"Any idea what he—" I turned back to Pam to get a heads up on what, exactly, Eric wanted with me, but she was gone, and the space in which she'd been had filled in with strangers who chatted idly with one another, perfunctorily putting in enough face time to create attraction that would hopefully lead them to intimacy. The dating game. Though, in this case, this sport was for sex, not love. I'd always questioned the logic of trying to meet someone in a bar; where was the common interest? You, too, like have a drink and make arbitrary conversation with the friends you've brought while exchanging come-hither stares with strangers until one of you gathers the courage to introduce yourself and make painful get-to-know-you conversation?

Like you're one to talk, I chastised myself as I snaked through the ever-thickening crowd. Look where your last sexual escapade landed you. I had reached Eric; he sat in front of me, an uninterested lion watching other predators encircling their prey. His hair shone under the black light of the stage, reflecting pale white. The image of corn husking passed in front of my eyes; the silk strands, so light they seemed weightless, that surrounded the ear after the outer leaves had been pulled away.

Eric inspected me from head to foot without saying a word. There. You see his cold eyes? The way he looks at you is like a shark before a feeding frenzy. I'd dressed nicely, but not so well that I should have been evoking the hunger that I felt at the pit of my stomach. His hunger. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, a twisting mix of lust and thirst and famine, a craving for the flesh of another as well as their blood.

"Sit," he motioned to the chair next to him.

"What do you want, Eric?" I kept my voice low, so our conversation would be private.

"I can feel your anger. You're going to give yourself an ulcer." I dropped my head a bit, looked up at Eric and raised my eyebrows. An ulcer. He was concerned about my health? Sure.

"If that's all…" I said, raising my voice slightly higher. I stood, but he did too, catching my wrist before I could streak down the stairs.

"I didn't dismiss you, Elliot." His voice was steel, dripping with unsaid threat. But I was done, done pretending I knew—or cared—what he wanted from me, what he could possibly have in store for me.

"Look," I threw my arms around his neck, stood up a little higher so I was millimeters away from his lips; he would hear me, and everyone else would think we were having a lovers-may-care PDA moment. "I don't know where the Eric from Dallas went, but you? You're just a jaded, soulless monster who is testing me, and I don't know why." I pressed my mouth to his to give the pose authenticity, then fluffed out my hair a bit to block us so I could go back to speaking. "But I do know that the day you left, there was blood all over my chest, and it wasn't mine. So either you fed me more blood while I was unconscious, or those pretty blue eyes of yours were leaking."

Jackpot.

His grip, which had been slack, loose around my waist, tightened so I gasped for air that surrounded me but refused to make its way into my lungs. I tried not to panic, but as seconds slid away and his hold only tightened, I felt myself start to slip away. Right before I sank down into the ease of oblivion, he let go and I slumped into him, keeping my hands tight behind his neck to remain standing. Black spots rushed in front of my eyes and I swayed for a few seconds before straightening and taking a step back from him.

"Go into the office," he ordered. "I'll be there in a moment." I pitched myself forward, away from him, through bodies that just didn't want to move. I put my hand on the back of a man in a blue polo shirt and asked if I could get through, but he didn't respond. After a few more taps, I squared my shoulders and slid past him, between another woman who was facing the opposite way. As our bodies touched, he turned and leered at me, enjoying the feel of my unwilling body as I passed him by.

"Asshole," I said, looking straight into his eyes. At that moment, after what had just happened with Eric, I could have killed him, or anyone that crossed me, but I just kept going, practically vibrating my way to the office, where I stood next to the door, leaning against the wall, my hands gripping either arm. I took a deep breath, let it out and repeated until I felt like my blood was flowing through my veins rather than being launched.

Eric entered a moment later, undoing the calm my body had sunk into. Without thinking, I launched myself at him, laying blows on his chest and stomach. For all the impact I had, I might have been a mosquito. But my anger burned inside me; I wound my arm up and slapped him as hard as I could.

"Don't you ever hurt me like that again," I yelled, putting space between our bodies.

"For that, I do apologize."

"Oh, thanks. I feel so much better." I paced the room, feeling like a caged animal. I wanted to hurt him so badly my hands shook for want of a stake; but I was unarmed, so I would try to hurt him with words.

"What's it like to be killed, Eric?" I began, going out on a limb with a hunch I had. "What was it like 1,000 years ago when your maker found you, turned you into what you are today?"

"Tread carefully," Eric growled, staring at me.

"Did you enjoy it when she—he bled you, took your humanity away, one mouthful at a time?"

"You don't know what you speak of." His accent came through stronger. I was a little high on this confrontation; I was starting a fire, building it tall, and I could have cared less about the consequences.

"How did it feel when you drank your maker's blood? When you woke up dead a few days later?" I balled my hands together, trying to get some of the emotion in me out. I couldn't contain myself anymore, and there was a creeping sadness inside me that hovered like fog over water, desperately trying to pull me down. I fought it, fed my anger and kept going.

"Do you want to find out?" His lips pulled back, a distinct threat this time. I was pretty sure if he did decide to drain me, he wouldn't be putting any blood back. His knees were slightly bent and he was hunched; his entire being screamed of imminent attack.

"Do you hate your maker? Were they as bad as you, taking you against your will, tying you to them because no one would stay willingly?" He didn't reply, just stared at me with eyes so wild and bright I expected them to catch on fire.

"Or is that just you, forcing humans to stay with you so you can enjoy your pathetic power trips?" With this, Eric advanced toward me. I was vaulted back into the wall behind me, pressed against it and Eric's body. I closed my eyes, expected his savage teeth in my neck, but the pain never came. Instead, his fingers encircled my wrist and I was pulled outside.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, trying to jerk away, which only left me with black-and-blue marks on my arm that bloomed instantly. "Let me go!"

"We're not talking about this here," he said, speaking to the air in front of him. He launched into the air, and I followed, though I was jostled roughly by the takeoff. I felt something snap in my wrist and then I yelled loudly, savagely into the night as we climbed higher, his grip putting immense pressure on screaming wrist.

"EricEricEric, stop, my wrist, you broke it, oh, fuck, please, please just stop!" He didn't say anything, but shifted his hold downward, then pulled me toward him so my upper body was tucked under his arm. We flew silently, the air cool, pressing in violently around me as we ripped though it. This was not the calm flight he'd taken me on before; this was urgent, wild, and I was already hurt. A few minutes past and I'd lost a lot of body heat in only my spaghetti-strapped dress. My teeth chattered with a will of their own when we finally landed on a massive roof, where he let go of me and I fell immediately onto my knees; I rolled away from him, unable to put any weight on my right wrist to crawl.

I held my arm up to look at the damage, then wished I hadn't. The entire area was swollen, and my hand jutted out at an unnatural angle. The image sent a current of nausea through me so intense I couldn't help but turn over and vomit; what came up was mostly alcohol—the only thing I'd put into my body all day. After spitting out the last of the bitter liquid that hung acrid in my mouth, I turned over onto my back and closed my eyes, concentrating on taking deep, even breaths, though my ribs stung with the movement. My body felt numb, cold, with a pins-and-needles feeling that found its way up and down my trunk and legs; so I didn't find it strange, at first, when my mouth seemed caked with something that tasted tinny and peculiar. I swallowed, but the same feeling came back almost immediately. When I opened my eyes, Eric was kneeling above me, with his arm positioned over my mouth. I coughed, spat and a geyser of his own blood colored Eric's face, almost glowing in the dark.

"No," I said, struggling, but I was a child to him, and he unfolded my body, made me lay flat and ingest his blood. My wrist snapped audibly, sending a shockwave up my spine so I bucked my hips up, colliding with his arm, sending blood all over me.

"Enough, enough!" I shouted, but he was insistent, bringing his wrist back down for me. I gave in, drank deeply until he pulled away and I collapsed into the cement under me. Physically, my body was humming, strong, ready to take on anything. But my mind was a chasm of shattered mirrors; I was tired to the core and just wanted a hot shower and a fourteen hour nap.

I sat up, clutched at my hair, smearing blood through it, and laughed out loud at the awfulness of the situation.

"You broke my wrist, Eric."

"I apologize. I gave my blood for the injury."

"Not accepted." He was silent; I stared at him, hard. "Either you tell me what's really going on, why I'm here, or I leave. I don't care who you tell. There will be some firm that wants to hire me, if not just for a pr stunt."

"Why don't you tell me?" He said, turning so I stared at his black-clad back. "You seem to have figured it out."

"I—" I hesitated. Something in his voice was just off, and, stronger than ever, I felt the sheets of dull pain that emanated from him.

"Your maker is dead," I offered, knowing I was right when gray-tinged sadness encircled my heart, wringing out any joy I'd kept there.

"Godric died the evening before we slept together."

"I'm sorry," I offered, and it was true enough. Death hurts, none worse than the death of a parent, the one who'd given you life. Or, in Godric's case, taken it away.

"The experience shook me, more than I thought possible."

"So why am I here?" He was silent, and I was staring at him so hard he'd lost his shape, become a black vapor that stretched out into the air of the night. I shook my head, brought him back into focus and pushed off the concrete with my hands, scraping them slightly as I got to my feet. I winced at the pain, held my arms up to the moonlight to see the damage I'd caused…and watched as the few small cuts I'd made healed themselves, connecting skin and tissue until no hint of injury remained.

"Oh," I breathed, giddy and scared at the same time. How much of his blood had I ingested?

"It's just an aftereffect," Eric said, quietly. "It won't last." His voice brought me back to our conversation, and I walked over the ledge he stood by, gulping audibly when I looked down at the ground that was so many stories below us. Though my heart was in my throat, I reached out with a steady hand and put two fingers on the side of his face that I couldn't see; slowly, I pulled my arm in, turning his head so I could look at him, speak to him honestly.

"Eric. What am I doing here?" His gaze was liquid when he took me in, wrapped his arms around my chilled skin. I barely felt the cold, but he slipped off his jacket and wound it around my shoulders nonetheless. It was a scene that had already been played, an almost tender moment that made me want to give myself to him all over again, to let myself get lost in his unseen depths. But I couldn't, not when he'd hurt me over and over again. I needed an explanation, something worth staying for; he wanted me, I knew that, but I needed it to be for the right reasons.

His body stayed draped over mine when I felt his voice vibrate through his chest, over the cheek that was pressed there.

"You irritate me."

It wasn't quite what I was expecting. "We're even there," I muttered, knowing he would hear me.

"I've already had you, body and blood, but I want more." I shrugged out of his embrace. Was this his idea of trying to win me over? I started to speak, but he held his hands out, asked me to let him finish.

"I shouldn't want you. I'm too old for a human to keep me enthralled as you have."

"That's all well and good, Eric," I fumed. He was telling me, point blank, that I shouldn't be important enough for his attentions; I was an insult to his power, his stature.

"But remind me of something—did I ever ask you for your blood, or did you pour it down my throat without really giving me a choice in the matter?"

"I—" He frowned, and I took the chance to interrupt.

"You created a connection between us. You tracked me down, found out personal things and made me come here. So at least own up to the fact that you just had to have this measly little human." His hands clapped onto my shoulders and his body tensed; if he were human, I'm sure he would have been turning red. As it was, his mouth was tensed and his body was coiled tightly, ready to be released at any second.

"You," he began, slowly, rolling the word over his tongue like he was trying to chew it thoroughly before he let it get to me, "knew me, somehow." The words were brittle; he didn't want to say them, that much was clear. It seemed to be taking a massive amount of effort to speak to me this way. "You gave me what I wanted before I had to ask. You responded to me without fear or adoration. You saw me."

I was shocked as the words hit my ears; his hands were heavy on me, like I was the one holding him up.

"You can't stand being vulnerable," The wheels in my mind turned faster, putting pieces of memory together until the puzzle was revealed; expressions, emotions, his words to me, his actions—they painted a complete picture.

"You needed an outlet." He didn't disagree, but remained silent. "You were hurt when I met you, and I knew that. So you gave me your blood, turned me into a channel for the emotion you couldn't manage."

"Vampires aren't good with emotion," he explained. I stared at him, let him continue. "You calmed me, even when you weren't physically near." My panic attack in the car—it had been him, his exquisite pain that had left me breathless, gasping over the steering wheel. He'd felt the moments of peace I'd used to get rid of the agitation that had exploded from him into me that say.

"So what, you wanted me near to contain the threat? A human saw that you have feelings—so what?"

"I want you. I shouldn't. But I do." And there it was: the truth. Eight words were responsible for my reluctant relocation. Eric, it seemed, always got what he wanted. I figured his needs were pretty straight-forward; blood, sex, money. There was no complex system behind those needs to be unraveled, no need to think of them at all because they were a part of his nature.

"You wanted me here so you could figure out what about me intrigues you so. Then you'd be free of me."

"Yes." He brushed a hand back through his hair. "But it's become so convoluted, so messy. You've twined yourself around me without intending to."

"Sorry to inconvenience you, my Lord," I said, dropping into a curtsy.

"Stop it," he ordered, lifting me up gently, somehow, by my chin. I clenched my jaw and kept going.

"Sorry, Master. What would you have me do?"

"Elliot," he growled, the pitch of his voice getting higher as he bit off the words. "I'm telling you I want you."

"You want my body," I snapped back. "You want to use me until you're satisfied."

"I've already had your body. I want you." And then, he broke the boundaries between us, reached out to me, leaned down and kissed me with so much need that my response was immediate and powerful. I should have still been angry, pissed off that he'd made me come to Louisiana only to find a way to bring to light the things about me that he was intrigued by; that his intentions were murky because he'd just happened to realize he was capable of wanting an ordinary human. That he was capable of wanting me. But giving in was easy, like sliding into a warm bath, and I didn't have enough fight in me to stop, to break away from his mouth and hands that were doing their best to awaken my body.

I pressed into him, breathing in his scent, his taste. Joy and lust danced back and forth between us and I just wanted him closer. My nails dug into his shirt and I let his jacket fall off before breaking the kiss. He made a deep, guttural noise in his throat as I backed away from him, closing in on the ledge. I stepped up, backwards, and held my arms out to the wind. Eric traced my every movement, his eyes dark with need. He stepped forward, arms outstretched.

"Catch me," I whispered, then allowed myself to fall back over the edge so the next thing I knew was empty air and the careening of my stomach as the acid inside was sent spinning in the wrong direction. I gasped and screamed, though it came out a garbled laugh. I fell in slow motion, felt each molecule of air as it passed me by, stroking every part of my body. The next moment, though, my fall was cut short by arms that caught me around my hips. I felt his surprise, but also the faint humor he'd found in my stunt.

"Brave," he said into my ear as we touched down on the ground in front of his house. I felt the movement of his lips near my skin and didn't answer, choosing instead to pull him into an almost sprint into the house. He lifted me, tossed me over his shoulder and we were in his room before I could blink. It wasn't what I expected. His comforter was dark blue with a soft sheen to it; the bed itself was large, could comfortably fit four people (and probably had.) I didn't pay attention to anything else after that, though, because he set me down on the soft material of the duvet and was on top of me a second later, kissing and nipping his way down to my neck.

I laughed as he turned me over onto my back so he could unzip and pull off my dress; I heard him stripping and turned to watch as he quickly revealed his perfect body. It was even better than my memory.

"Come here," I ordered, my voice hoarse, the blood having left the area to a place a little further south. He obeyed, embraced me, then found his way down so he was between my legs. His fingers began to massage and explore, but I scraped my nails through his hair and pulled, lightly, so he would look up at me.

"No," I panted. "I want you, just you." He grinned up at me and obliged, crawling over me like a cat until we were situated, my legs wrapping around his hips so he could push into me further. Those familiar sharp-tipped teeth were in full view as he smiled and grunted; I took his neck, pulled him down and caught them, worked around them and moaned into him as his thrusts punctuated our rhythm. When I reached the edge and looked up at him, I saw what I realized I'd been missing about him all along. He wasn't a villain, or a horrible person. He was capable of terrible things, but so was everyone. He found it impossible to show his vulnerability, so he'd given me the key to feel it. Warmth filled me, and I was gone from myself, filled with pleasure so intense, so shared that he followed me over the edge, shuddered inside me and came to rest next to my twitching body.

We didn't speak much after that; words wouldn't do any justice.

***

The next morning, when I woke up naked in Eric's bed, I found myself grinning at his sleeping form. I traced a finger over his back, down to the top of his butt and placed a kiss on his shoulder blade before getting out of the bed and pulling on the shirt he'd been wearing last night.

I was on my way back to my room when the doorbell rang. I was close enough to the foyer, so I decided to save the maid trouble and answer it myself. When I did, standing behind the door so whomever stood on the other side wouldn't see more of me than necessary, I found the beer delivery man staring back at me.

"Hi," I said, smiling uncertainly. "Can I help you?""

"You're Eric's new manager?"

"Yeah…" I peered back into the house, wondering what this was about. I didn't get too far, though, because that was the moment he stepped into the house, covering my mouth and nose with a rag that held a sickly sweet chemical smell.

Chloroform, I realized, dully, as the world went black around me.