A/N:Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

Some action in this chapter, but it is scattered.

Chapter 4.

This time, I know what to expect.

I awake to the sounds of someone breathing next to me. I feel as though I have been drugged, again. But I am more cautious, keeping my eyes closed until my breathing is steady, my heart beat normal. I am not in my bed, plus I seem to be wearing just the La Perla. Yep, and the rope of pearls. Has to be a man in bed next to me.

Still confused, I open my eyes to find Eric a few inches away. His eyes are open as well. In the dark, they appear to be glowing. Must be the after-effects of whatever he did to me. I am afraid to be the first one to speak, but I have questions. Lots of them.

"Eric, what are we doing here? And where are we, exactly? Other than in a hotel room, I mean?" I stop to take another breath. "And where are my clothes? And did you know your eyes glow in the dark?"

I wait for his response. It is totally unexpected.

"You smell fantastic." Does this man have some kind of freak scent fixation?

He continues as I lack the temerity to ask this question of him.

"We are alone. You are safe, for now."

He watches me carefully for my reaction.

"What are you Eric? Why did you tell me, earlier, that others of your 'kind' were looking for me?"

I stifle another yawn. Oh, no, not again. "Stop that. I'm not going back to sleep. Or whatever it is you are doing to me."

I shut my eyes before he can manipulate me into unconsciousness again.

"It doesn't work if you close your eyes. I'll have to call Pam to come in here if you continue to resist me."

Looking for a clue, I ask, "Does that mean you and Pam are different 'kinds'?"

"Pam!" He calls loudly. I hear the bedroom door open and footsteps approach the bed. Sounds as though the floor is a hard surface, maybe wood.

"Sookie. I'm sorry. This is for your own protection." She places a soft hand on my bare shoulder and once again the yawning starts. I try to resist, but not sleeping is impossible. I can only hope that Eric and Pam are really my friends.

_________________________________________________________

I awaken this time to cramping, my period inconveniently choosing to start while I am trying to cope with being the possible victim of an abduction. Would I never get a break? I wonder if maybe I'm being a little too much of a drama queen, now, with the victim thinking. Both Eric and Pam are telling me they are hiding me, protecting me from….what?

As a particularly strong pain stabs my left side, I open my eyes to an empty bed, no Eric. The lights are still off and my eyes adjust gradually. It appears I am in a standard motel room. It might be a little more upscale than some of the ones Sam and I frequented, though.

I have to find the bathroom before I start leaking. I stumble from the bed in the dark and find the bathroom door. I flick the switch and check under the sink, but my karma still stinks. Toilet paper it is.

Having cobbled together a quick fix for my problem, I can relax a little. With the bedroom still dark and no sounds coming from the living area, I begin to question if I might not be able to escape? If not, just where are my 'friends'?

In answer, the light comes on underneath the bathroom door, which I closed in my modesty over the ministrations needed to sooth my cramping. Orgasm seems to help me when the cramping is bad. The knock on the bathroom door is followed by Pam, asking softly if she can get anything for me. Why not?

"Tampax. Do you have any extra?"

I hear a soft curse from her. "No, Sookie, I'm sorry. I'll send Eric out for a box from the pharmacy next door."

Fuck, I'd rather bleed through all my pairs of white slacks for the next ten years than have her ask him to do that for ME! "Pam, no, please, don't ask him. Could you get it, instead? Please?"

"He's used to it, does it all the time, Sookie." I start to protest again, and she cuts me off. "Don't worry, I'll do it. But Eric will have to know about my errand." She pauses for a long moment. "I could tell a fib, I guess."

"Thanks, Pam." I sniff, feeling a little emotional. "I really appreciate it. Super Plus, please." I settle back down, satisfied if still crampy. I start the water for a quick bath while I wait for her return.

As the water is running, I wonder why Eric does it 'all the time'. Maybe as part of his cover as Irick? For Pam? For some other woman, or women? Not having time to think much about it before, as I settle under the bubbles coating the water's surface, I now wonder if he's married. Surely not to Pam?

For reasons I don't want to examine, I feel a very small twinge of jealousy. Now, that is a first. I've never been jealous of a boy in my life. I'm not jealous of Will, just angry with him for the nasty way he's treated me. And Sam seemed to have spouse potential. He was steady, decent in the bedroom, interested in having children, a big family of his own with multiple brothers, sisters, cousins, etc., but he was boring.

Now Eric, whatever his preferences, just seems to 'do it' for me. I think again about how he looked at the last club, when he was sitting behind me, his arms tented over mine. I remember my crazy thrill at seeing him in a public place, and my shock over his coal black hair, styled in a sleek, elegant curtain. With the visible pieces of him so compelling, I wonder if I could resist the so far non-visible pieces. Damn, he really is a promising candidate, so very delicious.

My fingers drift to between my legs again, my earlier efforts unsatisfactory and thwarted by Pam's interruption. Stroking down my inner thighs, I could almost see the top of Eric's head, my fingers clenched in his hair, my palms sprawled open over his ears. I could feel me straining, pushing his questing tongue flat against my center as I squirm from the swollen achy feeling left after his earlier sucking and nipping. His firm, beautifully sculpted lips would be a deep red, bitten and slightly puffy, just his upper lip visible as he continues to insistently push his face into me. Jesus. His eyes, that brilliant unusual shade of sapphire, would be burning with a holy, cold blue fire, a smoldering flame spitting shards of crystals in my direction, his gaze locked into mine. My hips start to push up against my own fingers, the chill of the porcelain tub underneath me impervious to the heated water as it sends small cool shocks to my skin.

Without warning, another knock on the door breaks my concentration.

"Yes?" I know I sound frustrated. Let them wonder.

"Sookie, you okay? No sounds of splashing." Groan. Eric has broken into my fantasy of him. Oh god, he is just on the other side of the door. Does he see visions of me, naked, in the bathtub? Is he playing at his own fantasy?

"Fine, Eric." Time for some teasing. "I'm naked and alone in the bathtub. Come on in; check for yourself." I wait, tense now.

"Can't. Sorry." He mumbles. It is quiet for a long while, and I guess he's gone back to the living area or another bedroom. I slide down into the tub again, the water splashing over the sides. I say a curse word, and then sit up to move a towel over the big puddle I've made.

The door flies open as I twist over to grab my towel from the top of the toilet seat. Eric halts, staring at me. His eyes are raking over my body, taking in my ungainly position, the girls poised smorgasbord style on the edge of the tub, my face beginning to flame red. Is he memorizing this, or what?

I notice he doesn't say 'sorry', or make any apology at all before he backs out of the bathroom door, shutting it completely behind him.

Before I can gather my wits, file a protest, or just blow a raspberry in frustration, Pam's returned, cheerily announcing she is leaving my package just inside the bathroom door. Definitely time to get dressed and leave the john. All that's available to me, besides the stained underwear I've had on for at least twenty-four hours, is a thin cotton robe hanging on the back of the door. I don it, drop Granmere's pearls in a pocket, and tampon firmly blocking for me, open the door to begin my campaign for information. What the fuck is going on?

I'm not exactly shocked to see that Eric, still wearing the same clothes as earlier, looks surprised to see me in a robe. What? Was he thinking I'd come out in the La Perla? Maybe naked beneath a towel, cotton string the odd piece of fringe?

S-O-L, my friend.

Adjusting his expression, Eric now looks uninterested in my resourcefulness in employing the robe. I am, in fact, naked under it. The delicate underclothes are drip drying on the shower rack. I'll throw them on the A/C blowing chilly air in the room if strictly necessary. I hate crawling into wet underwear. Worse than rolling back up a shucked wet bikini over goose bump-covered flesh.

"Great look." Yeah, guess he was hoping for more.

"Is there a problem, Eric?" I'd start biting off my sentences if that was protocol.

"I've caught some scents…. You may no longer be safe here. We'll leave as soon as you are ready."

Grateful that he'd risked choking to death to deliver so many words, I catch that his accent is much more guttural than earlier. I smile; his voice is hoarser now than when he couldn't see me from behind the bathroom door.

"Some clothes would be excellent." I wasn't hopeful about the prospects of roaming the streets of Atlanta in just a thin terry robe, replete with damp underwear and heels. One man's fantasy is another woman's nightmare, etc.

"No time to replenish the clothes. We have your clutch and your stuff from earlier is hanging in the closet, Sookie." He nods at the mirrored doors. "Please get dressed."

He waits. Ok, so I walk over to the closet and retrieve my blouse and tulle skirt. I'll look like a slut, wearing this during the daylight hours.

I head back to the bathroom with my bounty. He calls over my shoulder. "Fifteen minutes." Great, cramps and I am on the run with a psycho hairdresser and his tattooed sidekick.

I'm just finishing doing up the skirt when there is another soft knock on the bathroom door. "Sookie, come out now." He is whispering, voice so low I can barely make out his few words.

He twists the knob, opens the door, and hands me my shoes. The box of tampons is clamped under his arm, and he swings me effortlessly up against him after the shoes are fastened. "Quiet" he whispers into my hair. The wind is blowing through the open window, swirling the curtains around and over the wall AC unit.

"They're here already. Pam is distracting them by leaving in my car with another woman. She's found a hotel guest who looks like you from a distance. We'll have to travel on foot." Judging by the look of disbelief on my face, he realizes he'll need to give me a little more.

"We're going out the window. There's a ledge that will take us to the flat roof, and I'll be able to jump down, even carrying you." Still whispering, as if we are starring in some grand spy movie, filmed in Europe in the sixties. I'll be Simone Signoret and he can be Yves Montand.

I'd looked earlier at the phone set in the room and realize now that Room 724 means we are on the seventh floor. I wonder if all the fumes from the hairspray have gone to his head and created these insane delusions. I'm just another small town girl from Shreveport. Sookie Stackhouse, that's all.

Before I can stop him, he's torn a strip from the edge of the sheet covering the bed. Fashioning a make-shift blindfold, he slips it over my head but leaves it loose. For some reason, this frightens me more than anything that has happened. "Why?" I whisper back.

"So you won't see and start to struggle. Stay limp and I'll carry you."

Truly terrified now that he might actually drop me, I start to shiver. "Give me the tampon box. I don't want to die over something so random." Opening the box, I shove an emergency supply into the clutch, drop the box on the floor, and it's time. He tightens the blindfold over my eyes, and secures it in place.

"I've got you, Sookie. Just remain quiet and limp."

Easy for him to say.

The air blowing in through the window brushes against my face. Eric has draped me, stomach down, over his shoulders. I think it's called a fireman's carry. Wish I'd put the wet underwear back on now instead of stuffing it in my clutch. And then, we are outside and he is moving along the wall. I can hear sounds from the street below. I concentrate on not tossing my cookies and try to remain as limp as possible.

In a few minutes, I feel him stretch out, the action accompanied by several loud cracks and pops. An eventual thump tells me we are on another flat surface. Must be the other roof he mentioned. I guess this means we are safe, for the moment.

He removes my blindfold. Actually, we are almost half-way down the block from the nearest building, which appears to be a hotel. Wait, was that our hotel?

"How'd we get here?" I ask, futilely. He doesn't answer, shushing me, his warm finger pushing against my mouth. It is the first intimate skin-on-skin with him tonight, and I shiver as his heated touch warms my chilled lips.

Without thinking, I push his finger away and lean forward to kiss him, grateful, and settle my lips against his cheek. His skin is super-heated from the effort he expended making our escape. I look back to our hotel, and notice there is a man in a dark suit, standing on the roof now and looking in the wrong direction, obviously searching. I start to believe in Eric and Pam.

Eric sees him at the same time and crouches below the parapet wall before we are spotted. He has some momentary trouble with the roof door. I almost conclude that it is locked when he pulls it off the hinges, leaving it hanging half open as he sprints down the stairwell. This building is a few stories shorter than where we were staying. In minutes, Eric has reached ground level, exited to the underground parking garage, and secured a car for us, stealing an older model rental sedan from the packed enclosure, bitching about Pam taking his Jag. I huddle down into the seat, sweating with fear. I notice that Eric, after all his exertions, doesn't seem to have a hair out of place, or even be breathing hard after that stairwell work out. He must exercise like a maniac.

Still tense, his shoulders bunched, I wonder how I could ever have mistaken him for a mild-mannered hairdresser from up North. He is exuding danger and sexuality at the moment, that heady combination of masterful decision-making and assumption of command that causes women to simply lose control of their senses and spread their legs. All that fabulous superior gene material just sitting there, bottled and ready for the taking, I can't help thinking.

His cell phone vibrates and he answers, Pam advising him where to pick her up now that she's ditched the clueless hotel guest. We are quiet for the brief drive to collect Pam and garage his car, me thinking that perhaps I should hang with Eric and Pam until this mystery is sorted. Plus, I don't have to be back at work until Monday morning.

Eric isn't speaking, but I'd like to ask him about his hair, and why he's always talking about scents and smells, and who it is we need to fear, but before I can frame the questions, we see Pam and pull over for her. Planning ahead, she has picked up some food from the convenience store and shares it around with me once we have secured the Jag and are back on the streets. I'm hoping to switch to another car soon; the rental smells like dirty socks. Eric's sensitive nose must really be suffering.

While we are eating, I try once again to get some answers and am met with silence. Although it is clear there is something going on tonight that involves at least one of the three of us, I'm suspicious again of their motives.

"Eric, at least answer one question for me, please?" I catch his eyes staring at me in the rearview mirror and smile.

"Try me." Great. Now he was down to two word answers.

"Did you jump from a seven story building tonight?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I am a True Were. I can do just about anything."

I'm confused. What is a True Were? For that matter, what is an Untrue Were?

"Were, Eric? I don't know the word. Could you spell it?"

"Werewolf?" He doesn't bother to hide the disbelief in his voice.

I feel panic set in. They are psychotic. Just when I was starting to believe in Eric, too. I have to get away. But I'm too late.

"Pam?", Eric asks.

I try to turn away from her, but then the yawning starts again. Soon I'm curling up into a ball in the backseat, head resting on my forearms. I fall asleep, angry with myself but unable to resist whatever Pam has done to me.

___________________________

Irritated as hell when I awaken, I find I am once again sharing a bed in another hotel room with my deliriously handsome captor. Now, though, he has shed his clothes and is sleeping in just his boxers. Someone has taken off my skirt and blouse and put me into the still slightly damp lingerie. I hope it was Pam.

I listen to his breathing for a few minutes, but can't tell if he is asleep or pretending.

"Faking it." He answers.

"Can you hear my thoughts?" That would be impossible; what a dimwit question.

"Umm…..not really, no." He shifts on his side to face me. "It isn't your thoughts I hear." He waits for me to ask another question.

"Eric, you and Pam are going to let me go, right? Kidnapping is a federal offense, you know."

In the silkiest voice imaginable, he suggests I go ahead and leave. I'm free to do so at any time. Save him and Pam a world of hurt. No objections from them. His assignment would simply be given to another Were. Maybe I'd even like the new Were. He could return to his cover at the Salon and resume his life as Irick.

"Stop. Again, all you've done is raise more questions with these so-called answers of yours. Since you inexplicably now seem agreeable to holding a conversation with me, could you begin with an explanation of the term 'were'?"

He nods in agreement. "I am a Werewolf. I have a second form from the one you see now. When I shift back from that form, as I did yesterday afternoon after you left the shop, I revert to my original imprint. And man, I get so sick of having to bleach my hair every time I shift. Pisses Pam off as well; she does all the work."

"You expect me to believe you?" I am incensed now; how gullible does he think I am?

"Watch." He extends his hand in front of my face. Even in the darkened room, I can see that something is happening to it, the knuckles are cracking, the fingers elongating, nails growing. I shriek for him to stop and he does, the hand reverting to its previous human shape.

I think furiously for a minute. I will not panic or scream again. It might excite him. In fact, it appears that his eyes are glittering, along with the glowing bit. But it might be just the reflection from the lights atop the adjacent downtown buildings shining in the hotel windows. Better not to ask.

"Sookie, I am a rare creature, just like you. As a True Were, and there are very few of us left in this world, I am able to shift just a part of my body when I choose. It is a rare gift, and not many know I can do so. Will you keep my valuable secret for me?"

The intensity of his voice, delivering this little speech in a low throaty growl, has acted on parts other than my brain. Oh my, sharing a secret with a Werewolf. Who knew it was such a drool inducer? But I'm still skeptical.

"Wait a minute, Eric. Did you just hypnotize me into believing I saw that shifting thing you did?" I paused. "How do I know it was real and not a hallucination?"

"What would convince you? Will I have to spend the next several hours shifting back-and-forth before you believe me? That would be tiresome and waste valuable time. Would you consider taking it on faith until you can prove otherwise? If so, you could move on to asking other questions."

I see the logic in this, and agree to proceed. We'll hold the Werewolf question for now. Although I'm beginning to believe in him.

"So, does the wolf part explain all the scent and smell references you've made so far? And can you explain about not reading my mind but knowing my thoughts?"

"Sookie, they are connected. Your scent, so very sweet and tantalizing to my wolf's nose, is the key to your thoughts. You know about dog's noses, right?" When I nod this time, he continues. "So, I can read your reactions, your emotions in your scent. The rest I guess at, based on the context, your expressions, and your speech patterns."

"So you know when I'm feeling happy, or sad, or angry…." I stop, remembering my earlier reaction to his voice. Before I can blush, he moves closer to me, voice that same throaty timber from a few minutes ago.

"Yes, I can tell when you desire me, like you do right now." He stops and waits for my reaction, and then gives me a genuine smile. "Yes, I'd like to as well, Sookie. You are a very alluring female. And I promise not to bite."

"Wait, Eric, what about my…my, you know, having my period?"

"Would you tell me you don't want me, then? I'm only a young pup by my pack's standards, barely one hundred and twenty years of age, but I have never failed to please a female." There is a hint of pride in his voice, but I don't want to ask just how many pack females, or human females, he may have pleased up to this point.

"If you are reluctant because of the bleeding, don't worry. It is only fresh blood that excites me. It doesn't qualify." He stops, then seems to think of something. "Pam can temporarily stop the cramping and the other if that is the problem?" I'm beginning to think he won't take no for an answer tonight, and now I've switched to being very interested in this offer.

"Okay, can Pam do it from the other room?"

"No. She'll need to hold your hand to say the words. Shall I call her in?"

'Why not?', I think. It's been a weird night; what could be any stranger?

"Do it, Eric. I'll believe you when I see it."

In a few minutes, I'm stunned into silence; Pam did exactly as Eric requested. We are once again alone in the room. I make a quick trip to the bathroom and return to find Eric sitting Indian-style on top of the sheets, waiting for me.

"Do you have a condom?" I'm trying to be practical as Eric, growling softly, wraps arms around me and pulls me down on top of him. He covers my face and neck, licking me with his hot, wet tongue, going slowly. His hands, warm and dry, are sliding up and down my sides. When I start to respond, he moves to release my breasts from the designer bra, and is excited to discover it snaps under the arm, not in back. I break away when the bra comes off and feel my intense reaction to my nipples scrapping across his chest. I ask the question again.

"I have no diseases." He looks askance at me.

"No, I've been tested since moving to Shreveport." He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Listen, what happened last weekend, well, it wasn't an exchange of bodily fluids." I'm blushing and Eric is nuzzling me again, clearly thinking there is no more reason to hesitate.

"Hey, I'm sorry to ask, but I'd still be glad to see you in a condom." My voice isn't strong, but I'm feeling firm about the request. He sighs, and pulling his wallet from the stand, slips out a foil packet. 'See, he had one all along', the voice inside my head chides.

"I'll warn you now, Sookie, it will probably break." I stubbornly say nothing, certain he won't decline what I'm offering. I'm right, of course.

"Okay Sookie, I can tell how you feel. Why don't you roll it on me?"

"Maybe we should undress first?" The stripping off of his boxers and my panties, backs turned to each other, is achieved in matter of seconds. It isn't as romantic as I'd hoped, actually.

Now lying quietly next to Eric, I'm shy about looking at his body.

He moves back on his side, and cradling my neck in his hand, seems prepared to try another trick in his arsenal to recapture the mood.

"Have you ever mated with a Super before?", he asks.

"What's a Super? Oh, you mean a Were?" I pause. "Wouldn't I know if I had?"

"We are different from Humans, Sookie."

"How?"

"I, for one, have incredible stamina." He says, a hint there of ego.

"Amazing, Eric. Do you tell all your sex partners this before slipping it to them? It must really increase the pressure, huh?"

"It is just a fact of nature, Sookie." He says, Mr. Humble.

I stumble over my response a bit, but there's no mistaking my intent. "Eric, I'm sorry, but I'm suddenly not in the mood anymore. Do you mind?" I sit up, pulling the covers over me and wondering if Pam can hear us in the next room. That would be awkward.

A masculine sigh again, but this time there is a resigned quality to it.

"I'm sorry. Was it too much talking? See why I don't say much?"

That last comment further irritates me. "You mean, if you remain mysterious and deadly, the ultimate Were warrior type, you always get laid? Talking is for pussies, that sort of thing?" I sound a little angrier than I intended.

"Do you feel like sleeping next to me tonight or not, Sookie? I can move down to the floor, if you wish. But I cannot leave this room. I won't leave you alone for what's left of the night. It isn't safe." He looks carefully at me. "I told you before this; if you wish to walk out that door, you are free to go. But I'd still like to protect you."

"No, I'd like you to stay here, but I am going ask you take the blanket and the coverlet and move over by the door, Eric. I hardly know you, but for some reason I do believe you and Pam. And right now, I'm feeling like I need more sleep. I'm so sorry for teasing you just now. I didn't mean to offer and then change my mind…. Maybe later, okay?"

"It's okay, Sookie." And he does agree, making a bedroll on the floor in front of the door. It hurts to see, but he turns on his side to face away from me. I watch his movements and wait until he's no longer making adjustments before rolling the sheets around me and preparing to sleep. I hope I dream of clean underwear and a change of clothes. And tomorrow, I'm going to insist they tell me who is after us, and why.

A/N: I've been thinking about Eric as a Were for a very long time.

All errors are mine. Guess I've fallen in love with the use of the Italic font in Word. Sorry.

Is some angst coming? Yes.