Chapter 8

The Judge

"Eric Northman," that smile was as teasing as he could remember. "What have I done to deserve this honor?"

He waited until the man who was standing beside the table, taking notes was sent out. "Still like having a man beneath you, I see."

She laughed. The wrinkles around her eyes looked more deeper. Human. What a waste. That smooth skin would've remained smooth if only she had agreed to be turned. "And you are still tactless as ever. What can I do you for, Eric?"

"What has made you think I'd need your help?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, Eric, have you forgotten me, of who I am and what I am capable of? Surely fifteen years of human life hasn't blurred your memory, has it?"

No, he hasn't forgotten who she is or what she's capable of. She is and will always be the woman who brought him to his knees. Literally and mentally. He smirked. Not that he didn't enjoy it. The literally part, especially.

"How are you, Eric? What kind of problem has Pam brought you into this time?"

"It isn't about Pam."

"Now, that's something new. Who is she?"

He was about to open his mouth, when she continued. "Oh, don't pretend to be shocked, Eric. You won't do anything unless it's beneficial for you."

"You know me. Sue me," he raised his hands.

She laughed. "I'd have a better idea, but let's save it for later," she winked flirtatiously. "Who is she?"

That stubborn, irrational, pigheaded, ball breaking..."Arlene Fowler."

The sign of laughter left her face. She cleared her throat, and fixed the collar of her jacket.

Obviously, she knew something he didn't.

"You don't know what you're dealing with, Lover," she said. The seriousness on her face alerted him. "I know, I know, you'd tell me, you've lived for hundreds of years already, nothing would surprise you anymore."

He waited.

"But this is simply too big for you. Yes, unfortunately, Eric. It's too big, even for the great Eric Northman."

He didn't move. He didn't even raise a muscle.

"How do you know her?"

"She's an assignment."

"Then you know who she is."

"Yes, a lawyer of a small firm."

"But not her husband's."

"Her ex-husband," he corrected her, and somehow he didn't know why he had bothered to correct her in the first place. It didn't make any difference. He still fucked her nevertheless. And by Thor, why did he even think about fucking her? That insufferable, pig headed, irrational...

"Ah, you knew her indeed."

Something in her voice made him feel uneasy. She knew there was something more between him and Arlene. Was there something in his own voice or gesture that had given him away?

"Why do you come here, Eric? You are not trying to get any information from me about John Fowler, are you?"

"No. I come here to ask you a favor," he walked toward her. "You are the judge for one of her cases, the Stackhouse Case?"

"I might, why?"

"You think you could do something with its scheduling? I need Mrs. Fowler to finish my assignment."

"Mrs. Fowler...interesting," those full lips teased him. "And what, does Mrs. Fowler want you to do with me? To get what you want, I mean."

"I can tell you what she doesn't want me to do," he sniffed. The image of him being thrown out of Arlene's apartment flashed in front of his eyes. "She doesn't want me to glamour you."

"What exactly did you say...," she laughed, mockingly. "Did you tell her you'd taken care of it by glamouring me?"

No, he hadn't. The shifter had.

"And she's angry with you? Is that why you've come here?" Again, she laughed mockingly, which made him lose his control. Without being able to stop himself, he had already lifted her from her chair and pressed her against the wall.

"I am not that young anymore, Lover," instead of complaining, she smiled. Her hand ran to his back, and plop, plop, she kicked her shoes off her feet and wrapped them around his waist. "Whoever she is, she has you in her grasp. I hope she has a strong enough pull to keep you hers."

"I am nobody's," he grabbed her ass rather hard. She sighed.

"Pam's, perhaps?"

"Like I said, I am nobody's." He walked to the table and gently put her on it.

"I can do what you want, but you have to pay. Would you mind opening the drawer?"

He did what she said. A handcuff lay not so innocently in it. Its silver color made him hiss.

"It's not silver, Eric." She took the handcuff and lay it on the table. "Now, would you do anything for Mrs. Fowler, the way you did for Pam? Remember, when you came to my house...,"

"I didn't come to your place. I stumbled upon it."

"Technicality, Eric. You and your technicalities. Does it matter when the result is the same?"

"You're a judge. Technicality should be your means of justice."

"Not in this question, Lover...," her hand ran inside his trousers. "Hmh," she sounded disappointed. "You used to impress me at the first sight."

"May be I am also not that young anymore."

"You, Eric Northman, were never young to begin with." Her fingers caressed his shaft. "Anyway, you were willing to risk your safety by being handcuffed and tied on my bed. Just for Pam."

He remembered that. They had just managed to get away from a fight with a horde of werewolves and some men, equipped with bows and arrows. Pam was heavily wounded, and the sun was rising. He had had to find a place for rest. And the only place nearby was her mansion.

"I wonder," she took the handcuff, "if you'd do the same this time. For Mrs. Fowler, or better, something I know about John Fowler's firm."

He growled. No, not for John Fowler's firm or any other firm. Its big or small secrets.

"You know what to do, Eric." Now, her hands were on his ass, following its shape gently. "Hmh," she said. "I like a man who doesn't wear any underwear."

He looked at her. "The older you are, the dirtier you get," he smiled.

"I take that as a compliment. Well, Eric? Time is running out. I can't keep my secretary out forever."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just be a good boy, and keep your hands on the table." She took her hands out of his trousers. "You think you could do that?"

"How are you, Eric?" she buttoned her blouse. It had lost the top one, and gave him a view of her breasts. They were still voluptuous as he remembered, but they also showed the signs of aging. Their skin wasn't smooth anymore, and like the corner of her eyes, there were some wrinkles here and there. "I mean in general."

"I am fine, still trying to save Pam from time to time, but in general, I can't complain. How about you?" with one snatch, the handcuff, that connected to the iron bar at the table side, was broken. He was about to close his zipper, when she said, "Let me do that." He lifted his hands.

She closed the zipper and lay her head on his chest. "You broke my handcuffs."

He kissed her forehead. "I believe this is not the only handcuffs you have in this very room."

She looked up. Her brown eyes looked peaceful. He liked watching women's eyes after he had had sex with them. Some of them were bright and shiny; and some, like hers, were peaceful. It gave him a good feeling to know that his women were satisfied.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, Eric. Your involvement with the Fowlers worries me."

"Don't I always?"

"Seriously, Eric. You shouldn't underestimate them. I don't know much about Arlene Fowler, but her husband's firm has taken care of some cases, which involved some of your people."

He was alert. This news was new to him. "How many?"

"Too many and too often to be called coincidence." She hugged him. "Be careful, Eric. I don't want to be the one who buries you."

"Don't be melodramatic. I'd be the one who buries you, if you keep on being stubborn like this and don't let me tu...," he removed part of the hair that covered her neck. He kissed it. Its warmth sent shriver down to his bones. How he missed to feel this kind of warmth coming from his own skin. To hear the heartbeat coming from his chest. Click, his fangs were out. How he missed it.

"Aargh," she let out a gasp as his fangs tore apart her flesh, but she didn't let him go. She let out the little sounds that turned him on since the first time he had heard them.

She smiled when she saw the bulk in his trousers as they let each other go. "I wonder," she wiped off something on the corner of his mouth. "If you want me or my blood more."

He took his wrist to his mouth and wanted to bite it, but she shook her head.

"No, thank you, Eric. I want to keep the wounds this time. As a souvenir. Who knows, when you are coming for dinner again."

"Be mine and you don't have to wonder."

"But then, you won't be able to feed from me."

"You won't be able to do it, sooner or later," and he was afraid, it'd be sooner than later.

"Until then, I'd make myself ready and available for you."

"Just be careful."

Her eyes were twinkling. "Don't I always?"

He smiled. He liked her spirit, her naughtiness and most of all, her willingness to try something new.

"About Mrs. Fowler," her voice sounded official. "I can only give you two weeks, maximum. I can't delay it too long without raising suspicious. And send her to my office. I want to get to know her."

"I can't...do that."

Her eyebrow was lifted. "Why?"

"She doesn't want to be helped. You'll have to find an excuse...,"

"Did I hear it right? She doesn't want to be helped? Tsk, tsk, tsk, Lover. You are losing your touch."

He clenched his jaw. "Not in a hundred years."

"Then may be it's been one hundred years...,"

He cupped her head and kissed her. "You and your mouth," he growled as he let her go. "One of these days, I'll come to your place and show you who the real master is."

She rolled her smile. "Now, that's something both you and I know it is not going to happen," she moved away from him.

"You don't think I can handle you?"

"Oh, I do believe you can handle me just fine," she opened one of the filing cabinets. "I just think you won't come. You're too...what is the right word for it... infatuated? Yes, you're too infatuated by Mrs. Fowler," she removed a folder. "You won't stop chasing her until she becomes yours. Is that why you still come to me?"

"Yes, and some other things."

"I know I am not that bad," she opened the folder. "Jason Stackhouse... is he a member of Long Tooth?"

"Not that I know of."

"Alcide Herveaux seems to care a lot about him."

He had never met Stackhouse and didn't have any intention to doing so. "I do hope you can give Arlene a little more time. I'm afraid, two weeks won't be enough."

"It's not a big case, Eric. She will be able to handle it in no time."

"I know. I just want her to concentrate more on us than her court duties."

"Sorry, Lover. I can't give you more time," she closed the folder and returned it to its place. "But I can give you more information about John Fowler's firm. Just give me some days to collect the data...,"

"No, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to get involved in any of this. If they're as dangerous as you say they are, it'd be better if you stay away from it."

"All right, if that's what you want. You know you can always access my deposit account, don't you? I still use the same password."

"No, Salome. I mean it. Keep away from it. Don't force me to use your own handcuffs on you."

"Eric Lover, hell will freeze over the day you do that."

"Do you have to go to that woman?" Pam didn't look amazed. Her red latex jumpsuit looked as dangerous as the eye rolling she had given him.

"She saved your life. Don't ever forget it." He opened the Corvette door.

"Yes, Master," she said, but her voice didn't sound sincere. "I don't think I'd forget that, since you always return with half a handcuff around your wrist every time you see her."

He got into the car, sliding down and removed the handcuff. The skin on his wrist bled from the cutting, but only for a moment. Rapidly, it closed again. Carelessly he threw it out the window.

"I have nothing against you seeing another woman, and probably don't have anything to say about it...,"

"Then don't," he cut her off.

She looked at him. "Is this Arlene woman really worth it? You don't normally fuc...take...," she changed her word when her eyes met his. "...a human woman for another human woman."

"I didn't do it for Arlene."

"Of course you didn't."

Again, there's an insincerity in her voice that couldn't be missed.

"Drive."

Pam started the car and moved away from the Court parking lot. "You know I could do it for you, right?"

"I know. But it's been a long time since the last time."

Pam snorted. "From all the crazies out there, you choose Salome Bellefleur."

He touched the cheeks of his protegée. "I chose only the best. You should've known that."

"Yeah right," she said, smiling. "What is it that makes you come back to her? Her handcuffs, whips and god knows what she has in her trunk, or the sex itself?"

He looked at the road ahead of them, which was illuminated by the car lights. "That, and other things."

Salome Bellefleur was one of the most influence judges in town. She came from a respectable family and had a lot of connections. She's tough, but fair. Not so many knew, she had a taste for sex that some might consider as strange or sick. She was sadomasochism . She, and millions of other people. He didn't care about it. What he needed was her connection. She knew important people in high places; more than that, her family had been a member of an organization that had built a bridge between humans and supernaturals. Besides, as he found out, being ordered around and served wasn't that bad after all. He didn't have to take charge or have the initiative all the time. The women could do it, if they wanted. And Salome always wanted it.

Besides, she gave him a loyal worker. Terry Bellefleur, her cousin, and another cousin of hers had something precious. Andy Bellefleur was a well-liked figure among the shifters and weres. If he could get Andy Bellefleur on his side, it would make his job a lot of easier.

"Her Majesty called," Pam said. "She is expecting you, Eric."

"What does she want?"

"She didn't say, but I think, she waits for your report."

He cursed. It wasn't the right time. Arlene had just kicked him out of her apartment, and he still didn't know where Selah was. Moreover, Jackson Herveaux was still weak. He couldn't take care of himself yet, if the second attack happened again tonight. However he knew, the Queen's wish couldn't be refused.

He took out his phone, dialed some number and then, "Good Evening, Your Majesty."

"Eric Northman," the voice on the other line was soft and had a strong French accent. "It's about the time."

Dealing with her, it's never the right time. "I'll be there in half an hour, your Majesty."

"Make it ten minutes."

Clack.

The line was cut off.

"Stop the car," he said.

Pam drove to the side of the road and stopped the car.

"Go straight to Jackson," he said. "Call everybody. I don't want to have any surprises again."

"Yes, Eric."

He opened the door and got out. Then he shot himself to the air. Vaguely he heard Pam scolding somebody. "What are you looking at? Yeah, yeah, he can fly. He's Superman."