A/N: Hi everybody! Hope you're all having great holidays so far.
Let me know if I've missed any typos - I'm a bit under the weather today. Blooming sinuses. Here is last week's chapter. We've jumped back in time to Sookie getting that drink. Let's see the evening from her POV.
Eye of the Storm
One gin and tonic couldn't blot out Rory's accusations. She'd hit my last nerve, raking up that whole mess with Eric right after I'd finally buried it. Damn that bitch, and the unwelcome feelings she'd stirred up.
Guilt. Regret. Doubt.
Why hadn't I tried to do something? Maybe–
No. I wasn't going down that road. She was dead wrong. There was nothing I could have done. Focusing on my anger at her, I emptied my glass and signalled for a refill.
Quinn growled, "What did that bastard do, babe?"
"Easy tiger," Amelia whispered. "Levi is watching. I don't want to get thrown out."
Amelia's concern hit me from one side and Quinn's anger buffeted me from the other. My own emotions were stormy enough without theirs. I snapped, "It's none of your business, Quinn. I can take care of myself."
Amelia glanced over at Diantha and side-eyed me, but wisely didn't say anything. Quinn stewed in silence while the bartender fixed my drink. I took it and leaned against the bar, looking round. Levi was over by the entrance, eyeing Quinn discreetly, but nobody else was paying us any attention. My audience with royalty had gone unremarked, thank goodness.
A flash of red on the dance floor caught my eye. Pam was talking to Malcolm Craw, the witch nodding repeatedly as she rattled off what looked like instructions. Orders from his imperial high-handedness, no doubt. I turned away, squashing that line of thought.
Amelia suggested cautiously, "We can call it a night, Sookie."
"I'm fine. Really." The second dose of gin was starting to kick in. I gave her a tight smile, but she didn't buy it.
Quinn glared over my head in Pam's direction and muttered, "I'll stake him and his fucking child."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said sharply. "It was that damn Rory Kingfisher anyway."
He frowned. "Who?"
I could have kissed him. Finally, someone who'd never heard of her.
Amelia spoilt that by looking around eagerly. "She's here? What does she look like?"
"Tall. Red hair. Green dress," I said curtly.
"I can't see her."
"She just stepped out." Amelia never could take a hint.
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "If she comes back, could you introduce–"
"That's not a good idea."
"But didn't she help you with," she flicked her eyes to Quinn and looked apologetic, "Sam and everything?"
I snorted. "Depends what you mean by help. I don't trust her. We're not close, Ames."
"Oh. Okay."
Bless her, she dropped the subject, even though she was dying to know more about Rory. Or rather Rory's magic. But I wasn't off the hook.
"I'm going to powder my nose," she said, subtle as a brick. Come with? she prodded mentally.
"Fine," I muttered, draining my second drink and leaving the glass on the bar. I walked off without another word, Amelia trailing behind me.
Her timing sucked. I was within spitting distance of the door to the back offices when it opened and Eric came in.
With Rory.
Holding her hand.
Something I doubted Amelia or anyone else noticed, because Eric let go pretty damn fast. Not fast enough for me to doubt what I'd seen, though, or to stop the memories stabbing at my heart. All the times Eric held my hand like that, circling his thumb over my knuckles to comfort me. I shot into the safety of the bathroom before either of them spotted me, Amelia hot on my heels.
Once we were inside, she blurted out, "Was that Rory?"
Damn. "Yes," I admitted tightly.
"Why was she with… Oh."She gave me a sympathetic look, thinking: That has to burn.
"It's not like that Ames," I said stiffly, although I couldn't have said exactly what it was like.
"Okay. If you say so. What's going on between you and Eric?"
"A whole lot of nothing, Ames." I glanced at the attendant. I really didn't want to say more, but Amelia wasn't going to let it go.
"Really?" What if she still –?
"Yes, really. That's over."
"Oh." Thank God. She's moved on. Wish I could say the same. "Why d'you go off with him like that then?"
"Did you know he's king?"
"Yes," she said slowly. "Didn't you?"
"Not until tonight."
"What? Didn't Pam–"
"Nope," I interrupted. "No-one said a word."
"No way. I thought you knew. That's why I was worried about…" She side-eyed the statue-like attendant and whispered, "Thalia and all."
"Oh." I sagged against one of the beautiful marble sinks. "Pam assured me Eric doesn't have anything to do with that."
"And you believed her?" she asked, incredulous.
I shrugged helplessly. What was I going to do if Eric was involved? Get rid of the guards? On the whole, I'd rather be alive and pissed with Eric. The alternative was a lot less pleasant.
Amelia frowned. "What did he want? Does he want you to work for him?"
"No. Nothing like that. I wanted to talk to him, actually. I needed … to say my piece."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Bet he loved that."
"Oh, he was just thrilled." I sighed. "Look, Ames, I don't want my issues with Eric to ruin your night."
"You're sure you don't want to leave?" She bit her lip.
"I'm sure." I made an effort to smile for real. "Forget Eric. Let's have some fun."
Amelia used the facilities – after all, she was pregnant – and I resolved to enjoy the rest of the night if it killed me. But when we left the restroom, I couldn't help glancing over at that booth. Eric was indeed sitting in it, deep in conversation with David Thrash of all people. Distracted, I wasn't minding where I was going and almost walked into Pam. Vampires didn't bump into ordinary mortals; she sidestepped swiftly.
"Sorry, Pam. Didn't see you there."
"In this dress?" she said drily. "I'm hardly camouflaged."
The two vampires following her – one male, one female – stilled, examining Amelia and me with interest.
"Amelia," Pam said warmly. "You're looking tasty tonight."
Amelia said with less warmth, "Pam. You look... striking."
"That's what I was going for," Pam replied with a grin.
The other female vampire looked Amelia up and down with heat in her eyes. She was hefty for a vamp, her ample hips and bosom exaggerated by her lack of height and a tight silk dress. She had long black hair, skin that had paled from olive, striking grey eyes and a wide sensual mouth.
"Who is this, Pamela?" she asked, smiling at Amelia.
Pam answered calmly, "Amelia Broadway, witch. And Sookie Stackhouse."
Immediately both vampires zeroed in on me. Fun times. I guessed they recognised my name because his majesty had graced me with his protection.
"Introductions go both ways, Pam," I pointed out testily, irritated by the way the pair were scrutinising every blemish and line on my face.
"This is Salome. And Neb, sheriff for Lake Charles," she said in a bored tone.
I stiffened. So the female was Mickey's maker. I sure didn't think much of her taste in men.
"Oh, you run Seven Veils," Amelia said, looking at Salome with a flicker of curiosity.
"Yes, but I tire of casinos. You are local? Which coven?"
"Dumaine Street. Are you interested in hiring us? Here, take my card." Amelia pulled one out of her purse. "If you ever need anything unusual, curios, artefacts or the like, call my store."
I shifted uneasily, wondering if I should warn her that Salome might be as psycho as her child. Salome noticed and smiled toothily at me. It wasn't at all reassuring. She said, "Your friend does not approve of me. Are you Christian, Sookie Stackhouse?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered firmly.
That amused her for some reason. "I am not the dancing girl who asked for the baptist's head on a silver plate, nor am I the Salome who bore witness at the carpenter's crucifixion. I am not quite that old."
I gave her a level look. "I didn't think you were."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then what is your beef with me?"
"Salome," Neb said softly, speaking for the first time, "you have surrounded yourself with sycophants if not being instantly adored confounds you. Not everyone has to worship at your feet."
She turned to him and said arrogantly, "Most humans do."
"Yes, but she is a rare creature, this one."
I felt a thrill of fear at his words, so close to Ocella's. I hadn't paid much attention to Neb. He was not a striking vampire and he'd hung back from the conversation.
I looked at him properly. He was short and slender, with delicate, almost feminine hands. He'd been turned in his late forties and not for his looks – he was bald, with a long nose and prominent ears. His skin would have been mid-brown in life, matching his eyes. Large, intelligent and framed by thick black lashes, they were his best feature. I realised with a jolt that he was very old, probably far older than Eric, and he had been watching me closely the whole time.
When I finished my inspection, he nodded to me, his eyes amused. Salome blinked at his gesture of respect, but it made me bold.
I said as casually as I could, "Neb. That's an unusual name."
"Nebhotep would be even more out of place, I think."
"Nebhotep … Hotep means peace, right?." Imhotep meant man of peace. I'd read that after watching a movie. The real Imhotep was an architect and a doctor to his Pharaoh, nothing like the Hollywood version.
Neb blinked in surprise. "Yes. Nebhotep, master of peace. A good name for a scribe."
An Egyptian scribe. Wow. "Guess you're in the right clan."
He smiled faintly. "Perhaps not. I was born under Nefertiti, when worshipping Amun-Ra was out of favour."
It was my turn to gape. Nefertiti ruled Egypt over three millennia ago. "You must be–"
"Very old," Pam cut in. That was an understatement. "I hate to interrupt, but it's time Neb."
Neb nodded to me politely before they moved on, towards the dance floor. A slight frown marred Salome's smooth face as she turned away. Maybe Neb wasn't usually so chatty. Or Salome didn't like humans who were more interested in history than falling over themselves to suck up to her.
…
Back at the bar with Quinn, I switched to coke and cast around for a neutral topic. "So, how's Frannie?"
"Good. She got married last year. Decent enough guy. Twoey."
"That's great," I said, trying to sound perky.
Quinn frowned into his glass and I got the impression he wasn't completely thrilled with Frannie's choice. "Yeah. He even found a place for mom close to them, so Frannie can visit. Mom seems to like it."
"That's good, her being near family." As long as she didn't escape and eat anyone.
"I guess," Quinn mumbled.
Amelia rolled her eyes at me, less than sympathetic to Mama Quinn's plight having seen the were-tigress on the edge of losing it. She looked across the club and flinched suddenly, shrinking against the bar like she wanted to hide.
Concerned, I glanced over my shoulder, but the place had gotten busier and I couldn't pinpoint who or what had spooked her. Diantha was watching a group making their way towards our end of the bar – three men and a woman, werewolves from their minds. As I turned back to Amelia, she grabbed my arm, her thoughts screaming at me.
Don't say anything about the baby. He doesn't know.
Amelia's paramour, Tyrone, was here. I nodded slightly to show I'd heard her, miraculously keeping my face blank, as a deep voice called from behind us: "John Quinn, you're a sight for sore eyes."
The oldest wolf, a stocky African American in his fifties, was closing on us.
"Clay Pellissier. Good to see you," Quinn said, breaking into a wide grin as they shook hands.
He wasn't Tyrone. I breathed a sigh of relief; he was too old for Amelia. The younger guy with him was handsome in a rough masculine way. Like Tray.
Yeah, that was him.
Amelia faked a polite smile quite convincingly under the circumstances. Tyrone barely glanced at her, but he could hardly acknowledge her in front of everybody. Curious and worried for Amelia, I lowered my shields as Clay introduced the group.
"You remember Tyrone, my nephew. Mattias Laroche, packmaster of Lune de Sang, and his second Beth."
Mattias, a thin dark-haired Were full of nervous energy, shook Quinn's hand vigorously. Beth, husky and a little older than me, looked to be Cajun like her packmaster. She barely nodded to Quinn, seemingly unaffected by his reputation. Tyrone, however, couldn't wait to step forward and shake Quinn's hand, with a big old grin on his face and a wave of admiration that bordered on hero-worship.
"Quinn. With two pretty ladies," he said. "Gotta leave some for the rest of us, tiger. Who do we have here?"
Quinn was none too pleased by Tyrone's blatant appraisal of me. It wasn't just an act to hide his connection to Amelia either; Tyrone fancied himself a player. Quinn wasn't the only one who disapproved. Beth's mouth set in hard line.
Quinn replied gruffly, "This is my … friend Sookie, and her friend Amelia."
Ignoring Quinn's not-so-subtle implication that I was more than his friend, I held my hand out politely. Tyrone made a big show of kissing it, giving my chest a long glance as he bent over. With the skin contact I got lust and swaggering bravado. He'd love to 'win' me from Quinn.
My eyes met Beth's over his head. She thought he was an idiot too.
Tyrone treated Amelia to a casual handshake and disinterested hello. Poor Amelia played it cool, but she was a mess inside. Then he winked at her brazenly, and her anxiety spiked.
Luckily his uncle and the other packmaster missed that, having turned away to ask Quinn about the Belle Chasse pack contest. Beth didn't. Sharp-eyed and in the right position, she also caught Amelia's panic.
Her mind pulsed with anger. Oh-oh.
Oblivious to the trouble he'd stirred, Tyrone turned away to gossip with the menfolk. Half listening to them, I picked up that Belle Chasse were coyotes, a new pack. Clay said coyotes were natural troublemakers, but I took that with a pinch of salt. Werewolves tended to look down on other were-animals.
Meanwhile, Beth was silently weighing Amelia up. I didn't know what to say to ease the tension. Amelia took a nervous sip of her drink and Beth stared at Amelia's wedding rings, scowling. Amelia paled and made a hurried excuse, shooting off to talk to someone on the other side of the club.
Beth stepped closer to me, lowering her voice. "Tell your friend: Once a stray, always a stray. Wouldn't want her getting her hopes up."
Something in her face made me ask quietly, "Know that from personal experience?"
Her mouth twisted. "Long time ago. Everyone makes mistakes." She nodded at Clay. "I know the family real well."
Oh," I said lamely. She must know the injured party, Tyrone's wife. I wanted to defend Amelia, say she wasn't a home-wrecker, but if the baby was Tyrone's … What a mess.
Beth gave me a once over. "You're not the usual tiger groupie."
"Guess I'm not."
"You're not a friend, either. Quinn one of your mistakes?"
I froze in confusion. Why would she say that? A burst of hearty male laughter spared me from answering.
Clay said, "Better not keep the king waiting, Mattias."
Eric. I couldn't escape him. I wondered darkly what his maj-ass-ty wanted with them. He wasn't fond of wolves unless they owed him favours.
"As long as we're drinking on the deader's dime," Tyrone muttered. "Rich fucker."
Clay said sternly, "Watch your mouth. You've got cubs to think of. Sarah don't need to be widowed."
Maybe one more cub than Clay thought. I cringed internally, hoping for Amelia's sake that this Sarah wasn't as vengeful as certain other twoey women. Debbie Pelt, for instance. Refusing to look towards Eric, I stared resolutely into my coke as the four of them left.
Quinn touched my arm. "Sorry about that, babe. The packs bring a lot of business my way."
"Oh, that's okay. You gotta work the room, right?"
"Yeah. Ty is a jackass though."
"Oh? I thought he was a wolf."
He chuckled.
Grinning back, I said, "His ass was definitely showing tonight. Is he always like that?"
"Pretty much. Clay says his mind is stuck at fifteen."
I wondered what Amelia had seen in him. A walk on the wild side? Surely Bob wasn't that boring."How old is he?"
Quinn shrugged. "Thirty-ish."
Old enough to know better. Old enough for a wife and three kids.
"Man has kids, long past time he grew up," Quinn said, echoing my thoughts. He looked at me with those soulful eyes. "Some of us don't need our feet held to the fire to do that."
"I can see that," I said softly.
There was a weight behind his eyes that hadn't been there before. Tijgerin had gone back to Europe, insistent on following the old ways and raising their son alone, trampling on Quinn's heart in the process. I patted his arm awkwardly to show my sympathy.
…
Another gin and tonic chased away that awkwardness, and we fell into an easy teasing banter. A handsome distraction was just what I needed. I laughed at his jokes, brushed his arm, flicked my hair back. Flirted my ass off in other words, and Quinn appreciated every second.
Twice I weakened and looked over at the booth.
The first time, Eric, in profile, was impassive. Tyrone was arguing with Beth, so out of curiosity I reached out mentally. Everything was distorted, as if the whole booth was underwater. Malcolm's privacy spell was impressively effective.
The second time, they were all deep in conversation, except for Tyrone, who looked pissed, and Eric, still impassive. I hoped he wasn't settling a dispute. I didn't want to be around if things got ugly.
Rory wasn't sitting with him. Probably insisted on having nothing to do with his vampire bullshit, like I should have. Or Eric had learned from his mistakes and kept her safely out of things. Not that I cared about her neck after the way she'd spoken to me.
I shook those thoughts off and refocused on Quinn, and pleasant conversation. Some time later Amelia returned.
"Sorry. I bumped into an old friend," she said sheepishly. The 'friend' was an older woman with dark hair and expensive clothes. More than a friend at some point, from their body language. They'd been as thick as thieves for almost an hour.
"Oh, don't worry," I said cheerfully. "We can entertain ourselves, can't we Quinn?"
"Sure, babe."
Amelia noticed how close we were sitting and gave me a knowing smile. I shrugged it off. I was enjoying his company. Nothing wrong with that.
The atmosphere was fantastic. A few couples were out on the dance floor. When the band struck up a zydeco, Quinn grinned at me. I remembered too. Dancing with Quinn was my one good memory of Jason's ill-fated first wedding.
Quinn took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. I'd forgotten how good he looked like that."Shall we, babe?"
"Why not?" I said, relaxed by the alcohol and the company. Hooking my hand over Quinn's warm muscular arm, I felt his anticipation and pleasure.
It wasn't until he led me down the steps that I remembered Eric was even there. Quinn was about the only man who could eclipse him. Literally in this case: Quinn's large frame was between me and his fang-ship. As we walked out on to the floor, I looked over at the other side of the room.
Rory was sitting with three fairies. Genuine fairies from their minds. Their body language was intriguing. The woman, a blonde, was very touchy with the male next to her and Rory. The other guy couldn't take his eyes off Rory. If he was a human, I'd say he had the hots for her.
Rory was playing games. Eric wouldn't like that. Arlene loved men fighting over her, but I wouldn't have pegged Rory as that trashy. And she'd lectured me on the difference between love and petty jealousy, the hypocrite.
Quinn tugged on my hand and I had to concentrate on my footwork. It was a real pleasure dancing with him. For a big man he sure could move. I saw Beth, dancing with Tyrone's uncle. Clay cut a fine figure and she was grinning at him. I found myself beaming like an idiot at Quinn too. It was hard not to; zydeco was so exuberant.
We shifted so I was facing Eric's booth. The other packmaster, the scrawny one, was choking on his beer, looking at Salome. The privacy spell was down, but I wasn't close enough to hear them. I sure as hell caught the leer Salome gave Eric, and his fangy smile as they toasted each other.
No wonder she recalled Mickey on Eric's say-so. Looked like more than favours had passed between them. I wasn't so ill-mannered as to crane my neck to see how Rory was taking that, but I might have smiled a little wider. Not very charitable, but ask me if I cared.
The dance turned me away from the booth just as Ty scowled at Beth. Stretching out my mental feelers, I searched out his snarly mind, wanting to know if she'd said something about Amelia to him. He was a seething mass of jealousy and longing.
For Beth. His old flame.
Guess she was the one that got away. Amelia really could pick 'em: a horn dog fixated on another woman.
By the end of the dance, I was glowing and slightly out of breath. Quinn's hand was hot in mine. He smiled down at me.
"Let's dance another, babe."
"Human here. I need a breather."
He grinned even wider. "Ain't that the truth." The next song started, and he said softly, "I never did get to waltz with you."
No, he hadn't.
Not at Rhodes. Eric had swooped in to take his place after Quinn, my honey at the time, had taken an arrow in the shoulder for me. I still felt guilty about that. It wasn't just the bond that allowed Eric to sweep me off my feet that night, my attraction to him had played a part too.
"Okay. A waltz it is." I owed him one.
Taking our positions, the heat of Quinn's hand warmed the small of my back. His mind was a quiet hum of pleasure. As we began, I saw the scrawny packmaster partnering Salome ahead of us. Guess she hadn't aged out of cross-dating. Go figure.
I couldn't resist a peek at Eric. His face was blank, deliberately blank. He was annoyed. Or bored. He was giving Salome and the wolf a true predator's stare, locked on and unblinking. My money was on pissed. I knew how he felt about twoeys.
As Quinn swept me around the floor, I saw Rory smile and raise her glass to Eric. I didn't see his reaction, but whatever it was, her face fell. I couldn't make sense of what was going on between them, but it sure looked like Rory was the one doing the chasing.
That explained the moon-eyed fairy. Guess Rory was unsure of Eric's affections.
I sure understood that. I sympathised for all of a second, until I realised the waltz was bringing us towards Eric's table. Perhaps it was tacky of me to be dancing with Quinn in front of an ex, but I was a free woman. And Eric had other women on his mind tonight; I figured he'd hardly notice.
Despite that, I felt uncomfortable.
Quinn was uneasy too. He kept my back to Eric's booth as we passed. I appreciated that and the comforting way his thumb was stroking me. I smiled up at him and he squeezed my waist.
"Having fun, Sookie?"
"You betcha."
We passed two tables of vamps. One kept looking our way, a snappy dresser with dark hair. He was real familiar, but I couldn't place him. Perhaps he'd been in the abbey when Sophie-Ann and Threadgill had their tiff.
Whatever. Vampires be damned. I focused on the warm man in my arms.
And what a fine figure of a man he was. Some steamy scenes from our past came flooding back to me: my room, Hadley's kitchen, eating breakfast together. I managed not to blush like a school girl, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his.
I missed you babe, he thought gently at me.
"Me too," I whispered and regretted my choice of words immediately. Sam. The mistakes I'd made there, the reminder that I was freshly divorced and already in another man's arms.
"Don't," he said, misinterpreting my expression. Don't regret what happened with us. Damn bloodsuckers. Not your fault.
I smiled weakly at him.
I'd been hard on him when we broke up, selfishly expecting him to put me above his family. Unfair, but it was how I felt at the time.
After three years of Bernie, Quinn's mom didn't seem so bad. She couldn't help her fragile mental state, and at least she and Frannie had wanted me to stay with Quinn. More to see him happy than for my own sake, but that was a damn sight better than wanting to replace me with a shifter.
The waltz came to an end. Salome laughed loudly a few feet to our left, a throaty sensual laugh, and the packmaster blushed to his hairline. I looked up at Quinn, a wide smile on my lips. He grinned back, impulsively wrapping me in his arms and resting his chin on my head.
Crushed gently against his muscular chest, Quinn's scent surrounded me. It was all man, bringing to mind things a lady shouldn't think in public. The images from Quinn's head didn't help, images that told me he wouldn't object at all to a repeat of past performances.
I wasn't sure a trip down memory lane would be good for either of us. I shifted slightly, breaking the contact between our bare arms. The images stopped but I felt Quinn's surprise, followed by confusion and disbelief.
Figuring he'd noticed my discomfort, I pulled back, out of his arms. Not wanting to hurt his feelings further, I said warmly, "Thank you. That was lovely."
"Any time, babe," he said, smiling down at me a little stiffly.
The band were taking a break. I gestured to the bar. "Let's make sure Amelia hasn't gotten in any trouble."
As we crossed the floor he asked, "Trouble with that old flame of hers?"
"Old flame?" I asked, praying he didn't know about Tyrone.
"Yeah." He took the steps in one bound and looked around for Amelia while I caught up. "Edith, the one she was talking to earlier."
"You know her?"
He shrugged. "She's a witch. One of the other covens. She, uh, likes skinny brunettes."
"Oh. There she is," I said, spotting Amelia with Malcolm. I set off towards her.
"Should've put money on that," Quinn muttered.
"Oh hush, you. She's networking, not flirting."
"Sometimes it's the same thing."
"Is that so?" I said, raising my eyebrows and turning to look at him.
"You've got nothing to worry about." He grinned. "Clay and Mattias aren't my type."
"Uh-huh." Maybe the blonde bartender was though. "Anyway, Malcolm is taken."
"Is he? You met him before?"
I shook my head, smiling enigmatically as we reached Amelia. A girl had to keep some secrets.
…
The Weres stopped to say their goodbyes a short while later,and David Thrash motioned me aside. I stepped away from the group, wondering what the former Lieutenant Governor wanted with me.
"Gené told me what you did at the abbey that night," he said quietly, "so I'm returning the favour." He shot a glance at Quinn. "Don't play games with Northman."
I bristled. "What did that asshole say?"
"Nothing. He's too proud." He narrowed his eyes. "But no man likes his ex-wife dangling another man under his nose."
Trying not to draw attention, I whispered forcefully, "I did no such thing. Eric couldn't care less what I–"
He interrupted sharply, "But he cares about his throne. Kings can't lose face."
"And don't I know it," I muttered.
He gave me pitying look. "Gené is fond of you. I'd hate to tell her something bad happened to you. Tonight was a mistake. Tread carefully."
I huffed at his back as he left to join his wife. Eric didn't care, I was sure of it. Glowering, I turned back to the others just as Beth said something to Amelia that made her flinch. Oh Lord.
"Beth," I said with fake cheerfulness. "I just love your shoes. Where did you get them?"
Beth snorted. "I take it back. You are like all his other dumb groupies."
Before I could add real rudeness to my mistakes, Beth turned on her heel. Her packmaster took Quinn's card and followed her out. Clay shook Quinn's hand, but when he left Tyrone hung back, licking his lips nervously.
Amelia panicked, but Tyrone ignored her and beckoned Quinn over, speaking to him in a low voice. I heard Neb's name and stepped closer.
His back to me, Quinn sneered. "... doesn't scare me. I have connections."
"This ain't the pits."
"Lucky for you," Quinn rumbled, the threat clear in his tone. "You wouldn't last five minutes."
"And you won't last five seconds against that deader," Tyrone insisted. "Look man, be careful. That's all I'm saying."
Quinn scowled after Tyrone as he hurried to catch up with Clay.
Unhappy but relieved her beau had ignored her, Amelia was flagging. She stifled a yawn and I realised it was almost three in the morning. She was tired, pregnant, and the mood had definitely soured.
"Quinn, we should go," I said.
He cast a dark look towards Eric's table as we left.
…
Sunlight streamed through the shutters. Lying on my side, I rubbed sleep from my eyes. Green walls. Amelia's guest room. Snuggling down into the warm bed, I froze. Something heavy was draped over my waist, and a snuffle behind me told me I wasn't alone.
Dismayed, I peeked under the covers. I was naked as a jaybird, and a familiar arm was pinning me down.
Oh hell.
Sookie Stackhouse, I asked myself sternly, what did you do?
I had a damn good idea. Hardly breathing, I wriggled carefully out of Quinn's warm embrace, leaving the covers in place. Ignoring the clothes scattered across the floor, I pulled on my robe, tiptoed over to the dresser and eased a t-shirt, some underwear and a pair of shorts out of the drawer. Feeling gross, I grabbed my wash-bag and towel.
I stopped at the door and reached out mentally. Amelia was downstairs already, thank goodness. I slipped out, padded across to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I leaned against it and groaned softly. How was I going to get through this with any dignity?
I had no idea.
I didn't have one night stands. I didn't throw myself at men. First Blue, now this. Sure, my behaviour at Blue was down to alcohol and drugs, but this time I'd been tipsy, not drunk. I gave myself a stern lecture on moral fibre.
A half-hearted one. I'd been so... horny last night. For weeks, if I was honest. I'd blamed it on missing Sam's regular attentions, but when I'd been single in the past my libido hadn't gone into overdrive. Not like this.
Was it my age? A woman's sexuality supposedly blossomed in her thirties.
Wait.
I had felt like this before. After vampire blood.
I did a quick calculation. Ignoring the time I'd been away with the fairies as it were, Eric gave me blood ten weeks ago. Hell, that was probably it.
The effects never lasted much beyond three months, so it would be gone soon. Good. I could ignore it, and Eric. It was bad enough that he spoilt my evening. I was damned if he was intruding on my morning too.
I scrubbed the sour taste of last night's tequila out of my mouth with a double dose of toothpaste. Looking in the mirror as I spat and rinsed, I cursed Amelia and her matchmaking. She'd invited Quinn in, got out a bottle of tequila, cut some limes, and disappeared faster than green grass through a goose. I should have known she was up to something; she couldn't drink and she was exhausted.
Quinn and I had talked for a while. Hours of flirting and two shots of tequila had weakened my resolve. My libido had drooled over his bare arms, his eyes, his smile, his shoulders. We'd gotten real friendly on the couch and then I'd led him upstairs. I remembered warm hands and a warm mouth in the dark, giggling and fumbling.
Lord, I hoped we'd…
Oh, thank God. We did. He'd fetched a condom from his wallet, tripping over in the unfamiliar room and sending me into a fit of giggles. He'd got back into bed, silencing me with a kiss. More fumbling, we'd had our golden moments and passed out.
It had been... Fun? Sweet? Clumsy? Ridiculous?
All of the above, but it was going to be as awkward as hell when he woke up.
…
Showered and dressed, I wavered in the hallway. Quinn or coffee? Was it cowardly to sneak downstairs hoping he'd just disappear? But Amelia was in the kitchen, and I definitely wasn't ready to face her. I opened the bedroom door gingerly.
"Quinn," I gasped. Damn. He was sitting up in bed, half awake.
"Hey, babe," he said with a yawn. "Amelia brought coffee." He waved at two steaming cups of heaven waiting by a plate of pastries.
"Oh. That was nice of her." Not. I bet she came up while the shower was running, hoping to catch me alone so she could interrogate me. I stepped inside and shut the door.
Quinn got out of bed and stretched lazily. Naked.
Hot damn.
I stomped down on my traitorous libido. Hard. He rubbed his head and mumbled hopefully, "Bathroom?"
"Oh. Across the hall. Um, here, take my towel." My robe was never going to fit.
"Thanks, babe," he said. Wrapping the towel round that gorgeous body, he kissed my cheek and gave me a sleepy smile. After he left, I fell on the coffee like a fiend from hell. I felt almost human when Quinn came back, smelling of Felix's no-tears bubble bath. I stifled a smile.
"Coffee?" I held out the cup.
"Thanks."
He drank it down and demolished three pastries, while I busied myself picking up clothes and folding them neatly. I was just thinking we'd managed to bypass the awkwardness when he spoke.
"Babe. We need to talk."
"We do?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Of course."
"What about?"
His forehead wrinkled. "Last night. Us."
"Us?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "Us."
I sat down on the bed and he scowled at the space I'd left between us. I tried to be gentle.
"Quinn, I hadn't planned on there being an us. I hadn't even planned on..." I waved at the bed.
"I thought..." He cleared his throat. "Last night meant something to me."
I sighed at the disappointment in his eyes. "It was… lovely. But I'm just getting my life back on track after Sam."
His eyes narrowed. "You still hung up on him?"
"No," I said firmly, even though that wasn't quite the truth. "It's just … We were married and I expected to stay that way. I'm still getting over losing that."
"I understand. Tijgerin …" He looked down at his feet and spoke softly. "It's hard when things don't work out the way you want." Then he looked up, reached over and took my hand, searching my face. "But we're good together, babe. Always were. I think we could make a real go of it."
He was still in my towel, distracting me with his arms and chest. And those violet eyes, so pretty. "I … I'm not sure this is the right time to start something new, Quinn."
"When is? I don't want to wait. Not if you want this too, and I think you do."
I frowned. I wasn't so sure he was right.
"You were too quick to judge me over de Castro and you know it," he accused bitterly. "If it hadn't been for Northman and his blood…" He sighed, and softened his voice. "Look, babe, I'd like to see where this could go without the damn bloodsuckers interfering. Will you give me another chance?"
"I … I need to think about it."
He wasn't happy. "I have to be back in Memphis tomorrow."
"Oh." I didn't appreciate being pressured, but I didn't want to leave him hanging either. Even if he'd inadvertently done that to me when he disappeared for months after Rhodes.
He looked at the neat pile I'd made of his suit. "I need to go back to the hotel, run a few errands."
"Okay. Why don't you do that, then come back for dinner? I'll have an answer for you then."
He nodded seriously. "Okay, let's do that. All I want is a chance."
…..
I skedaddled, taking our dishes downstairs so Quinn could cover up that sinful body of his. When I walked into the kitchen Amelia broke into a huge grin.
"Morning, Sookie. How did you sleep?" Faced with my grim expression, her face fell. She stayed quiet while I loaded the dishwasher. Finally she asked, "You okay?"
I shrugged. "Any more coffee?"
She tripped over herself to fix me a cup. I stared into it and made non-committal noises as she rambled nervously about places we could visit that day. Footsteps on the stairs made us both tense.
Quinn stuck his head in. "See you later, babe."
"Yep. See you later."
We both sounded subdued.
Amelia waited until the front door closed. "You were getting on so well last night. What happened?"
I gave her a sharp look. "I blame the tequila."
"Oh." She twisted her hands anxiously. I just wanted to give her a nudge.
"A nudge?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"I … You said you wanted to have some fun," she said defensively. Then she muttered, "One of us should." I'm such a mess. Ty was horrid last night. What am I going to do?
That threw ice water on my righteous indignation. And frankly, I hadn't needed much encouragement to jump all over Quinn. I said sternly, "Next time no nudges, missy. I don't need your help."
"Sorry. Was it awful?"
"No. It's just …" I sighed. "Quinn wants more."
"Oh. Would that be so bad?" she asked curiously.
I leaned back against the counter. "I just got divorced. I don't think I'm ready."
"Tell him to wait."
"He wants an answer today."
"Then he's fresh out of luck. Unless... " She narrowed her eyes at me. "Would you regret turning him down?"
That echoed a question Eric asked me about Quinn years ago. I'd said then that it may have been huge mistake ending things with Quinn when we had the start of something good going. Would I be compounding that mistake if I turned him away again?
I rubbed my forehead. "I just don't know, Ames."
"Well... You were kinda good together. Think it over."
…
Amelia went out to pick up some steaks for dinner. I sat outside by the pond, sipping iced tea.
I didn't want to jump into something just because I was lacking other suitors, like I did with Sam. But there was something between Quinn and me. A warm, easy affection that promised more.
Trouble was, I didn't know if Quinn and I were as suited as he and Amelia seemed to think. Us being in the same state had been a rare occurrence, and we hadn't spent that much time together. That had meant outside forces had pulled us apart far too easy.
Would that be any different now?
Well, Frannie and Mama Quinn seemed less dependent on him. His family commitments had been the main reason I'd broken things off, but my hurt over his silence and his betrayal of the Louisiana vampires had been factors too. Quinn was right there: Eric's blood and my feelings for him had muddied the waters, dividing my loyalties during the takeover.
We should have been strong enough to survive that, but we hadn't had time to cement things. Maybe if Quinn actually took that month off…
I was tempted. I'd been tempted the last time Quinn made me an offer, at Craig Merlotte's wedding. This time I was free to accept. I had enough regrets, maybe I deserved another chance too.
I went back and forth between temptation and caution, staring at the water lilies floating on the dark pond, my thoughts clouding.
Like the murky water. Murky, dark water.
Eastorhild's words floated on the breeze: Wet your lips. Took a sip. Never downed love's draft. Never gave him a chance.
My heart skipped a beat and I sat very still.
A chance.
Quinn asked for a chance.
Was that what Eastorhild meant – that I'd missed out on love by dismissing Quinn without a fair hearing?
Wait, since when did I make important decisions on the ramblings of a water-sodden corpse?
A corpse that wasn't a corpse, though. Eastorhild was a powerful magical being and she'd muscled into my head and poked around in all the dark corners there before making her pronouncement. What had she seen?
I shuddered, remembering the intrusion and her cold touch.
No, I wouldn't do this because of her. If I did this, I was doing it for me.
My conscience was telling me I hadn't given Quinn a fair crack of the whip. That was something else Quinn was right about, and I owed it to myself to find out what could have been.
…
I was waiting in the lounge when Amelia let Quinn in and made herself scarce. Quinn was anxious, so I put him straight out of his misery, smiling warmly. "Yes, Quinn. My answer is yes. As long as you take some time off."
Only his mouth smiled back, not his eyes. I expected more enthusiasm.
"That's great, babe. But I won't hold you to that."
"What? Why?"
He said grimly, "We've got a problem."
Already? My heart sank and I sat down, gesturing for Quinn to do the same.
He let out a long breath, and plunged straight in. "This is the first time I've been in Louisiana since the takeover."
"Eric's takeover," I mumbled, suddenly having a real good idea where this was going.
He nodded tensely. "Northman has his sheriffs keeping tabs on twoeys, like de Castro did. Belle Chasse invited me here and the Area 1 sheriff was fine with it. I assumed Northman was too."
"Okay. That's good."
"Maybe not. I asked around today. The sheriff came from New York. Been there a while. He and Northman aren't … close."
"So," I said slowly, "he might not know Eric banned you from his area. But that was years ago."
"Babe, do you really think Northman won't interfere again? After last night …" He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry, babe. Seeing you again, I got carried away." Didn't think… shouldn't have provoked him…
His thoughts became a jumble of frustration. Feeling the same, I slumped in my chair. This was not the joyful reunion I'd imagined. As for provoking Eric, who I danced with was none of his damn business. He didn't own me. We hadn't been an item for years.
He wasn't my damn king. Screw him.
"I won't let Eric spoil things," I said firmly, bringing some hope back to Quinn's beautiful eyes. As if vampire drama would make me run for the hills. Stackhouse women had backbone.
"Me neither." He took my hand and smiled briefly. "There's more though. I sounded Clay and Mattias out this afternoon. Figured they'd have my back."
"What can they do against Eric?"
"I thought he'd be forced to let me visit if they insisted. He's got this new policy. Mutual respect. Deaders co-operating with twoeys." His lip curled. "That's the line he's selling, but it's horseshit. Deaders still have all the power. Mattias has thrown his lot in with them, so he won't rock the boat." Northman has him snowed. Fucking bloodsuckers think they can buy anyone. "Clay can't afford to lose the work the deaders are offering. His pack is dirt poor. Katrina hit them hard. He'd like to help, but he's between a rock and a hard place."
"That sucks," I said. "But I'm sure Alcide would–"
He shook his head. "Herveaux is in it up to his neck with Northman. And he didn't lift a paw last time I was banned." Still mad over his father's death. Wanted you for himself, said as much at the time.
"I'm a friend of the pack. He has to help."
"No dice, babe. And with Ravenscroft as sheriff…"
I groaned.
Dating Quinn was going to be hard enough without Eric sticking his oar in. Petulantly, I wished Quinn had sorted this out before pleading his case with me. He'd known there might be trouble. Tyrone had warned him, but he'd forged ahead regardless.
Because he wasn't one to give up on something he wanted. In stark contrast to Eric, I thought snidely. In fact, his persistence was flattering. And I could hardly hold Quinn's tenacity against him; I was just as stubborn.
I wanted to believe that Eric wasn't petty enough to interfere, but the facts disagreed.
He'd banned Quinn before. David Thrash warned me that kings couldn't lose face, and enough vamps knew we'd been pledged. Eric still resented the way things ended, even if he had moved on. And as soon as we were alone, he'd asked if I was with Quinn.
Eric's ego. His damn pride. He'd kick Quinn out of Louisiana faster than he could drop fang.
"God dammit!" I burst out furiously. "There must be something we can do. No way is Eric calling the shots in my life."
Quinn let go of my hand and rubbed his head thoughtfully. "There is one thing, but you won't like it and I can't ask you to–"
A buzzer sounded in the kitchen. Amelia appeared, apologetic. "Um, dinner's ready."
"Thanks Ames. Can we talk while we eat, honey?"
"Sure, babe. Sounds like a plan."
...
A/N: Yes, we are going there.
You see why I delayed posting this chapter. I didn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas. :-o
I always liked Quinn, and I felt Sookie wasn't particularly fair to him, but I know some of you will hate this plot line - feel free to rant in the reviews if you do. I appreciated the extra effort it will take non-Quinn fans to stick with this, and I promise he won't say babe too often. We will be switching to Eric's pov soon.
