Olivia ordered again. "Don't-"

Time stood still. The end of the train finally passed, clearing the road behind them and taking its blaring sound with it.

"What are you so afraid of?" His voice was deeper and hoarse. It was somehow more cutting than the train.

Olivia was afraid he would find out she was different. She was afraid he would despise her, find her fowl and disgusting, just like Sophie-Anne did. That her elaborate walls she spent so long building would come crumbling down at once. That he would find out that the real monster had been her all along.

"I can assure you it doesn't hurt the way I do it," his voice whispered, his lips brushing against her collarbone.

"I'm sure you are very…" Olivia could barely speak. There wasn't enough air in the world to supply her body with enough oxygen to maintain this level of adrenaline. She barely managed to push herself off the car, and land on her feet. If it weren't for Eric's arms wrapped around her, she was sure she would become a puddle in the dusty pavement. "It's just a bad idea-"

"The best kind." His toothy smile made her flush with heat. Her center was screaming at her, calling her all kinds of names for denying herself this outer-worldly pleasure that she craved for so many nights.

"Let's just go home, Eric. I need sleep, I have a lot to do tomorrow." She managed to get away from his embrace, but he did not let go of her right wrist. "Eric, I can't-"

"You want to."

"I want to live, is what I want," she pulled her wrist forcefully. It hurt, but he let go. "Maybe the order to kill me was meaningless to you, but I very much don't want to die!"

And even less by his hands. His large, perfectly marble carved hands.

"Do you even know why she asked me to do it?" Eric stuck his thumbs in his pockets and looked at their surroundings, unable to meet her eyes.

"Because she thinks there's something between us," just like everyone else does.

He doesn't have the heart you think he does. Olivia didn't entirely understand what the Queen meant. All Eric ever seemed to want from her was… Her body. To own it, to lust it, to show it. This weekend, however, there were these small moments he alluded to wanting something deeper. He asked if she loved someone else. His seething anger when he found she had slept with Alcide. Tonight he had risked his own life, defied his own Queen, all to save her. But each time, he followed by shutting those emotions down too. He stopped himself. Built his walls a bit thicker. And she knew that, because she was guilty of it herself.

"But there isn't." She quickly added.

He cracked a small smile, but it was quick. It was also heavy and filled with sorrow. She could see him thinking, trying to find the words. And she wanted him to find the words. She wanted him to tell her what the hell he wanted. She wanted to be-

In his quiet soft and deep voice, he finally spoke. "Just…" Say it. "Get in the car, Olivia. Let's go home."

What was he so afraid of?

When Eric landed on his porch, he felt almost drunk. He hadn't been drunk in over a thousand years, but if he were to gauge by memory what it felt like, it felt something like this. He stood by his front door for a long minute fumbling with the door keys. He drove Olivia home in absolute silence, gave her back her keys and flew the rest of the way home. He still tasted her in his mouth. It was hard to concentrate.

Eric didn't even notice the music blasting upstairs when he entered. So when Pamela suddenly materialized herself in front of him, Eric had to resist looking startled.

"Finally!" She grunted. Pam was wearing an all-pink silk pyjama set with matching fuzzy slippers and headband. She looked like a teenager in the 80's having a sleepover. He knew she was happy to see him, even though she didn't necessarily show it. "I was starting to think you had left me for Hollywood."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Guess fame didn't go over your head yet," she crossed her arms looking at him skeptically. "Which surprises me because your ego is as big as your dick. Hey, where's the Porsche? I haven't seen that thing in ages." She asked, glancing at the driveway through the window.

Eric felt a splitting headache incoming - another new feeling for him. He could hide the truth from a lot of people, but not from her. The amount of truths piling up started to overflow. "Forget the car. Pam, we have to talk."

"Is this the part when you tell me you fucked Willa Burrell and now I'm supposed to watch out for her daddy waltzing in here with a shotgun?"

"What? No! How do you-"

Pamela glared at him. "So you didn't fuck Willa Burrell?"

"She's a virgin, you know I don't fuck virgins."

Sex is boring, the aftermath is emotional. But Pam thought this whole conversation was the peak of comedy. He felt that ominous feeling in his stomach again. This whole weekend had sucked ass, and it was about to suck some more.

"Oh boy, that is so not what the internet thinks. Twitter has basically exploded with-"

"Okay, stop! Stop! Just shut your mouth for a fucking second. We have a problem."

"What's wrong?" Her back stiffened and her brows pinched together. Now that was a more appropriate reaction.

"The Queen is demanding more money."

"More money? Is she fucking insane? How much money does a bitch need?!"

Eric sighed, already exhausted. That was just the tip of the iceberg. "A hell lot more. We explained it could jeopardize our entire business but-"

"Wait, hold on. We? Who's we?"

"Olivia was there. At the Queen's request." He quickly added.

"Ah. And?"

"If we don't find a way to increase revenue, I have to kill her."

Pam's face suddenly softened. "Oh. Well, that's a relief. Why is that a problem?"

Maybe he didn't fully explain the gravity of the situation, maybe his progeny hadn't been paying attention lately. But the Queen's demands weren't a bet, they were extortion. Off the top of his head, there were 14 different reasons why killing her off would be a bad idea. Kissing her made it another 1000.

It felt like a huge weight had dropped off his shoulders when he finally admitted it. "Because I'm not going to."

"Not going to… Give the Queen more money?"

"Kill Olivia."

"Oh, so your insanity is the problem."

"She's too valuable to be killed-"

"No, you are too valuable to be killed!" Pam raised her voice. The audacity alone filled him with anger. "She's a sleazy accountant, they are a dime a fucking dozen while you are Eric Northman!"

"Do not patronize me, Pamela-" he growled.

"I am not! If you are going to disobey the Queen's direct orders, you better have an ace up your sleeve. Or need I remind you what happened the last time you disobeyed your superior?"

The last time Eric disregarded orders was in 1986, in southern France. He had taken a liking to a famous vigneron's daughter and wasn't particularly secretive about it. When Nan Flanagan came knocking on his door (because the local Sheriff was too chicken-shit to do it himself), he had told her fuck off. Being too old and strong to be killed off as punishment, the Authority killed his poor and innocent French lover and banished him into a life of servitude in the swampy backwaters of Louisiana. He now had to do the bidding of the very people he despised so much. The ones who took someone he loved. The ones who took his freedom.

Pam had made the best of their life here. She found and bought them this house and renovated every piece of it through the years. They managed a video rental store and had expanded it into three other stores. Now they had Fangtasia which was a quasi-famous vampire bar, soon-to-be strip club. And a shitty strip mall. Whatever shitty lemons life had given Pamela, she always managed to turn into champagne, somehow.

"Olivia's on it. She says she has a plan, but even if she pulls it off, the Queen will always want more money, and we'll always have to risk more to get it. She's gonna get us all fucking arrested or killed."

Eric believed Olivia could find a way to complete the Queen's dare, that was not the issue. The problem was that the Queen's greed was not going to stop. They would never reach a magical number to keep her happy. What will Sophie-Anne want in a year? In 10? Or in 50? Or in a 100? That's the thing with being a vampire: plans have to be in terms of forevers, and humans are notoriously awful long-term planners. He couldn't rely on Olivia's plan to be self-sustaining for generations to come long after she's even alive.

Hurricane Katrina may not have sunk her, but Sophie-Anne LeClerc is going to sink, and she is going to drag them all down with her. It's not an if, it's a when.

"Okay," Pam blinked twice. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know yet." It was technically the truth. He had some loose ideas on the go, but nothing concrete yet.

"Bullshit." She barked. "We both know what you have to do!"

He immediately walked away, feeling the anger rise in his blood. He made his way upstairs, his feet feeling heavy with dread. He knew what she implied, and he was not going to have this argument with her again.

"Eric!" Pamela cried while following him. "You have to kill Sophie-Anne! You've always known this day would come-"

"You know what will happen if I kill her-" he walked faster but he knew she would be right at his heels wherever he went. She always would. That was the problem - if he went down, Pamela would certainly go down with him.

"You become King! You take control of everything, become the most powerful vampire in the south, solve all our problems, everyone gets a pony and blowjob. I really don't understand why you don't want the throne."

"It's bad enough to be Sheriff-"

"Lying is usually a great color on you, Eric, but not when you lie to me!" Her voice was cold like glacial water.

"Drop it!" He growled. "Big fish in a small pond is as far as I'll go, I have always told you that. We are meeting Olivia tomorrow at sundown and doing whatever she says. The Queen stays where she is, and no one is losing their heads. Now go to bed."

But Pamela was a dog with a bone. She was not going to let go. "I don't understand your obsession with her."

Both of them knew which 'her' Pamela meant. He relished the very last bit of her scent on his clothes, quickly fading off like fairy dust. It was already disappointing enough not to have her, and to rub silver in the wound he was fighting with the one person he did have.

"And I don't understand your obsession with power!" Eric found a raging voice within him that had been simmering for a while now. His progeny had always been like this. She had always been intelligent, brave, and cunning. But also greedy.

Pamela cried, her voice beginning to crack. "Because power is the only thing that matters! It's the only thing that has always mattered!"

"You may be young, Pam, so you haven't seen it as much as I have. Every man, every woman, and every vampire who has ever chased for higher power has been killed in their pursuit of it! Every single one of them! I've been watching the same fucking story, over and over again, since I was a little boy! I have only made this far because I stay the fuck out of it!"

"I'm so sick of you repeating that bullshit to me! Are you really asking me to believe that you are happy with fucking mediocrity? That being Sheriff in this hell hole is really it for you? For us?"

Eric had truly lost count of how many times they had this fight before. Pamela always had ambition, that hunger for more. It's what drew him to her. Making her vampire had only amplified it. Where that part of her came from, however, he never understood.

"Don't you get how lucky you are? How lucky you have always been, even before I found you? You grew up in a rich white family in the New World, you never wanted for anything! You were always a free woman, Pamela, I don't understand your innate obsession with always wanting more-"

"A free woman?" She stepped back, his words went through her like wood. "Yeah, I was free. Free to be a good daughter, free to be a good wife, free to be obedient and demure, free to bear my husband's children, free to be what my family wanted, free to be what society expected of me. You really think I was supposed to be happy with that?"

"Could have been a hell lot worse."

"Oh, that is rich coming from you! Eric Northman, the Jarl's firstborn son, golden spoon in your mouth, a throne with your fucking name on it." Her words had venom in them, making his blood boil. "You always had money, power, privilege and authority. You have always done whatever you wanted, took whatever you wanted, like becoming King after your father was some sort of martyrdom-"

Eric bellowed furiously. "I never wanted the fucking throne!"

"No. You never earned it-"

He regretted it the moment he did it. The back of his hand cut through the hair and slapped Pamela's mouth loudly. The silence that followed was the loudest single thing he had ever experienced.

Louder than a freight train.

Olivia woke up early for once. She stared at her ceiling, lightly touching her lips, wondering if this entire weekend had been a fever dream. But she knew it wasn't the case. She pushed the butterflies in her stomach into the background. There was way too much to be done in two weeks to waste any time.

She texted her Russian hacker, Volac, and requested tech support (that would be putting it lightly). The problem with increasing their drug operation to the size required to up the Queen's allowance (which was starting to feel a hell lot like revenge alimony), was not in sourcing vampire blood but in distributing it. It may come as a shock to you, but drug dealers are slimy individuals. Although Eric swears up and down their dealers had been glamoured not to snitch, she knew their spell wasn't foolproof. Even a talented vampire couldn't get a spell to last for more than a couple of days, and the spell lasts for even less if it goes against what the person's heart wants. If a vampire orders a human to say, rob a bank in the next ten minutes - they will probably obey. Tell them to rob a bank the next day and the spell will wear off before then. That is unless they wanted to rob a bank in the first place. Glamouring was good for immediate requests such as inviting a vampire inside, and for erasing memories. If vampires could actually control humans like that, we would have been their slaves long, long ago.

Long story short: recruiting, vetting and glamouring more drug dealers just takes too long. They were also their biggest liability since it only takes one of them to cut a deal with the cops to bring the whole house of cards down. They were also the biggest cost since they needed to get paid too. So phase 1 of her mad plan was to cut out the drug dealers almost entirely by selling drugs on the dark web. The website, Silk Road, was a well-known eBay for drugs. It already had a clientele of people around the world who were recreational drug users and the best part was: no one else was selling V on it. They would get paid via Bit coin, which was untraceable, and the drugs would be delivered via UPS, with no return address. All transactions were encrypted, all buyers and sellers were anonymous.

It was brilliant. She almost couldn't believe she came with it just the night before. Almost dying was one hell of a drug.

Step 1: set up a safe internet connection so no one could track her IP address.

Step 2: create a store on Silk Road

Step 3: Open a Bit coin wallet, connect to a bank

Step 4: choose which of Eric's lucky drug dealers will be doing the blood collecting, packaging and mail-drop offs

When she finished making coffee, her phone rang - it was a link to login into a channel on the Internet Relay Chat. The text came from a private number.

"Hello Volac," She whispered to herself.

She brought her cup of coffee with her into her office, opened her laptop and followed his vague instructions. A black window that looked like a rudimentary MSN chat opened up. It was as if she fell into a hacker movie. Volac first questioned her sanity, of course, then taught her how to cover her IP address and buy a store license at Silk road. The Bit coin bit was the easiest part. Olivia paid Volac his steep consulting fee and she was off to finish step 3.

Bit coin, or cryptocurrency, worked like arcade tokens. You trade real-life money for Bit coin and then spend it however you see fit. There were a few agencies that turned Bit coin back into real-life cash. She registered with one in Luxembourg using one of Eric's shell companies. It was all a very long and very intricate spider web of her making.

Now, off to step four. She had a copy of Eric's Blackbook and sent all sixteen drug dealers a text message to meet him tonight for a "big opportunity". She would send the exact time and location to whoever answered.

Next, the laundering part. She needed Fangtasia up and running by the end of the week. If they can't launder all the money she brings in, then it would all have been for nothing. So Olivia called the contractor and started negotiations. It took hours, and after upping their contract price 100 thousand dollars, the scalper bastard finally agreed to hire a night crew and work literally around the clock to deliver a brand new Fangtasia by Saturday.

And because her day was going just too smoothly, she had now to go find 100 thousand dollars to wire him upfront. Olivia walked straight into her closet and grabbed one of Hermès purses and the Van Cleef & Arpels Snowflake diamond earrings. She headed straight to Shreveport's sleaziest looking Gold Buyer (and there were surprisingly few). She told him she needed those earrings sold in 24 hours.

"Are ya outta ya mind lady?" The guy protested, his face buried in his jeweller's loupe. "These be sum high-end shit. 190 stones, 13 carats total. That's like 140k in diamonds alone. Ain't no one in this town I can sell these earrings to. Not even the gangstas out here be this rich. Damn-"

She knew that was not entirely true. Eric definitely could. But she didn't come all the way out here to argue that Shreveport was so fucking shitty even its criminals sucked.

"What about elsewhere? Do you know someone in Dallas or New Orleans? Houston maybe?"

"I mean, yeah. But I got a broker fee."

Olivia placed the orange dust bag Hermès bag on the scratched-up glass counter. The man's eyes went wide. "Will this cover it?"

He went quiet, slowly pulling the bag's string and uncovering the barely touched leather purse inside. The man's mind played only one thought. He was wondering what Olivia had gotten herself into. It must have been pretty bad for her to need this much money so fast.

Oh, he had no idea.

The sun was dipping slowly behind the trees, and Olivia was sipping on her third large iced coffee of the day. She pulled into Shreveport's police precinct in her blood-red Corvette, making some officer's heads turn. And she definitely felt them continuing to watch as she made her way inside. Let them fucking watch.

Today she wasn't here to meet with the police chief to get an update on that bogus arson investigation. No, no, today was going to put an end to all her Alcide Herveaux problem once and for all.

Liv walked across the bullpen as if it were her own catwalk, straight to the small DEA office. She opened the door without knocking, catching Glenn Costa talking on the phone. He glared back at her, displeased at her presence. All Olivia could pay attention to was how tiny and stuffy this office was. She was never so glad for not choosing to become a government employee. All the furniture was straight out of the '80s. There were two desks pushed against opposing walls to her left and right, and a filing cabinet filled the same between them across from the front door. In the corner was a small chair, covered in filing boxes and the chill-inducing DEA jackets hung on the wall above it. She couldn't picture two people working in such a cramped space, especially knowing the other agent was someone Alcide's size.

"I gotta call you back," Glenn Costa said, hanging up the phone. "Speak of the devil and she doth appear,"

"Oh, please, don't stop on my account."

"What do you want?" He asked sourly.

"I would like to speak with Mr. Herveaux."

"Regarding?"

Olivia took a pause and dove in the man's head. All he could think of was how pissed he was that Herveaux got involved with Olivia at the gala. Oh, so men talk huh? Glenn thought his partner was disgusting for fucking someone who had fucked a dead guy, even if it was to help the case. He also thought Alcide was stupid for thinking that she hadn't fucked her boss - he didn't buy it. He then proceeded to picture Olivia banging Eric in some dirty motel room.

Glenn Costa was a fucking peach. At least she looked good doing it in his head.

"He knows what it is in regards to."

What a fucking coincidence. This bitch strolls up the same day Northman got a big deal going down?

Big deal? Oh shit. This must mean that they know about the text she sent to the dealers. They had gotten to one of them - or more. But Olivia did not panic. It would be simple enough to pick the traitors out. Being a telepath did pay off sometimes.

Since Glenn Costa didn't say anything, Olivia carried on. "Is he in today?"

He's interviewing some piece of shit perp right now. We are gonna get you, and your whole motherfucking team tonight you dumb bitch. Should have cut the deal when Alcide gave you one.

"Yeah, he's in a meeting. He'll be here shortly. You want something while you wait?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks." It was better for her to keep him close. Glenn Costa may be a piece of shit, but his loud brain was a gold mine.

Northman sure knows how to pick 'em. Look at her. Walking in here like she owns the fucking place. Thinking her shit don't stink just cause daddy sent her to Ivy league. God, it's going to feel so fucking excellent arresting Northman and his crew of bitches tonight. We can't fuck this up though. Boss is for sure going to shut the case if tonight's a bust.

Oh is he now?

Just then Alcide slowly entered the room (as much as he could) and awkwardly paused. Glenn did not stop staring at her, or cursing her in his mind.

"Olivia," Alcide greeted her in his low and deep voice. He looked stressed, with a dark salt and pepper stubble growing in. He hadn't shaved since the gala, and his wolf nature was clearly showing.

"I would like to speak with you," she told Alcide. "In private."

An awkward silence fell into the room as both Olivia and Alcide looked at Glenn. The two men nodded at each other, and Glenn shoved his files in the filing cabinet and quietly exited the room. The tension multiplied after Glenn left the room and the door loudly clicked. She had been in bed with the wolf who had been stalking her like prey. Although she was lucky enough to learn about their plan early enough she could do something about it, it didn't make it any less nerve-racking. Olivia only played dangerous games lately.

"I heard you had a lot of fun after I left the party."

Of course he did. "It was fine. I didn't come here to talk about that."

Alcide took the file boxes from the chair in the corner and motioned Olivia to take a seat. "Then what are you here to talk about?"

She took a seat in the corner chair. The room was so small that their knees were touching. "I'm here to make a deal."

His reaction was close to a wolf who was tossed a juicy bone. "Are you now? It has to be something good to make it worth my while," Alcide leaned back, playing it cool now. He thought he already had it in the bag with whoever drug dealer he just cut a deal with. "I'm not interested in simple trafficking charges, he can post bail on those and next thing you know he's out of the country with a different name. No, I want something with more meat on it."

So her suspicions were right. He was hoping she would help with a racketeering indictment, which has no bail. Lord knows she had enough on Eric to indict him to the moon and back, twice. But this is not what Olivia was here for. The good agent was so dead set in trying to save Olivia from Eric, it didn't even occur to him the obvious.

"Oh, you misunderstand me, agent. I'm not here to take your deal," she couldn't help the small smile on the edges of her mouth. "I'm here so you can take mine."

Olivia was never a damsel in distress, helplessly stuck in the fiery pits of hell. She was the assistant manager of this forsaken place all along.

A.N.:

Man. The first two parts of this chapter were freaking painful to write. That Eric/Pam scene? Oof.

But in Act 3 we got *some* redemption! Olivia got her groove back baby! And on the next chapter, I'm adding to this story one of my favourite True Blood characters ever, and one of the best gay characters in television PERIOD. YA KNOW WHO IT IS!

xoxo til next chapterrrr