I'm so excited that you guys are enjoying the story so far. You're right, another separation from Eric will be tough on Sookie. But when has our heroine ever listened to even the best of advice? This is when it starts to get interesting...

Props to Ms. Harris.

Chapter Three

I woke up the next day around two. I opened my eyes, to be greeted by a curious set of green eyes staring at me. Elsa seemed to be smiling, so I smiled back and gave her a scratch under her chin.

I hurt in all the right places. It had been a while and I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be taken by Eric Northman. I stayed under the sheets for a while and inhaled the scent of him, playing a mental slide show of our naughtiness from the night before. Sex with Eric was constantly on the borderline of being excessive. Even when he whispered sweet words and gently touched me, I always ended up sweating and screaming and he always did that thing he does. Soooo well. He wore me out and I loved it. I sometimes counted my blessings that I had the whole day to recover after our encounters.

The time came for me to get up and prepare for my dinner shift at Merlotte's. I dragged myself from bed and pulled out a fresh uniform shirt. I remembered how it had gotten a little chilly the night before, so I opted for pants rather than my usual summer shorts. Fall was right around the corner after all. I was undressed and about to hop in a steaming shower, when I heard a rapid banging on the front door.

"For Pete's sake," I grumbled, putting on my giant terrycloth robe and pulling it tight. The banging got louder as I turned off the water, so I sent out my feelers. I got a mental smack when I sensed anger and apprehension and saw what I can only describe as a snaggled mess of black string. It was a were. I mostly got emotion from shifters and weres, with only the occasional thought if the person was a good broadcaster.

Where is this girl? Standing out here like a goddamned messenger boy. I shoulda never -

It was Alcide.

I groaned as I headed downstairs. Alcide Herveaux wasn't on my list of favorite people, although I had once counted him as a friend. Ever since he'd become pack master and I'd witness him eat someone and then do it with some were chick in the middle of a parking lot, my opinion of him had become a little tarnished. Also, he'd turned into kind of a jerk.

He banged again and I yelled, "I'm coming, jeez!"

I reached out to open the door, when I realized that Elsa was standing directly in my path. She stared up at me and the fur puffed out around her head and neck, like she was a little ticked off lion.

"Scat," I said, trying to shoo her away with the tip of my slipper. She stood her ground though, arching her back and hissing. I realized I was seeing my new sentry at work and I smiled kindly at her.

"It's okay," I whispered. I did my best to step around her and pushed aside the curtain to take a look. It was Alcide alright, looking a might impatient. He was still brawny and handsome as I remembered, though maybe a bit worn around the edges, like he'd been at war or something. I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since Eric had made himself scarce, but I knew Alcide was no enemy. I was still a friend of the pack, even if a few of them wanted to chew my face off.

As soon as I opened the door, Elsa moved through my legs and stood between us. She hissed at Alcide and he stepped back.

"And to what to I owe this pleasure?" I asked, my voice dry as my bath towel.

His eyes were on the cat. "Damn, Sookie! Tell her I'm a good guy."

"I did. She doesn't seem to agree."

"No, you gotta do it with your...mind powers."

"What?"

"Just do it."

I eyed him suspiciously for a second, but then I turned to Elsa. I leaned over a little and sent her a mental message. This is Alcide, Elsa. He's a werewolf, but he's my friend. Eric wouldn't mind him being here. I'm safe with him, okay?

She looked at me, then to him, but seemed satisfied. She came down from red alert and maintained a safe distance, sitting at attention on the rug behind me.

"How did you know about Elsa?" I asked quickly.

"Eric warned me about her."

"When and why did you talk to Eric?" I asked warily.

"Night fall yesterday, he showed up at my office. Asked if I could do him a favor."

My eyes widened in disbelieve and he nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know. But I figured it might not be such a bad place to be in, having Northman owe me the favor for once. I only agreed when he said it was for you."

His brusque voice softened when he said the last sentence and I felt guilty for being impolite to him. "Well," I said, "I have to leave for work in a while, but I have some tea in the frigde. Wanna come in for a minute?"

"Not with that thing staring at me." He caught himself the second the words came out and immediately looked embarrassed. "I mean, if it's all the same, I'll just do what I'm here to do and be on my way."

"Alright then."

He reached into his back pocket and retrieved a white envelope. It was bent and looked like it'd been under his butt during the ride over, but I could see in an instant that it was the stationary Eric kept in his desk drawer at Fangtasia. I took from his hand and turned it over. Seeing my name in Eric's handwriting brought a quick tear to my eye.

"He gave this to you?" I tried to not sound rude, but it wasn't a well guarded secret how Eric and Alcide felt about each other.

"Said he didn't want any of the vamps to know about it. He tried to pay me off to keep my mouth shut, but I don't need his money."

All I could do was stare down at my hands. What could he have possibly wanted to say after last night? What could be so important that he turned to Alcide, of all people?

Alcide sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "Anyway, I gotta be headin' back to the office now, Sookie." Another few seconds passed and when I didn't respond, he emphasized, "I did what I was supposed to do."

I nodded, finally noticing the Herveaux and Sons pick-up truck in the driveway. "Yeah, well thanks for stopping by." This was all I could manage to say, my throat tightening with an oncoming flood of tears.

He tried to turn away, but he stopped himself and rolled his eyes. He'd always fought the urge to be the nice guy I knew him to be. "Sookie, what's happening?"

I shook my head and swiped away a tear. "It's nothing."

"Cut the shit, girl. What'd he do this time?"

"It's not like that," I insisted. I knew that even showing this much emotion in front of Alcide was giving away too much, but I couldn't help myself, as usual. "He's just trying to protect me."

"That's what abused women say."

My tears stung as I glared at him. "I don't think it's any of your damn business."

"He made it my business." He leaned in close to me and I felt Elsa rub against my leg. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and for a split second, I recalled what it felt like to touch his warm skin. "You're better off without any of us messing up your life anymore. You're too good for this."

"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying." I sighed and he gave me one of those nice guy looks. I knew he was trying to be a knight in shining fur, but I didn't want to hear it from him anymore than I wanted to fight with him. No matter what state of our relationship was in, he always had a way of fogging things up. Gripping the letter in my hand, I plastered on one of my best crazy Sookie smiles and repeated, "Thanks for stopping by, Alcide."

He absorbed the words for a second, and finally stood down. He'd been dismissed by Sookie Stackhouse on more than one occasion. "Take care. You know how to reach me." He said the words over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and walked away. He was thinking all sorts of unpleasant things about Eric, and a few about me too.

I was already inside with the door closed when I heard his truck peel down my driveway. Gran would've been ashamed of me.

I ripped into the paper, standing there in the middle of the front hall. I couldn't imagine waiting to open it until I got home from work, knowing full well that its contents could put me in a mood beyond foul. Maybe it was a Dear Sookie letter. A list of the reasons why he wasn't ever coming back. He'd found a nice fang banger to settle down with.

"Tell me to get a hold of myself," I mumbled to Elsa. She looked up at me and let out a long meow. If she could really feel what I was feeling, then she was in the right place to hold me up when I passed out.

Inhaling a deep breath, I unfolded the letter and began to read.

My Lover,

Words continue to fail me whenever I am in your presence. I'm distracted and I often lose my concentration. I thought it would be best to write a few things down, though you must destroy this letter after you read it. For so long I have wanted to express my sentiment for you, yet it seems that I lack the courage to actually do it. Until recently, I wasn't even convinced I could still feel love. Now I am consumed by it.

You have much love to give, I feel it flow from you effortlessly. Every day, I open my eyes, and I feel you. I do not know how it's even possible, but our bond seems to grow stronger, despite the time and distance between us. It occurred to me that my feelings for you have surpassed the bond our blood gives us.

This, in itself, is curious to me. For a thousand years, I felt little more than greed, lust, and ambition. I am all of these things, and yet I when I'm with you I am more than that. I suppress the memories I have of my human life because those emotions no longer fit into my daily existence. I never forgot, I just chose not think about it, day after week after year after century, and it just became easy. It was unused and unnecessary.

I have lived a mostly solitary life and I am not accustomed to being concerned with anyone's thoughts but my own. Even now, with Pam by my side, I am still very much alone. Most of my time is spent staring into the empty eyes of the pathetic creatures here at the club, and this was acceptable to me for the time being. This is barely a mention on the timeline of my life.

I find now that it is not enough. The blood of another is bland, sex is unsatisfying unless I'm staring into your eyes. My life has been so drastically changed since I met you that I have no choice but to accept it and move forward.

So it would appear that I have waited 1374 years for a barmaid from the bayou to give me something I never thought I needed - humility.

That being said, I must now ask for your understanding when I explain what I am about to do. Tonight, I will come to you and rationalize my actions the best way I can, and I'm sure you will be furious with me. I will answer all of those little questions you always ask and I always evade. And I will tell you about Freyja. I'm going to search for her again and one way or another, I will not come back empty handed. If I am capable of loving you, then there is room in my heart for my own child. I simply must know Sookie, and I ask that you speak of this to no one. You are the only one I have ever entrusted with this information and it is vital to your safety that it remains that way.

We have had our differences in the past concerning your safety and your otherwise disregard of my guidance on the subject. By telling you these secrets I have kept guarded for so long, I am entrusting my life to you. Please show me the same respect. I was born a warrior and I will die one defending you.

When I return, I shall deal with Victor and we will discuss the future. I know you are determined to reject any suggestions I have of turning you, but I want you to really think about this, lover. You worry about the effects it would have on your friends and family. You worry about them growing old around you. And yet you would have me watch you grow older every year until the life went out f your body. Just think about it.

Know that I love you and that I shall return for you.

-E

I stood there for a few minutes, very quiet and still. I reread the last paragraph four times, before tears finally obscured my vision and I neatly folded the letter back into its envelope. He was absolutely right - I hadn't ever thought of his feelings on the subject of me being turned. I had always assumed in the back of my head that he would give up asking me and just leave me eventually, when I became old and feeble and ugly. But that was terrible and selfish and I couldn't believe that I had only thought of myself.

I held the letter against my heart and walked upstairs to get ready for work, in a daze. I would burn the letter later, after I read it about a dozen more times and committed it to memory. I didn't think twice when I put it into my purse and left the house a while later. When I got to Merlotte's, I folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of my apron. I just had to keep it close to me.

I was surrounded by a thick fog the whole night. My tips were horrible and I spilled a beer on Hoyt's lap. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn't even hear anyone else's . My shields were up, but they were on auto-pilot. While I was filling some salt shakers, I kept thinking about the last time I'd seen Eric, nearly eight months before. It was like my head was stuck on play, rewind, play, rewind.

It had been a lovely spring day. Jason and I set up the wicker furniture on the front porch so we could have lunch together with a few of Gran's old gal pals from the Descendants of the Glorious Dead. I did this every once in a while and it helped me feel closer to Gran's memory. I made fried green tomatoes, potato salad, and pecan pie, all from Gran's recipe box. I saw Jason at the Piggley Wiggley that morning and he just got roped into helping. We all ended up having a good time though, and it turned out to be a nice, normal day.

Eric brought over a bottle of something he called ice wine that night, and we drank it while watching the stars from the front porch. Well, I drank ninety percent of it and he just smiled as I got a little tipsy. He would never have admitted it at the time, but I knew he truly enjoyed those quiet, domestic moments we shared. He made me a bowl of cereal with sliced banana, because he insisted that I sober up before taking advantage of me.

We shared each other's blood that night, which wasn't something we did too often. He drank from me every time we were together, but taking his blood was like taking a drug. It left my senses in a frenzy and I never did it unless I had to. But that night, I was feeling reckless and stupid. He bit into my neck as he drove my headboard into the wall, and I bit him back. I bit his shoulder so hard that I felt his blood pour into my mouth. He screamed like I'd never heard him scream before and held my head to the wound so I could drink before it healed itself. When I was done, he wiped the blood from my mouth and said, "Jag alskar dig. Min fru."

He never told me what that meant, but I memorized it anyway.

He had a meeting at three a.m. and business was business after all. We said goodnight without a fuss, even though I wasn't sure when I was going to see him again. I was so high from the sex and the blood, maybe I didn't care all that much at the moment. Anyway, my guard was down. I was cleaning up the dishes from outside, with my back to the yard, when I felt it - a blank space moving in, and fast.

I knew it was a vamp, but I didn't even have time to turn around. I felt my torso being squeezed from behind. There was a pop and my arms went numb. I fell to the floor, my assailant on top of me, and then I was out.

I woke up to find Eric hovering over me, in the process of biting his wrist open. I tried to move, but searing pain shot through my arms and shoulders and I shrieked.

"Don't move," Eric said softly. "Your shoulders are dislocated."

My head lolled back as tears streamed down onto the dusty porch beneath me. "What happened?"

"Victor." The name came out like a growl.

Panic filled my body and my muscles tensed. More pain, another scream. "He was here?"

"I can still smell his stench."

Victor had been the one? Bold, to say the least. Desperate even. Why would he show himself? He'd had his henchmen cruising around my property for months, but not one of them had actually gotten into the house. This was before the days of my nightly Bill/Bubba vigils, but the protective spell my witch friend Amelia had put around my house should have still been working. Maybe not so much.

"Why am I not dead?"

I looked into his eyes and saw a flash of black behind the icy blue. He was like a snake, coiling up and waiting to strike. Apparently, Eric had wondered the same thing.

"I don't know." Then he asked, "Was your kin here after I left you?"

I knew he meant my fairy folks, cousin Claude and Uncle Dermott. "No. You left and then it happened."

"Despicable coward," Eric sneered. He must've been waiting just beyond Eric's line of senses, or else he would've known immediately that Victor had been lurking around.

"Why you asking 'bout fairies?" I could barely talk, the pain was so great. Even a healthy dose of Eric's blood only hours earlier couldn't take the pain away from the injuries I'd sustained.

"Magic was done here. I can feel it glowing all around you."

I didn't know what he was talking about. I tried to sit up, but the more I moved, the more I hurt. His attention quickly snapping back to the matter at hand, he shoved his wrist in my mouth and I drank more of his blood.

"You cannot afford to be physically weak right now," he said, his tone more kind. I nodded and he pushed the hair behind my ears as I sucked.

We laid there for a few minutes, and I felt my body beginning to mend, like I was the Bionic Woman or something. When I had enough strength to move, he carried me to my bed and tucked me in. He got me some aspirin and a big glass of water and stayed next to me all night.

The last thing Eric did that night before I dozed off was make a quick phone call. He went downstairs and stood in the living room, but I heard what he said. His voice was low and even, yet there was pure hate in his words.

"If you make the mistake of touching Sookie again, it will be your last."

That was it.

He crept upstairs and slid back into bed with me for a while longer before the sun rose. My shoulders and chest were still aching, but I was able move freely as he gently wrapped his arms around me. "Min alskling," he said in barely a whisper. "Min alskling."

I fell asleep wondering about the magic Eric had mentioned. My body was positively buzzing, but I couldn't tell if it was from his blood or something else. I would have to ask Claude or Dermott in the morning...

"Sookie!"

I snapped out of my reverie to see Sam standing in front of me. He looked down at my hands and I saw a pile of spilled salt all over the bussing station.

"Oh, sorry. Crap."

"Bud's asked for a refill three times," he said, none too pleased with me.

"Sorry, Sam. I'm sorry." I shook my head and hurried over to Bud Dearborn, Bon Tempes' off-duty sheriff. He looked tired and annoyed as he waved his glass at me. "Sorry, Bud," I said, taking the stein from his hand before he threw it at me. "I'm a little busy."

"Don't look busy," he grumbled, and went on about people getting stupider everyday in this town. I held my tongue as I walked away, because he was my senior and had been kind to me when my Gran passed. He was in danger of quickly turning into a grumpy old drunk, but this time, it was my fault.

Sam caught up to me as I stood in front of the taps. "What's going on with you tonight?" he asked, taking the glass from my hand and pouring the beer over again, this time with no foam.

"My head's just not in it tonight, Sam."

"Something troublin' you?"

Sam was my best friend. I trusted him more than anyone in the world. It hurt my heart to lie to him, or leave out all the important details, as I was about to do. But he'd make his feeling for me, and for Eric, very clear on more than one occasion, and it wasn't the place for story time. Even if he was dating a werewolf and seemed pretty happy, I had learned to draw a line when it came to my personal life and Sam.

"Just my same old vampire shit, that's all," I said with a pathetic smile.

He frowned and let out a little tisk. I knew he was holding in a very judgmental comment and counting in his head before he said, "Haven't heard you say that in a while."

I nodded, taking the glass from his hand. "Yeah, well, it hasn't been a problem for a while."

I delivered Bud's beer and kissed another tip good-bye as I walked away without a word.

After I switched table two and five's orders and I dropped a tray of shot glasses on the way to the pool table, Sam pulled me into his office and shut the door.

"What's going on, cher?" He looked at me, his brow all creased. Saying he had puppy dog eyes was an understatement. He was only a little taller than me, and when he stood close, he stared right into my eyes.

I turned away, the letter in my apron searing a hole in my conscience. "Don't be mad when I say I can't tell you."

"I'm not mad, I'm used to it," he replied.

"Don't make me feel like a terrible friend, Sam. I'm miserable enough already."

He considered me for a few seconds and then sighed, running his hands through his sandy hair. "Why don't you just head home early."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Okay, then you owe me forty bucks for that round of Johnny Walker you just dropped."

I gasped. "Sam Merlotte!"

"I'm kidding," he said quickly, holding his hands up between us. "Just go home, Sook. It's a slow night, Harlee and I can close up."

Harlee, huh. I thought about the newest girl in the revolving door of waitresses we had at Merlotte's. She seemed efficient enough, though she worked mostly days and I didn't know her all that well. And I was sure every man in Renard parish had noticed how she filled out her uniform.

"Well, alright. Thanks. I'll make up the hours."

"I'm not worried about that," he said. "I'm worried that you're getting yourself into something stupid and dangerous again."

"Who, me?"

I winked at him and he finally smiled. "Right. I'll be the first one to know."

I nodded. "You'll be the first one to know."

"Goodnight, Sookie. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"'Kay, Sam."

We gave each other a quick shoulder hug and I scurried out the back door before I caused anymore damage. No one would be biting me that night.

Driving home, I thought about the conversations I'd had with Claude and my uncle the day after I was attacked. The magic ripple Eric had sensed clung to me like plastic wrap. It wasn't an all together bad feeling, but I definitely felt - something. Claude had been stripping all night at his club in Monroe, so cross him off. When I asked Uncle if he knew anything, his answer had been a little more cryptic.

"One never needs to look far for magic to reveal itself."

Great. Thanks for the words of crazy old world wisdom.

I still didn't know what really happened that night. The magic cling wrap feeling was long gone. Victor had kept a fairly low profile since then, according to Pam, which probably meant he was up to no good. But if he wasn't doing anything overt, then we had nothing to defend ourselves with if we ended up killing him. Pam was partial gutting him and making it look like a cooking accident. Silly Pam and her dry British humor.

I knew that Eric could have been seriously punished for even threatening Victor, left alone laying a single finger on him. He was practically a king in his own right and the power Eric had was minute in comparison to Victor's. Eric was older and had more influence in the vamp community, but that didn't mean much if he had a death warrant hanging over his head.

Thinking about it was enough to make my head throb. I wanted to just sleep it away, but it was only a little after nine by the time I unlocked my backdoor and I wasn't nearly tired enough to go to bed yet. Undressing, I realized I'd left Merlotte's in such a hurry that I'd forgotten to take my apron off. I usually left it in the office or in my car. Then I remembered the letter. I took it out and laid it on my dresser, just staring at it as I got undressed. I purposely picked out a pair of pajama bottoms that had pockets and I took it with me downstairs.

Eric would be furious, though not at all surprised, I guessed. There was no getting around it, I was making a bad decision every second that I disobeyed his order to destroy it. Maybe he was right, maybe I did endanger myself without thinking of the consequences. Maybe I did it a lot.

Maybe I'd read it one more time.

As I headed toward the kitchen to make myself a snack, I felt a pulling in my stomach and stopped in my tracks. Like there were invisible threads attached to the inside of me and they were being pulled. It was a strong feeling, like nothing I'd ever experienced in my life. I wanted to get in my car and follow it until I found out where it was coming from. I closed my eyes and let my feelers out.

It was Eric. He was calling out to me, like he did to Pam. But that was impossible. A maker could only call to his child, I thought.

Then the pain hit me. I gasped, falling to my knees. I looked down at my chest, for blood or any kind of wound, but there was nothing. It hit me again, and I fell onto the floor. I tried to scream, hoping that Bill or Bubba would hear me, but nothing came out. I gasped for air as my throat began to tighten. I was suffocating, my heart felt like it was about to explode. I lay there as my body began to convulse and I knew I was about to die. My vision began to fade and the pain began to turn into numb dizziness , but I still felt the threads pulling me. Like a fool, I tried to crawl for the door, but I felt like I'd been staked to the ground.

Staked.

My body tried to sob, but there was no air to push out the cries. Tears fell from my eyes involuntarily as I understood what I was feeling. Eric was dying, and part of me was too.

Then, it was gone. As quickly as the pain had begun, it vanished. I heaved air into my lungs and began to cough, like someone had just let go out my throat. Panting, I reached for the nearest piece of furniture, an old ottoman, and pulled myself onto it. I stayed there for a while, weeping on the ancient fabric and trying to breathe at the same time.

As my body relaxed and I began to breathe normally, I realized that the thread were still there. It was faint, but Eric was still pulling on me.

I didn't have time to celebrate. There was an abrupt pounding on the front door. I tried to lug myself up to at least a sitting position, but my muscles felt like jelly. Suddenly, the frame splintered as the door swung open and hit the wall.

It was Pam. She looked just like I felt. There where blood tears streaked down her face, staining her trench coat and she stared at me with menacing eyes. Bill was standing behind her with his fangs bared, holding on to one of her wrists.

"Knock, knock, cupcake."

AN: Reviews are inspiration, so feel free. I'd love to hear from you.