One's The Lonliest Number

by eimaj96

Eric Northman has thrived on his incapability to feel commitment, or to feel anything at all. His newest target for ravishment appears to be Sookie Stackhouse, the elusive fairy. But in his attempt to capture her, he sees another, and she changes him. But is she human? Does she even want to change Eric, or be left alone? E/OC, lots of lemons, continue at your own risk.

5. Chapter 5

My first clue that I was fucked was that I didn't wake to my alarm, but rather the sound of a truck rolling across gravel.

I cracked my eyes open, the bright sun practically burning my retinas, and turned on my side. My eyes rolled to the clock. 10:20.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I jumped from the bed, half naked, with my hair flying and heart pounding. Shorts. I needed my shorts. I tore through my dresser, but I had no clean ones, and pulled out a pair from the hamper. They smelled clean enough, and I pulled them on, but the glass from the car windows last night had given them a small tear along the thigh. "Fucking perfect." I moaned.

Okay, I got the shorts, I just needed a bra, a white bra. It'll look pretty skanky to be the hot waitress sporting a bright pink bra under a sheer white shirt. There was a knock on my front door and I paused for a moment, contemplating if it would look slightly better if I wore my blue daisy bra. Maybe a little trampy, but definitely not whorish.

"Give me a second!" I called out.

Where the fuck was my bra? I ripped the blankets from the bed, lifted the sheets, crawled on my hands and knees across the floor, but it wasn't around. I thought back to last night, to what I did when I got home. I pulled my shirt and shorts off, pulled on a nightshirt, and passed out. Oh.

I pulled my night shirt off and groaned. I was wearing the fucking bra. I was too tired last night, and I hadn't even bothered to take it off. Another knock on the door irritated me. Had I not just said to wait? "Hold on to your fucking pants I'll be right there!"

I was going to pull my old shirt on when I threw it to the side. Sam had given me just two pairs of shorts, but four shirts. The math didn't add up to me, but I was thankful now as I ripped one out of my closet and pulled it over my head.

I jogged from the room and down the short hall to the living room. I quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. A tall, beefy, really huge guy stood outside the screen door. He had dark hair, and the stubble of a five o'clock shadow stood out across his jaw. I stared for a moment. He was – hot. Not Eric hot, but country boy hot. And his chi. Oh god it was beautiful. It was powerful and dominating and screamed of predatorial things, of wildness and pureness and nature and—

"Alice McCarthy?" the man asked, taking me from my ogling. I looked back up to him and offered a smile.

"Yea, that's me. You are . . .?"

"Alcide." He said, smiling. "Eric sent me."

Oh. Of course he did. I rolled my eyes and unlatched the screen door. "Come on in. Don't mind me, I have to be in work in two and a half minutes."

I turned my back on him and rushed into the kitchen, throwing a piece of bread into the toaster and searching around for my shoes. Alcide walked hesitantly into the house. "You should be more careful on who you let into your house." He commented. "I could have been lying about Eric."

I glanced at him over my shoulder as I pulled the toast out and spread a thick layer of grape jelly across it. "Well are you?"

"No."

"Then there we go." I devoured the toast and pushed past him while he stood in the kitchen doorway, looking around the living room. "Why are you here, though?"

"I'm supposed to watch you." He said. I stopped mid step and glanced back at him, eyebrows raised.

"Eric got me a fucking babysitter?"

He shrugged. "Looks like it."

I laughed aloud and found one of the shoes by the doorway. "Well no offense but I don't need you. So I hereby release you of your duties. You're free. Go away."

Alcide leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile playing across his face as if my running around amused him. "It doesn't work like that."

I shot him a look as I pulled the shoe on, hopping around on one foot as I did so. "Oh? Then how does this work?"

"I'm in debt to Eric, and this is how I'm repaying it. I can't leave until he tells me to."

I found the last shoe at the entrance to the hallway. Why did I take them off so far apart? Jesus I could barely even remember getting home, I was so exhausted. "Well then I can just tell him you stayed the whole day, huh?"

He shook his head. "And then something happens to you and Eric tears me in half."

I groaned. "Are you going to follow me to work, too?"

He nodded and I shot him a furious look. "I don't need you, okay? I don't even know why you're here in the first place, I'm not even in any danger or anything." I paused. Unless Eric wanted to make sure his little succubus didn't run off. I glanced at Alcide, who watched me curiously from the same position, all muscular and hot and whatnot. The thought of Eric sending him here just so I didn't leave infuriated me. I was his object, that's all I was. And to think that last night—and I thought I saw something in his eyes, maybe his chi—I shook my head. What a fucking bastard.

I kicked the little table where I kept my keys and the whole thing fell over, the small ceramic bowl on top shattering. "I can't fucking believe the rat bastard." I mumbled. I shoved past Alcide, none too gentle when I shoved him off balance and he stumbled. For such a big guy, he was good at catching his balance, almost graceful. "Fucking asshole. All he thinks about is him, what a prick."

I snatched my bag from the counter top and Alcide was smart to step from my way as I passed by for a second time. I grabbed my keys from the pile of broken ceramics, cutting open the palm of my hand as I did so, but I felt no pain. I shoved open the screen door and made a bee line to my car. The thing look so sad and pathetic, with all the windows shattered and the crappy paintjob and the cheapness of it all. Piece of shit.

I pulled the door open and started the car as Alcide walked from the house. "I'll see you at Merlot's, then." He called.

"If you fucking know what's best for you, I will never see your fucking face again." I spat. Oh, wow, okay that was a bit harsh. But I stick by what I say no matter how uncalled for it is. I mean, he was just doing what Eric said. He had a job to do. He knew nothing of me or Eric or what there was between us—which I know realize is nothing absofuckinglutely nothing—and was completely clueless. Still, he was here because of Eric, and since Eric wasn't here to be pissed at, he was the next best thing.

I drove furiously to work, and when I arrived, I was twenty minutes late and Sam was waiting for me, as was the two other waitresses covering my section, all pissed at me. They barraged me with questions and accusations as I walked into the bar, why I was late why I didn't answer my phone, blah blah blah.

I blew by all them and dumped by bag in the break room then waited five seconds for one of the girls covering my section to fill me in before diving into the scene and trying to vent my anger out on all the customers. Andy Bellefleur tried grabbing my ass on his fifth bear, and I nearly broke his hand. Some guy said something incredibly crude to his buds as I was walking away, and now he's going to be having nightmares until he's sixty.

Sam watched me from behind the bar when he wasn't giving out drinks to low life's or washing the counter with that rag of his.

The day was so long, longer than any other day in my life. I mean, what the fuck, right? Every other day goes by in a blur. The customers come and go so fast I can't keep count. But today, of all days, I know that there have been exactly thirteen guys and seventeen women who have come in here and gone in the two hours and thirty seven minutes I'd been on my shift. I'd given seven burgers and five steaks and three salads. Everyone else just got drinks and left me a shitty tip. I've made three dollars and seventeen cents, all in change.

I must have looked up at the clock on the wall eight hundred times every minute, but it never went any fast. I was stuck in the shift until it was over, but it felt like I was doubling, tripling, this one shift. Like it would never end.

All because of Eric. The fucking douche bag. I thought that he had wanted me around just because . . . I don't know, just because I was so fucking awesome. I shook my head. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Now that he knew I was a succubus he didn't want to let me go. I could do things. Apparently I could throw vampires across parking lots without touching them, and make car windows explode. I can manipulate people onto doing what I want. I can kill someone, just by touching them. I could be useful to him, to any vampire. I was just a fancy new toy to a thousand year old vampire. Fucking perfect.

I was walking back from the kitchen with a burger for some fat ass when Alcide walked in, all tall and glorious with his chi growling and wild. He stood in the doorway, looking for a moment before he laid his eyes on me, smiled, and took a seat in my section. I stopped, glared at him with fire in my eyes.

"Miss?" I ignored the guy in my section, grinding my teeth and fighting the urge to kill everyone in this room. "Hey lady!"

I turned sharply to the fat guy. I walked over to him, watched his impatient face change to wariness as I threw the burger down on the table. "What the fuck do you want now?" I hissed. He watched me, eyes wide, his double chin jiggling. "That's what I thought. Next time try not to be such a fcuking dick. And don't call me lady. I told you when I got here. Welcome to Merlots, my name is fucking ALICE. Enjoy the fucking burger."

I moved around him on a beeline to Alcide, who pretended to not see my storm of anger coming, but rather glance over a menu. "I told you not to show up." I growled.

He glanced up at me. "I was hungry." He said innocently.

I rolled my eyes. "Cut the shit, I am so not in the mood. You're here to watch me, and I don't like it."

Now he rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to watch you. I'm here for a burger, I heard they're good."

I straightened up and watched him carefully. He wasn't moving, I could tell. I was an intimidating person when I was angry, but he sat there, brown eyes innocent and sweat and sexy and he was calm and collected and fuck me gorgeous. He wasn't moving.

"Fine. Whatever."

I turned on my heal to walk away when he grabbed my wrist, stopping me. The sudden contact startled me and his chi entered me with an electric shock. I turned back to him cautiously. He looked up at me from where he sat with serious eyes. "I'm sorry for whatever he's done to you." He said, quietly, voice soft and caressing.

I pulled my hand from his grip and held it to my chest, looking at him curiously. "Thank you." I muttered.

"Alice!" I looked up to Sam, seething at the bar. I glanced back to Alcide, and then left him without a word.

"What, Sam." I sighed.

"What the fuck do you call that shit?" he growled.

"What, Sam." I mumbled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What you just did with Pete." He snapped.

"Pete? Who the hell is—" I looked back to who Sam was talking about, to fatty who was eating his burger and giving me the death eye. "Oh, that Pete."

"Yes, Alice, that Pete." Sam growled. "You cannot treat the customers like that. I won't let you. I don't give a shit what's got you all wound up today, just cool your shit before the dinner rush. Go, get your head together."

"My breaks not for another hour, Sam."

"I don't give a shit. Just go, I want you back in forty minutes."

He pushed away from the counter and turned back to grab his rag and start scrubbing down the counter for the sixth time that hour. I stared at him, feeling a tingle of shame in my belly, before turning back to the break room and grabbing my bag. I moved to my car quickly. I threw the door open, dropped myself in the passenger seat, and tried to move, to run it on and peel out of there. I wanted to be one of those people from all the TV shows who drives alone the lake, stops on the beach and throws rocks into the water until their head is clear and they have a revelation.

Unfortunately, the people in those shows issues don't involve vampires and succubuses and the whole works. They involve a teenage break up and paper cuts.

I rested my head against the steering wheel and closed my eyes tightly. God I was so angry. I was angry at Eric and Alcide and Sam and Sookie and every stranger who walked into the bar. I was angry at me for being a succubus and for killing and for catching the eye of a vampire and any man who walked around. I was angry at me for being who I was.

I was in Jimmy's car. We were supposed to be on the way to the movies but he had pulled over, had looked at me with horny eyes and I had seen his chi circling and twisting. I could feel it in the air, taste the sex in it and it made me ravenous. I was so hungry, and I didn't know what for. In the pit of my stomach a beast was growling and I didn't know what to do to quench it.

I hit my head against the steering wheel, begging myself to not remember. My goal in life was to not remember. Not remember the kill after it was committed, not remember last night's fuck. I live for the next day, not for yesterday. But I had no control, I was hurting, I was hungry, I was angry and I couldn't stop remembering—

He was kissing me, inexperienced lips slobbering on my neck and his hands were everywhere, shaking and giddy. His chi breathed into me. The beast purred. My hands twisted into his hair and combed the soft lock as his teenage fingers found their way beneath my shirt and tickled the smooth skin of my abdomen. I sighed his name, moved into him. It wasn't comfortable. We had the divider between our two seats and the seat belt dug into my hip but I was a teenager and I was having my first kiss, my first groping session, everything was fresh and exciting and he tasted so good—

I leaned back in my seat, hands wound tightly around the steering wheel. I tried thinking of something else, anything. But all I saw was high school that year, my junior year, how I started feeding off of everyone I passed without thinking, how all the boys started to follow me, how my prom date tried to take advantage of me when I wouldn't put out, how even the teachers got too touchy. All I saw was myself after puberty, after I started to change and I started changing everyone around me. I wasn't Alice anymore. I was a monster and there was no one to tell me what I was doing wrong, why I was such a beast, why I had to kill people and feed from people and why they had to come after me with only one intent.

I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to go to high school and I wanted friends. But all the girls hated me because their boyfriends would always watch me, think of me, and not them. I had no friends, it was just me against the world and the world only wanted to get into my pants.

Jimmy ran his hands along my abdomen, up to my bra, panting against my neck. His fingers pinched my skin and it hurt but his chi was so good, tasted so great. I was breathing him in. I didn't know it was weakening him. I just thought I was tasting it, not feeding I just thought that we were having fun, this was fun—

I felt a tingle and then a harsh, painful snap. I internally checked myself. That wasn't my physical body getting hurt. No, it was his chi. It was swirling around inside of me and it was exhilarating, I had no idea it could be this good, no idea at all. I looked to Jimmy, wondering why he had stopped.

I bit my lip. I hadn't known what I could do. Maybe if someone else out there had been like me, if I had known them, they could have told me. But I was a freak among normal kids. I was a lion among the lambs. I didn't know, I swear I didn't know—

"Jimmy?" I asked, breathless. I was still smiling blissfully, on the top of the world, and nothing could bring me down. Until his hands fell to his side and his mouth, open in an empty sigh, his eyes, dulling, pupils dilating, head falling away, body dropping into itself. "Jimmy?"

I was scrambling away. I felt the snap in his chi. Could it have been—could I have—did I take all his chi? Was that snap the end tail of it all. My back hit the passenger door and I was screaming and screaming and screaming. I had killed him, he was dead. His body dropped against the seat, his chin falling to his chest eyes wide open with the shadow of his lust still in his eyes and his mouth still open like he was kissing me.

I reached over, grabbed onto his arm roughly. I tried giving his chi back, I didn't want it anymore, didn't want to feel his life inside of me. I had killed him and I had taken his life. I rubbed at his arm and the side of his face, across his hand and finger tips and everywhere. I cried and screamed and hit him, I punched him, I tried giving it back, I didn't want to, didn't want this life when he couldn't have it anymore—

There was a knock on the side of my door that startled me out of my reveries. I jumped and looked out, to Alcide, leaning down to look at me in the car. "I would have tapped on the window." He said. "But you don't seem to have one."

I looked up at him, his small smile, and I laughed. It loosened the ache in my chest. "Are you okay?" he asked me softly. I let out one more chuckle before swallowing anymore laughter. I pulled the door open as he stood out of the way.

I shook myself and nodded. "Yea, I'm fine. I'm fine." I gave him a smile, so fake and plastic it hurt my face. I saw that he saw it, and felt an urge to get out of there. I started to walk away, having no idea where I was going. I wasn't going back into Merlotte's, Sam would kick my ass. And I wasn't going to drive unless I wanted to crash my car into a tree in spite of my anger. I was just going to walk.

But again, for the second time today, he caught onto my wrist and I felt the electricity of his chi course into me, make me shiver. I looked back over to him. "What are you?"

He gave me a small, manly smile, and I marveled in how warm his hand was on my wrist, how smooth and intense his chi was. I felt the beast in me mew and growl and beg to feed, even though I wasn't hungry. He tasted so raw, and it made me go crazy.

I shook my head. This was my problem, right here, this thing I have. I lose control, let the beast take me, and then I take a life. This is the bane of my existence, this monster. It was not me, but an attachment. This person here that Alcide held on to was Alice. The beast inside of me screaming to be let lose was something else all together.

But it was so strong. And I was so angry, my emotions so raw and I couldn't even hold it back. Not even for one day.

I launched myself at Alcide, crashing my lips to his. He held onto my wrist, eyes wide and looking at me, frozen. I worked at him though, my lips moving against his, tongue sliding across his lips, until his eyes closed, and he responded, and he was moving with me, our tongues battling for control. He tasted too raw, like the forest.

He turned us around so my back rested against the steaming metal of my car. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist, hands roaming his hard body, touching everywhere. He kissed me with passion, with dignity. Like Eric always kissed me in my dreams, like he kissed me whenever I lost control with him. With Alcide now I acted on my beast's part.

With Eric I acted for myself.

I pushed Alcide away with my remaining strength. He released me instantly, dropping me to my feet and taking five quick steps back and away. His eyes were wide, staring at me. "Jesus." He breathed, coming back to himself now that I had stopped feeding. "What are you?"

I rested my hands on my knees, holding my eyes shut tight to gain control. "Don't steal my line, man." I breathed.

God damn it Eric. I couldn't even feed anymore without thinking about him, and I was pissed as all hell. He had fucked me over good. He'd used me, made me feel . . . whatever this was, for him and I couldn't even be properly pissed.

But I could be hurt.

"I think I'm going back to work." I said when I had caught a piece of myself again.

"I thought your boss sent you on break?"

I shake my head. "I don't give a fuck. You can stick around if you want, I don't want Eric to kill you. Just try not to touch me anymore you can get seriously hurt."

I looked up at him and he was smiling. "I doubt you can really hurt me."

I stood up straighter and bent so my back cracked. I walked past him and patted his arm. "Whatever you say."

Sam caught me as I tried slipping into the break room to put my bag down. "I thought I sent you out? I told you, I don't want you back here—"

"Sam, shut up, I'm better." I begged.

"No, you're not. You need time for yourself—"

I held my hand up to stop him. "I promise I won't attack anymore customers. But working right now is what I really need, not some pity break."

He sighed and looked at me with eyes saying I was a pain in his ass. "Fine. Get going then."

I gave him a smile and set to work.

"I just need to drive you over to Fangtasia and my shift is up." Alcide said, taking another swallow of his beer. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not going, so you can just clock out now. Drive safe." I patted him on the shoulder and moved through the empty restaurant to Sookie, sitting at the bar and watching me carefully, probably reading my mind by the way her eyebrows rose.

"Woah, woah, I can't do that." Alcide said, standing up and chasing after me. "Eric gave me specific orders to take you to Shreverport after you got off of work. He was clear, Alice."

I rolled my eyes at Sookie, looking for a smirk, but her face was concerned. "Maybe you should just go, Alice." She suggested.

I sat down on the bar stool and rested my elbows up on the polished wood. Sam always made sure it looked pretty. "I don't feel like it, okay?"

"He's not a guy you want to fuck with, Alice." Alcide warned.

"You don't think I know that?" I spat. "Jesus, just go home, Alcide. If he asks tell him I shoved a boot up your ass."

He growled then, low in his chest, and I glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "I just can't do that!" he snapped.

"Alice, seriously." Sookie said, biting on her nail. "I don't think you should mess with Eric anymore."

"Anymore?" Alcide asked. "What other shit have you been pulling with this guy?"

"None of your fucking business." I snapped.

Sookie placed a hand on my arm, meant to calm me, but I flinched away from her involuntarily. I didn't miss the hurt flash in her eyes, but she covered it up in that expert way of hers, and plowed on. "Listen, Alice." Sookie says calmly. "I know Eric. I hate that I do, but I know him. He chased after me because I denied him, and only for that fact. He didn't need me for my telepathy, but for my body, and to take me because I belonged to someone else."

I shook my head. "Sookie, what does this have to do with—"

"Just listen." She pleaded, and moved on before I could say anything. "He didn't need anything from me. But . . . but he saved you that night. He gave you his blood. And—and he let you stay on his bed last night—"

"How many times have I told you to stay out of my head—"

"And you can see the turmoil inside of him, you can't deny that unless you wish to be blind, but you're not that kind of person. He doesn't want you just for your body, Alice. You can't deny that. A-and I know you're pissed at him and you want to forget him and ignore him. You want it to be like that, want him to only want your body because then things will stay simple but it hasn't been simple since you hit puberty and you—"

"Stop!" I snapped, and she shut up, but her eyes were pleading and desperate, as if all she cared about was getting me to understand. I sighed, and leaned against the counter, looking at her and her weird energy, before turning the stool around to face Alcide. I reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could react. "Go home." I said softly. "Forget this entire day. When Eric comes to find you, tell the truth, tell him you forgot the entire day, and you don't even know me."

I watched his eyes dim, and he nodded once before turning around slowly in a sleeping daze and disappeared out the door and into the warm darkness outside. I turned back to Sookie, who bit her lip sadly. "I get it, Sookie." I said, although I didn't. I knew she could read my mind, knew I was lying, but she stayed silent. "But I just want to go home, and sleep. I want to get into my house before Eric shows up demanding where I have been and I don't have my own property to keep him out."

I stood up, my bag already slung over my shoulder and started to walk away before I remembered something. "And stay out of my head."

I drove home slowly, glancing at the clock. I'd be two hours late by now. Eric would know I wasn't showing up, and he'd be calling Alcide. Alcide would answer, wonder aloud who I was, get into an argument with Eric until Eric realized what I had done to him, and then he'd be the one making his way down here. He might already be here.

I scrunched my face up and tried to ignore the sting inside my chest. I didn't feel like seeing him, more so than ever. Because when I saw him look at me, I know all he'd be thinking about me was that I was his object, his precious little succubus, ready to do his bidding. Sookie was wrong. What he was doing to me now is exactly what he had done to Sookie. He had no feelings, only had the mind set to take what wasn't his, and claim it, to own the world.

Well too fucking bad.

I pulled into my driveway and sat in the car for a moment. I know, I should be running to the front door and getting inside before he showed up. But there was no other car in the driveway or on the road. The night was completely silent. I wondered, briefly, what it might feel like to be a mid twenties woman coming home from work to her husband and her children and feeling a sense of accomplishment. How does it feel to know that if you have sex with someone, there is no possible chance you might drain him of all his energy, and kill him? What did it feel like not having dead bodies on your conscious? Or to not sport a scar across your abdomen courtesy of your mother, who believed until the last seconds of her life that you were a monster, and went to her grave thinking her daughter was a demon.

I ripped the door open and stood up. I glanced around me quietly, and then thrust the car door closed as hard as possible. It slammed and reverberated through the darkness. But it wasn't enough so I kicked the living shit out of it, threw my bag against it and hit the frame with my fists until my knuckles bled and my toes were bruised. I left the bag lying on the floor and limped up the porch steps.

"Is there something on your mind?"

I paused, only slightly, to look at the small bench beside the door. Eric was sprawled out, his legs open arms spread across the back of the bench. He was looking at me, eyebrows raised, the cocky son of a bitch none the wiser of how utterly pissed off I was. I stalked past him, not giving him anything, no look or sigh or words or anything, and went for the door.

He was in front of me before I could even reach the handle. "Why didn't you come tonight?" he asked, his voice melting into seriousness.

I stared at his chest, refusing to look up into his face. I didn't want to see that shit eating grin or that glitter in his fucking perfect eyes. "I was busy." I snapped.

"Oh? Busy beating the shit out of your car?"

I sighed. "Eric, move out of the way."

He didn't, though, just stood right where he was, not breathing or emitting heat or anything. He was dead, his heart was dead, even his energy tasted dead. I wished he'd go away, and be dead for someone else.

"What did I do?" he asked eventually.

I look up at him despite myself. "Excuse me?"

"What did I do to make you so angry?" his eyes searched mine, his face a mask. I couldn't tell one thing from another, but I ignored the way he looked at me. I'd been reading too much into these very looks the past week or so, and it's gotten me into a pile of shit.

"I don't feel like talking about it, Eric." I sighed. I was so tired. Not just my body, but my entire being. I wanted to go to bed. "I just need some sleep. I had a long day."

"Yes, Alcide disagrees, though." Eric said, a spark or irritation in his eyes. I smirked, glad I at least made him feel somewhat angry, even if it didn't amount to what I felt now. "He doesn't even know who you are, but he spent the entire day with you."

"I didn't need a fucking baby sitter, Eric." I snap, and push at his chest but he didn't move. "Get the fuck out of my way!"

He caught onto my wrists and held them in one of his massive hands. No matter how hard I wiggled or moved, he didn't let them go until I gave up and stood there. "I want to know what happened, why you're so angry." He said quietly.

"Like you care." I snap. His eyes spark again, but not with irritation this time. It looked like—no, stop it Alice. That's exactly what I've been fucking saying. I look into shit like this and it gets me alone with a vampire in the middle of a night.

His eyes are searching me again and I absolutely hate him for it, hate that he thinks he can try to figure me out, like I'm one of his silly little humans that are so transparent and so see through, that he can give them one look and just pick them apart. I'm not someone you can toy with, Eric. I wanted to shout that at him but I was overcome with anger so fierce it bit at me, tore me apart from the inside out.

"Let go of me." I said, voice so sharp it could cut right through him.

"Not until you tell me—"

"I could kill you." I breathe, and look to our hands, to his energy cupping my skin, moving down my arm. I don't take it in, just let it be near me. But I could. I could take it, take it all, rid myself of Eric and all of his . . . his self righteousness and all of his bullshit. I wouldn't have to deal with him. "Right now. I could do it."

I wondered how much trouble threatening a vampire gets you into. For a human, I guess it's a few laughs, and the foundation for a future joke at some vampire get together. For me, a succubus, it very well could be a death wish.

But Eric freezes and his ice cold chi suddenly stills along my skin and shivers into me. I don't like how it feels, I don't like the taste of it at all. I cringe away from it, but it does no good, it's with me, around me. It's always around me. I can never escape the energy, can never be to myself and to my own thoughts and my own chi. I was a prisoner to the life forces around me.

"Do you hate me that much?" he breaths, and his voice is shredded. I look up at him and even though I slap myself around a bit, I read into his expression, and the pain there is so deep I feel it myself, feel it as my own pain. I feel for a second, just a second, that I wish I could take it back, what I had just said, take that pain away.

But I shake my head and when I pull my hands back, he lets me. I take a few steps backwards, careful not to fall down the steps. "No." I moan, confused. "No, not you. Maybe you—fuck, I don't know anymore."

I place my hands on my head and try to think, but I can't, everything is too much and I've been so angry, all day, and I'm so tired. I want to let Eric make me feel better, but I don't let myself. "I'm just—" I let out a long sigh and drop my hands, looking up at Eric. He quickly covers his emotions when I look at him, but I see it, I see that pin in there, like my pain is his, just like moment before his had been mine.

I lean against one of the posts. "I just wish I wasn't me, maybe for just an hour, or something. Like, I could stand here, threaten to kill you, a vampire, and not actually be able to. Or that you—you could look at me and not see—see this, see this thing, this monster. Maybe you could see me."

I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to clear the pounding headache. "That's what's got you angry, then." Eric muttered. I didn't look at him or move or open my eyes. "You think I'm here because you're a succubus."

My silence was his answer. "If I was human, Eric, you would not be standing on my porch."

He was silent for a moment. I wanted to open my eyes and see into his eyes, see what he was thinking, but I didn't. I had at least that much strength. "I don't think I'd be standing here if you were a succubus, either." He said eventually. Against my better judgment I looked up at him, confused. "I think I'd get Alcide to bring you to Fangtasia, and lock you in the basement until I got what I wanted."

I shivered from his words, the image he created horrifying me. He took a step closer, and I froze. I couldn't move or think or run or scream. I watched him walk over to me, very tall and intimidating and sexy and hot and handsome and—

"I think that if I wanted you because you were a succubus, I wouldn't wonder all night why you have a scar." He mumbled, fingers tickling the shirt covering the scar. I swallowed, I couldn't breathe. "I don't think I'd watch you sleep and scream about your mom and some kid, Jimmy." His hand moved up to the side of my face. His cool hands cooled my burning skin. I wanted to sigh into his hand, give into him, but I held strong ad tall, almost trembling from the exertion it took to stay away from him and his soft words. "I don't think I'd be as . . . uncomfortable with the fact that it's me your angry at."

I jerked away from his hand and moved around him, but I didn't go inside. I stared at the door, frozen in spot with my back to him. Go inside, my beast roared. Get away, you're in danger.

But Eric wouldn't hurt me. The revelation was quick and clear and knocked the breath out of me. He wouldn't hurt me. Eric would never, ever hurt me. I was standing here in the night and he could kill me, bite me, hurt me, take me, do whatever to me, but he doesn't because I see it in his eyes and in his chi that he physically cannot bring himself to harm me.

I turn back around to him, nervous, but for what I don't know. He stands tall and tense, looking down at me. "Why do you have the scar?" he asks.

"Jesus." I breathe. "You are fucking relentless, aren't you?" his eyes are so intense when he looks at me, boring into my head, trying to get the information out with just a look. "I was in a car accident." I lied.

"You would have healed all the way." He muttered, stepping closer to me again. He was so relentless, and I liked it, like that he wouldn't just let me run away, and that he kept chasing after me. "You would have healed every wound. I just want to know how you stopped yourself from healing, how you were able to keep a scar."

I back up until my back is pressed against the screen door and he's inches away. He runs his thumb down my neck, rubbing soft circles into my skin. I sigh into the touch, let out a small breathe. His eyes flicker into mine. They're so blue, and so intense, and so soft and I want to fall away into them, fall away and away and away. "You can tell me." He murmurs.

"My mom stabbed me." I found myself saying. I jerked out of his grip, shocked and startled that I had said that. But Eric didn't move away, his hand was frozen in air where he had been touching me, and his body was tense. I had told him, told him the truth. I'd never, ever told anyone. I'd never wanted to but after that small little sentence I wanted to tell the rest, wanted to pour my god damn soul out onto the porch for him to take.

I started to breathe heavy. My head was hurting and it felt like it would explode. "She stabbed me." I said again, and the tenseness is my skull went away slightly. I let out a shaky laugh, ignoring how morbid it was under the circumstances. "My mother stabbed me in the abdomen. She stabbed me. She stabbed me with the kitchen knife she uses to chop up the meat she gets from the butcher. She stabbed me in the kitchen when I got home."

I was moving across the porch and I said it again and again and again until the pounding in my head was almost gone and I felt like I was so light, like I could float away. I was panting, like I had run a marathon, but I turned back to Eric. He was staring at me with an indiscernible look in his eyes. "Tell me." He said again.

And then I told him. I told him it all. "She thought I was a monster." I breathed. I leaned back against the porch railing, hugging myself, hiding the scar beneath my arms even though the shirt covered it. "I killed my date earlier, and I came home crying and I told her what happened, begged her for help but she thought I was a demon and she ran into the kitchen. I chased after her because she was my mom, and I needed her to see it was me, her daughter, her Alice, and that I needed her help because I was so scared. I was terrified."

She runs into the kitchen, tripping over her own feet. She starts to scream and I feel a piece of me tear. She's scared of me. I pass myself in the mirror and I see my hair, skewed, my make up over my face from crying. I look like a monster. I am a monster. I run after mom, find her in the kitchen on the other side of the island, gasping. "Stay away!" she screams. "Stay away from me!"

"Mom, it's me." I beg, stepping forward. "It's me, mom, I swear."

She's shaking her head, her fake curled hair flying, tears running. "No." she cries. "No, you demon, you have my daughter, but you are not her."

My fingers clench into tight fists. I cry out, not any words, just a sound. There's colors all around her. I've seen them for a few months now. They're beautiful, and moving, curling and twisting. I'd just started seeing them. I'd never wanted to feed from them, though. I watch her, her lights, and I want it, I want those lights for myself, like I did with Jimmy today, in his car—but now he's dead. I killed him.

A shiver courses through my body and I'm gasping. "Mom, I'm so scared." I admit. "I'm so scared. Help me."

I take one more step and she launches half of her body over the counter, grabs a knife from the knife block and holds it in both hands. It shakes; she can't hold it steady, can't hold it up straight to her daughter.

My lips tremble, I see her fear, her self preservation leaking from her. "Mom, it's me." I whisper. "Look at me."

Her eyes aren't looking though. She sees me, sees me crying and walking slowly towards her, but she's not looking. She's not looking for her daughter in me, all she sees is this monster. I place a hand on the cold marble counter top. I helped her pick it out when we bought the house. My body aches for those times, not this, not this moment here, right now. I take a step around, so we're just feet away, facing each other with only the knife to separate us.

"Stay away!" she screamed, but the knife is shaking so bad, she can barely contain it.

I stop, and hold my hands up. They are clean. There is no blood on them, but yet I have a dead body on my conscious. "It's me, mom." I say quietly, biting back any emotion. I need her to see me. I need her to look for me. "It's Alice. It's me, your daughter, and I'm scared. I'm scared and I need you."

Her arms tire, I see shivers run through the muscles, and she lets out a rough gasp before her arms drop to her side. Her eyes are puffed and red and she grinds her teeth together roughly. "Alice." She whispers. I let out a sigh, and know she's seen me, knows she can help me. She's my mom again, not my prey, not someone weaker than me. She's here to take care of me, and I rush forward, wrapping my arms around her should and I hug her. My body tenses as I fight the urge to feed from her light. This is my mother. She will protect me until the day I die, and I will not feed from her, not even if I am in pain and dying, not even if—

There's an awful, awful pressure in my abdomen. My breathe leaves my body and I take a step back as if someone has punched me right in the stomach. I've stopped crying. Emotions don't exist within me in this moment, and all I can see is mom, standing there, body shivering. She won't stop shaking. I tilt my head to the side. Had she punched me? "Mom?" I murmur.

Her arm, trembling so, so bad, lifts up the knife and she looks at it, her eyes wide and unmoving and I look at it too. Something's dripping from it. Blood. That's blood. "Mom?" I say, and I'm scared.

The pressure reverberates through my body like electrical currents. I look down. I was wearing my white blouse. I had wanted to look good for jimmy tonight. But it was stained, and the crimson patch was growing, and spreading. I was going to have to throw this shirt away.

I shake my head. Mom had—she—I was stabbed.

My legs tremble as bad as her body is and I fall to my knees. I make contact with the cold, hard tiles and my knees ache from the impact. Mom drops the knife. My blood splatters out from it across the floor. I look up at her as my hands press into the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to close it. She didn't stab me. It was an accident. She slipped, hadn't realized she was holding it, didn't know what she was doing—

She slowly lowers herself to her knees, so our eyes are on the same level. She's crying again. She doesn't come to me, doesn't help me, and I'm crying too, I'm in so much pain. The wound emits shocks of angering burns through my body. I cough. Something wet is in my throat, and when it comes out, onto the front of my shirt, it's a splatter of blood.

I'm dying.

"Mom, help." I say quietly. My voice lacks all commitment. I see it in her eyes that she won't help me. She sits back on her heals, her arms wrapping around herself, hugging herself. She rocks forwards, and backwards, eyes wide and staring, staring at me, staring at my blood, staring at my death. "Help."

I lean forward, hands touching the tiles. I don't have a grip, and my hands slide in the blood and I'm falling to my stomach, and onto my back, and I'm holding the wound but it's bleeding, and it won't stop. It comes out through my finger tips and out of my shirt, onto the floor. It pools around me until I'm swimming in my own blood. The room is bright. Everything is emanating its own life. I hear mom whimper but more so I feel her, feel her energy, feel it shriveling and locking itself away deep inside her, in a strange way, as if it's not part of her anymore, but hidden, secret, detached.

I reach a blind hand to her. I let go of the wound. I'm dying and it hurts. I never thought about how much it could hurt to die. I figured—I just thought that—

"Mom, I'm sorry." I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Eric's in front of me in a moment, and I'm ripped from my memories, to him and me right now, and I wonder what he's going to do. He surprises me to the deepest parts of my being when his arms snake around me and pull me to his chest. I breathe in the scent of him, gasp it in. "Tell me." He mutters, and I'm shaking, but I tell him, because my words are safe with him when they never have been before.

"I was dying." I choke. "I had no control. I blacked out and I thought I was gone. I felt light and empty. All my chi was gone, had worked on healing the wound but she had stabbed right into the liver, and it was really bad, it was so bad. I had fed only once, and it was on Jimmy. I didn't have enough energy to even close a piece of my organ before it split open again.

"I swear to god I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to do it, I wish I could take it back but I was young and I didn't know what I was doing and I was losing so much blood. I- I woke up. I didn't know how long it had been, but I woke up and—and my mom she—she—I had—"

Eric's hand stroked my hair, sending calming shivers down my spine and I leaned into him, fists gripping onto the front of his shirt. "I killed her." I gasped. His hands stilled for an inaudible second before continuing. I closed my eyes, ashamed, but I kept going. I kept going even though I could feel the disgust in Eric, knew he'd throw me away. "I was unconscious when I fed from her. I woke up and she was unconscious, and there was barely any chi left, it was just whispers, feathers of light around her body. I still had a real bad cut in my stomach, it was bleeding, but I stopped feeding. I've almost died three other times in my life, and never before have I been able to stop the beast inside from feeding when I'm dying. I have no self control. I feed to heal. But with my mom, I just stopped, and I was holding onto the wound and I moved across the floor, shook her, tried to wake her up. I hadn't completely drained her, I thought she'd wake up. I didn't know that- that I could have fed it back to her, I didn't know how to do that yet. Then her chi, it just—she just—it all just flew from her body and into the air and the colors faded and they became a part of the air all around me. She died. I couldn't save her."

I couldn't take it anymore and pushed myself from Eric. I had to see what he thought, had to see the look on his face. He had to be horrified, disgusted, ashamed of me and how much of a monster I was—

The sadness seeping from his eyes hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, eyes wide. The pressure in my head and body was gone. My life's secret, the thing that had manipulated who I was for years, was out on the table, and here he was, sad for me. "I'm sorry." He said finally. His chi was so confused, floundering around him like a lost puppy.

He'd never done this before, I realized. He'd never stood before a woman and had felt sorry for them, felt moved to be around them, and help them, and talk to him. I swallowed. "Sorry?" I breathed.

"I—I wish I could have saved you from that."

I stared at him, surprised. And then I decided. I launched myself at him, on my tip toes, grabbing at his shirt and grabbing his arms and his face and crashed my lips to his. He stumbled back, surprised, caught himself and held onto me, his arms instantly wrapping around the small of my back and lifting me to him, kissing me back and holding onto me. He was so cold but he was setting my body on fire. I was desperate as my fingers clawed at his face and the back of his neck, fingers running down his spine, making him shiver. I smiled against him.

"Eric." I breathed into him. He leaned back, looking down at me, and I saw he felt it too, elated that I wasn't the only one to have this . . . this magnificent feeling coursing through my veins. He was confused as fuck, but I held onto the side of his face with my hand, and without knowing it his head moved into my palm for comfort. "Please come in."

He wastes no time, only a moment to look at me with wide eyes, raking across my boy, before he's taking me in his arms and ripping the door open, pulling me into the house with him. He steps over the broken ceramic bowl on the floor, doesn't stop to ask about it. He rests me on the arm of the couch and breaks our contact so I can breathe. I claw at his shirt, pulling apart the buttons, and then sliding it down his arms. I marvel at his body, how perfect it is, the marble skin, how hard the muscles were.

I ran my hand from his belly button up, across his nipple, and he growled down at me. I looked up at him as he attacked my mouth, biting and sucking and licking. His lips trailed down my neck as his hands fumbled for the hem of my shirt, and pulled back to lift it from my body.

I stood up, grabbing onto his face, my heart beating with a need. This was not the hunger from my beast. This was a new hunger, one coming from me, the real me, coming from Alice. I wanted him more than anything, wanted him now, right into this moment. I ravished his mouth, tongues fighting for dominance, as he unclasped my bra and let it fall to the floor. He pulled us apart from each other and I whimpered as his eyes rolled across my body, fangs extending. I felt on fire under his gaze.

He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist in an iron grip, not willing to let go. He rushed us to the back of the house, to my bedroom, dropped me onto the old and creaking mattress. My head rolled back, I stared at the ceiling, as his mouth devoured my beasts, tongue rolling across the nipple, hands kneading and molding. I grabbed onto this hair, sighed into his touches. He had taken my shorts off without me knowing, and was gently pulling the panties with his cold fingers, finally tearing them off from frustration.

I gasped forwards, sitting up, letting him ogle my body shamelessly as I fumbled with his pants, tried to undo the button but my hands were practically shaking with need. I wanted this, and wanted even more knowing how much he wanted it too.

Finally he softly took my hands away and tore the pants off himself, dropping his pants down around his ankles. I swallowed, face to face with his member, and looked up to him, licked my lips once. I wanted this, wanted it so bad.

Slowly he leaned over me, making me fall back against the bed. His mouth was on my neck, tongue grazing the skin. I moaned. "Eric, I need you." I begged.

He lifted his head and looked down at me. He bit my bottom lip lightly, drawing a prick of blood that he quickly licked away. "Eric." I mumbled. "Take me."

I felt him at my entrance, slowly pushing into me, achingly slow, until he was completely sheathed within me. He let out a ragged breathe and ducked his head into the nape of my neck, keeping perfectly still. I was breathless with the sensation of being so completely filled. My hands smoothed over his shoulder, until he started moving, gentle at first, until his rhythm became faltered and rough, hips rocking into me, eyes boring into mine. "Eric." I moaned, fingers reaching up and trailing over his fangs. I was so close, felt it building into a tight coil in my lower stomach. I was panting, moving with him, hips rotating and moving and thrusting and I was close. "Eric, bite me." I whispered.

He looked down at me, unsure. "Do it." I moaned. "Eric I'm—I'm close—fuck—"

I felt his cold lips on my neck, felt him breathe against the skin even though it was unnecessary. I raked my fingers along the skin of his back, and he growled into my neck. And that did it for me. I came undone and cried out his name and he bit into my neck quickly. It didn't hurt, I didn't feel it until the pleasure from the bite slammed into me and I was rocked with it, the might of it all. He thrust into me once, twice, three more times before he shuddered and his own orgasm hit.

He collapsed onto the bed at my side, careful not to land on me. I was still running from the high of it, panting and sweating, when I realized, in a shocking second, that I had not fed from him. I looked at him sharply, felt inside of myself, but no, I had none of his chi. I ran a hand across his chest. "I didn't feed from you." I said in wonderment. "That's never happened."

He smiled, licking my blood from his lips. "You're beautiful." He muttered, brushing hair from my face, and I laughed. It was spectacular, being in bed with Eric. He'd gotten what he wanted. He'd finally fucked me. But he laid here, brushing sweaty hair from my forehead, telling me I was beautiful in a way no other man has said, and he was staying. He was staying with me.

"Thank you." I mutter.

He tilts his head to the side. "For what?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure yet."

He smiles, and holds me, and he makes love to me. It's not fucking or having sex or anything like he's probably used to. It was making love, and it was sweet and gentle and beautiful, and he was holding me, always holding me, and he never let me go.