XI.

Eric startled me by coming out almost half an hour before sunset. I was listening to music on my iPod and, when he strolled out of the bedroom, I jumped. He laughed at all my stacks of books and I guess the way I'd been moving to the music while sorting.

"You speak too many languages." I said as I removed my headphones. "I don't even know what to do with some of these. I guess they're fiction because there in here but really, who knows. Well, I mean, you know. But I'm totally lost from here on," I said pointing.

"Is there a reason why you're doing this?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It was fun, until I started feeling ignorant because I don't speak German or Swedish or French or gosh knows what this one is- there are so many vowels I can't even imagine what it must sound like." I showed him a slender volume with an incomprehensible, to me, long title.

He looked at the spine and said, "Suomi. That's Finnish and I barely can read any of it myself. An experiment. A partial success. Norwegian is much easier."

He handed the book back to me and went back inside. He put on his robe and then came back out and sat next to me on the floor. He looked over at me and then laughed because I was wearing one of his t-shirts and it might a well have been a dress it was so huge on me. He kissed me and then started rapidly sorting the books in other languages.

He nodded toward my iPod.

"Spanish music?"

"Yeah. I'm missing dancing a bit. Sammy sent me an email yesterday saying his temporary partner is horrible. He's such a card. We've danced together for about a year and it's hard to adjust to a new partner. He's trying to make me feel guilty for dumping him for a vacation instead of work. But it didn't work," I said with a chuckle.

"So you like Latin dancing now, right? Like the tango?"

"MmmHmm. Do you tango?" I asked with a smile. Eric was so tall, I couldn't quite envision being able to tango with him. You really did best with a partner close to your own height. Sammy was five foot ten and when I was in two inch heels he was a perfect height for tango, rumba, salsa or whatever type of dancing I could envision.

"I haven't done much of that kind of dancing," Eric said with a snort. "Not quite my style."

"I don't think I could tango with you, anyway. I'm too short. I'd have to wear massive heels. The rumba might be too hard with the height difference, too. It doesn't have to be Latin. I just like to dance. I liked dancing with you. We haven't danced together in a long time. Not since Rhodes, if I recall. You got so mad in Rhodes," I said with a chuckle. "I wouldn't even dance with Rasul the other day, remembering how you were that night in Rhodes when I danced with Barry."

Eric seemed to want to ignore that little reminiscence.

"Where did you meet your partner? At the club you dance at?" he asked while tossing a book over near the bookcase where it was mostly nonfiction and what I guessed was philosophy.

"Oh, gosh no. I'd never just go to a club not knowing anyone and start dancing with someone. Especially not with a human because then I'd really hear them, you know, from touching them. No, I met Sammy at Ahmed's parties. He's a friend of Ahmed's so I knew he was an okay guy. Ahmed is really picky about his friends. We danced at the parties and he finally convinced me to try the club and taught me how to tango, salsa and rumba. In the beginning it was a group of us was going. But eventually we were the only ones still going regularly. Sammy works at Treasury. He's a nice guy. It's good exercise and it's fun."

Eric smiled and nodded nonchalantly as he put a few books into the bookcase. I kind of got the feeling he liked it that I wouldn't just go to a club and start dancing with someone I didn't know. In some ways Eric was still pretty old fashioned where women were concerned, I thought. I still remembered with great mirth when he had stayed with me when he had amnesia and he'd basically told Jason he was a bad brother for not totally supporting me financially and saying that it wasn't safe for me to go out to work at night. Even when I thought about Eric's attitude about my work now... I just smiled.

"You don't seem to count him as a close friend, however?" he asked, about Sammy.

"No, not really" I said, shaking my head. It was odd but I was far closer to Ahmed and Alla. "I can't explain it. I like him and all. I mean certainly so, if I'm going to spend four or five hours a week dancing with the guy. But we really don't share many common interests other than music and dancing. We dance but we don't really talk about things. He's not like Ahmed or Alla, for instance."

"You're closer to them because you have to read their minds all the time for work, I suppose?"

I was actually kind of surprised that Eric was even asking about my friends. It was the first time I could recall his really being interested in other people in my life at all. Let alone why I chose to be close to someone. I thought back about the fact that he hadn't been too fond of Tara when Mickey had been after her. But really, that was pretty much it.

"No. It's that I really like them. I chose them to work with them because I liked them and liked the way they think about the world. It would be very difficult to interrogate someone through the minds of an interpreter I didn't feel really comfortable with. I mean, I can do it. I can think of two times I have done it, but it's much harder. Sometimes reading people's minds is extremely unpleasant and unsettling. If you don't like the interpreter's mind either then it's twice as hard. But Alla, Ahmed and I share a lot of common interests. I like their philosophy. They are not harsh in their judgments. They are patient and good listeners. We understand each other. We talk about all kinds of things. And I guess that I identify with them. Especially Ahmed. He's sort of estranged from his family. Except for his younger brother. He doesn't fit in Saudi culture, or Western culture either, exactly. The same for Alla although she's much closer to her family. Both of them have encountered prejudice in the West because of their ethnicity. And bias from their family or others for working for the US government. What they are doing is very risky in terms of perceptions in the Muslim world. Even though our work prevents torture as well as terrorism, the perception can be that they're traitors for working for the US. They are acting from very deeply principled beliefs about what is right. But still, they don't fit in either world, really. Feeling like you don't quite fit anywhere is something I guess I relate to on a very deep level."

Eric was silent, as if thoughtful about that. He looked through the remaining books.

"Do they know what happened to you?" he asked after a while.

"They know something bad happened to me. Alla saw my remaining scars, before the surgeries. She was very upset by it but said nothing. I knew from reading Ahmed that Alla told him I'd been tortured. He was very deeply shocked. They can tell I don't want to talk about it and they've never asked. I guess it was meaningful for both of them as to why I was willing to do what we're doing. Not that I know of any US interrogation treatment that was that bad, okay? Anyway, it seems like Ahmed specifically told Sammy not to ask me any personal questions about anything physical. Sammy used to ask why I stay covered so much, you know, the way I dress. Ahmed was all over him for it."

"Sookie, the scars hardly show at all. You realize that, don't you? If I can hardly see most of them, to everyone else they would be…"

"My worst scars don't show at all, Eric. And lately, I'm thinking a few of those may even have been self-inflicted. But anyway, I don't want to talk about that. We should go dancing sometime. Or maybe just dance here."

He turned to look at me while I spoke, regarding me soberly. He didn't comment on the first part although I got the sense he wanted to. Instead he said,

"Speaking of Rhodes and dancing, Sean and Layla O'Rourke are going to stay here in August. I think they'll be here when you're here. They are doing a series of appearances and taking some vacation time," he said.

"They are really great dancers," I said, remembering dancing with Sean in Rhodes. Layla was so beautiful. I'd thought her last name was different, though. "Did they marry? I thought she had a different last name?"

Eric nodded, while putting more of the books back onto the shelves and handing me a slender volume of Ibsen that I had mis-sorted. I squeezed it in with the two others after some rearranging.

"They did. Several years ago. Ibsen's Norwegian, not Swedish. I'm glad you have made plans to come back for the next few months, Lover. Any reply from your boss?" he said casually. His tone was very different from what it had been in the previous days. I felt as if he was consciously making the effort to sound less hostile about my job.

"Gee, don't know how I missed that on the Norwegian thing," I said with a wry look. So Ibsen was Norwegian, I thought to myself. There was really so much stuff I didn't know. "Well, about the glamouring issue, Manny said he would speak to me in person rather than in writing, so I guess that's a go. He must have found someone or know of someone. Maybe they already had planned it or something. Probably NSA. The CIA wouldn't be too helpful unless Chuck was asking. I don't think that Manny wants Chuck too involved at this point. Chuck is… difficult. And personnel hasn't commented on the vacation request, which means it's pretty much approved I guess. They'd say no right away if it was no. It's paid time off, so really they can't do too much about it. So anyway, I guess it's set."

Eric kept sorting through my stacks and tossed a few things out of the piles over to the philosophy bookcase.

"Yesterday evening has not put you off coming back, then?"

"No," I said softly.

"So you are happy," he said, without looking at me.

I glanced over at him. Happy about the vacation days? Happy in general? Happy this evening? I smiled because I wasn't sure which he meant.

"Yeah, I guess I'm happy. Why?" I could hear the sound of Enrique Morente through my headphones, which were on the floor. I hit pause on the iPod and turned it off.

Still, without looking at me he said softly,

"I want you to be happy." He paused and then said, "There is a way to lessen the bond. If it still is objectionable to you, I would do it if you wish it."

He sounded solemn as he said it. Something about how he said it put me slightly on edge, making me feel uneasy.

"What do you mean, lessen it. How?"

"Lessen the intensity of it. If I had Andor drain me, and then…"

I gasped and looked at him with my eyes wide. Drain? Did he say drain? Was he insane?

"What? No," I said, cutting him off before he could go any further. "No, absolutely no. Are you nuts? Enough with the frigging bond already, Eric. Leave it alone. I'm fine. I don't give a damn about the bond." I was incredulous. "How could you even consider such a thing?"

He finally turned to me with softly glowing eyes and fangs ever so slightly run down.

"You don't like the bond. You never did. This would weaken it."

"And weaken you! No matter how much I disliked it I would never want you to do something like that. Geez, Eric."

"I don't want to give you any reason to…"

I looked him straight in the eyes and cut him off again, saying,

"Look, I'm over it, okay? It's fine. We are fine the way we are. And even if Andor is your most trusted friend for the past millennium, he's not getting a fang into you on my account, are we clear, Eric? Absolutely no."

"I would be recovered just by taking sufficient blood in return, along with perhaps some of Stefan's or Cadel's. Just not from anyone who has had my blood in the past. I trust Andor completely," he said, trying to sound reassuring about it. "He's had my blood many times, and I his."

"I don't care. I don't care to hear about it. It would make you weaker for having lost the blood at all. So no. I'm almost used to it at this point, anyway. Leave the bond the way it is. Unless you want to get rid of it or weaken it for some personal reason, like what you described before, the problem you have with the bond. Then it's your business alone. But you don't you dare do anything on account of me, Eric. Especially not anything that sounds so damn crazy. Geez, I swear I don't even know why Pam doesn't want to kill me herself behind your back. Because I'm beginning to see exactly what she means," I commented under my breath, shaking my head with my eyes closed.

Then I looked him in the eyes and said,

"Promise me, Eric. Promise me."

He glanced away as a smile formed on his lips. As he put another few books on the shelf, his eyes literally glowed red, like warm coals. He felt pleasure at my words. Suddenly I was aware that he was probably the happiest I'd felt him since I had arrived. A carefully calculated risk that paid off... I seemed to feel him think. Was I reading or feeling his thoughts? I simply couldn't tell anymore.

"Of course, my Lover. As you wish," he said quietly.

I had a flash of feeling that I had given in to something significant, but allowed it to fade. He was so very happy. In that same flash I also understood that he had waited until he was sure, absolutely sure… He had offered to diminish the bond only once he knew I would never agree to it. Because he didn't want to give it up or alter it in any way. He knew that I could feel that, too. There was not even an attempt to cover it up. He made the offer, but already knew I would never say yes. I would never have agreed to let him do something so risky. He was quite sure of that. By getting me to refuse any risk to him in diminishing it, he had gotten me, in a very skillful fashion, to accept it. I'd even admitted that I was almost used to it. Perhaps I was learning to like being this way, just as he had predicted long ago? Furthermore, was it wrong for him to want to keep something that let him so clearly feel he was loved? What kind of person would I be to ask him to give that up, even if the way to do it had been simpler, or safer? Whatever else the bond was, or represented, I knew that Eric had told me from the moment it was made that he felt the way I felt about him and that he had liked it. Who wouldn't like feeling loved, especially if they lived in a cautious, contained and seemingly loveless society for a thousand years? Instead of trying to play mind games with myself, I realized I could feel, no matter what I had been telling myself before, that he really did love me back. It might not be fairy tale love, but it was real love. He glanced over at me sharply as I thought just that, took a book from my hand and smiled. I said nothing more.

I swayed slightly as if dizzy. Acceptance. Even as my heart felt this odd lurch, I knew that the more than three year struggle over the bond was at a quiet end. In that moment something had shifted in me. Eric had won, or gotten his way, but somehow, it didn't matter to me. Before I would have thought he was just trying to control me but now what I saw was that Eric's pleasure at his attachment to me, his desire to keep the bond, was probably the most human thing about him. I understood what Pam had tried to explain to me, that it was my fighting that side of Eric, a human side, that had made him vulnerable. Because it hurt him. The shift I felt in me was also a shift in him. A greater sense of ease. He would no longer be hurt by my rejection of something that was obviously so fundamental to his enjoyment of his attachment to me. And looking back, I knew what he had said so many times was true. That attachment was there long before the bond was. For both of us.

We let the moment pass without comment and reshelved the remaining books. He shifted to my other side and put away the other various odd books. After a few quiet minutes looking at the reordered shelves, I leaned over and put my head onto his shoulder. He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. I pulled him lower and we kissed. He picked me up and effortlessly rose and carried me back to the bed.

Pam was not pleased when we came down at 8:45 pm.

"You're late," she said crossly, directly to me, as if it was entirely my fault. She had the bag with my sandwich in her hand and looked as if she was quite put out with having to hold human food for someone who was late.

I shrugged apologetically and tried to look remorseful.

"We'll have to go more than once anyway, Pam. I'd say at least three or four times, really. We need to get practice ammunition so let's skedaddle."

I had my Glocks, the 22 and 26, in my purse and showed them to her.

"He took my time," she said looking petulantly at Eric's receding figure as he made his way toward his office waving to us with his back to us.

"Pam, we're wasting more time by talking about lost time," I said with a frown.

She looked at me with an arch smile, nodded curtly and off we went.

"Look at this," said Pam, presenting several sheets to Eric.

He picked one up and looked at the hole in the center of the target.

"Good shooting, Pam." He looked mildly impressed.

She frowned.

"Those are Sookie's, Eric. And it's not just one shot. See that, how it's not perfectly round? That's five shots through the same small hole. It's just so unfair. She says it's because of your blood but I don't even believe her. These," she plunked down a sheet with several holes more obviously overlapping, and then another and another "are mine. I'm the vampire. And she's a better shot."

Then Eric just erupted into laughter and turned to look up at her.

"Pam, it was the first time." He held up her sheets to look at the holes. "I think she's had rather more practice. She's got all sorts of marksmanship medals and things like that. Really. I've seen them myself."

"This is very upsetting, Eric. I shouldn't need to practice. Vampires are supposed to be perfect, are we not? We should be better than humans, practice or no, at everything. Look at this!" she said tapping my target sheets.

I plopped down in the chair next to the desk, and sighed, trying really hard not to laugh at Pam. She had been fuming the entire ride home. It had made for a frighteningly fast drive.

"She really enjoys it. She's a great shot," I said. "Such a steady hand. Is it legal in Louisiana for vampires to have a carry permit? In Virginia it is, but in some states it isn't. And Pam, you have to remember not to shoot anyone who isn't already dead. It could really cause a lot of problems."

She sat down next to me and took my guns out of my purse as if they were already hers. She looked at them as if she admired them greatly and placed them on Eric's desk. She had finally been able to get a handle on the G22, because she liked the fact that it held more rounds. She took apart the G22 as I had shown her, and examined it with great interest, then reassembled it.

"Remember," I told her, "You have to really keep them clean Pam. Especially if you're going to try to use only silver. The silver is much softer, it forms oxides and if there's any debris at all in the chamber it could really be quite dangerous. You could really get injured."

"I'm going to get a gun," she said with a smile. "Carrying it's legal, I already checked. You have to get a background check and take a course for the permit. It will be very clean and loaded at all times. Don't worry."

"You know, you might want to look at the Glock 19. It's a compact version, so it's easier for someone with smaller hands. But it's still got the full magazine. I'd use a 19 if the FBI would let me. They require the 22 and let you use the 26 as backup. The Swedish Army uses the G19 as standard issue. It's a 9 mm caliber weapon. And you can get silver bullets in 9 mm just like the 0.40 and 0.45 caliber."

Pam turned to me and said with gravity,

"I'm glad you're finally treating me properly, Sookie. Keep it up and I may finally start liking you."

I turned away, shaking my head.

Shortly thereafter, I sat near Eric while he talked to his debt ridden, pyramid scheming project manager, who was switching funds accrued for building projects from one job to the next. He was very skillful. After the meeting was over, I handed Eric my stenographer's pad with names of three banks and some account information for various projects and several other people's projects that were also apparently being bilked. Stefan and Cadel were so impressed. I was always amazed anyone would have the gall to try to steal from vampires. Eric called Mr. Cataliades, who said he could call the District Attorney's office and ask them to investigate it with the NOPD. I told Eric that if the DA's office didn't proceed with the police findings that I could always mention it to Sara Weiss, since the FBI did, after all, handle racketeering investigations. At least one of the projects the guy was involved in was in Tunica, which meant he was crossing state lines and the case, if there was one, could be federal. Eric seemed so pleased. It was such a simple thing to do to help him, I thought. I remembered when I first did telepathic work for him long ago. This was all so simple, I thought, in contrast to what I did now, every day that I screened people for the FBI. That work was so intense and I felt the need to be so cautious in everything I said and did. Literally, it could mean the difference between freedom and living in prison for many years. Or making a mistake that could cost innocent people their lives. I looked back on the days when I had worked for Eric or for Sophie-Anne and felt that they were simple times.

Since Eric was done for the night and it was still so early, we watched a movie on the big TV in the sitting area, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, with Stefan, Pam and Rasul. It was pretty funny to watch a movie about vampires and werewolves with a bunch of vampires, I had to say. I was glad to be snuggled up to my vampire. Andor, Cadel and two other vampires I didn't know came in for the last hour. I guess it felt kind of odd to be the only human in the room with eight vampires. After years of thinking vampires were exotic or the minority, here in this compound, I was. I remembered Eric watching Buffy in my house long ago and how amused he was by it. Glancing around, I felt as if my present reality was surreal. I tried to envision living here among vampires. The idea seemed quite odd.

Lying in bed, later that night, I finally said something to Eric about the business with the bond. He was lying on his side next to me. I looked up and blew at his loose hair.

"So what would you have done if you'd been wrong and I said it was fine to go ahead with your crazy plan, Eric?"

"Do you want to hear me say that I knew you would refuse? I knew you would refuse. There you go. Come closer, Agent Gordon. Much closer," he said, draping a leg over mine, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "But you can't say I didn't offer, now, can you?"

"Well, it seems like a helluva risk to have taken, Eric. It would have been awkward if I'd said, yeah, sure, fine, go right ahead."

"I know you. You're just going to have to make all these risks worth my while, Lover." His faintly glowing face leered at me with a mischievous grin in the dark.

"Really." I was pretty tired so I hoped he was not serious, especially considering earlier in the evening.

His face seemed to float above me in the darkness. I sighed heavily. I contemplated the possibility that it really was possible to have too much of a good thing.

"Tell me you're mine," he said.

Okay, I was totally caught off guard. Definitely not where I thought he was headed. I paused for a moment before replying.

"If I say it, do I still get to have my own life, my own choices, and all my rights and opinions."

"Of course, Lover."

I hesitated.

"That's still really a hard one for me, Eric."

"You told me once that you were Bill's."

"Yes, and look how well that turned out. A smashing success. I'm a different person now. Besides, when I said it, it wasn't with the same intent. It was just Bill trying to keep you away from me. Somehow, I get the feeling that my saying it now has a different meaning."

"It does. Because you are mine."

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that there is more to this whole thing of being bound to you than I understand, Eric?"

"We are bound to each other. The bond has worked both ways. It has worked in ways I could not have envisioned."

I felt his eyes on my face in the dark, as if he could scan me like a microscope, looking for the smallest thing. I thought of the past three and a half years and my realization from the previous night that I hadn't even felt alive emotionally. I felt as if I was on the edge of grasping something that I was almost afraid to take hold of.

"So it's important to you. My acknowledging that I'm yours?"

He just stared down at me, silently.

"You realize I'm still going back to Virginia at the end of the month, right Eric?"

He went on staring down at me, waiting.

"Okay. I'm yours in the sense that you have my heart. I'm keeping my mind for myself."

"Could I just have the short version?"

I groaned internally.

"Fine, Eric. Fine. I'm yours." I sighed, just tired of resisting. "I rea…"

His lips were on mine. After a minute he sank back into the pillows with a sigh and pulled me closer still, and rested his chin near my ear. If it was possible to feel someone smile, I felt him smiling.

"Och jag är din," he said softly near my ear.

"Oh, really?" I said wearily. "You're really obnoxious, Eric. Who goes on deliberately saying something to their lover in a language the person doesn't understand? It's really totally obnoxious."

"Ja, mitt hjärta, verkligen?" he said with a teasing chuckle.

"Aren't you the one who wants to talk about every damn thing?" I murmured. "Well, exactly what is the point of saying stuff in a language I don't understand? And before you did it when you were mad. What's the deal this time?"

"If that's the most grief I give you for everything I have put up with, you're a lucky woman, Lover. You could always learn some Swedish, you know." He laughed softly, kissed my temple and whispered, "Sleep, my Lover. Sov, min älskade."

That last one I wasn't going to argue about.