Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them.

A/N: Thanks again for all your reviews and PM's. I do read all of them, and I love hearing your thoughts, especially as you take the time to read mine.

Chapter 9

Reality settled slowly in about me. I was shaking something fierce, and for a long moment, I thought that I had just lived through a battle, and not just had the best night of my young life in the arms of the man who loved me, and whom I loved, in spite of myself. The violent vision left me confused and full of a sense of foreboding. I forced myself to take a deep calming breath, and my chest ached with the effort. When my heart stopped racing, I could feel Eric through the bond, his proximity, his deep contentment, and I knew that he was sleeping in the hidey-hole in the next room. Thankfully, he was not on my lawn, with Pam and his vamps, engaged in a swordfight for his life with the king. But had he been?

Even in the light of day, I was not so sure, and my eyes were drawn to my bedroom window, where the afternoon sun bounced lightly off the windowpanes. The compulsion to look was strong, and I threw back the bedcovers, and slowly swung my feet to the floor. After a marathon night with a libidinous Eric, I just didn't have the legs for rushing, even though I wanted to do so. However, I managed just fine. At the window, I carefully searched my lawn for remnants of the carnage I had witnessed, in what I was still convincing myself, was just a dream. I sighed heavily when all I noted about the grass was that it was still brown from the frost earlier this month. There were no greasy remains of Victor to be seen, and no dried blood splattered across the gravel in my driveway. Although it was not very Christian of me, I wished that that part of my dream had been a reality. If I knew anything, it was that Victor's intentions toward me were not good, and given the opportunity, he would use me in the worst way. I was not a fool, and I knew that Eric was the only thing standing between myself and the new Boogeyman. How long could my Viking keep the truly evil things away from me? I didn't want to know…not really.

I moved slowly away from the window, still troubled by the dream and my thoughts, and went to take a well-needed shower, hoping it would somehow wash away the dream's lingering unpleasantness. I noted the clock on the nightstand next to my bed, as I passed, and registered with a little surprise, that it was nearly three in the afternoon. It had been a long time, since I had had a legitimate reason to sleep in, and I had almost slept the day away. For the first time, since I had awakened, I let myself be truly happy about what, or rather who, had exhausted me so surely: Eric. He had stayed with me, instead of returning to Shreveport, although he had been obliged to fold himself into that uncomfortable space that had been made for a smaller man. Eric would wake later and assure me that the fight had been a dream and not some telepathic vision, and that we were both safe in his part of Louisiana. At least, that's what I was hoping for, and it went a long way to making me feel better. Eric went a long way to making me feel better. I made a mental note to myself that I wanted to wake up every day, having been exhausted by Eric the night and morning before. I just wondered if my body could take it. I smiled to myself, acknowledging what any red-blooded woman would when it came to Eric: the body was going to happily suffer through it all. Night after night.

Several hours later, I was lazily relaxing on the steps of my front porch, in a navy blue wool sweater, and my favorite pair of threadbare jeans. I'd washed my hair and it lay free and golden about my shoulders. I hadn't bothered with shoes, but I had two pair of wool socks on. I hadn't gone any further than my porch, today, and that was fine with me. I was on my second cup of hot chocolate and finishing up a warm slice of pecan pie that I'd found in my refrigerator. The sugar took the edge off my earlier nerves, and I was enjoying the brisk air, and the last hour of sunlight. The shadows were lengthening and the night was coming on. I had let the nightmare go. Well, not entirely, but enough to have some peace of mind. I felt good, really good. I found myself thinking, that despite my prior bout of unease, that this was the happiest I had been since before my grandmother's death. I didn't think that it was possible, and I wondered realistically how long it would last. I didn't want to anticipate the bad, but I knew it usually waited around the corner for me. Eric's simple reason for all the bad stuff in my life came once more to mind: 'You must be living wrong.' I wasn't sure if that was the cause of my pessimism, but I blamed a few rather intense beatdowns for my feelings. It was sort of like that line that you always hear at funerals, 'In the midst of life, we are in death.' I always thought that that was the most depressing saying ever. It was sort of like, no matter what you did, you really couldn't win…I guess that's just my own interpretation.

Looking down, I flexed my feet, and stared unseeingly at my grey socks. I took another sip of chocolate and made myself concentrate on the good things in my life. I didn't have any bruises; I had Eric; I had a home, and some friends who cared about me. They might not be pleased with my choices, but they still cared. I didn't get much further on my list because a blue Impala interrupted the silence, when it pulled up in my driveway. I put my cup down slowly, but I remained seated as Bobby Burnham, Eric's daytime man, got out of his car, went around to the trunk, opened it and took something out before slamming it shut. Curious, but unwilling to delve into his mind, I watched as he approached me with two black leather suitcases in hand. Bobby was as pale as ever, and as lacking in personality. He didn't like me, and I wasn't wasting good manners on him. I didn't get up, and there was no welcome in my face. I even leaned back on my hands and looked up at the darkening sky, as a flock of birds passed high above. I didn't know what they were, but they were more interesting than Bobby.

"Evening, Miss Stackhouse," he said.

I nodded. "Bobby. Movin' in?"

I could see him struggle to keep his face blank, but he did nothing to still the shudder that racked his frame. Clearly, I was distasteful to Bobby. It was mutual. He was a sycophant, for sure, but he was a whiz at handling things during the day for Eric. In my opinion, Eric could do better in the major domo department. But no one had asked my opinion.

"No. My master asked me to bring these, today. I am to leave them with you. He will explain as soon as he awakes." Oh, would he?

I sat up a little straighter, and squinted at Eric's flunkey. "So, let me get this straight, Eric called you this morning, and told you to bring his clothes over?" My voice was sarcastic and rife with disbelief. I could see his cheeks turn red, as he flushed with anger.

"No. He left a note last night. I was to pack these in the event he was not in residence today."

Not in residence? Well, he hadn't gone home, he was in hidey-hole. Leave it to Eric, to think, ever so arrogantly, ahead!

"Bobby, you can just go put those back in your car, and drive on back to Shreveport. Eric won't be needing them!" I told him disagreeably, as I was about to hop onto my high horse. Bobby closed his eyes and it looked as though he were trying to count to ten. He was counting!

I sat back, ignoring him, again, and taking a few calming breaths myself. My high horse waited patiently. I was going to have a few words with the "Master," and soon. I glanced again at the sky; twilight had descended and Eric would be up soon. In the meantime, I had a few more words for Bobby.

"So, lover, am I to take it that you like me better naked?" said Eric from behind me.

I hadn't heard him come up behind me; he could move so silently, when he chose. Besides, I had been busy annoying Bobby, I hadn't listened for anything else. I jumped up and nearly out of my skin at his teasing voice. And then I was being lifted, as though I weighed nothing, to the porch, by large hands that spanned my waist. My stiff back was pulled up against a broad chest, as Eric settled me back against him, his thick arms wrapping gently around me. His long jean-clad legs bracketed my own, as he stepped into me, the bulge in his jeans pressed firmly against my back. I braced my hands against his thighs, as he buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. With his chin, he shifted my hair aside and his lips grazed the side of my neck, that little hollow behind my ear. My heart began to hammer away, and I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin, as I'm sure he heard it, felt it. Eric never played fair, and I was still undecided as to whether that was a fault or not. However, I had other things on my mind…

"Oh, no you don't, buddy--" I began.

Lifting his head, with the briefest of sighs, Eric interrupted me, as if I wasn't speaking. "Bobby, put those over there," he nodded toward the end of the porch, his beautiful blond hair falling in his face as he did so. He must have taken a moment to brush it, because it looked silky, and far too touchable. "If all else is in order, leave us. I will call you later, when I am… able." Yes, there was a pregnant pause, if ever there was one, before that last word. His cheek stroked my hair, and a distinct purr rumbled happily in his throat. I blushed scarlet, as I caught a whiff of Bobby's thoughts, which transmitted loudly across the short distance between us.

"Everything has been completed as you wished, Master," Bobby said formally, as he hastened to place the cases on the porch. He was all too ready to leave, as if he thought that if he lingered, he'd witness Eric and me bumping pelvises on the steps. He didn't look up, as he bowed to Eric, and I rolled my eyes.

"Good night, Master. Miss Stackhouse." Pervert, I thought back at him.

The moment he turned around in my drive, and drove away, I twisted in Eric's sweater-covered arms, so that I could see him. I got a glimpse of almost preternaturally burning blue eyes before he took advantage of the situation, immediately placing his cool lips on mine, and gently opening my mouth with his tongue. There was no petition, just a resumption of a previous claim, as he groaned deep in his chest and turned me fully about, without pausing in his innuendo laden perusal of my mouth. As if in emphasis, one large hand slid down to my behind, caressing and pressing me closer to the hard line of him. Maybe there was something to be said for Bobby's thoughts of Eric and I on the steps. I stopped thinking as he, rolled his tongue about mine in a roguishly erotic manner, which evoked images of us tossing about on satin sheets, lithe limbs twining, bare bodies straining to get closer… I could feel my toes begin to curl, and I tangled my fingers in his hair and held on, losing myself in the persuasive power of his truly gifted tongue, teeth, lips… Several long, remarkable moments later, he broke the kiss, his cool breath wafting gently across my heated lips. Somewhat disconcerted, I opened my eyes, and stared up into his rather pleased face.

"Hello, my lover. I have missed you," he offered, his voice thick, his hands shifting and sliding beneath the edge of my sweater, caressing the warm skin of my waist. I was still trying to string a thought, or two, together, remember my name. This man knew how to weaken me, take my breath. Bond or no bond, he got me.

"Hi, yourself," I managed, finally. He chuckled softly, as he stared into my eyes, seemingly amused and entranced by something he read there.

Raising one eyebrow, he asked quietly, "Dear one, now, what is the issue with our luggage?"

I gathered my scattered wits. I needed a little distance in order to think properly, and although every cell screamed against my actions, I pushed free of him, my sudden movement surprising him so much, that he let go, his hands sliding away, leaving my body bereft. From a few feet away, I looked up at him accusingly and pointed to the expensive leather bags on the porch.

"Exactly what are those for?"

"Clothing, shoes…" Smart ass.

Not amused, I continued to glare at him in stony silence.

Nonplussed, he executed a feline stretch, which had my stomach tightening in response, before he relaxed his back against the white post to his right. I watched, transfixed, as he oozed sex appeal. He knew what the cling of his sweater did for his chest. If anybody knew, it was Eric. I swear he looked like he was posing for some shot in GQ-the Hot Vamp edition! He was trying to distract me. I had to look away, when he stroked his hand, nonchalantly, down his wool covered chest, the planes of his flat stomach, his thighs… but not before I caught his knowing smile.

"Eric, stop that. I'm serious. What's going on? Why do we need clothes? Are we going somewhere? When?" Focus.

He met my eyes, briefly, guilelessly, before allowing his gaze to wander appreciatively down my body. "Yes, we are taking a short trip, and it is necessary to leave tonight."

"Tonight? Eric, I can't just pick up and go! I have a job; Sam depends upon me. When were you going to ask me? And I hope you're prepared for a "no!" I could hear the panic in my voice, and I tried to calm myself.

"I would have asked you, last night. However, we had other things on our minds…I was…sidetracked. As for you saying no," he shrugged. "I hope you will not."

Sidetracked, my ass. "Where did you think I was going with you?"

"Sookie, we need a little time together, so we can discuss the implications of our bond." It wasn't what he said, that I didn't believe. I was worried about what he wasn't saying.

"Eric!" It was nearly a scream of frustration. "Don't bullshit me. Why can't we do that here? In Shreveport? What's the hurry? What aren't you telling me?"

He moved so quickly, he was a blur. In a blink, I was back in his arms. I yelped in surprise as his lips brushed my ear, and he whispered, his voice cool and commanding, "Relax, Sookie. There are things we must do. You must trust me, my lover. I will tell you everything, when I can. However, we leave this evening. It is arranged."

Now I was scared, and I took an obligatory step back. He released me, his hands sliding loosely to my hips, and I looked warily up at him. My dream rushed back, and suddenly it didn't seem so far-fetched, it seemed probable. When I would have spoken, he gave a negative shake of his head. I could not see his eyes, but I could feel a different urgency in him.

Suddenly his eyebrows arched in a familiar gesture of displeasure, as he lifted his face in the direction of the graveyard. He canted his head, inhaled, and I glimpsed his fangs run down. His face became stony. What the…?

"Sookie, are you all right?" Bill said, in his cold voice, from some point over my right shoulder.

For the first time that night, I felt the evening's chill. I, oh, so didn't need this right now.