Disclaimer: Because there's a hot, sexy Viking vampire in my bed EVERY NIGHT… Yeah, right.

A/N: I've come to realize that this is a pretty dialogue heavy story, which is good because my dialogue skills need work.

A/N: Does anyone read these notes? Ha, ha.

A/N: Hi, I reposted this chapter after a few edits. There's a new, small paragraph at the end. Thanks for the support!

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Another Way to Die

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Chapter 3: Sang Vrai

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When you came in the air went out
And every shadow filled up with doubt
I don't know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you

- Bad Things, Jace Everett

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I had managed to flip through the eight hundred channels Eric was subscribed to twice before he returned. I had been lazing on the bed, sketchbook open to the side, eraser shavings on the floor. The door unlocked and for a moment, I thought it was Pam. But Eric stepped in, carrying a nondescript brown paper bag in one arm and a case of Tru Blood in the other. I sat up, folding my legs Indian style,

"What'd you bring me?" He shrugged,

"Whatever it is you humans eat," Eric set the bag in my lap. It was warm and a little heavy. My stomach had been gnawing on itself for the past few hours, so I eager ripped open the bag. Eric looked on, amused at my antics. There was a few bottles of icy water, a bag of dark red cherries and big, fat cheeseburger,

"At least it's not fried chicken and watermelon," I muttered,

"What?" But I had the sneaking suspicion that he had indeed heard me,

"Nothing," I replied quickly. He hummed in response, setting his case of Tru Blood down on one of the chests. I unwrapped the burger from the wax paper case to find that it wasn't from a fast food joint, which meant the patty was a good inch and a half thick and covered in real cheddar. I peeled off the top bun,

"Avocado!" I exclaimed,

"Do you not like avocados?" Eric asked with a frown,

"No! I do; just haven't had them since I left home," I picked off the tomatoes and onions and put the bread back in place. After taking a bite, I said, "I don't like onions and tomatoes,"

"Anything else you don't like?"

"Bell peppers. But I like normal peppers. I like spicy things," I took another bite before unscrewing a bottle with one hand, "I don't like eggplant," Taking a swig, I paused, allowing the cool, crisp water to wash away the delicious grease of human food, "Is there anything you don't like?"

"Cold blood," I wasn't sure if he was joking. He drank Tru Blood delicately, so that no red stained his alabaster mouth. So pale and cold, all his features were like ice. I frowned, remembering the things I had seen,

"So," I began slowly, "I know you said you were old,"

"Eleven hundred," He corrected,

"Yeah," I eyed him thoughtfully, "I was just wondering, um, if you could explain what I saw," He shrugged,

"I don't know what you saw," I almost choked,

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know what you saw," He repeated, eyeing me from behind the rim of the bottle,

"But I thought," My voice faltered, "Then how did you know-"

"Just because I could sense that you had seen something doesn't mean I know what you saw," Eric explained patiently,

"Oh," I left it at that, finishing my burger in silence. Stealing furtive glances at him, I could see his lip curl ever so slightly when he finished his second bottle. Turned out I wasn't as furtive as I thought I was,

"Ask,"

"Huh?"

"You look like you want to ask me something," He waved his hand, "Ask,"

"Um, okay," I wiped my hands and mouth on a napkin, "What's it taste like?"

"Like blood," He deadpanned. I scowled,

"So, does blood not taste good to vampires?"

"Fresh blood tastes good to vampires," Eric replied easily, "Tru Blood tastes stale," I popped a cherry into my mouth. The flavor rolled over my tongue, the perfect combination of sweet and tart,

"Do you still feed on humans?" I asked curiously. Salome and Durand had tried to make the transition over to Tru Blood but it had been difficult for them, for Salome more so than Durand. Something mischievous glinted in his eyes,

"Perhaps," I spat the seed out into a napkin and shook my head. Vampires and their mind games. I excused myself to wash my hands in the bathroom. Still feeling the grease between my fingers, I turned the faucet on.

My insides felt all torn up inside. Eric was so- so… Interesting was too boring and over used. Mysterious just sounded tacky. There was something about him though… Something that made my heart jump and my brain tingle. I knocked it up to him being an old and powerful vampire. But what word was there for him? A word that could sum up what little I had seen? Enigma. Yes, Eric was an enigma. It was almost like there was a constant mist swirling around him, like low fog on a river. Sometimes, it parted; sometimes I caught a glimpse, a fleeting remainder of what he might have been like as a human, how he might have lived and loved and died, had he not been bitten.

When I came back, Eric was lounging in my spot, flipping through my sketches,

"That's mine!" I leapt at him, desperate to retrieve it. He rolled away, gracefully landing on his feet like an oversized cat, "Give it back!" I scrambled over the sheets to get to him but he raised his hand, fingers barely caressing the spot right below the hollow of my throat. The push was gentle, I barely felt it but Eric sent me sprawling across the bed,

"No," He sounded amused as he continued to skim through my sketchbook. I picked myself up,

"That's a violation of my privacy!" He held his arm above his head, smirking as I jumped up, trying to grab it. I settled on climbing up him like a cat up a tree. With his free hand, he plucked me off and set me on the bed. He paused, eyes focused on one of my sketches. Finally, he said,

"You may continue drawing me, if you wish," and he handed it back to me. I clutched the black book to my chest and avoided making eye contact,

"Thanks," I said carefully, "It's not like I have anyone else to draw," Something tingled in the air, so I twisted around. I crawled over to my side of the bed to drop my sketchbook into my bag. Throwing my legs over, I stood. The air pulsated and Eric was at my side. He set his hand on the drawers in front of me,

"These are yours. There are clothes inside,"

"Thanks," I pulled open a drawer to peek inside. Brightly colored shirts were neatly folded away; mainly tank tops and t-shirts, some with patterns or designs and some without. I tilted my head to look up at him, "How did you know my size? Or what I'd like? I've been here less than a day; when did you get these?" His eyes never left my face,

"I've found that I'm a fair judge in women's clothing," He replied seriously. I almost snorted, "You're a young girl, so I went to where young girls shop. I know someone who works there, so she let me in. I brought them when you were sleeping," I pursed my lips and shook my head. He raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. Eric rolled his eyes,

"Well, obviously you don't seem to dislike the clothes," I allowed myself that unladylike snort I had resisted, "So it has to be something else," Facing him, the small of my back pressed against the hard edge of the dresser, I crossed my arms,

"Why are you keeping me here?" He cocked his head to the side, leaning forward so that his palms rested on either side of me on the wood. Eric towered above me and I swallowed any intimidation he instilled in my gut,

"Is it a problem?" His breath tickled my skin,

"Maybe," I replied quickly,

"Well, I'll do whatever I want," Glaring at his cocky answer, I ducked out from under his arms,

"You suck," Which was true; as a vampire, he did suck. Crinkling my nose, I stuck out my tongue. He seemed bored with my childish antics and straightened,

"Are you quite done?"

"Yeah," I sulked. Ever the wet blanket. But I forgot sometimes; vampires are moody. I can't blame them for not humoring my immaturity,

"Good, because there's something I want to tell you," That captured my interest like a bear trap. I was instantly alert, arms unfolding to my sides, fingertips tingling in anticipation,

"What is it?"

"Rochelle, I want you to stay in here tonight,"

"Um, okay…" Talk about a let down,

"I mean it. No matter what you hear, you are not allowed to leave this room," He loomed above me, gazing down, his eyes incredibly intense. Something flickered in his face, something I didn't quite catch… something I was a little glad to have missed, "Do you understand?" Velvety and smooth- his voice alone seemed to vouch for his ability as a lover. But then, the mood changed as I realized what exactly was happening. Or trying to happen, at least. I blinked,

"Are you trying to glamour me? Because that don't work," His reverie broke,

"What?" True confusion nipped at his face. I almost laughed,

"I grew up with two vampires; trust me, it don't work," His eyebrow quirked again, curious,

"That is something I'd like to discuss when I get back," I shrugged but a cheeky grin was splayed across my face,

"If you say so," Eric nodded, backing away until his hand was on the doorknob,

"I do," I flopped down on the bed, "And, Rochelle?" I pulled myself up a little,

"Yeah?" He stared at me long and hard. It felt like he was trying to dive down my eyes, deep into me, searching for something, looking, looking… Discomfort settled in my stomach like a sack of rocks,

"I mean it when I say don't leave this room," Why was he being so hinky?

"All right, all right," I waved my hand dismissively. He left, locking the door behind him. What, didn't he trust me? Although, I suppose one twenty-four hour period isn't really enough to build a relationship on. Relationship? Where the hell did I come up with that? There was no relationship. None. Zip. Zilch. As the Spanish say: Nada. We were acquaintances, nothing more.

But acquaintances are relationships nonetheless. God fucking damnit. I grabbed a pillow, sulkily clutching it to me. Who did Eric think he was, making me like him so quickly? Whoa there, cowgirl. Who said anything about liking him? What was there to like? I mean, sure, there's the golden hair, the alabaster skin, the true blue eyes, the muscle, the body and, boy, did he have a body, but looks aren't everything.

Yet those looks made me want to do bad things.

And on top of the looks, there was a blatantly obvious intelligence. He was articulate and perceptive, able to pick up on my subtleties... Then again, according to Salome and mémère, I am the queen of the obvious. These feelings were unsettling. I had never liked anyone romantically in my life. I never had to. Not that I had to then but there was something about Eric, something magnetic. It was hard for me to keep my eyes off him.

I threw the pillow as hard as I could at the black barred headrest. Life wasn't fair. I grumpily ate a few more cherries and finished my bottle of water, setting the leftovers on my wooden dresser. Dumping my clothes carelessly on the ground, I slipped on Eric's dress shirt and crawled into bed. I stayed awake in the dark, staring at the blackness and trying to dissect the growing sensations in the pit of my stomach and the way my heart skipped annoyingly whenever I recalled any close proximity we had shared. It was absolutely humiliating.

I drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness. In the distance, I could hear something. I strained to catch the sound, but I was tired, my brain refusing to acquiesce. It was a painful noise, something dark and alarming. What could it be? What could it be? Then, a second time, and a third, and a fourth until it was a long, wavering note. Screams. Someone was screaming.

When I woke up at twilight, Eric's hair was short.

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The fried chicken and watermelon line is a Dave Chappelle reference. Sorry this chapter is so short. Think of it like a footbridge.

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The Author