A/N: Sorry for the long delay. For a while it was the usual real world stuff that got in the way and, then, I made the mistake of watching Askars in Straw Dogs. He was hot, for sure, but, well, that Charlie character totally mindfucked me for a bit. It was hard to get into the proper Eric and Sookie mindset when I still heard audio from the movie torturously running through my head. Not sure I'm really there yet but I had the yen to update this fic so it's a start. Oh, and thanks to a much invested reader who persistently messaged about updates to my True Blood tales, it was appreciated.
She felt hunted.
Relentlessly, she was chased by the luminescent eye that unerringly followed her wherever she trod tonight. The hungry caress flowed over every peak and valley of her form as if what tracked Sookie was going to consume her whole; the captivating force truly something inescapable. Surely, this was what her Gran would have called a Hunter's moon; perfect for the deadliest predators to stalk their unsuspecting prey under the nocturnal glow that blanketed the darkness like the false security of a child's flickering nightlight.
Logically, Sookie knew that this moon wasn't any fuller, rounder, or brighter than other ripe lunar orb's that ruled so majestically over the evening sky but, somehow, the autumnal curves always seemed tinged with a regal crimson rim that made it appear larger, like a shining crown that illuminated the nighttime's splendid glory. And, during the bountiful harvest of the fall hunt, the reigning sun dutifully submitted to the dark sovereign's call, gracefully bowed to its moonlit superiority seamlessly without the loss of enlightenment that earthly subjects travelled by.
It was purely a fanciful notion on her part. Foolish even, but, nonetheless, both the childhood belief and the luminescent shafts of light washed over her like a comforting hand- soothed, calmed, guided- her to the resting place of the woman that had bathed her in maternal love her whole life. Her Gran.
Gingerly, her sandal clad feet tiptoed around the rougher gravel of the well-trod path to her grandmother's graveside. She stuck to the drier, flat stretches instead of the parts with moister dirt and undergrowth to escape the jagged teeth of hidden rocks that would hungrily gorge on the tender soles of her feet if she wasn't careful. Her foundational pediments should have been hardened by all the hours she spent working upright, delivering a gluttonous amount of cheap Southern comforts, but, instead, her dainty extremities were merely tired and sore, not resilient.
Just like her other soul.
Anguish, sharp and torturous, cut clean through her as Sookie slowly came upon the clearing that was the earthly home of her deceased kin. Their tombstones were all lined up like a chain of dominoes that linked continuously for generations, from the first Stackhouse settler to her rake of an older brother, just waiting for her to fill the obvious gap in their dwindling line of posterity.
With watery eyes, she respectfully placed a sweet gay of handpicked wildflowers upon her grandmother's unadorned plot and whispered, "I miss you, Gran."
A soft rustling void in the woods seemed to cause a crisp but gentle breeze to lightly reach out and caress her cheek in silent answer to her heartbroken claim just like her beloved grandmother would have and, for a wistful moment, Sookie brokenly smiled toward the source before turning back toward the absent marker for her confession.
"I'm so sorry, Gran," she lovingly patted the thick carpet of verdant grass and bunches of clover that mounded over her matriarch's bed of dirt like a living quilt, stitched together one blade and petal of green at a time, just like her memories of the generous woman beneath it.
"I'm trying real hard to put the money together for your plaque," she dutifully promised, "but you know the water heater went last week and my old car blew a tire yesterday. Hoyt tried to plug it for me," she casually mentioned the kindness of her deceased brother's best friend, a nice Southern boy who felt responsible for looking after her now that her male kin had all passed, "but it didn't work and you know how his Mama carries on and such."
An owl seemed to hoot along in a mixture of merriment and disdain with her admission and Sookie automatically replied, "Yeah," with a roll of her eyes as if her Gran had actually responded. "Mrs. Fortenberry would have been sending out invitations to our fictitious wedding if I'd let Hoyt take a second crack at the balding thing. I couldn't let that happen," she regretfully added, "but I promise, I'll find a way to earn the money even if it means going back to that vampire bar I told you about tomorrow. I was probably just letting my imagination get the better of me anyway, you always said that they deserved far better than the paltry rights they'd been given so it can't be that bad if …" her words trailed off quickly as she suddenly felt an unhappy presence bearing down on her.
.oOo.
His blood called to him like a beacon in the night; pulsing, pounding, pulling Eric ever closer to the radiant light of his prey with each passing second. Wave after wave of greedy anticipation crashed over him, flooded his body with palpating eagerness, the heady expectation of sinking his hardened fangs into her warm, pliant, flesh and draining every last drop of shimmering ecstasy from her heavenly curves was nearly overwhelming. The thought was almost as invigorating as the promise of liberty from the cloying intimacy of her myriad feelings once more.
Her emotions had toyed with him all day like he was nothing but an insignificant plaything to be spun up by her all-consuming desire, brought low by her desolation, or simply be cast aside and abandoned to her whim and fancy as the spirited blonde moved throughout the tattered remnants of her mundane human existence.
It was simply an untenable situation; one that wouldn't plague him for much longer.
The dusky night seemed somehow insulted by the dilapidated squalor of the aged farmhouse below him that defiantly emerged from the pristine beauty of the clearing that surrounded it; shutters askew, paint worn and blistered from too many neglected days in the scorching Southern light. The only redeeming charm to the place was the aroma of perfume de Sookie that desperately clung to every clapboard and shingle with unerring tenacity as if it could somehow become a fragrant ornamentation broadening the rustic appeal of the place all while the unseen barrier of magic protected her lush womanly petals from him.
Fortunately for Eric; the distracting little temptation wasn't ensconced within those run down walls but, rather, was succulently displayed like a wanton target all alone just past this last stretch of woods.
Perfect.
Power surged through him as he landed with ease; his elemental dominance pumped incessantly within his immortal existence rapidly keeping pace with the thumping of her all too fallible heart. Each tantalizing pulse was like a mortal trail of bread crumbs for him to keenly follow through the dark maze of underbrush.
Expertly, he pursued her airy brilliance through the dense foliage, her compact curves gleaming brightly under the sparkly cloak of recognition cast by the moonlight. The thin fabric of her dress delineated every taut peak and supple valley of the naturally unadorned body supposedly hidden beneath its demure covering.
Instantly, his fangs distended to their maximum girth, long and thick, spurred by an all too needy anticipation of the liquid freedom that swirled in her sunny depths as he put one foot purposefully in front of another in his rabid quest for eternal liberation.
His well-trained movements were sinuous, silent, and positively lethal as Eric slipped between aged timbers, adeptly avoiding the telltale snap of low hanging branches until his luscious quarry stopped him undead in his ancient tracks with the tiniest fleck of movements.
She didn't forestall him with tactical evasive maneuvers or cunningly outflank him by stratagem. Oh, no, his luminous belle of savory light overpowered his innate hunger for the feral hunt with just the faintest quirk of her forlorn little lips.
At once, Eric's brow furrowed in disconcerted astonishment over his unfamiliar hesitation.
He couldn't believe it; a millennia of vicious reprisal almost felled in an instant by a fucking smile that spread over him like warm honey, dripping a decadently charming radiance that was unrivaled by any other human confection.
Her captivating grin had targeted him through the camouflaging woods as if the brazenly foolish innocent knew that he was there, was fully aware of the bloody danger he wrought, and welcomed him anyway as the longing intimacy of her smile wrapped around the desolate stretches of his soul bringing the shimmering sweep of her affable nature to all of his hardened extremities.
There wasn't even a tendril of fear stalking her as Eric's budding nocturnal bloom presented him with a spectacular view of her finely gilded backside and continued along with her graveside chat like she was merely seated across a well-used kitchen table sharing newsy gossip with a half consumed mug of coffee in her hands.
It was wholly peculiar and, yet, the sanctity of the night entwined her richly intoxicating smell with her bittersweet words in a seductively compelling manner that held him curiously enthralled by the melancholy and resolute determination that simultaneously danced through her veins like the most practiced of partners as Sookie adeptly sidestepped acknowledging her dual emotions presence even in her own one-sided conversation.
Oddly enough, it was beguiling that the tantalizing beauty could blatantly lie to everyone, including herself, but she'd never be able to fool him with her deceptive gentile manners. This enticing woman was a veritable quandary, a living and breathing conundrum, but also a supremely rare vintage of human purity all packaged in a delectable sweetness that was surely any vampires candied perfection.
And, yet, she wasn't just any super naturals' for the taking he provocatively realized; Sookie was already his.
Superior satisfaction virtually purred from him because his blood had already dominantly claimed the exquisite creature; a lesson that the mangy shifter suddenly crowding his little bit of honeyed sunshine would soon learn one way or another.
.oOo.
"Thought I'd find you here," her shaggy haired boss drawled with concerned understanding, "but you shouldn't be out here alone at night especially under this moon."
"I'm just sitting with my Gran a spell," she dutifully explained trying to allay the worry that viciously swam in dark red circles in his mind, "besides nothing ever really happens in Bon Temps."
"Let me help you, Cher," Sam desperately offered as his glance slid meaningfully to the empty space where a piece of distinguished granite should have rested proclaiming the beautiful existence of a now saintly departed soul. "With your brother gone, you got no menfolk to handle things." He lowly pled, "Let me take care of this for you."
"I can't let you do that, Sam," she quickly denied with a false smile softening her blunt refusal. "You're my friend and it might change things between us," she faltered not wanting to hurt her long-time confidante but also knowing that he did, in fact, want those very changes she had strived so hard to avoid in the past. And, now, the barmaid certainly wasn't interested in a deeper kind of intimacy with her employer after the steamy shower of perfection she'd taken earlier today.
"But as my boss," she steadily continued forcing that distracting recollection from her mind, "I'd sure appreciate any shifts that come available when someone calls off."
"Sure, cher," Sam gave her a tight smile that could have probably doubled as a grimace of pain.
Sookie knew that it wasn't just the full moon wreaking havoc on his peace and calm but she didn't dare tip the scales of the precarious balance they'd barely been managing of late by mentioning anything else on the subject. Instead, she let the nocturnal lullaby of nature gently sooth the agitated silence between them as her boss tried to regain control over his wandering carnal thoughts.
Once the tense moment had passed, Sam asked like a gentleman should, "Walk you back?"
"Sure," she conceded not wanting to alter the delicate equilibrium they had just achieved again so soon. However, as Sam's feral growl unexpectedly snarled over her flesh; Sookie wondered if they'd ever be on amicable footing again as her palm connected sharply with the hairy cheek of the man who'd just tried to steal a very proprietary kiss.
.oOo.
That slap had been haughty, indignant, utterly self-righteous and hot as fuck.
His human was as delicate as a lacy bloom, her gentle swells as supple as a fresh picked petal, her scent headier than the pungent aroma of a hothouse bed but when you got sweet little Sookie riled, hell, the spirit of the South rose again with the fiery steel forged in the sexy curve of her backbone.
He'd almost felt sorry for the dirty shifter. Almost.
That is, he might have if Eric hadn't witnessed the two natured mutt lean in for a surreptitious sniff of a treat that didn't belong to him. Easily, he'd recognized the possessive fury that had fueled the dog's futile actions but the shifter was contemptible in the shallow gene pool sort of way if the canine truly thought his humping kiss could override the alpha claim of Eric's bloody scent.
Yes, thwarting the scraggly shifter was a nice perk but the real prize of the night was the coveted knowledge that Sookie was his for the taking whenever he desired. When the savage whim to sink fang deep into her virginal form and gorge on the juicy red nectar of her blood struck him again, Eric could salaciously suckle until she was parchment dry to the marrow of her fine bones and no supernatural could deny him that right.
The notion made the Sheriff's bloodless evening almost replete as he prowled the woods and clearing near her home inhaling her unique scent that still glistened like morning dew over nearly every scrap of the tree lined landscape she'd fled along. With each divine whiff, Eric sternly reminded himself that he'd only granted his incomparable delicacy a short reprieve so that she could see fit to properly memorialize her kin.
After all, that honorable pursuit was something that the once human warrior in him could relate to after a millennium of guilt had lashed across his vampire constitution until he'd been able to avenge his family's brutal destruction.
Yes, respecting the need for proper burial customs to be completed was a justifiable delay to his current way of thinking because it hadn't been his bottle of sunshine's fault that she'd unknowingly swallowed a sip of what had become barely diluted torture for him.
Besides, Eric imperiously decided; his self-imposed fortitude could use a bit of reinforcement and withstanding the incessant urge to devour the Southern delicacy that sashayed a potpourri of her pungent emotions through him would make for one thoroughly exacting test of his willpower.