I can see their reaction as my heart speeds up. The vampires know I'm frightened. They can hear my blood pumping through my veins. It must be like an aphrodisiac for them. A few crack slow smiles at me, and I find myself glancing around nervously, trying to act like I don't notice. But honestly? I'm pretty flattered. Their expressions suggest more than just "ooh, an unattended snack." Rather, they say "a pretty unattended snack." Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I'm pretty sure that one vamp at the bar wants me for more than my blood. Well, I can't help but go warm with feminine pride at this idea. He's quite a looker.
I think my emotions will be the undoing of me. Eric's abrupt departure has for some unknown but surely stupid reason made me feel a little rejected. As a direct result, my subconscious decides that if Eric wants nothing to do with me anymore, than I want nothing to do with him, and that to prove it I will be as reckless as imaginable with the nearest receptive male. So I cross my legs delicately, straighten my spine, and send the most sensual smile I can conjure up right back.
The vampire at the bar picks up his drink hardly two seconds after and strolls over to where I'm seated. It's hard to be sure from this angle, but it's doubtful he's much taller than I am. He has an East Mediterranean appearance, with short scruffy hair and an angular nose. He looks like … a Greek god. Chiseled to perfection, but more lithe than muscular. Which is nice. It suits him.
I suck in a quiet breath as he sits beside me.
He leans in as he asks in a low voice, "Now what's a sweet little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?"
"I really couldn't tell you." An honest, but distracted, answer. I'm busy cataloging everything I'm wearing. Cute summer dress, strapless. Deep blue with yellow and white floral swirls. On top of that a short-sleeved red cardigan. I have a pair of silver flowers in my ears and no other jewelry. Underneath … hmm, orange boyshorts and a fleshtone bra. I really do need to get around to buying more matching sets. But it could be worse.
"You don't belong to anybody here?" He takes my chin in his hand now, gently, and moves my head from side to side. Checking my neck for bite marks. I trust my makeup is still effective in covering Eric's teeth marks.
Which leads me to a horrifying thought. I haven't seen my face since before we left Bon Temps. What if my mascara has run? What if my eyeliner got smeared and my tasteful eyeshadow creased? So much can go wrong when it comes to makeup.
Since I can't really do anything about it right this moment, I crush down these concerns and give a flirtatious little laugh against my better judgment. "No, not me. I'm single and free."
He grins widely. "That's what I like to hear."
Eric
Marguerite, Daisy, whatever — is becoming a nuisance. Though I've attempted to explain my actions to myself, I can't rationale why I even brought her here. My half-formulated plan, developed as I watched her go from room-to-room in her house (stubbornly avoiding inviting me in), was to use her as my temporary assistant, biographer, and unwilling blood donor. However … I must admit I have no real need for an assistant while away from Pam, and I'm undecided as to whether I want a biography. There are a thousand years she has missed of my life, and I don't care to provide her with those details. The last point, then, is the most important. Though she allowed me a taste in Fangtasia, she certainly hadn't enjoyed it. I smile to myself at the memory. It's so rare these days to get consent and a struggle.
Her blood itself is something. Two aspects of it combine to make her unusually, though not singularly, good. The first is her iron deficiency. Though healthy blood is the most filling and satiating, iron-deficient blood has a strangely sweet and light flavor to it. I've tasted it before, and though it isn't something I particular value, in Marguerite it is oddly … refreshing. Her innocence is the second aspect. She is not a virgin; I can taste that much. But the limits of her experience I cannot define, and she tastes younger and newer than I know her to be. There could be several explanations for this. She could have lost it very recently and the experience may not have been anything to her; she could have lost it during foreplay and yet not have "gone all the way," although I'm fairly certain this is not the case. I find myself curious about it.
At the very least she would serve as a distraction, something I've needed lately. Despite all her feeble attempts to hide it from me, I know she's terrified merely by my presence, and I had high hopes that she would put up a good fight the next time I chose to drink from her. Unfortunately, as it happens, now that's changed. Now she's a friend of Sookie's and I may not be able to mistreat her the way I planned. Marguerite has complicated matters … or perhaps Sookie has.
They both have.
Sookie is already bound by her promise to complete this mission, but I hesitate to test that woman. She is merciless when it comes to those important to her. I doubt she will continue to work for me if I harm Marguerite, and I need her too much to risk losing her over a fleeting interest in the writer.
This doesn't mean I can't play with Marguerite at all. I just have to be … careful about it.
"Can I buy you a drink?" the Mediterranean Undead God asks me with such a disarming smile I couldn't say no if I wanted to, and I definitely don't want to.
"Cosmopolitan," is my answer. Oh yes, tonight I'm a pro at this.
Alexandros, as he introduced himself, stands gracefully and winks at me as he moves off to the bar. I take this moment to consider what I'm doing. It's reckless, stupid, etc. etc. But it's exciting. I never intended to get involved with Eric the way I'm throwing myself in with Alexandros. Eric frightens and frustrates me, but this man makes me feel rebellious and cool. He could kill me easily, I am still aware of that … I'm just not afraid. A thought crosses my mind though … am I a slut if I let two different vampires bite me in under a week?
Two and a half cosmos later, I'm not sure how I got to this point. He is awful close to me. I … mmm, I feel nice. My brain is kind of fuzzy and warm and … and his hands are cold. And on my arms, lifting me up. I think I'm drunk.
Haha, wow, I'm stupid.
"Where are we going?"
He pulls me close and guides me out of the bar. I stumble clumsily but Alexandros doesn't let me fall. What a gentleman. "I thought you'd might like to see my room," he says.
I giggle girlishly. "Why?" I ask, leaning into him. "Is it different than the others?" I laugh outright.
He doesn't answer me. In the elevator I'm promptly pushed against the wall and kissed, but for some reason I find the whole situation incredibly amusing and I just start laughing again. I try to contain myself and take this seriously, but suddenly I'm extremely ticklish and as Alexandros starts to trail kisses down my neck I crack up. I feel lightheaded and silly, but that just makes it even funnier.
"Hush," he tells me, his voice husky. His hands are groping up my sides and the coolness of his skin is giving me goosebumps.
"Haha. Shh shh shh." I hold my finger up to my pursed lips, thinking I must look really cute and doe-eyed like this.
Alexandros shifts against me and shushes me a second time. His body is pressed clean to mine, and I giggle when I hear his fangs slink out. I never noticed how sexy that sound is. I laugh harder at that thought because it's so ridiculous. It's like I thinking putting my life in jeopardy is hilarious. Which it isn't, except right this moment.
The elevator stops with a soft chime, and I hear the doors slide open. Alexandros's fangs are pressing into my skin one second, and then he's gone. His weight was holding me up, and in his sudden absence I crumble to the floor — still in a drunk hysteria. When I open my eyes and look up it hits me why everything he was doing to me only made me laugh.
He is nothing compared to Eric, and Alexandros is seeing that for himself now too.
"Oh, shit." I've never sobered up so fast in my life.
Eric is standing in the doorway, fangs out, holding a squirming Alexandros back by his scruff as he glares at me. "Daisy." The nickname is used to demean me. It's young and girlish, and in this state — I note that my cardigan has mostly slipped off —I'm no longer sophisticated Marguerite.
He tosses Alexandros into the corridor, who stumbles but rights himself almost immediately. "She said she didn't belong to anyone!" he shouts, visibly ruffled. But he doesn't come forward to confront Eric directly.
Eric and I both ignore him. I have to practically climb up the wall to get to my feet. He only watches with that accusatory glare of his. "I did nothing wrong!" I protest as though I've been convicted of a crime.
I sway forward and catch myself against the doorway. I think my eyes are pleading against my will. I feel like I'm in so much trouble right now, but I don't really understand why and I wish I felt more angry than scared.
A moment passes and he turns away from me to Alexandros. "Is this your floor?"
Alexandros shakes his head, so Eric glides out into the corridor, picks him up, and pushes him into the elevator. He then grabs me and practically yanks me out. In my heels I trip, and with a small yelp I land on my knees at his feet.
Before the doors close on Alexandros, Eric growls at him, "Marguerite is not available to you."
For a second I don't dare look up at Eric. On the surface I want to say I'm baffled by his reaction, but my goal was to upset him, wasn't it? I suppose I just didn't expect such a childish plan to work. In retrospect it was a pretty bad idea.
Eric hauls me up by my upper arm and drags me into our room. I've never been handled so roughly in my life!
"Eric," I begin as soon as the door shuts behind us, but he doesn't allow me much chance to say anything else.
"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Eric's voice is low. Even through the fuzziness in my brain, I can pick up something in it he's trying to hide. Restraint? My immediate conclusion is that he's trying to restrain himself from killing me. It doesn't really make sense considering the circumstance, but I'll dwell on that later.
I fold my arms across my chest. "I wasn't aware my life was any concern of yours."
"It isn't," he says easily. "But I'd rather not be held responsible for your death."
Well, gee. "How could you be held responsible? I'm my own woman. What I do with myself is my responsibility."
"Not when you're under my care."
"I'm not under your care! I'm just … here."
"You'll not leave this room without me, understand?"
That floors me. What fucking nerve. "Excuse me? You have no claim on me, Eric! If I want to go out and sleep with any vampire I want, I can. Just because you —"
I'm interrupted when Eric slams his body against mine. Violently, my hair is pulled back and I feel that quick pierce as his fangs penetrate the unmarked side of my neck. I gasp, "Eric!"
I writhe in his grip uselessly. "Stop it. Stop it!"
Eric holds fast and continues to drink. When he finally pulls back, he hangs onto my hair and tilts my head so that I have no choice but to look him in the eyes.
"From now on, if anybody asks, you will tell them you're mine."
My nostrils flare. My heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest I'm so terrified, but I can't just take this treatment lying down. I wasn't raised to be a subservient little woman. I was raised to be a high-powered bitch. "I'm not."
"It makes no difference. You will not cover these marks the way you —" he touches the other side of my neck — "managed to conceal these. You will not tell another vampire you are available."
"You have no right to make such commands."
"Don't test me, Marguerite. I paid for your ticket and I'm paying for you to stay here. If you want to be left to find your own way home, then by all means disobey me."
Damn it. "You're a prick," I tell him.
He smiles at me.
I shove past him (he allows it) and sort of sway over to the bathroom. Oh, right, I'm drunk. "I'm going to take a shower."
A beat passes and I'm almost there when I hear his sardonic voice say, "Where's your notepad, Daisy?"
Ugh.
After a hazardous trip back down to the bar with Eric to fetch the notepad — the location of which Eric could have found on his own — I'm delighted to see we actually have a bathtub. At a time like this nothing could be better.
In reflection, I feel almost grateful for Eric's inopportune interruption in the elevator. If not for him, I'd have gone through with it all the way. I probably would've felt kind of shitty about it, too, but now that I didn't do it … I'm pissed at him. How does he get off stopping me from getting it on with a sexy Greek vamp and then ordering me around as though I were his personal bitch?
I want, very much, to disobey him. I want to throw his stupid rules in his face and parade around the bar with a big sign that says I'M FREE HAVE A BITE hanging from my neck. But there are monetary issues to consider. I haven't gotten my first paycheck yet. I'm living off leftover money from a part-time job I had last summer and a few Christmas checks. I can barely afford my rent, let alone a plane ticket and a taxi ride back home.
So I'm going to have to be good. For the most part.
Eric isn't in the room when I finish my bath, which I'm eternally glad for because I'd rather not have him catch me in nothing but a towel. I find my bags and change into a pair of gray sweats and a wifebeater, brush my hair, and stand in front of the mirror. Two huge, hideous bite marks mar my neck. I frown. Goddamn Eric.
I glance at the clock and start when I see it's 3:20 am. Vampire hours. This is like … 5pm to them. That, and the alcohol, and probably the blood loss too, explains why I'm so sleepy.
It figures there's only one bed. I consider taking it, but Eric would probably join me without qualms. Or maybe he'd just push me out. Well, I'm not ok with either of those options. I find a spare blanket in the closet and go for the sofa. It's black leather, and oh so soft. This will do fine. Seconds after snuggling up, I fall asleep.
Cigarette: yay! I'm so glad so many of you are still reading I had to write this asap. Luckily I was lot security at work and I brought my laptop so I just wrote while I watched the parking lot from my car lol. Let me know your thoughts! I'm trying to keep it realistic. :)