Running a little late to today, but here we are. Thanks as always for the reviews.


Quicksand


I intended to walk a human path, but life was never that simple, not for me. The supernatural world sucked me back in, slowly and surely.

It started with a survey in some trashy magazine: Are you ready to live together? A moot point. We already were, and not exactly by my choice. One of the questions, supposedly a good test for whether we'd work out, was Have you vacationed together?

Those quizzes were ridiculous, I knew that, but it stuck with me, gnawing at the back of my mind like a worm ruining a good apple. I signed up for college, picking online classes in case things in Memphis, with Quinn, didn't work out.

I hated those doubts. There was nothing wrong. Quinn didn't have any habits I couldn't stand. Things were good. I was content. Sure, I wasn't in love, not yet, but he wasn't either. I was okay with that, no convincing myself it was love when it wasn't, like I'd done with Sam. I would be patient.

A relationship took time, time to blossom, to bear fruit. I wanted things to work real bad.

Quinn stretched behind me on the couch. The full moon had left us both sated and tired. He tugged me flush against him, my back to his front, and nuzzled into my neck.

"We need to buy candy," I mumbled, thinking of having him to myself on the weekend, Halloween an afterthought.

"Babe," he said softly. "I have to go to Mississippi on Friday."

My eyes shut briefly in annoyance. "How long?"

"I'll be back Saturday."

I stared blindly at the movie playing on the flatscreen, an idea forming. "Where in Mississippi?"

"Starkville. It's a small place." Small pack too. Good land to run. "The packmaster is handing over to his son. Should be straightforward." Just wants me there in case there's a challenge.

"Fancy some company? We could make a weekend of it."

He pulled back a little. "You sure?"

"I have Russell's protection. Why not?" I felt his smile on my neck, happiness from his mind.

"There'll be a game Saturday. Wanna go?"

I smiled. "Sure, sounds great."

I told Meredith, for politeness sake, slightly annoyed that I had to. Starkville was a wolf town with only a handful of vamps and the pack enjoyed good relations with the locals. Low risk, she said. She could pop in an emergency. She notified Russell though, politely.

It was, for supes, all very civilised.

Quinn booked us into a lovely hotel. While he went to the pack meeting, I pampered myself in the heavenly bathtub. The next day, we visited a farmer's market to buy pumpkins. The small town atmosphere was a pleasant change after Memphis, reminding me of home.

The football game was something else. We had great seats, from Quinn's contact in the pack. The home crowd was huge and very enthusiastic. Their minds washed over my shields, testing their strength, but they held, muffling the swells of excitement to a bearable level. Quinn came back with hotdogs and I reached for mine eagerly; the fresh air had given me an appetite.

"Thanks, honey," I mumbled around a mouthful.

He grinned. "Babe, you got a little mustard..." He wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb, eyes glowing warmly in the sunlight. He leaned in and I tilted my head, bringing our lips into line.

A female voice called loudly, "Hi there, Tiger!"

Quinn pulled back, looking round. Three women were walking up the steps, wearing short skirts despite the bite in the air. They stopped next to Quinn, making me regret our aisle seats. Up close their smiling faces were more girl than woman.

"Destiny," Quinn said, eyes on the skinny blonde at the front.

"Hi Quinn," chorused the other two, one of them giving him a little wave and the other giggling. Yep, definitely young. Barely twenty, I'd say.

"Jenny, Megan. This is my girlfriend, Sookie." He put a hand on my thigh, heat sinking through my jeans. Instinctively, I slipped my arm possessively through his and opened my mind.

My instincts were spot on. The three girls were werewolves. Destiny and Jenny were big, big weretiger fans. Fans who'd been granted access-all-areas passes to Quinn on previous visits.

I smiled politely through five excruciating minutes of hair flicking and fluttering false eyelashes long enough to sweep the floor. Gran would have been proud of my manners. As soon as they trooped out of sight, I pulled my arm out of Quinn's, memories of him flirting with the blonde bartender at Sanctum and Beth's comments about groupies souring my mood.

"Some warning would've been nice," I hissed under the noise of the crowd.

"I didn't know Destiny would be here," he said, trying to catch my eyes.

"Is that how it is Quinn, a girl in every pack?" I added sharply, "Or two."

He coughed, embarrassed that I knew he'd been with Jenny too. I couldn't say whether the implied promiscuity – which I hadn't considered a trait of his before – or the age difference horrified me more.

He said quietly, "I was single for a long time, babe. I'm not interested in them now."

Now.

How long would that last? Sam and that shifter. The maenad. The call of the wild.

Quinn took my chin in his strong warm hand and tugged gently until I looked at him. His eyes fixed on mine, he said softly, "We both have a past, babe. Doesn't mean I want to live in mine." Meaningless one-nighters. Not like I married any of them.

I closed my eyes, ashamed. Glasshouses and stones, Stackhouse. An ex-husband was serious competition, those hussies weren't. And I knew better than to judge Quinn by Sam's behaviour, just because they were both twoeys.

Quinn stroked my cheek with his thumb until I opened my eyes. "I'm with you," he said firmly, pressing his lips to mine briefly. "Those girls are just that. Girls. Got nothing on you."

He meant it, every word. I mouthed a sorry, and he grinned broadly, slipping a heavy arm around my shoulders. "No problem. You got jealous, is all."

"Hey," I said, pinching his side. "No gloating."

He chuckled, squeezing my shoulders and kissing my hair. I leaned into him, grateful we'd spoken about it, nipped it in the bud.

Sometimes this felt like my first adult relationship. I left so much unsaid with Sam. I never really challenged him about his flirting, some instinct or the magic keeping me from rocking the boat. Or I was in cloud cuckoo land pretending everything was fine and dandy. With Bill I barely discussed his feeding, and I ran every time things got difficult. With Eric, talk was a rarity and… Well, the less said there the better.

With Quinn, things were different. I was sticking around, confronting the tough issues. I gave myself a pat on the back. My relationship skills were definitely improving.

The rest of the game passed without incident, unless shouting ourselves hoarse every time Mississippi State scored a touchdown counted. Quinn was wistful, wishing he could bring his son to a game. I squeezed his hand sympathetically but didn't comment. Tigerjin had decided too much contact would confuse Deiderik at his tender age, but she wrote, sent pictures. Quinn sent her money regularly, but it was hard on him.

He didn't let it drag him down. Or dampen his appetite – he put away an enormous brunch that Sunday morning. I stuck to French toast, mindful of all the hotdogs I'd eaten the night before, and Destiny's skinny ass. We got back to Memphis in time to carve pumpkins and decorate the house.

Handing out candy was fun. I hadn't done that before; Gran's house was too isolated.

Michele emailed me pictures of Jay-Jay in his pirate costume, and homesickness tugged hard on my heart. I resolved to go home for Marie Adele's first Christmas, come hell or high water. I gave Niall a call, and he said no problem, he'd arrange it with Pam. But Stackhouse women weren't raised to let someone else do their dirty work, not even great-grandfathers, so I called her myself a few days later, after Quinn left for Atlanta.

"I'm coming home for Christmas," I said bluntly, adopting vampire phone manners. I was still angry with her for telling Eric I was in Memphis.

"Yes, Niall already called." She added warmly, "How are you, Sookie?"

I ignored her. "I want your word I'll be free to leave Louisiana."

"You always were."

"Please," I scoffed. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"I wasn't." The warmth was gone, replaced with dry sarcasm. "I told you Eric had no need of you, that you had his protection. If you believed hearsay to the contrary from the tiger, you haven't got any intelligence for me to insult."

"Your word, Pam," I insisted, my hackles up.

"You have it," she drawled, adding sarcastically, "If you trust it this time."

I gritted my teeth. "What about Quinn?"

"Leave him behind. He's still banned."

"Pam, that's effing ridiculous. This is a free–"

"Sookie," she said forcefully, her voice cold. "Quinn insulted Eric. A new king cannot be forgiving."

"Insulted him how? By dancing with me? Cheese and rice, Eric needs to get over himself."

"Whatever. Quinn is not welcome in Louisiana for the foreseeable future."

"Fine," I snapped. "And don't bother with guards. Niall has that under control." I slammed the phone down. Damn vampires.

I wasn't a fool. Sure, Eric gave me his protection. So did Felipe. Didn't mean a thing. The undead attitude was 'live in my kingdom, mine to use as I please, when I please', as Tennessee's behaviour had illustrated so well. However innocent Eric's intentions had been before I left, there was no guarantee they'd have stayed that way. Especially once Quinn was in the picture.

And Eric had certainly come running double-quick to reclaim me, his asset. Whatever I'd meant to him in the past, his kingdom came first now. Pam had confirmed it, with that nonsense about insults.

I called Quinn, who took the news that he wasn't welcome in Louisiana with equanimity. He said Frannie wanted him to visit her in New Mexico. Fine with me, I replied tartly, we weren't joined at the hip. When he realised I meant to go home anyway he tried to argue, but nothing was keeping me from my family.

Quinn was in Atlanta for a week. I almost invited Meredith over to stop myself dwelling on all the twoey girls out there eager to bag themselves a tiger, but I didn't. Mostly out of a desire to stand on my own two feet.

I finally bought a laptop for college, and James offered to set it up. Meredith found us huddled over it in the break room, and raised her eyebrows at how close we were. I shot away from him like a scalded cat, which amused the hell out of her. When I asked her later if she was sweet on him, she laughed, and called him a child. It was hard to remember James was sixty years her junior when Meredith looked so young.

Ursula had started including books on feminism, civil rights and politics in her selections, and asking my opinion of them. At first I felt put on the spot, but she genuinely wanted to hear my thoughts, saying I had a fresh perspective on the issues. We had some lively discussions that I enjoyed immensely. That week, while Quinn was away, they provided a welcome distraction.

I went to yoga as usual. Over coffee, I groused about Quinn's absence, but not the groupies. Any jealousy was my problem. I trusted Quinn. He was sincere when he said those girls had nothing on me, his mind echoing his words. Quite a confidence boost, after the criticisms I'd heard in men's head over the years.

The girls at yoga knew Quinn was a twoey. None of them had batted an eyelid or a thought when I told them. Refreshing, after the folks back home. City folk were more relaxed about sex too it seemed; the conversation got pretty racy that day. Donna was into piercings – intimate ones, like the girl I'd roomed with in Rhodes – and she wasn't shy about over-sharing. I almost choked when she described the benefits in blush-worthy detail, loud enough for the guys at the next table to overhear.

Maybe that was why those heated, frustrating dreams started up again. Quinn got a very enthusiastic welcome home.

That European vamp had shown up. An Italian. I'd almost forgotten that well-deserved wrench in Tennessee's plans. Quinn was annoyed that the bozo was going through all his accounts and asking a whole mess of questions, but he endured it, thankful that Tennessee had to kowtow to him too – the investors the Italian represented controlled over half the company. Without Tennessee at the wheel, Quinn's scheduled eased up. I was looking forward to a quiet month.

Everything was going great.

Until Quinn got a call, out of the blue. From his contact in the Caucus, Elaine. A situation needing containing: a packmaster killed in suspicious circumstances, a hastily arranged pack contest.

In Houston, where those babies were burnt in their own home, just because their parents were twoeys.

The more I learned, the more the trip chilled me to the core. Quinn let slip mentally that the pack – Torn-Ear, didn't that name just inspire confidence – was notoriously volatile, and without a packmaster… Well, even Quinn was worried what they'd do. I didn't trust the local wolves anyway, having seen the grisly revenge that some of them were capable of in Lattesta's head.

"Are Tooth n' Claw still active down there?" I asked. Stupid vigilantes, stupid name.

"How d'you hear about them?" Quinn said, taken aback. The Caucus want that kept real quiet.

I gave him a brief account of my kidnapping.

"As far as I know," he said, "they've disappeared. Gone underground." Rumours about Torn-Ear, though...

"Torn-Ear is linked to those idiots?

"Maybe," Quinn admitted, not bothered that I'd heard him. I'd been honest about how easy that had gotten, another mistake from Sam I wasn't repeating. I reckoned Quinn was cool with it because he was comfortable in his own skin, furry or human. I liked that about him.

What I didn't like was the real bad feeling I was getting about his trip. "I have Stan Davis's protection. I should come, Quinn. I can read the locals, read the pack for you."

"No. It's too dangerous."

"Then you need an edge." He could be walking into a trap. The Chosen were clever, organised, and Quinn wasn't exactly low-profile. It took an hour of cajoling and insisting, but eventually he caved. I was going, as long as Meredith came along.

...

Lord knows how Meredith convinced Ursula to give us both time off. I didn't ask. Probably some fairy trick. The journey was frantic: scrambling for a direct flight, hiring a car, packing in an hour. My nerves were frayed before we even entered what I considered hostile territory.

Houston was intimidating, looming skyscrapers and traffic fender to fender. Scanning the minds around us as we drove through the city was a strain. Maybe I was paranoid, but Rhodes had given me a healthy respect for human hatred.

And I picked up plenty of anti-twoey thoughts.

Not that that was a shock. While I was in England a werewolf had been caught on camera attacking a Houston woman, in her home, in front of her children. I sympathised, having had similar experiences. In response local politicians were calling for registers of twoey businesses and notifications of twoeys moving in to a neighbourhood, that sort of thing.

How folk thought that would stop another big bad wolf ruining some kid's Christmas I didn't know. It wouldn't have stopped Debbie Pelt ambushing me in my own kitchen, but it would sure make it easier to target prominent twoeys.

Twoeys like Quinn.

The ugliness in Houston scared me. I was exhausted when we arrived at the condo. It belonged to a high-profile local twoey, only too happy to put us up if it got Quinn here faster. I didn't like staying there one bit. One search of the property register was all it would take to find out a twoey owned the place. Pictures of that burnt-out house swam before my eyes. Shivering, I pushed my telepathy out to its limits and checked the surroundings. Everything seemed clear.

After an uneasy night, we left early so Quinn could check the contest venue: a warehouse, desolate and abandoned, like the one Longtooth used. Quinn had no time to bring any fancy gear, so this would be a straight fight.

A cage fight. The cage sat in the centre of the dirty concrete floor, no padding on the bars, a thick layer of sawdust on its floor, and rust on the wires. Dark red rust. Probably rust. Quinn wrinkled his nose at it and I supressed a shudder.

Not rust.

No wonder the Caucus guy was worried. Quinn's shoulders rippled as he reached up to test the supports, and I lost myself in the past for a moment, a warm tongue licking my leg clean in another warehouse.

Shaking the memory away, I got to work. A mental sweep confirmed there was no-one outside. The two female Weres who'd let us in were setting up a table near the doors, intent on their task. The older one was slim and energetic. She had short brown hair with a few strands of silver, and laughter lines around her eyes. Her jeans were designer, her blouse expensive. The girl had the same colour hair, minus the silver, but she shopped at Wal-Mart.

"Y'all need any help?" I offered.

The woman glanced between me and Meredith, who was checking exits, her footsteps echoing across the cavernous space. "We got this, honey," she said kindly.

"I'm Sookie, by the way." I held out my hand, intent on reading her.

She shook it, quick and firm. "Liz Carter. And my niece, Brandy." Sookie. I know that name. Where from?

She was hiding something about Brandy, but otherwise she was on the level. Brandy was heading for the door so I couldn't use the same trick to read her. The girl was sullen, but that was written all over her face.

"You been to a pack contest before?" Liz asked, opening a tube of red plastic cups.

"Just one."

"If this one doesn't frighten you off, nothing will," she said wryly.

"Oh?" I kept my face mildly curious. "You expecting trouble?"

"Not with Quinn here. But Torn-Ear are a wild lot, especially this close to the moon. You ready for that?"

"Uh-huh." Full moon was two nights away, another reason Quinn hadn't wanted me here.

She glanced up from her task. "Quinn doesn't usually bring friends." Hope she's not a distraction.

"I'm watching his back."

Her eyes flicked to Meredith, who was quite obviously keeping an eye on me. Can't be much use to Quinn if she needs a guard herself.

I cursed silently, wishing Meredith was on better terms with discretion. Fairies didn't do low key, they thrived on attention. So did Brandy, who was flirting with Quinn for all she was worth.

Liz tutted under her breath. "Brandy," she called. "I need that other cooler from the truck. Now."

"All right, Aunt Lizzy. Jeez." Brandy scowled and stomped off.

Liz shook her head. "Teenagers. Sorry about that." Hasn't been the same since her dad died.

I shrugged. "Quinn is kinda well-known. He attracts attention."

"Must annoy the heck out of you."

"Sometimes," I admitted. Liz had a wedding band. "Your husband got a stake in this fight?

She straightened up. "My husband's dead. Car accident last year." Murdered. And Gary right after that… Her mind swirled with pain and grief, and I lost the thread of her thoughts.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hit a nerve," I said quietly. Gary. Her brother, Brandy's dad. The name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it. Deciding honesty would work better than beating around the bush, I met her eyes. "Liz, is there anything Quinn should know? Anyone that might cause trouble?"

She tilted her head. "Watch out for Red." Won't let him or his friends near Brandy.

"Red?"

"Thinks he's God's gift. Can't miss him, size of his ego." She rolled her eyes. "Everything's bigger in Texas."

Quinn stood at the door, stern-faced and laying down the law as the place filled up with red snarly minds, pulsing with anticipation. I got some odd looks. Humans weren't exactly welcome, but being Quinn's girl prevented outright hostility. I stayed near the drinks – no alcohol, no need to fuel the flames – and read men in biker jackets and women with grim faces as they came over in twos and threes.

I didn't picked up anything about the last packmaster's murder. Or about Tooth 'n Claw, but that was long shot. I could hardly drop their name. What I did get was a lot of wolf-pride, how twoeys were better than humans. And an image of that burnt-out house, followed by a rush of sympathy for Liz, who knew the family. That came from within a group, and I couldn't pinpoint the source.

Red, however, was easy to spot. Well over six foot tall, ginger hair, bulky frame and a loud, braying laugh. The son of one of the contenders, he was young, handsome, and a quarterback on one of the new twoey teams. Nasty attitude to women too, him and his hangers-on. Their minds left me feeling grubby.

Two of them were scoring the female pack members, including Brandy with the 'sweet little ass'. Fifteen year-old Brandy. She was chatting to an older girl, and flattered they all kept glancing at her. Good Lord, she was desperate for attention, poor kid. Red and his gang began joking, none too quietly, about who they'd like to 'do', attracting some stink-eye from older Weres, male and female. Quite a few were praying Red's dad didn't win.

I could see why Liz didn't want him anywhere near her niece.

When they began to discuss my charms, Quinn heard them, looked over at Red and growled. Just the once, his eyes flashing amber. They shut up real fast, but I breathed easier when they drifted towards the cage. Most of the pack followed, leaving me chatting quietly to Meredith. I happened to glance over at the cooler as a woman in a scruffy denim jacket stepped up to fill a cup.

Something about the scene jangled. Knowing better than to ignore my instincts, I looked again.

She was standing real close, hiding the cup she was filling with her body. I didn't hesitate, shifting to my left to get a better view, focusing on her mind. She was nervous, excited. Concentrating on her hands as she slipped something back into her jacket.

"Meredith, I'll take that," I said, snatching the empty cup from her hands. Walking briskly over to the trash bag tied to the table, I brushed past the suspicious woman, noting her dyed blonde hair and chewed fingernails as I locked onto her. I followed her with my eyes and mind as she walked away.

Be calm, be cool… Just a few minutes more... Gotta get the tiger to drink this…

Oh hell no! I darted after her.

Quinn was talking to the two contenders. He took the cup from her automatically, but he didn't lift it to his lips straight away. She stood at his elbow, waiting, bouncing on her toes.

"Don't drink that, Quinn!" I warned quietly as I came up behind him. "She put something in it."

The woman startled. She was about to bolt, but Meredith walked up behind her and grabbed her elbows firmly.

Quinn sniffed at the cup. "You sure babe? I don't smell anything."

"Check her jacket. Left side."

The bitch snarled and struggled in Meredith's grip. Quinn frisked her like a pro, pulling a vial out of an inside pocket. "This it?"

"Yep." I latched onto the woman's wrist, glaring at her. She spat insults but I ignored them, forcing myself into her mind and picking it clean. Outraged, I got progressively louder as I announced: "It's tasteless. Fast acting. Hard to trace. It could have been fatal."

Shit. Too many eyes on me. I lowered my voice, grabbing onto Quinn's arm to reassure myself he was still warm, still alive. "Nancy here was going to poison you, then plant the evidence on her fella, Jack. He cheated on her, then dumped her. She wants him torn to shreds."

I shuddered. She 'loved' him and that was what she wanted? Cheese and rice.

Quinn growled softly, dropped the vial on the floor and crushed it under his heel. "Babe, anything else?" he asked, jaw clenching. "Any other interference?"

I shook my head. I hadn't caught anyone thinking about sabotaging the contest. "Not as far as I can tell."

Quinn raised his voice. "This bitch tried to poison me. She shames your pack. How do you intend to punish her?"

There were growls of disapproval. A guy, small and dark, stepped forward. Jack himself, looking pained. "Wait. This is my fault."

I snorted. A broken heart didn't excuse murder. His or Quinn's. A rumble went through the crowd, but Jack straightened up, turning to them. "No harm was done," he called out with a bit more backbone, surprising Nancy enough that she stopped struggling.

"Only thanks to Quinn's woman," called a big guy wearing a bandanna and a battered leather jacket. He'd been talking to Jack a moment earlier. "I told you that bitch was trouble."

Jack called out again, louder. "Kick her out then. Abjure her. That's punishment enough. She's got family in Dallas. She'll go there. Right, Nancy?"

Nancy nodded furiously.

It was that or the fate she had planned for Jack. I wanted to smack her teeth in for endangering Quinn, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone, nor did I want to witness it. The rumble rose and fell as the pack came to a consensus. Quinn looked at both contenders, who nodded in agreement.

They were in a merciful mood. I was thankful; I wouldn't have to watch her torn apart.

Meredith released her grip and Quinn frogmarched Nancy none too gently out the door. I followed, checking she wasn't about to do anything stupid, but she was subdued, trying to work out why Jack had spoken up for her.

"Maybe Jack isn't a psycho," I muttered. She looked at me in surprise as Quinn pushed her outside.

Slipping his arm round me as we watched her sorry ass leave, Quinn whispered, "Thanks, babe. I shouldn't have taken that drink. If I'd gone down, they'd have rioted." Unruly fuckers.

I was appalled at how calm he was. "Quinn, you could've been–"

"I doubt it. Not the first time I've been poisoned." He grimaced.

"The pits?" He didn't talk about that.

"Yeah. I've got a strong constitution."

Before I could ask any more, Liz came over, shouldering her handbag, her niece in tow. Brandy was whining. "Why can't I stay? This is my pack. Dad's pack."

"You're not old enough," Liz said calmly, as if it was an argument they had often. Probably was. She nodded at Quinn, who nodded back and let go of me.

"Good to see you, Liz," he said. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." She smiled, reaching to shake my hand. She's a dark horse. Impressed she spotted what that bitch was up to. "You handled that well. Pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise Liz," I said. "You leaving?"

She nodded towards the cage, grimacing. "Yep. Not my pack."

"Oh. Right."

Bandanna guy waved at Brandy as they left. Quinn shut the door after them, slamming the bolt home. "Ready, babe?"

"Yep." I squeezed his hand, turning back to the room. I saw money changing hands, bets being placed. As if the stakes weren't high enough.

As we passed Bandanna guy he said to Quinn, "She should leave too. Too close to the moon, man."

Quinn hesitated momentarily, worried Nancy might hang around outside, waiting for me. "She stays. She can look after herself."

I appreciated that he hadn't made me sound weak.

The fight was brutal and bloody. Meredith and I stayed at the back, and I didn't look up until the crumpled loser was carried out, barely alive. Red and his gang were cheering his father's victory, the cheers deepening when two young women in robes came out of a side-room. Why had I thought this was a good idea? I knew what was coming next, and this time I only had one fairy to hide behind. I kept my eyes on the concrete, but the whooping alone made bile rise in my throat. Meredith stepped in front of me, and I looked up. Her eyes were wide, concerned.

Shit. Over her shoulder, I saw Red and his friends pawing at girls too. Clothes were being ripped aside. It wasn't just the new packmaster getting his rocks off. The place was about to go full-scale orgy on us.

"Get me out of here," I squeaked, ashamed of the fear in my voice.

Meredith popped us right into the truck. I was so relieved to be out of there and in a locked vehicle, I didn't even complained about the bruise on my rear end from the stick.

...

Quinn startled me awake when he pulled the truck door open, his eyes flashing in the dusk, his face not quite human. He leaned in and kissed me hard, his lust washing over me like a living thing.

He growled against my lips, "You okay, babe?"

Breathless, I could only nod, secretly relieved that his clothes were intact. He loped around the car. Judging by his mood, he'd kept control of himself inside, but now all bets were off. He was a tight ball of frustration.

Twice on the way back to the condo I had to ask him to slow the car. Once we were there, Meredith ducked out to get food. Quinn picked me up and carried me to our room, kissing me all the way.

"You okay with this?" he rumbled as we got to the bed.

"Uh-huh," I said through a mouthful of his neck, pressing myself against him. None of those bitches could have him. By the time Meredith came back we were tangled in a mess of sweaty sheets, both of us panting.

….

We left Houston unscathed, for which I was heartily grateful.

Two days later I got an irate call from Niall. Tennessee had broken the news of my trip, and hearing it from a vamp had not filled my great-grandfather with joy. Firm words were exchanged.

I snapped sarcastically, "Would you like written notification every time I sneeze, Niall?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. But I had hoped you would confide in me," he said stiffly, offended pride a definite undertone. "We are family."

"Oh. Honestly, the trip was such a rush I just assumed Meredith had told you."

Turned out she hadn't because he was respecting my wishes – I'd been adamant he wasn't to interfere in my life. Realising I'd been harsh, I apologised.

Niall sighed heavily. I imagined he was pinching his nose in frustration. "Child, is this something you want to do? Assist the tiger in his work?"

"I just wanted to keep him safe. Houston is not exactly welcoming to twoeys right now."

"The tiger can look after himself," he said sniffily. "There was no need to put yourself at risk."

"We're together, Niall. I'm gonna look out for him," I said warningly. He might be my elder, but that only bought so much respect, not blind obedience. Remembering him pooh-poohing Sam's lack of political clout I added, "You know, the Caucus wanted Quinn there. He commands a lot of respect amongst twoeys."

"Humph. It may have been a favour for the Caucus, but officially he was working for Special Events. Tennessee accused you of interfering in his business."

"Interfering? I was looking out for Quinn!"

"Of course. But I cannot be seen to be meddling in vampire affairs through you, and that is what Tennessee insinuated. He will turn the situation against you if you are not careful."

"So … I can't help Quinn out?"

He sighed again, unhappily. "There may be a way to circumvent Tennessee. The Italian asked to meet you. See what he wants, it may be to your advantage."

"What? I don't want anything to do with vampires!"

"Then don't involve yourself in their business, even if the tiger is up to his ears in it," he snapped. There was a pause. "It is time to learn how things work in our world, Sookie. A world you became part of when you accepted my protection."

I groaned. I knew that was going to come back and bite me on the ass.

"If you have your heart set on assisting the tiger," he continued, "you must negotiate a compromise you can live with. Unfortunately I'm needed elsewhere, but I have faith in you. Find out what the Italian wants, but agree to nothing."

"Fine. I'll handle it." I had plenty of experience telling vampires to get lost.

The Italian was sitting at a quiet corner table in Marcie's. He was very different from Tennessee at first glance. A solid man, turned in late middle age, grey-haired, with leathery skin and pockmarked cheeks. He was wearing an expensive suit, gold cuff links flashing as he stood to greet us.

"Come, come. Sit, please," he said, gesturing enthusiastically at the empty chairs and smiling warmly at us. If I didn't know better I'd think he was a human businessman buttering up some clients. Then he turned to the waiter, snapping his fingers imperiously. "The wine list."

As he turned back to the table steel flashed in his eyes and I glimpsed a whole different vampire, one that would smile like a shark as he snapped your neck. Power and threat rolled off him. He was used to be obeyed without question. More Godfather than friendly uncle.

And I didn't mean fairy godfather.

"Please, order," he insisted as the waiter handed me the list. He smiled broadly. "The wheels of commerce need lubrication, no? And in wine there is truth as my ancestors said."

Quinn was scanning the restaurant as he spoke. He brushed his hand against my knee, sending me mental flashes of what he'd seen. After I approved the wine – the Italian smelt it himself, commenting that he owned several vineyards – the waiter skedaddled, and the vampire began.

"My name is Lorenzo Bertolini." His voice was a rich baritone, with the wonderful lilt of Italian. "It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Stackhouse."

"I can't say as it's a pleasure for me. Not until I know what you want."

Bertolini laughed, a deep belly laugh. "Straight to the point. That is good, very good. So, I shall be just as blunt, yes?"

"Start with why you have men here," I said, indicating one of them with a tilt of my head. Three of them, all in suits, all armed Quinn reckoned.

"Si. My guards, Miss Stackhouse. I am, how you say, a long way from home. And," he leaned forward, "I do not trust Signor Bardulf. In this we are agreed, I think. It is why you won't work for him. No?"

"Perhaps."

"He has taken that poorly. But enough of that. I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You have a rare talent."

"My telepathy," I said coldly. Good Lord, didn't these guys get I wasn't interested?

"Yes, of course, but you don't pick a hunting dog just because he has a nose. A nose is useless without the ability to outwit his prey. The talent I meant was your intelligence, your quick thinking."

He was talking me up some, wasn't he? That made me wary.

He gestured between Quinn and me. "You make a formidable team. You dealt with the Houston situation very tidily." I wondered exactly how he'd heard about that. "I couldn't miss the chance to persuade you to work for us while I am here."

He could take a long walk off a short pier. I had Niall's protection, I didn't have to work for vamps. I folded my arms. "I'm not Tennessee's asset. Or yours."

He raised his hands. "Of course. That was Tennessee's mistake, he was heavy-handed. You Americans are notoriously independent. But you need not fear losing your autonomy, you have Brigant's protection. And what I am offering will not compromise your freedom."

"I don't want to work for Special Events." I wanted to protect Quinn, nothing else.

"But you already have." He glanced slyly at Quinn, so fast I almost missed it. "How much were you paid for Houston?"

Quinn stiffened, tension rolling off him.

The Italian sucked his teeth when I stayed silent, and wagged a finger at Quinn. "A shabby way to treat a woman of such quality, John Quinn. She acted as your bodyguard. You should have reimbursed her expenses at the very least."

Under the tablecloth, I dug my nails into Quinn's thigh to stop him growling and he cleared his throat awkwardly with a deep cough. I said firmly, "I insisted on paying my way, Mr Bertolini. It's what modern American women do."

"It was a business trip. And you protected our reputation. Imagine the embarrassment if Quinn here was drugged, unable to complete the task he was hired to do, and that pack meeting descended into chaos. Miss Stackhouse, we, the company, owe you." He slipped a hand into his jacket, and slid a check across the table. "Please, accept this for your time. It is not excessive."

A thousand dollars. It wasn't excessive, but it more than covered my expenses. I didn't lay a finger on it.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only that you consider my offer. I would like to hire you as a consultant, reporting only to the tiger. No permanent contract with us, no obligations to Tennessee. You can pick and choose your assignments, set your own terms within reason. Pay will be generous, but," he shrugged, "you must arrange health insurance and the like, pay taxes to your IRS. You will be, effectively, your own boss. A woman of your calibre should be in control of her own destiny, yes?"

I blinked. It sounded too good to be true.

He smiled, wide and toothily. "I see you have not considered such possibilities. These New World vampires lack flair, if none have offered you this. It would be more fulfilling than selling second-hand books, no?"

"I'm not interested," I insisted. I was intrigued, sure, and maybe slightly excited by the rosy picture he was painting, but he was a vamp. Even if my gut instinct was telling me I could trust him, I was still wary.

His dark eyes locked on mine. "Oh, I think you are very interested. I will leave you to think it over. Please, dinner is on me."

He left the check on the table. I didn't take it.

When we got back, I busied myself making coffee. Watching me, Quinn hung his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs and said, "You were quiet in the car, babe."

I turned to face him, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I had a lot on my mind."

He waited patiently while I ordered my thoughts. I liked that about Quinn.

Mr C's advice from months ago was rolling around my head: Negotiate from a position of strength. Bertolini was real eager to secure me, bending over backwards in fact. I figured that gave me a lot of leverage. I'd softened some when he flattered my intelligence, but his last comment was the one that hit home.

I didn't want to dust books all my life.

"Do you think Bertolini is on the level?" I asked.

Quinn shrugged. "You thinking of taking him up on it?"

It meant seeing more of Quinn, travelling… I could study around trips, put my telepathy to some use, keep him safe. Get paid.

"Maybe. If I stuck to twoey stuff..."

"You'd be safe enough," he finished. "Specially now you can read us better. We worked well together in Houston."

I smiled. "Yeah. We did."

He looked me up and down, smiling."You do bring a lot to the table."

"I do?" I took his coffee over. He wrapped an arm around my waist as he took the cup.

"Yes, you do." He squeezed my hips. "You're bored at the bookstore. Admit it."

"Maybe." I put my coffee down and ran a hand over his head and down his neck. He shivered. "Take me to bed, Quinn."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Spending Thanksgiving together was wonderful, but I missed cooking in Gran's kitchen. We planned to visit a few of Quinn's poker buddies at the weekend, have a few people over. I was so much happier than I'd been the previous year.

Even with Bertolini's offer hanging over me. A courier had delivered a thick contract, right before the holiday, with that damn check attached. I put it aside, lost myself in turkey and candied yams, the smells of home.

I found Niall sitting on the front step when I came back after a Black Friday shopping spree with Meredith and Donna. Quinn was an accommodating boyfriend, but I didn't expect him to traipse around two dozen stores with me on one of the busiest shopping days of the year. He was at a buddy's house. Niall tended to turn up when he wasn't around. And he still hadn't learnt to call first.

"Hi, Niall," I said cheerfully as I unloaded the car. "How are you?"

"Well. You are happy, child." He took some of my many, many bags and pressed a kiss to my head as I nudged the trunk shut.

I grinned. "A girl's gotta shop."

We dumped the bags in the den, and I ushered him into the kitchen and heated some leftovers for us. We compared holiday traditions as we ate. Fairies had some big autumn feast that came closest to Thanksgiving, and Niall approved of the traditions started by the Pilgrim Fathers when I explained them.

"So, what are you thankful for?" I asked.

He smiled. "Having you in my life, despite all the trouble you bring."

"Trouble?"

"Bertolini has made you an offer."

Oh. This wasn't a social call. "Yes. How d'you know?"

"He asked permission. He is more respectful than Tennessee," he said approvingly. "You are considering accepting?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Maybe. If I can be my own boss, no ties to the vamps. I can't see the harm."

Cocking his head, he examined me closely. "Whilst I am happy to see you taking a fuller role in our world, I worry for your safety. Shape-changers can be… ill-disciplined."

The orgy in the warehouse. I raised my chin defiantly. "I can look after myself."

"I admire your spirit," he said fondly. Then he spoilt it, adding, in a tone that brooked no argument, "Meredith must accompany you. I made that clear to the vampire."

He went over the contract carefully, showing me what to look for, checking I had an out or six. It was all very eye-opening. And strange. Supes were never that open. He was almost … helpful. In an indulgent, grandfatherly way.

Niall deemed it acceptable, with a few amendments. That was how I finally set foot in Oklahoma.

...

The Tulsa job was a trial run. True to his word, Bertolini gave me free choice of the trips Quinn had scheduled before Christmas. I chose the one least likely to involve trouble: a wedding. Between a witch and a packmaster's daughter. Her father's favourite daughter so it was a grand affair, but plenty of plain old humans were attending. It might even be fun. Canapés and champagne, not blood and broken bones.

A light dusting of snow covered the garden outside, and pale winter sunlight shone through the tall windows onto an abundance of white ribbons and flowers, but I had no time to admire them. The caterers were short-staffed – flu season – and I missed most of the unorthodox ceremony filling in for a sick waitress. Now I was circulating, listening to the twoey guests.

"Canapé?" I winked, offering Quinn my tray. He looked amazing in his tux.

Quinn grinned. "Thanks."Great having someone to talk to. Missed that when Frannie left. "Anything to report?"

I shook my head.

"Mm, these are good." He leaned closer to snag another and whispered, "Not as tasty as you in that uniform."

The skirt was short, and Quinn was a leg man. I laughed. "I'm not allowed to keep it, honey."

He opened his mouth to reply, but the bride's father came over to speak to him. I moved away to mingle. I didn't hear anything untoward, unless you counted some catty mental commentary about the bridesmaids' dresses. I went to get a fresh tray. Chicken wings this time, something meaty for the twoeys.

One of the older werewolves was watching Quinn intently, his thoughts a little more snarled than the usual. I made sure to brush his arm when he took a handful of chicken, wishing I hadn't when I got a blast of what was playing in his head. A pit fight: the crowd baying and a tiger, my tiger, smashing a wolf down onto the sawdust and tearing out its throat, blood spraying in an arc.

My stomach heaved as the old guy tore noisily into his chicken, but I stayed put while he licked his fingers clean and smacked his lips. I needed to find out if he was thirsty for revenge. If the murdered wolf had been a friend…

Nope. The old wolf was a fan. He admired Quinn, how viciously he fought. Nothing disturbing about him except his table manners.

And the brutal reminder my honey was a killer.

Seeing things I didn't particularly like about Quinn's past was inevitable. The more I worked alongside him, the fewer secrets he'd have. Those hitches from Amelia's spell were a rarity since Houston too: Quinn was letting me in, trusting me with more of himself, his life. That was a good thing. Secrets had done me no favours with Sam. I needed to know Quinn, warts and all. Try to accept him for who he was, bloody past included.

I squared my shoulders and dealt, moving on towards the bridesmaids. The human bridesmaids, who all hated the bride for picking green dresses. None of them wanted fried chicken, so I circled the room.

Two brunettes and the bride's mother were hanging on Quinn's every word. Twoey brunettes. Flirting. I could practically smell the lust evaporating off them. I made a bee-line for Quinn, but the groom and the best man stopped me. I willed them to fill their plates faster, smiling politely.

The bride's mother had a voice that carried. "Been a while since I've seen you in Oklahoma, Quinn."

Quinn shifted uneasily, aware of me watching him. I didn't catch his reply, but the brunettes were loud too. One giggled and simpered, the other said, "Wasn't it that big vamp wedding? The one in Okie City."

My heart sank to my kitten heels, the ones I'd worn for Quinn that were beginning to pinch. I locked on to her thoughts.

Yes, she did mean that wedding. I hadn't heard a whisper of that, not from Quinn's mouth or his thoughts.

Or had I?

Months ago I asked Quinn if Tennessee was friendly with Felipe, and he'd had one of those broken thoughts about Bardulf recommended him to Felipe for a job, something about bad blood between Quinn and … someone.

Damn Amelia and her spell. 'Someone' wasn't Felipe as I'd assumed, never questioning why on earth Quinn would want to work for him ever again. Felipe and Freyda were all buddy-buddy back then. 'Someone' was Eric.

That wedding hadn't cropped up once in Quinn's thoughts since we got to Oklahoma, which was mighty strange. Unless he'd been deliberately hiding it.

My eyes snapped to his violet ones. They were sheepish, regretful.

Pitying.

I turned on my heel and hightailed into the kitchen, my chest tight. I needed air. Once I was standing amongst the cigarette butts by the trash cans, I wondered why in the hell I hadn't expected it. Quinn covered Oklahoma. And vampire weddings. Of course he was there.

But it was a humiliation I wished to hell he hadn't witnessed. I shut my eyes, loathing the pity I'd seen in his. I was sure Felipe hired Quinn just to punish Eric some more for Victor's death. But why would Quinn agree? Did he–

Footsteps crunched on the gravel.

I whipped round, reaching out mentally: twoey, wolf, focused, alert. My eyes filled in the rest: medium height, stocky, buzzcut red hair fading to grey. The suit under his cashmere coat said wedding guest, but I hadn't seen him inside.

"Miss Stackhouse?" he said, stopping, hands raised, loose and empty. "You okay? Cold to be outside without a jacket."

"How d'you know my name?" Spotting another guy watching us from the corner of the building, I took two quick steps back towards the door, my hand going to the pager in my pocket. Meredith was seconds away. "Who's your friend?"

"Isabel Beaumont sent us to keep an eye on you. Couldn't come herself." He squinted at the sun to make his point.

"What for?" I backed up another step and he grinned, lopsided. From his emotions, he was impressed.

Staying where he was, he turned to his buddy and waved him off before he replied. "Keeping you in one piece. A certain fairy envoy threaten to kick Isabel's ass if anything happened to you in her territory."

"Oh. And you are?"

"Jephson. David." He looked pointedly at the space between us and back up at me.

Not reading any ill intent, I waved him closer. He took off his coat and offered it to me. Now he'd mentioned it, the cold was starting to bite so I let him wrap it around my shoulders.

"How's Isabel these days?" I asked, slipping my arms into the sleeves. Toasty. Weres and their hot blood.

He grinned again, boyishly. "Cold as a wet fish. You know her?"

I laughed. "That's vamps for you. Is she a good queen?"

"She's fair. Damn sight better than the last one."

My eyes widened, but before I could say anything the door opened behind me. We both turned. Quinn. His face hardened and he growled low in his throat.

"Boy, you ain't got big enough balls to be growling at me." Jephson, David, was amused, not a tense bone in his body. Not many wolves stayed relaxed when Quinn growled.

Quinn came up real quick, and wrapped an arm around me, tugging me back against him. He was not a happy kitty. "Jephson. I thought you retired. You bothering my woman?" I can take him this time. Fucker is ageing.

"I'm freelancing. She look bothered?"Jephson winked at me.

I rather liked him. Hiding a smile, I pulled away from Quinn. "Everything's fine. Isabel sent them."

"Them? What for?" Babe, if there's trouble nod your head.

I didn't. "Niall had a word. They're watching out for me."

"That's my job." He sniffed pointedly at the coat I was wearing.

Jephson shrugged. "The lady was cold."

"Come back inside, babe," Quinn said stiffly.

"Thanks for the coat, Mr Jephson." I handed it back over. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am." He tipped an imaginary hat at me.

Quinn snorted derisively and made for the door, tugging me along. I waved cheerily and called, "Say hi to Isabel for me."

I pulled away from Quinn once we were inside. He opened his mouth but I stopped him with a glare: a busy kitchen was not the place to talk. We had it out later that night, in the hotel room.

"First Destiny, now this," I said, angrily tying my robe closed.

"Babe, I didn't want to–"

"Rub it in?" My eyes narrowed at the streak of perverse glee buried under his regret. "We're in Oklahoma, it was bound to come up. I don't appreciate that kind of surprise."

"I didn't want to upset you," he insisted.

"Newsflash: you did. I don't want your pity, Quinn. Next time, just tell me the damn truth." I slammed the bathroom door, and flicked the shower on. I needed a moment alone after what I'd just seen in his head.

No wonder Quinn thought Eric would retaliate when I left Louisiana: I was right, it wasn't about me. It was their stupid feud. Quinn's motive for attending Freyda's wedding: sticking it to Eric, getting one over him. Not an attractive trait, and one Quinn had tried to hide from me.

He didn't get much joy. Eric appeared completely unflappable in his memory of the wedding. But I just knew Eric was keeping score. Vampires never forget.