A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks – I've got one nasty flu, and writing while doped up on meds isn't real easy. I'm still sick, but have managed to cobble together the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you'll find the chapter worth the wait!

Okay, quick mythology lesson. Phthonus was the spirit (daemon) of envy and jealousy. He was associated in particular with the jealous passions of love. One version of his origins place him as the son of Dionysus and Nyx.

Thanks to Gallathea for beta'ing this chapter, and as always, thanks to all of you for the reviews and encouragement!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or stories from The Southern Vampire series. I can only hope that Ms. Harris does not mind me taking them out to play with.

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The following night Eric stood at the foot of the bed, his open suitcase in front of him. He'd pulled on a pair of jeans, hair still wet from his shower, and was picking through the suitcase's contents trying to decide on a shirt. Eric found himself having trouble staying focused, a most unusual state for him. He glanced down again at the letter lying on the bed next to his suitcase, having found it slipped under his door.

Signore Northman,

Giacomo will be out of town for the next three nights. One of his professors was suddenly invited to a conference in Rome and selected two students to accompany him. What luck for you, eh? Remember Signore, fate will only take you so far, it is up to you what to do when you get there.

Sincerely,

Giovanna

Though he was amused with the Gypsy's deviousness, he knew the last line had little to do with Sookie, and much to do with him. With this one simple statement, Giovanna was echoing the crux of Avel's words to him the night before. His voice echoed through Eric's mind, every word being analyzed, looking for every hidden meaning.

You were both chosen...

For harmony to exist, both parts must be equal...

Shake yourself from the restraints of what you know...

Blood bonds... turning... you think only as vampire... you are more... just as she is...

Your sister's mother a naiad... your mother descended from a satyr... both drawn to the same man... you think this is coincidence?

Eric did not believe in coincidence. The unlikelihood that both his and Rachal's mothers had fallen in love with his father, a mere human, had never been lost to him. He'd hunted for answers on and off throughout his existence, but never found them. Until last night.

Your father was sired by Phthonus.

The nonchalance in Avel's voice as he uttered those words made it seem no more important than if he were discussing the weather. Yet, it was the missing piece Eric had been searching for. It was not a vampire that was his bonded's other half... it was another child of the divine. His turning had only been a means to an end.

Eric grabbed the letter, folding it carefully and placing it in his pocket. He'd reached the bottom of his suitcase, finding the Fangtasia t-shirt Pam had tucked in the bottom, and traced his fingers idly across the fabric. He smirked. Seven years was an eye blink to him, yet his nights of sitting on his throne in the bar felt as distant as his days of being human. He pulled it on, hoping it might contribute to another spark of recognition from his bonded, and then slipped into his leather jacket. After a quick blow-dry of his hair, he laced up his boots and headed for the lobby.

The concierge was greeting him almost instantly. "Everything is in place as you instructed, Signore Northman. The Murano Gallery will expect your arrival at 11:30pm, and the restaurant will be prepared for your exclusive use at 1:00am. Here are your keys," the elder gentleman said, handing them over. "The vehicle is waiting just outside."

Eric nodded, slipping some folded bills to the concierge, appreciating his professionalism. He reached into his other pocket to retrieve the letter he'd written up the night before. Contained in the sealed envelope were instructions for Bill to research the name Preston Pardloe, and an explicit demand to avoid Phemonoe, Niall, and any other fae. "Please see that Mr. Compton gets this."

"Of course, Mr. Northman," the concierge replied and made a little bow, heading back to the front desk.

Eric grinned as he stepped through the lobby doors, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the vehicle that sat there waiting for him, beckoning like a long lost pet. Though it was only a rental, he ran his fingers along its perfect curves, nearly caressing the machine like a lover. He slid into the driver's seat, growling with the engine as it purred to life under him. It had been many years since he'd driven his red Corvette, having been forced into chauffeured, armored cars as King. Eric closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of the leather, and feeling the vibrations beneath him. Tonight was all about making her remember, but he could not deny the effect of those memories on him. He threw the gear shift with a grin, his fangs running out slightly as he peeled away from the hotel, not hesitating in his speed as he took off for the café.

He hadn't expected to see her waiting for him by the front door, pressed against the small niche in the wall to block the wind. She wore a simple, navy peasant blouse and long, flowing black skirt. Her hair was loose, save the side pieces which were pulled back, held by a small wooden barrette. The black, Victorian-style boots on her feet were worn, looking almost second hand. She had a crocheted black shawl around her shoulders that hardly looked warm enough to keep out the Winter chill.

He hadn't expected the sight of his bonded appearing as little more than a pauper, and it stoked fires of rage in the pit of his stomach. He'd been too preoccupied with his own bloodlust to notice things he should have the night before. She was thin... not death's door thin, but enough that her once voluptuous curves had noticeably lessened.

Most of all, he hadn't expected the minuscule jolt he felt as the Corvette came to a stop. As her gaze cast along the red convertible, wandering slowly along its length, and finally gliding up to Eric's own eyes he felt it – like the tiny spark made from flicking the flint wheel on a lighter. It tingled at his mind for the briefest of moments; so brief he almost missed it. The sensation had come from the bond.

Eric held her eyes with his for a beat longer, waiting for her almost imperceptible intake of breath and the slight flushing of her cheeks, then rewarding her with the slightest of grins. He smirked inwardly as she seemed surprised by her own reaction to him. It reminded him of the conflicted emotions that crossed her face when he kissed her in Dallas; when she began to fight her own inward battle between what she thought of as proper, and the obvious desire she felt for him. He relished watching her fight the inevitable, playing her emotions and libido like a virtuoso, leading her to the point where she could yield and feel it was a conscious choice on her part.

Eric exited the car, rounding to the passenger side where he stopped, leaning back casually against the door. Her eyes never left him, watching his every graceful movement. When she realized he intended to move no closer, forcing her to make the move toward him, she shuffled a bit on her feet. She was clearly nervous, but he sensed very little in the way of fear, which pleased him. His eyes softened the tiniest bit, allowing her to exhale the breath she'd been unconsciously holding, and she took slightly tentative steps toward him.

"Good evening, Bella," he greeted once she stopped in front of him, though keeping a buffer of personal space between them.

"Majesty," she replied, curtsying a bit.

He laughed inwardly, remembering how Sookie always disdained the formalities of vampire etiquette. Reaching out his hand, he placed a crooked finger lightly beneath her chin, tilting her head back up to his eyes. "Eric," his voice gently reminded her. Her lips parted ever so slightly at his touch, and he fought his need to claim her mouth with his, coolly dropping his hand back to his side.

She smiled softly and nodded. "My apologies... Eric."

He gave her a sly smile as he reached behind him for the package sitting on the passenger's seat, left there by the concierge. Sookie's eyes widened a bit when he handed her the large, white box. "You will need this," he said simply.

She looked hesitantly at the box in her hands for a moment, then slowly lifted the lid. Her fingers moved tentatively along the tissue paper, folding it out of the way. Eric swiftly took the box as she lifted the contents, setting it out of the way, and watched her face intently as she held up his gift. The concierge had done well, it was almost an exact match. He once again felt a tiny jolt in the bond as her eyes swept over the cranberry colored coat.

"May I?" Eric asked, reaching to remove her shawl.

She blinked up at him, her eyes a bit glazed over. He locked his piercing gaze with hers, but made no further move to touch her. "Do you not like it?" he asked in a low tone, searching her eyes for the spark of recognition.

"I..." she said, her voice barely a whisper. He noticed the subconscious lean of her body, as though a magnet was slowly drawing her toward him. Eric arched a brow at her and delicately probed at the bond. For a moment he sensed the mist beginning to part...

...and then it was slammed shut with a force so violent he nearly physically recoiled. It was as if something sensed him... his presence... like he was a trespasser in someone else's realm. Understanding crept through Eric's mind. This was a warning.

Sookie shook her head, as though giving herself a mental shake, and was stammering an apology to him. He barely heard her words, his mind racing to put the pieces together. This was no amnesia his bonded suffered from. Someone had done this, someone with immense power. The mist that surrounded the center of the bond was not caused by any memory loss... it was not a shroud of protection for a fragile psyche... it was a barricade. She had been trapped.

"Eric?" Sookie's voice broke through his train of thought. He glanced up to see she had removed her shawl and was holding out the coat to him. She was shivering.

He took the coat from her with a smile, forcing himself back into the moment. "My apologies, Bella," he murmured softly near her ear as he reached around her, sliding the coat up her arms. Slowly he fastened each button, hearing the pace of her heart quicken with his closeness. His eyes cast upward once he finished, catching her eyes as he gently slid his hands beneath her hair, lifting it from inside the coat collar and allowing it to spill over her shoulders.

"There," he paused to place a chaste kiss upon her forehead. "Nice and warm now?"

Her cheeks blushed and she smiled, "Yes, thank you. It's beautiful."

"You are welcome, Bella. Will you accompany me this evening, then?" he asked, opening the car door for her.

She hesitated a moment, and he could see her chewing over her words. "I would be glad to assist you in touring the city." Her vocal inflection seemed a bit odd until she pointedly reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She was, rather pointedly, making sure he glimpsed the poor excuse for an engagement ring on her finger.

Eric smirked at her, "I assure you, Bella, my intentions are entirely... honorable." It wasn't a lie in his mind.

She averted her eyes with a bit of embarrassment, clearly feeling she had been presumptuous to think this vampire King would ever wish to bed her. He'd effectively planted the seed that any tension she felt was coming from her own desire for him. Perfect, Eric grinned to himself, watching her slide into the car. Despite his new knowledge of what held Sookie's mind from him, the path to her seemed the same. He may not be able to push through the barricade, but perhaps he could draw her out.

"So, where are we going?" she asked as Eric slipped into the driver's seat, turning the engine over.

He flashed her a quick smile, "The Murano glass gallery. I am looking into acquiring a few pieces."

"Oh, how wonderful!" It was the response he'd hoped for. Bill had mentioned she tried to get an apprenticeship there, which indicated her interest was more than just appreciation for the fine glass creations. He intended to bolster her confidence with him by making her feel particularly useful. From the way she was beaming at him, he knew she was already coming out of her shell and beginning to relax.

"Do you know much about it?" he inquired.

She nodded, "Oh, yes. I've been studying and practicing for years in the hopes of becoming skilled enough to apprentice there."

"Excellent," he grinned, lightly brushing her hand as he reached for the gear shift. "Then you will help me choose the pieces."

"I'd be honored, Majes..." she paused, correcting herself, "Eric."

He gave her a wink, and she responded with a cute, nervous smile. She was turned slightly toward him in her seat, her fingertips idly caressing the lapels of her new coat. He had put the top up on the car before driving off, realizing that she would not enjoy the rush of cold air as he did. This gave him reason now to shuck the leather jacket from his shoulders, revealing the Fangtasia t-shirt, and watching her from the periphery of his vision. He loved the way she always seemed in awe of his movements, like the motion of every muscle in his body captivated her.

"Fangtasia?" she slowly asked.

He nodded, "It is a club I own."

"I see..." her voice trailed off, and Eric was not surprised this time when he felt the bond's spark, a little more intense than the last.

Before this night ended, he intended to stoke that spark into a raging fire. He was now convinced that he was slowly beginning to reach her. She was fighting to be freed, and he would show her the path; pulling her from the depths of her mind and up to the surface where he could grab onto her. Never again would he let go. The pieces had all fallen into place. Eric knew what needed to be done, and he would see it through to the very end. Fate had led them here, and now, it was his turn.

His time had come.

TBC