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

If the last Chapter was Pam & Sookie, this one is Eric & Sookie, all SPOV. Next Chapter will be alternating E/S POV and is set entirely inside Eric's townhouse. It continues the events of this chapter, with a long lemony twist.

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Chapter 6

My designated protector spoke. I had to swing my eyes back North again.

"Lost in the moment? I was beginning to wonder if you knew I was up here."

Frick!

Being mostly incoherent, I struggled for a comeback as Eric waited, unsmiling.

"Mr. Tinkles stopped by earlier. He wants his leash back."

Seemingly oblivious to the movie refs, Eric's eyes narrowed in response. "Pam, have we had any more visitors during my absence? Niall is concerned she's targeted for immediate… pick-up."

The Elf-Demon shook her head. "And you, Eric? Troubles?"

I cut in. About time. "What is meant by 'pick-up', Eric?"

"Alles ist gut. Pam, leave us."

Whoa. "Pam stays, Eric. She's been my supernatural chastity belt all day. Why send her away now?"

"You have nothing further to fear from me. My actions last night will not be repeated, ever." Repressed growl? Would I recognize one if I heard it?

Pam, enjoying herself, gave me a sunny smile. Her version of a 'thumbs up', I guessed.

I, on the other hand, was feeling vastly disappointed. Maybe Pam was right; I'd need to be the seductress now? Assuming I was even interested, I silently mouthed at him. Adult-like, I proceeded with the long-overdue interrogation.

"So, Wolf-boy, give it up. Tell me who wants me and why I'm so desirable."

"Wolf-man, to you." He looked pained for a second. Sharing information can do that to the tight-lipped.

"You won't recall any of this, but if it will keep you quiet, it's worth it. The d'Vargs heard a rumor, now confirmed, that our True Human, that's you, Sookie, would be sought out and snatched by some rogue Supes this weekend. You are on d'Varg lands, and in my territory, and I'm apparently idle per my Sire. Ergo, I am your temporary guardian until this is sorted out by others. Satisfied?"

"That's the most vague, complicated explanation I've ever heard. And still no answer as to why I'm desirable. Am I a changeling or something else?"

Eric looked to Pam for assistance, I guessed. Finding none, he shook himself first then continued. It was a strangely dog-like action.

"The more you know, the more difficult you will be to cleanse. But your cooperation would be helpful." He swallowed. Was there some Supe compunction against telling me this?

"No, not a changeling; actually, the exact opposite. You are a Pure One. Your blood is unique. I can feel it, especially." An unhappy expression flitted across his face. I'd have missed it if I wasn't concentrating on him at the time.

Perhaps this being Pure was a good thing, if Eric could feel it? I was distracted from my earlier questions by a better one.

"This is icky, but are you drawn to my blood, Eric? Remember when I cut my hand at your shop?" I shied away from mentioning last night.

He nodded, looking faintly guilty.

Suddenly, I felt much better. Eric was compelled to like me!

"So, Wolf-boy, fingers crossed you won't need to 'off' the Elf-Demon if you can't control yourself around me tonight. I smell so good and all, sugar." I flashed a brilliant smile.

"Again, Wolf-man, to you, Pure One. And she is my Guardian, no 'offing' allowed." Inclining his head, he asked "Does the sound of chicken-fried gato interest you, Demon?"

That last remark being directed at Pam, not me, I wondered what a 'gato' might be. Small fairy, maybe? Guaranteed to taste like chicken, I was sure. Wait, I knew that word from first-year Spanish. Jesus, was he kidding? I started to protest.

"Score!" Was that a wolfish grin directed at me by those sapphire blues? Oh, crap, wolfish? Let the clichés begin.

"Sookie?" Solemnly intoned by Pam. "I haven't had a decent cat in decades. It's all the low-fat, zero-cal food hitting the dumpsters these days. Garbage in, garbage out. Today's varieties of strasse katzchen lack that essential fried lard-crunchiness." A faint sigh escaped her downturned mouth.

Alarming discussion of fried kitty aside, I stood, resolute. I was making a break for the Ladies if I had to leg-wrestle every Were and Elf in the house. If I was going to be captured tonight for reasons still a mystery, I'd do it with dignity and an empty bladder. I could ask questions later.

"Listen up, Supes. I may be stuffed in too-tight khakis and a dreary striped golf shirt, courtesy of an Elf, but I'll need another outfit, equally as charming, if I'm held here another minute against my will." I knew they'd told me earlier to leave, any time, but I was sure they weren't serious, just testing me. I was right, of course.

"Eric, our precious True doesn't look as fetching as she might." He nodded, the toad.

"If we are headed to Clancy's for Jazz for the night, why not break out the bag of clothes we packed for her yesterday at her house?" Mercurial Pam had relocated her good mood. "You'll love what we chose. You have some great pieces; I can almost guarantee you've no idea how to pair them, so I'll help. Come along."

Well, that resolved the dilemma of how anyone could feel two conflicting emotions at once. I was simultaneously triumphant that I was right about the clue of the discarded pajamas and cowed by a Demon telling me I didn't know how to dress. This night couldn't get any better.

I left the cramped office in Pam's wake, sliding past Eric who carefully avoided looking at me although he didn't deign to remove himself from my path. Head down, I skirted sheepishly around him.

By the time Pam had finished reconnoitering to announce the restroom clear of any supernatural Sookie-nappers, I'd re-grown the fabled Stackhouse backbone. My entire wardrobe had been purchased on deep discount at Belks. And I'd always chosen from Michael Kors, Betsey Johnson, and Calvin Klein with the occasional one-off indulgence when my commissions were up. I needn't wear anything I didn't like.

"Sookie, the remainder of your lingerie just wasn't up to last night's standards, but I did the best I could with what I found in your dresser," Pam purred.

"Where's the suitcase?" I'd exited the stall, ready to transform from trailer trash caddy minus the golf bags into Club Sookie with some judicious help from Pam, desired or not. I'd never been to a live jazz club, nor had I seen Wolf-boy perform. Two new experiences in one night.

"Eric's retrieving it from the rental. He forgot it in the Jag last night in all the excitement. Don't tell him I told you." We smiled knowingly at one another. Until I remembered my Honda.

"Hey, we'll need to move my car on the way to the Club. I parked it on the street. It's a twenty-five dollar ticket for every twelve hours it isn't moved." Immediately regretting the pricey eye-shadows I'd purchased Thursday.

"Don't worry, chicken, it's back at your house. Relax, you're with experts."

"I'd relax more if you'd finish that sentence, Pam. Experts in …?"

"If you promise to stop asking me, I'll insist Eric finish his explanation. He thinks…." She stopped as we could both hear the approach of the size fourteens in the hallway. "The less you know, the safer for you." Sotto voce, then a finger to her lips as Eric entered the Ladies.

Silent, I wondered if he was going to pull up a chair. Were they expecting I'd disrobe and then emerge from the stall to model the pairings offered up by Pam? Isn't that what rich men did in the '50s when ordering designer clothes for the mistress? Those film sequences were undeniably creepy. Offended Granmere more than me, until she explained. Remembering my Gran gave me courage.

"Wolf-boy, you need an exit strategy, now." Some good-natured grumbling from him, but I was firm.

With Eric safely out the still-deserted restroom door, it was time to smash some 'Dress-up Barbie' dreams

"Pam, I'm twenty-two, twenty-three next month. Been dressing myself since I hit four-and-a-half." Eric had given in quickly, but Pam was harder to convince. By the clothes she'd pulled from my wardrobe, it was clear she'd been prepared to have me play mistress model. I agreed to a few suggestions, though, and she left me alone to prove my mettle.

When I emerged, full clothed and suitcase re-packed, I knew my MK cranberry ruched skirt and white Betsey Johnson leather halter was too hot for Atlanta's weather. Still, I reasoned I'd be inside in the AC tonight. Plus, my arms looked slender, my dark tan made doubly hot by the contrast. And last night's toe-pinchers would work. Tacky to pair leather and pearls, but it would be dark in a jazz club, right? No one from Shreveport would ever know. That thought sent an unexpected ache through me.

At least until I learned I'd be going with Eric to his townhouse. Immediate mood uplift, followed by the question, 'Why couldn't I just have changed at his place? Followed by ' Oh, yeah, couldn't be trusted to choose own clothes.' Maybe Pam was manipulating the situation? Oh, no, not Pammi.

Before I'd see his lair (not again!) we had to make a bank run to drop off a deposit. So, while Eric left to collect some black cloth bags from the business safe in the back, I paced the small office, wondering what sort of bank was open on a Saturday afternoon after five. Guess I'd find out.

Ten minutes later, we were finally ready. Pam had been absent-mindedly stroking my arm for the last five. "We areso bored rattling around in this hole of yours, Eric." Yet another muffled growl from same was ignored by both of us.

"I'll change and hook up with you two after ten-thirty. Is it the Clancy's on Piedmont?" Destination confirmed, Pam oh-so-solicitously patted one of my slender arms. Who was she kidding? But she turned, appeared to spring forward and was gone from sight. So fast for only a part-Elf, I barely had time to think before the sound of her peeling out of the parking lot could be heard above the street noise.

"So, Mr. Tinkles, eh? You seem to take an eager interest in his affairs." He cocked an eyebrow in my direction, grinning as we exited to the rear parking lot. I thought of some more questions while he stowed the bags and my suitcase in the cargo of the SUV.

"Didn't you spend the last three decades south? Mexico? Tijuana? South America? And all in wolf-form, according to Pam. Legend of El Lobo, or something like it?" His manners a little outdated, he once again tried to open my car door during this exchange. When I fought him for the handle, he used this opportunity to palm my bare upper arm. It was a very warm piece of flesh he pressed on my tanned & exposed skin.

"Think I'd miss a reference for a movie project financed by the Vamps? They mostly hate the Weres, you know." Ahh, a new piece of information. My skin must have loosened his lips. Finally, a tactical advantage.

Through some deft maneuvering, he was able to close my car door for me. It's all good, I thought, my plan already prepared for leaping Elf-like from the car when we stopped.

"So, were you a Werewolf for the entire length of time?" I was genuinely curious and the silence in the car was growing awkward.

"Mostly."

"Where were you? Why'd you go? Did you switch forms back-and-forth? Does it hurt?" I had a thousand questions about the thing, now that he was talking.

He chose his words carefully. "Antarctica. Business. Some. No."

Ah, the clamshell had resurfaced, along with a closed-down expression.

"Eric, I shouldn't bombard you with questions, huh?"

A shake of the head from him. No distinct words squeezed from between those lips, but he could have said "S'alright." Or not.

'My bad."

The ensuing silence allowed me to think on better ways to formulate questions to get answers. And Panthersville was smaller than Shreveport, so after stopping to drop off the bags at a storefront that looked nothing like a bank, within fifteen minutes we were pulling into a large complex of brick townhouses with colonial fronts. Not at all what I'd imagined for a guy who turned furry with large canines and big feet.

Guessing my surprise, Eric sounded defensive as he explained in ten words or less that it made a good cover for exactly the reason I was thinking.

Wrestling my suitcase from his grasp, I entered the door that looked like any of the other twenty-five situated around the large concrete loop of parking. It wasn't dark yet, but the interior was cool and not well-lit. It would be wrong to say the place had an animal smell, but I could discern it was different, dark and deep. Good, though.

"Sit, please. Drop your case over there by the wall." Eric was already plopped into a large comfortable recliner. Was there a game on?

"Do you live here, Eric?"

"Sometimes," he answered, warily. I forgot I wasn't to ask questions. That would make the fact-finding more challenging.

"Pam explained some about the Supernatural world to me today." I offered it as an opening line. His turn now.

"Thirsty? I have some bottled water and beer. Maybe some wine."

"I'll have what you're having." Neutral, no pressure.

"Beer it is."

"Umm, water, please." I hated beer in bottles.

When Eric returned, instead of sitting across the room, he settled comfortably into the loveseat next to me. Yes, he still smelled very good. Evidently so did I.

I waited for him to speak. Maybe he was shy? Bored?

Ten minutes later, I was still waiting. He seemed at ease with the silence, sipping slowly on his longneck. I was bursting with repressed questions, but looking around disinterestedly.

His contented sighs rasped like sandpaper on my nerves. He broke first.

"I can smell your anxiety."

"Sorry."

"Mind if I take a shower? Only take a minute."

"Go ahead. Where else am I going to go? Something or someone is after me, and it will soon be dark."

"Pam shouldn't have told you that fact."

"Take your shower; I'll be right here."

He stood, and I once again couldn't help but admire the enhanced view.

I figured we had a couple of hours to kill, so I began looking around for books, or maybe some clues, if any were to be had. The sound of the shower on the upper floor was very distracting. I went to the kitchen in search of the wine.

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Eric took his time dressing for his performance tonight. But although I was determined he'd tell me something, anything, care must be taken. He was like a wild animal smelling a trap when it came to questions, I thought morosely.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed that he hesitated briefly to give me time to take in his transformation. Although he appeared to be the same old delicious Were, I detected a small difference. He was actively interested in my reaction. I could use that against him, stealthily, of course.

"Eric, you look ready to go on stage." Admiring voice, no pretense required.

"Right. I am."

"Was it really necessary to come over to your house tonight? Am I safer here?"

His reluctance to share was tangible.

"Sookie, it's not fair to keep secrets from you unless it is done to protect you." He waited to see if that would satisfy me. Correctly judging my reaction, he continued. "But if you don't want my protection, I'll tell you why you should. After dark, the vampires will resume searching for you."

"Why? Not that I believe in vampires."

Not answering my question, he replied, "If I didn't keep you close, they'd haul you away for their own purposes."

"Against my will? This is America, Eric. Want to try again?" Eric had been advancing on me and now stopped too close. Invading my space; I liked it and I didn't.

"But I like you, Sookie. I don't like many Humans; they often reek. But you are the only True Human I know. You smell so good to me." Eyes boring holes into my face as he droned on with what was really on his mind. Same old, same old. Was the man ruled by his nose? I admitted I was hoping for something a little lower and a bit sturdier.

"Back on topic, okay, Eric?" I was as guilty as he was for mentally straying; he didn't choose to move away. Sometimes disobeying was a good thing. I continued. "I've never seen a vampire. Why would they want me? Ewww, nasty thought! For my blood, of course. Just like you do?"

Since he was standing about six inches in front of me, I couldn't miss the flaring nostrils and agitated breathing. "I'm different from a Vampire. Trust me, they want you for another reason entirely. Although your True Human blood is very rare, more so every day, every hour." Pause. "Do you like me, Sookie? You seemed to, last night." Forget puppy dog eyes, these were the eyes of a dangerous beast, and I was feeling Belle-ish. But I tried to stay on track.

"Explain the True Human references? Why did you call me a Pure One earlier?" I was so confused, on many levels. His scent was stronger now; just add it to the long list of dangerous Eric traits.

"If I tell you, will you calm down and sit with me?" Bargaining? That had to be a good sign. I had something he wanted. Like I couldn't guess the nature of that 'something.' I guess his earlier disavowals of continuing last night's bedroom activities were forgotten.

Allowing him to draw me back to the loveseat, I couldn't ignore the twinges of attraction. My protector. Yum. Will's week-long desertion and Sam's months-old betrayal faded into ancient history around Eric. And so did my resolve to remain aloof from his masculine charms.

Unconsciously, his hand had slipped over mine as we sunk into the cushions. I didn't protest. I could feel it; I was about to get some answers. Then I could make my decision to stay, or go. My choice. Always.

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Note: Yes, Sookie will get her answers in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy how she learns to embrace some of the larger, harsher truths about a Werewolf when the full moon approaches. She'll need to be thinking about protection, all meanings. :)

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them.