A/N: Confession time: this chapter has been mostly written for two months, but I just couldn't get myself to finish it until now. Yikes, I know. I'm almost done with my semester-should be turning in the last of my finals next week-so maybe I'll be able to update more frequently over winter break? Don't quote me on that, though.

In all seriousness, thank you all for your patience, and for your lovely comments and reviews, for favoriting and following. Any engagement with the story is encouraging to see, and it helps motivate me to write more and more. I hope you all are staying safe, and that you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 8: First Impressions

Olive meets her new sister.

Olive woke with an unfamiliar kind of abruptness. One minute she was utterly unaware of anything. The next, her eyes popped open and quiet noise flooded her ears, her instincts humming to life. She stared at the blank white ceiling above, felt the soft mattress beneath her back, smelled pine and hardwood and sea salt all around her. She felt none of the anxiety she usually did upon waking. There was no split-second where she panicked because she didn't know where she was. Olive was simply awake, in what she knew must have been Eric's bed, since it was practically saturated in his scent. The room looked to his tastes as well, filled with rich fabrics, ornate carvings, and dark jewel tones. A massive broadsword-large enough that only someone Eric's size could possibly wield it with anything approaching ease-was mounted on the wall above the bed. The man himself sat below it, next to Olive on the mattress, propped up against the headboard and reading a book. It was. . . comfortable.

"Good evening," he greeted her immediately, sliding a bookmark between the pages-and of course he wasn't the type to dogear a book, Olive might've known-and turning to give her a smile. The expression was very natural. Genuine, despite the fact that Olive got the distinct impression Eric didn't smile at many people.

"Hi," she said quietly, returning the gesture with a small quirk of her own lips. Olive sat up a little more smoothly and quickly than she would have been capable of a day or two ago. She noticed that she hadn't been under the blankets-but then again, why should she have been? She would no longer get cold, even though it was the dead of winter and she was wearing. . . only a large tee shirt? Olive furrowed her brow in confusion, plucking at the borrowed black shirt. It was obviously Eric's. If his scent clinging to it hadn't given that fact away, the fact that it fell past her hips like a dress several times too big for her would have. And she was very clearly not wearing anything underneath it. "Um. What?" she asked intelligently.

Eric chuckled. "You fell into your day rest while you were in the shower last night," he explained. "Normally, even a newborn vampire would be able to stay awake until they were in their resting place. The fact that you just passed out right there in the shower says a lot about how comfortable with me you must be already," her Maker grinned, teasing Olive lightly. Despite his tone, however, she could feel just how pleased Eric was at her unconscious (haha, "unconscious;" Olive did enjoy a good pun every now and then) show of trust.

Olive was glad she couldn't blush anymore. She remembered now. Eric had been waiting outside the bathroom while she washed the dirt and blood off her body. They'd been chatting idly-his voice as clear through the door and over the sound of running water as if he was in the same room-while Olive shampooed her hair. Then she'd started to feel. . . not tired exactly. Or not the sleepy kind of tired, anyway. Rather sort of heavy, like her body was just going to shut down. Apparently it had done just that, since the next thing Olive remembered was waking up a minute ago. But that meant. . .

"Yes, I finished bathing you," Eric confirmed gleefully, reading her thought process through the bond or off of her face, or some combination of the two. "I even hopped in the shower with you, since I knew my instincts wouldn't let me leave you alone to bathe myself after getting you settled. Nice tattoo, by the way," he tacked on, smirking.

Olive rolled her eyes, but unconsciously raised a hand to brush over the olive branch tattoo that traced the underside of her left breast. She was glad it had survived her Turning.

For some reason, the fact that Eric had seen her naked, had even touched her naked body while she was unaware, didn't bother her that much. Normally, that would be the kind of thing to get Olive up in arms-a man barging in and taking advantage of a woman who couldn't consent or object. But despite Eric's teasing tone, she knew somehow that the interaction hadn't been sexual in nature. He was attracted to her, certainly (and the feeling was mutual), but that moment. . . Safe, her instincts whispered. Kind. Gentle.

Images flashed before her eyes, enlightening her as to what exactly had gone on last night after she passed out. Olive saw herself lying prone in the enormous shower stall. Eric cradling her body carefully. Running a loofah over her skin, scratching tenderly at her scalp to wash out the shampoo. Tipping her head back so the stream of water coming from overhead would trickle away from her face, even though she wasn't awake to worry about it. Lifting her out of the shower, drying off her body gently with a fluffy towel. Tucking her into one of his own shirts and laying her gingerly onto his bed.

Oh great. Now Olive was even more embarrassed than she had been before! Beside herself, she buried her face in her hands as if to conceal her nonexistent flush. "Oh my God," she said faintly. That was-oh boy, that was intimate. Completely innocent, and yet. . . "Hnnnnnng," Olive groaned, mortified.

Eric barked out a laugh. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he chortled, clearly having a great deal of fun at Olive's expense. However, there was an element of sincerity to his words that also came across in the pulse of comfortwarmthit'sokay that he projected to her over their bond.

Olive's mouth twisted up, caught between a helpless smile and a puzzled grimace. "Yeah, I get that, logically," she replied. "It's just, uh. . . No one's-no one's ever done anything like that for me before," Olive confessed quietly after chewing that fact over for a moment. Iris must have bathed her when she was young, of course, but Olive didn't really remember it. And no one since her mother had ever been allowed close enough to get the opportunity to try it. Shower sex was one thing. Being wet and naked and completely open and vulnerable in unconsciousness was another. But with Eric. . . well, Olive could afford to be a little vulnerable it seemed. She had been yesterday. Extremely so, in fact.

The Viking softened. "It was my honor," he murmured, reaching out to card a hand through her hair. Remarkably, it wasn't too tangled. He must have taken good care of it. Olive smiled.

The beast in her chest-her new set of vampire instincts-roared to life. It was viciously, smugly satisfied. Our Maker, it purred proprietarily. Takes care of us. Good. Strong. Of all the images Olive's sixth sense had provided, however, Vampire Olive was particularly interested in the few snapshots of Eric's naked body. Specifically his dick. Even flaccid it was-ooooh boy. Was he a shower and a grower? Olive shook her head violently, even as heat pooled abruptly in her gut. Not the time, not the time!

"My my," Eric said in a low, interested voice, smirking widely with masculine pride. Obviously he knew exactly what she was thinking about. "If only we had time to properly explore that feeling." He sighed dramatically, and Olive knew it was somehow for her benefit. "Unfortunately, we have a full schedule tonight. No time for. . . distractions."

Olive pursed her lips at his teasing-though she could tell it wasn't really a joke-but couldn't help her small smile. Her arousal faded almost as quickly as it had come. Vampire mood swings were nothing to sneeze at, apparently. That would take some getting used to. "Alright, boss," Olive said dryly. "What's on the docket?"

"Well first and foremost," an unfamiliar voice chimed in from the doorway, "you are in serious need of a new wardrobe, honey."

Many people probably would have been startled or alarmed by a stranger casually inserting herself into a personal conversation. Many vampires probably would have reacted violently to an unknown factor suddenly appearing in their space. But Olive wasn't like most people-or, probably, most vampires. None of her instincts were reacting to the woman's presence, so Olive figured the newcomer wasn't a threat. She was a little taken aback that she hadn't noticed the vampire's approach, but a closer look at the figure cleared up Olive's confusion.

The woman in the doorway wasn't a stranger at all. Though Olive had never met her, she had seen her in her visions, had heard Eric speak of her, had smelled her scent-similar enough to Eric's that it didn't register as threatening-throughout the nest. No, she wasn't a threat at all. Sister! Olive's vampire instincts crowed. Nest mate!

Olive smiled slightly, even as a small thread of anxiety stirred in her chest. This was an important person, and Olive didn't exactly have a history of making good first impressions. She squashed down the nerves before they could take root. "You must be Pam," Olive greeted evenly. "It's good to finally meet you while I'm awake. I've heard a lot about you."

Pam surveyed her judgmentally. If Olive were the type to feel insecure about her appearance, those feelings probably would have overwhelmed her there and then. Pam was a put together, statuesque kind of beauty. Even dressed in the odd, somewhat intimidating bondage-wear that Olive knew was popular at vampire clubs, Pam managed to look elegant. Olive, on the other hand, was laying in bed with her hair a complete mess, not a stitch of makeup on her face, and wearing nothing but a tee shirt so large it looked like she had donned a pillow case. It wasn't exactly a favorable comparison.

Good thing Olive didn't care. Well, not about that, anyway.

Pam sniffed. "Only good things I hope," she drawled, clearly unimpressed and just doling out the response that was expected of her.

Don't hold back, Olive's instincts urged her. Don't hesitate. Speak your mind.

Hmm. Okay then.

Olive snorted, thinking of the various bratty and/or bitchy expressions her new "sister" had worn in so many of her visions. Prickly, Eric had called her. Yeah, that was a word for it. "Mostly good things," Olive allowed. "But that's alright. You'd have to be pretty boring for there to be only good things to say about you." Pam's eyebrow rose, and Olive smirked, not even needing the prodding from her instincts to know that Pam had appreciated that response.

"Well well, someone's got a mouth on her," the older woman said huskily. Oh, so she'd really appreciated it. Huh, her face wasn't very expressive. Olive would have to get used to that. Pam's eyes trailed over Olive's exposed legs, up to the hemline that protected her more. . . delicate areas from view. "I suppose she's not too bad to look at, at least," the vampire mused.

"No, she's definitely not," Eric spoke up, voice rough, as he reached over to run the backs of his fingers lightly over Olive's thigh. A spike of satisfaction reached Olive from his side of the bond, making her smile. Clearly he was pleased the two of them were getting along well enough so far. Pam obviously felt it too, because something about her softened, even as she intently traced the movement of Eric's hand along Olive's leg.

The heat of her gaze and Eric's touch raced along Olive's skin like wildfire, traveling upwards and pooling pleasantly in her gut. Her fangs snapped down with an audible snick, an automatic response to her arousal. This only seemed to increase Eric and Pam's excitement. However, the feeling of her fangs dropping roused another need in Olive's stomach, which burned all the way up to her throat. She swallowed thickly around her fangs, suddenly ravenous in a much more literal sense.

"Ah," Eric said, obviously noticing her hunger. "My apologies. You have such good control, it's easy to forget how young you are. Most newborns would be able to think of little else besides feeding. But you. . ." he trailed off, but Olive got the picture.

"Yes, aren't you just special," Pam agreed, and while her words sounded aggravated, Olive sensed that there was a real feeling of intrigue there as well. Not confusion though. . .

She knows. "Oh," Olive said blankly, voice slightly distorted by the fangs she couldn't quite manage to will away. "You told her."

Olive could feel Eric examining her closely. "Yes," he said simply, not offering any kind of explanation. He felt. . . firm, through the bond. Not uncompromising, though-Olive knew she could object if she wanted to (though whether her objections would change his mind was unclear. . .).

Did she want to object? Olive didn't really have a problem with Eric telling Pam about her abilities. She trusted Eric's judgement, and trusted the woman not to go spreading sensitive information around-especially if Eric had told her not to. It was just. . . "Just. . . ask me first? Next time?" Olive requested eventually, quietly.

Pam scoffed, and Olive couldn't stop the automatic tightening of her jaw at the dismissive noise. She hissed as one of her fangs caught on her lower lip and gouged it open, then twitched at the feeling of the wound sealing closed almost instantly. That would take some getting used to.

Eric shot Pam a quelling look, then leaned forward and brushed his thumb across Olive's lips, wiping away the blood. His touch wasn't particularly cool or hot-they were the same temperature now, Olive supposed-but it left a blazing trail of heat across Olive's skin. If she could blush-no, that wasn't really a helpful notion anymore, was it? If her fangs weren't already down, they would have dropped then and there. Olive swallowed harshly as Eric popped his thumb into his mouth and sucked her blood straight off of it. God, Olive didn't know if she was more aroused by the motion, or by the blood. She was. . . seriously thirsty. Eric smirked, and Olive could feel how pleased he was by her reaction, but he didn't allow the conversation to derail. "I'm your Maker," he pointed out, voice low. "Your secrets are mine."

Olive noted that he didn't say that the reverse was true as well. Her secrets were his, but his secrets were not hers-not all of them anyway. Not automatically. That grated a little, but Olive could understand it. He was the authority in this relationship-the sire, the parent, the Maker, whatever you wanted to call it. Olive was the childe. Of course Eric wouldn't share everything with her. That was fine.

So long as he understood that with her around, some of his secrets might not stay secret for long.

Olive took a deep, unnecessary breath, centering herself. "I know that," she acknowledged Eric's claim. "I don't mind that you told Pam," she admitted, and the woman's face shifted just slightly. She's surprised. More possessive than you are, more proud. She'd hate for you to know any of her secrets. "I know that you wouldn't tell anyone you don't trust-and I get the feeling that's not a very long list," Olive said wryly. She hesitated briefly, looking into Eric's icy blue eyes. "Just-just keep in mind that there are reasons why it might be a bad idea to tell someone other than just misplaced trust. And if you just run it by me before telling anyone, then I should be able to tell if letting someone in on it will have. . . repercussions. You know?"

Eric studied her, still leaning slightly forward into her personal space, which Olive was perfectly alright with. "And that won't result in any of the. . . unfortunate side effects from last night?" he asked intently.

Ah, the side effects. The side effects that had consisted of Olive becoming trapped in her own vision-in her own mind-confused, bleeding, and in excruciating pain. Those side effects. Yeah, Olive was keen to avoid those as well. But she also wasn't going to let them stop her from using her gifts, particularly since she needed to relearn some things about them now that her transformation had altered her abilities so significantly. Looking into Eric's stern face, however, Olive could tell that now was not the time for that conversation. "It shouldn't be a problem," she assured him. "If it's a really bad idea to tell anyone, then my instincts should kick in automatically without me having to intentionally ask any questions." It was nice that he was so worried about this, though. It made Olive feel warm, somehow.

Eric considered this. "Alright," he agreed after a moment. "I'll inform you next time. And you'll inform me if there's anything to worry about." It wasn't a question.

Olive smiled coyly. "Of course," she said lightly. "I'm at your disposal." She flicked her tongue out to lap at the remains of the blood on her lip. Of course, this only reminded Olive of how hungry she was, which rather ruined the moment.

The pang of Olive's thirst seemed to snap Eric back into the moment. "Right," he cleared his throat. "We need to get you fed and dressed. The three of us are needed at the club in less than an hour."

Olive blanched. Eric had told her last night as they chatted about the vampire bar he and Pam owned in town. To her understanding, it was one of the hottest spots in Shreveport, and consequently very crowded. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to be around that many humans yet." Strangely though, no images of her ripping out innocent throats flashed across Olive's vision as they had last night, when Eric had suggested having her feed on a human. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea then?

Eric snorted. "Don't worry. Humans aren't allowed in until 9:00 in the winter. 10:00 in the summer. Before that there's two hours of time where any local supernaturals can bring issues up for my judgement as the Sheriff. When the club opens for real, you and I will head to my office. It's mostly soundproof, and a little removed from the action. You'll be able to get a taste of what it's like to hear and smell a lot of humans around without having to be right in the thick of it where you might lose control." Oh, so that was why Olive hadn't seen anything. She wouldn't be ripping any throats because she would be staying well away from temptation altogether. "Then the club closes at 2:00, and there's more time for complaints or petitions to be brought forward until an hour before sunrise."

While Olive mulled that over, she caught Eric signalling Pam out of the corner of her eye. Evidently, no words even needed to be spoken, because Pamela merely rolled her bright blue eyes (thickly and severely lined as they were) and crossed to a small dresser paneled with darkly colored-hmm. Not wood, though it looked like wood at first glance. Pam bent over (and Olive took a moment to admire the view-the leather pencil skirt left nothing to the imagination) and opened it, revealing, to Olive's surprise, a small refrigerator containing a few rows of blood bags. She glanced at Eric. Emergency stash, he mouthed, grinning, and Olive couldn't help but return his smile.

"What do you want?" Pam asked blandly over her shoulder.

"AB," Olive answered automatically, scarcely even thinking about it. The difference in taste between the blood types had been frankly astonishing, and AB had been by far the best. Rich, salty, a little bit tangy-with just a hint of something spicy at the end. Olive's gums ached just thinking about it, as if her fangs were longing to drop all over again. "If you've got it," she tacked on as an afterthought.

Pam snorted, and chucked a bag at Olive's head. She caught it on instinct, and barely resisted tearing into it with her fangs as her vampire instincts urged her to do. But Olive remembered Eric's warning about not using her fangs until she knew how to use them right, so instead she cracked open the valve at the top of the bag, clasped her lips around the tube, and sucked until her cheeks went hollow, moaning slightly when the blood hit her tongue. Even cold it soothed the ache in her throat and stomach instantly, settling something in her that Olive hadn't even really been aware was on edge.

Eric and Pam both watched intently as she fed. Olive could feel their gazes burning into her skin, and she shifted, rubbing her thighs together to ease the ache developing between them. Eric groaned quietly. Though Pam didn't express it outwardly, Olive could smell that the older woman was similarly affected (and wasn't that something, being able to smell arousal-it was kind of sweet and spicy simultaneously-and more than that, being able to tell that was what the smell was without even being told), and allowed herself a brief moment of smug satisfaction.

"At least she has good taste," Pam said idly, eyes very obviously locked on Olive's lips. "Would've had to disown her if she preferred B."

Simultaneously, the three of them made similarly disgusted noises at the very idea. Olive blinked, then snorted in amusement.

Eric checked his watch. "Damn," he muttered. "We've really got to get moving," he informed the two women. The two sisters? What a strange thought, Olive mused, still sucking down the blood like it was a juice pouch. "Pam, I leave her in your capable hands," Eric said, gesturing to Olive's nearly-naked form.

Pam snapped to attention. Though her posture shifted only slightly, the change in her demeanor was immediately obvious. A slightly eager, mildly malicious light entered her eyes. For some reason the sight of it made Olive feel fond, rather than wary. "Alright toots," Pam began, drawing out the pet name caustically. "You can't be going out and representing our Maker while dressed like a homeless person. We have a certain image to maintain," she stressed. "Especially at the club. When dressing for Fangtasia, a general rule of thumb is that if your clothes aren't hurting you, you aren't trying hard enough," Pam drawled. She looked Olive's t-shirt clad body up and down. "Now let me see what I'm working with."

Olive raised an eyebrow. Don't hesitate, her instincts reminded her.

Well, in that case. . .

In a single, fluid motion-far more fluid than she was capable of as a human-Olive discarded her empty blood bag, slid out of the bed and onto her feet, and smoothly pulled her shirt up and over her head, leaving her standing proudly in the middle of the room, as naked as the day she was born. Olive looked up at Pam through her lashes, only to find the woman's eyes locked firmly on her exposed breasts. "I'm in your hands," Olive said, one part coy, two parts smirking like the little shit she was at heart. Her fangs were still out and bloody. "Please take care of me," she couldn't resist adding.

And finally-finally-a genuinely amused and very pleased smirk (nearly a smile!) stole its way across Pam's face. "Well," she said slowly. "I do like the sound of that."

A/N: Pam has entered the scene! And she and Olive are getting on. . . surprisingly well? I thought about this a lot when considering what their dynamic would look like, and I think a lot of the reason why Pam was so insecure about Eric turning a new vampire in canon was because he had just recently released her, and she felt like she was being replaced. But here, she still has her bond with Eric and he's made it very clear that she and Olive are going to occupy different roles in his life. Plus, it doesn't hurt that Olive is hot and knows exactly how to deal with Pam. It'll still take awhile for them to build up a real relationship that isn't based just on flirting, but in the end, they're not in too bad of a spot. We'll see how long that lasts.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and sorry again about the delay! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!