It's About Power

Chapter 21

I pushed a chunk of wet hair out of my eyes and looked at the floor. He was knocking. I could hear him. The door opened when he got tired of waiting for me to answer. Or maybe he was worried. Maybe he just wanted to make sure I hadn't drowned or that I wasn't using up the hot water supply for the entire 30th floor. Whatever the reason, Eric walked into the bathroom and shut off the shower faucet. He grabbed a towel off the rack and crouched down on the floor beside me. I'd finally stopped crying, but only because I'd run out of tears. I didn't look at him until he touched my cheek. He brushed his thumb through one of the rivers of mascara on my face. It probably smeared, but what did that matter now? I saw his black thumb out of the corner of my eye.

He didn't say anything, and I didn't either. It seemed like it was one of those times when communication wasn't really necessary. Eric helped me to my feet by taking my wet arms and pulling me up. I didn't have to put forth much effort. It was all him. Eric had already seen me at my worst. He'd seen me blow up at Bill, cry in public, cry in front of him, and hit on him rather unceremoniously. He'd seen me drunk, and he'd listened to about half of my life story. Okay, maybe it was closer to two-thirds. With all that weighing on my mind, I didn't care when the thousand year old Viking vampire unzipped my sopping wet dress and pulled it off of me. He left it on the floor. I squirmed and fucked around with my pantyhose until they finally rolled off.

Standing in my soaking wet black underwear ensemble, I looked in the mirror. Wow. I was a picture of gross and unattractive. My wet hair was tangled and limp. I looked like a wet mop. My face was streaked with makeup. My skin was pale, and I was cold. Eric stood behind me and wrapped the towel around my shoulders. I hugged the corners against my chest. My arm was still sore and I unfolded the towel to look at it. I had a hand-shaped bruise, black and blue, near the wrist. Great. That was just great.

Eric bent down and pressed his lips lightly against my bare shoulder. I looked at his reflection in the mirror. He kissed me again, the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I didn't let go, because I can never let go, but I let it happen. I let him kiss me. He turned me around and looked down into my face. I tried to smile, but I didn't have the energy. He didn't seem to mind. His lips found mine, and I was kissing him again. It wasn't a hurried thing. I wasn't trying to prove myself. It was just a kiss. He was soft and lingering. His hand cupped my jaw. His fingers traced the frame of my face. When he pulled back, at last, I took a long, deep breath.

He took my hand and led me back into the bedroom. He took the towel from me and turned down the sheets. I watched him move, watched his back muscles flex, his shoulders twist. I looked at his white button down shirt. Still tucked into my towel, I continued where I had left off. I unbuttoned it the rest of the way, and this time he didn't stop me. We weren't rushing anymore and that made everything better. He shrugged the shift off and draped it over the desk chair. I admired the shape of him, though I'd seen it before. I'd never been this close to him and really enjoyed it. I touched his forearm, ran my fingertips through the light sprinkling of blond hairs. His skin was smooth and cool but warmer than I'd expected.

I let the towel slide down my shoulders, my arms, onto the floor. His eyes ran over me, took me in. He gazed at my breasts, my hips, my legs. I'm not one of the world's most slender girls, but I have my assets. I like my body for the most part. I wouldn't go changing it for anybody. Eric seemed to approve. He took my hand and helped me up into the bed. I crawled underneath the blankets and scooted over to make room for him. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes and socks. He lay down beside me with his pants still on.

I leaned back on the pillows and looked up at him. He leaned on his elbow and looked down at me. A few wisps of hair fell over his forehead and brushed against his cheek. I reached up and tucked them behind his ear. His fingertips lightly brushed my shoulder, and we were kissing again. I'd never kissed like this before. It had always been rough and urgent, passionate and hard. The softness was new. It reminded me of movies with main characters that knew more than a little bit about women. I briefly thought of Daniel Craig as James Bond. He'd know how to do this sort of thing. Here I was, doing this sort of thing. I stroked the lukewarm skin of his shoulder.

His hand traced down my side and dipped underneath me. He nudged my chin with his and I opened my eyes. He didn't say a word, but I knew he was asking my permission. That was new. I inclined my head, just enough. He unhooked my bra with one quick movement. He pulled the uncomfortable thing away and smoothed his fingertips over the damp red lines on my skin. He kissed other spots on my face: the bridge of my nose, the apple of my cheek, my temple. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to feel.

His thumb brushed against my nipple and if it wasn't hard before, it certainly was now. I tried not to flashback to Bill hurting me there, squeezing and twisting them long past my point of pain tolerance. Too late. My eyes burst open again and darted across Eric's face. He didn't know what I was thinking. He couldn't possibly know. But he reacted to the look on my face, whatever it was. He made another brush over my lips with his. He readjusted himself on the bed, pressing his shoulder into the mound of pillows. One of his arms curved around my head and his fingers played with my hair. The other continued to roam down my body. He avoided my breasts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

He kissed my temple as soon as his hand found the edge of my panties. I lifted my eyes to his and found them a sea of deep blue. I nodded again, just slightly, and he smiled. He pushed them down to my knees and I wriggled my legs out of them. I tossed them on the floor with my toe. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the triangle of flesh between my thighs. I found my eyes closing again and I opened myself up. I could do this. I could really do it. His fingers pressed between my lips and touched the damp, hot flesh tucked between them. I flinched a little, more from surprise that anything else.

I reached for his free hand, my eyes still closed, and he took my palm into his. I wrapped all five of my fingers around his thumb and squeezed. He kissed my forehead. He stroked me, gently, along that sliver of warm skin. His fingers were limber and well-trained. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted and when. He went from flicking the nub of nerve clusters until my knees were shaking, to pushing a finger inside of me. I splayed my thighs and squirmed on the bed. I squeezed his hand so hard that I thought it would break off. He resumed kissing me, my neck and shoulders, my cheek and lips and jaw bone. Another finger slipped inside me and he continued to flick my clitoris with his thumbnail.

And then something switched over in my head and I was fighting it, like I'd been trained to fight it. I was holding back. He couldn't tell, or if he knew that something was up, he didn't let on. I let go of his hand. I dug my fingers into the bed. I moaned in agony. But I couldn't stop fighting it. Eric began stroking my face. My forehead was damp with beads of sweat. I could hear his deep voice somewhere in the back of my mind, penetrating the bubble of control I'd built up around myself.

"Let go, my lover," he murmured. He kissed my lips again, just softly, gently. But I couldn't let go. I couldn't. I clamped my legs shut around his hand. I started to tremble. I was panting, almost hyperventilating. Eric finally pulled his hands away. I could already feel the tears welling up, again, for the upteeth time that night. It was happening all over again. I was crying after…whatever that was. I heard the distinct sound of skin ripping and I lifted my wet eyes to see blood dripping from two small wounds in Eric's arm.

"You'll feel better," he said simply.

I couldn't feel worse. Well, that wasn't really true. I could feel worse and I had, but I agreed anyway. I didn't want to waste time speaking. I nodded a little and he pressed his arm to my mouth. I licked a little of the blood and swallowed. I didn't take more. It seemed to be enough for him. He licked the holes and they began to close. I looked up at him and reached down to stroke the bulge in his pants. He stopped me, pulled my arm up to his mouth, and kissed the inside of my wrist.

I nodded again, looking up at him, seeing his intent. He wanted to bite me. It seemed unusual that he wanted to bite me in such an unlikely place. If Bill wanted to take my blood, he'd take it from the neck, sometimes the inside of my thigh, but never from the little veins in my wrist. Eric looked at me, but he didn't bit down into my flesh.

"Talk to me," he said instead. "It's your decision."

"What?" I asked him, confused. What did he want me to do, hand him the keys to city hall? He pulled me carefully against him and though he still held my arm, he placed it carefully on my chest.

"You're used to having things taken from you without your permission. You're used to following his rules, not thinking for yourself. I want your blood in me, Sookie. When vampires take the blood of humans, they can get a sense of them, of their emotions. But I won't take that from you by force. If it's okay with you, tell me."

I stared at him in disbelief. I looked down at where he was tenderly holding my wrist. He'd let go if I asked him. He'd disengage. He'd wait for another chance to have me. He'd already tasted me before, when my head was bleeding, after the accident. I'd tasted him twice now. I found his eyes, glowing like blue diamonds. The voice I found was quiet. I wasn't used to this sort of thing and I felt awkward and, for some reason, disrespectful.

"You can taste me," I whispered.

"Thank you, my lover," Eric mumbled in reply. He took my wrist to his lips again and, as carefully as he could, bit down into my skin. I scrunched up my eyes and nose for a second. He stroked my hair and neck as he licked the blood from the wounds before the holes closed again.

Eric nestled back into the mattress and pulled me into the nook of his shoulder. His arm wrapped tightly around me, but not too tightly. I could have pulled back if I wanted to, but I didn't feel the need. I was okay in his company. I wasn't great, but I was okay. I leaned my cheek on his chest and I closed my eyes. The words fell out of me like river stones dropping into still water.

"I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He asked. He rubbed my shoulder with his thumb.

"I couldn't let go."

"It's okay," Eric smiled. He leaned forward to kiss the crown of my head. "You tried. I saw you try."

"Maybe it's just not meant to happen for me. Maybe I'm broken." I could deal with that. I could handle that.

"You're not broken, Sookie." Eric spoke into my hair. He left kisses on my forehead. "You're working exactly the way you were trained to work. All you need is reassurance that it's okay to be free of that. It's okay to loosen your grip."

"Easier said than done," I sighed.

"If you want to keep trying, we'll keep trying. You'll get there eventually. And if you want me, I'll be right there with you."