"Northman?" Rio called from behind her bathroom door.
Eric shook off his reverie, deciding to try something. In a conversational tone, not loud at all, he responded, "Yes?"
She heard him perfectly. He had not known the fae had heightened hearing, but he should have.
"Scrub my back?" Rio invited, and he bounded from bed. He was beginning to get over his surprise at how like her mother she was. After all, didn't it make sense that they might… enjoy the same things? He recalled how Sookie had been very aroused by sex in the shower, and that had turned into sex in the bed, on the kitchen table, in front of the fire. He shook his head, his long blond hair fanning out around his head. It did him no good to think about Sookie and anyway—a wicked grin spread over his face—her daughter was waiting for him to scrub her back.
He hastened through the door and stopped dead, arrested by the sight before him. Rio was standing in the claw-footed tub in the middle of the room. From a large showerhead in the ceiling, what appeared to be steaming rain poured down around her. It sluiced down the entire length of her radiant hair, darkening it to burnished bronze. It streamed over her delicious rump and dripped off her lovely nose. But it did not spatter the floor, which was dry as a bone.
Eric stepped over the side of the tub and Rio took him in her arms, pulling him under the hot water. He murmured his delight in both her and the shower, and with water dripping from his eyelashes, he looked at her and asked, "How do you do that?"
She never seemed to need clarification, so instead of asking him "Do what?" as he had expected her to do, she shrugged and said, "The water loves me, so it stays as close as it can." As he marveled over that idea, she handed him the soap and turned her back to him.
If Eric had expected his shower with Rio to in any way resemble that most memorable one with her mother—and he did—he should not have. It started out similarly enough, with lots of soap, lather, rubbing, kissing, and gasps.
But when Rio turned off the water, and Eric thought they'd move to her bed, she had a different idea. She passed him a towel and he began drying her; she grabbed another and was rubbing him down. Then she motioned him to sit on the broad edge of the tub. He complied, the glint in his eyes matching hers. She stepped over him, straddling his knees, and lowered herself slowly down on his erection. Even though he knew what to expect, a gasp still escaped him as her heat enveloped him completely. Her sitting on his lap put her extraordinary breasts almost at mouth height, and Eric had the distinct pleasure of suckling Rio's crinkled nipples while she rolled her hips on him, clockwise then counter-clockwise. She was as lithe as a belly dancer, and as he began to rumble in his throat, she started raising up a bit, still rolling her lovely hips in circles. Up, down, around and around, Rio was quite literally screwing him. She linked her fingers behind his neck, leaned back at arms length, and threw back her head, exposing her panting throat to his voracious gaze. He watched her passion flush her smooth skin, watched her glorious abdomen shiver and bunch as she rolled and tilted on him, and watched her sliding on and off him, her wetness making his cock glisten in the golden moonlight glow she produced. Rio's singing his name had begun, and she rode him, moaning "Northman, Northman," then "Eric!" like the cry of a seagull, until their climax crashed over them like waves on a wind drenched beach.
Rio's hair tendriled over his knees like seaweed tossed in the storm of their coming. She lowered her head to capture his eyes with hers—they were sea glass green, clear and sparkling.
Eric cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "I think you might need another shower." Rio burst out laughing and pushed up and off him, bounding from the room like a gazelle. He sat for a moment, recovering and toweling dry his hair, when Rio appeared in the doorway in a dress the color of a glacier, covered in delicate embroidery, holding her hair over her shoulder as she braided it. He was hypnotized by the rhythmic flying of her fingers, when she snapped them under his nose and said, "See you at the bar." He blinked and she was gone, her boots clattering on the stairs. He could swear he saw the colors of the rainbow swirling in her wake.
When Eric got to Diablo's, Rio was nowhere in sight, but taped to the office door was a folded sheet of paper. On it, in a fluid hand, was one word: Northman. He smiled and took it down. He entered the office, which was empty, and sat in the chair behind the desk. He held the paper under his nose and inhaled; it smelled faintly of the ocean.
Eric unfolded the paper, and in more of Rio's liquid script he read: Sit with me while I eat—10:30
He refolded the paper and added a few extra folds so it would fit in the pocket of his blue and white striped shirt. Then he scanned the desk for the thumb drive Sandy had left. Once found and inserted into the computer port, Eric leaned back and started reviewing the bar's accounts.
Sandy had mentioned paying particular attention to those nights when the bar was doing well, to see if there was a pattern to why some nights were more than successful, and others were losing money. Eric used one long finger to scroll the screen, flipping from page to page, occasionally spreading his index finger and thumb on the screen to expand certain columns. He opened up a side window to start tracking the dates with high revenue, looking up when the door opened and Ailling entered.
"Evening, Mr. Northman," Ailling said. Eric responded with a nod, and Ailling continued, "I'm helping out tonight at the bar, but if you need anything, just holler."
"Actually," Eric's voice stopped Ailling as he was turning back to the door, "I have listed all the dates when the bar is turning reasonable profits. Could you look at them and tell me what is exceptional about these nights?"
Ailling moved to stand over Eric's shoulder, looking at the screen. He muttered a little to himself, before asking, "Might I get there?" and motioning toward the chair. Eric moved from the chair and Ailling flopped into it like his feet hurt. He leaned toward the screen, scrolling through the dates Eric had listed. Ailling muttered some more, then pulled up a calendar widget. Eric heard him saying, "Week o' the 14th, uh huh, and the 21st… the 25th was a, um, Thursday…" Then Ailling turned to look up at Eric. He said, "Yup," and heaved himself out of the chair. He waved Eric to take it back, and said, looking not at all surprised, "Those are the nights that our house performer plays."
Eric raised an eyebrow in question, and Ailling filled in, "She's a local gal, right popular with the regulars. Name's Rio Brigant."
Eric's eyebrows lifted even higher, but he said to Ailling, "Thank you, Al; don't let me keep you, if your services are needed elsewhere." At that obvious dismissal, Ailling left, looking a bit disgruntled, but he shut the door quietly behind him.
For a long moment, Eric was lost in thought. Then he heard Rio's voice, singing from the stage. He was drawn to the sound like sailors drawn by the siren to crash on rocky shores. Apparently, so was the whole town, because when he opened the door to watch her sing, the bar was packed.
As before, Rio sat on a tall stool. Her braid hung down her back, as thick as his wrist. Her long tan legs emerged from the hem of her dress, ending in her cowboy boots with their scuffed toes; one heel was hooked over a rung, and her bent knee gleamed golden in the stage lights. Her face was cast in shadow by her hat brim as she bent over her guitar. She sang: "God but you're beautiful aren't you? Feel your warm hand walking around, I won't pull away, my passion always wins…" and just as she had done the first night he'd seen her, she lifted her face and sang directly to him, where he stood silhouetted in the light from the office. He was riveted by her beauty and her smoky voice.
Eric looked at the patrons, sitting at tables or leaning along the bar; no one was drinking or even talking. Every eye was on her. Every man in the place wanted her and every woman wanted to be her. His eyes narrowed in thought and he backed into the office and slowly shut the door.
Returning to the computer, Eric pulled up a calculator widget and began running figures, his fingers flying with vampire speed. He compared totals. Then he leaned back in the chair, staring at the screen. The nights Rio performed, Diablo's take was more than three times what it was on a standard evening. While overall the bar was operating in the red, the profit margin on Rio's nights almost evened things up. Rio was single-handedly supporting the bar.
Eric tidied up his figures and clicked on fax, entering the number for Sandy Seacrest. Then he took out his cell and called the King's headquarters; he was surprised to hear Lander's voice pick up.
"Lander, you're answering phones for the King now?"
"Eric, you hardass! Working tonight, are you?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I expected you to be here, working tonight with me."
"Yeah, well, like I said, the King has me doing important stuff," Lander related breezily (like answering phones, Eric thought). "I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Well, since you are so busy answering important calls like this one, tell Sandy I just faxed something to her that she needs to look at right away."
"Yeah, yeah, she ain't around right now. What's so important?"
Eric gritted his teeth. "Just tell Sandy to look at the revenue numbers I've sent. She's going to get a surprise." He clicked off and pocketed his phone. There was applause out in the bar, and he looked at the clock: 10:30.
Eric left the office, looking over the crowd. He saw Rio talking to Ailling, her hand on his arm. She leaned over to kiss his cheek, then turned to some women waiting to speak to her. He saw their broad, admiring smiles, saw Rio nod, smiling back, and moved toward her.
She always seemed to sense him and now was no different—she looked in his direction, said something to the women, then turned and motioned toward two empty bar stools. Eric joined her, and as he sat down, he noticed that the audience, who had been watching her, all looked away and went back to their drinks and conversations. He knew Niall could cloak himself, not to be invisible exactly, but to just go… unnoticed.
Eric leaned to Rio's ear and spoke softly, "Are you hiding?" She smiled and said, "Yes. I'd like to eat in peace." Eric tucked away this new piece of knowledge about her. The bartender approached with a bowl of fruit drizzled with honey, setting it down along with utensils in front of Rio—Eric asked him for a blood.
Ignoring the fork, Rio plucked up a gooey strawberry and wrapped her luscious lips around it. She sucked off the honey, making yummy-yummy noises, then bit the berry. A little bright red juice leaked down her chin and Eric groaned. Rio looked at him then and raised one blond eyebrow. Holding his eyes, she deliberately swiped her tongue below her lip to catch the juice, then slowly licked and sucked her fingers clean.
Eric felt a stirring in his pants, and wondered briefly how he was going to make it through that entire bowl of fruit, when Rio said, "I've seen Sandy in here a few times recently; now you're here from Louisiana to meet with her, and Al is all upset. What's up, Northman?"