The fantastic characters belong to Charlaine Harris, and the clothes belong to history. Thanks to Cageyspice for everything she does!

"There has been a change of plans."

That was rather obvious, because I definitely hadn't expected to get out of the bath to find Eric in my bedroom again. We'd agreed that he would meet me here at midnight, and even if my watch was broken I could tell from the quiet streets it was not yet 9 o'clock.

"Well I'm rather under-dressed for the occasion, whatever it may be," I said dryly, pulling my robe closed tightly against my chest as I admired Eric's crisp white shirt and perfectly tailored suit. His long, blond hair was tied back neatly. The style highlighted his prominent cheekbones. He looked irritatingly flawless while my hair was dripping on the cold hardwood floor.

"I'll wait out front," Eric said, then left me to put on some clothes and figure out how to get my hair dry in a hurry.

I dressed for the ambiguity of the evening's agenda in a black dress with a bias cut and flutter sleeves. After wringing my hair out as best I could with my towel, I left it down to dry in waves since putting it up wet was sure to help me catch a cold.

When I finally felt presentable, I entered the office. Eric stood and approached me with intent, took me in his arms, and kissed me.

The lack of preamble startled me. My hands landed on his shoulders, and I didn't know whether to push him away or thread my hands in his hair. But he pressed on, with no sign of the uncertainty I was feeling, and I was swept away. That was what I had been waiting for last night: a clear indication that he was as powerless against this attraction as I was. There wasn't any more certain sign than the brazen display of passion.

When I opened my eyes as he broke away, I burst out laughing. His mouth was smeared with red. There was even a bit on his exposed fangs.

"That was not exactly the response I was expecting," Eric said as one hand ran through my loose, damp hair at the back of my neck. He smiled, and I ran my thumb over his lips as I admired the little half moon wrinkles at the corner of his mouth.

"Your mouth is covered in lipstick," I said.

"A risk I was willing to take," he said, and leaned down to gently brush his lips against mine again, this time softly and slowly, as if he were sampling my flavor. Finding it to his liking, he stepped closer and deepened the kiss. If this was why he'd stopped by early, it was hard to be mad at him.

Despite my enthusiasm for kissing, when his hands started to roam, I broke away and tried to catch my breath and take hold of my senses. "Eric," I said. "Wait a minute."

He kissed my forehead. "I wanted to make sure I had the chance to do that. And that you would remember it at the end of the night."

His words settled into my gut and killed any thoughts of continuing where we had left off.

"Why?"

"You're going to have to make a choice." The way he said it made me certain I wouldn't care for any of my options. "I'm going to ask you again to trust me."

But last time Eric had insisted I do that, his reasoning had been that he hadn't killed me yet. I wanted more reassurance than that. "And again, why should I?"

He smirked and kissed me again for good measure. "That's something you're going to have to answer yourself."

His arms were still around me and I couldn't find it in myself to shrug him off, but I did look him squarely in the eye. "Eric, I'm going to ask you one more time and I want you to tell me the truth—why did you show up at my door?"

"If you want the answer, you'll have to come with me."

My gran used to always say when you're up a creek without a paddle that's when you finally learn to swim. Eric wiped off his mouth with one of my handkerchiefs, then took my chin in his hand and did the same for me before he helped me into my coat. We descended my steps to Bourbon Street as the French Quarter started to come alive for the night. After a brisk ten-minute walk, we entered an underground jazz club. A trumpeter was warming up while a drummer adjusted his cymbals. I was almost excited to hear them play—something told me a vampire jazz combo would be something to hear.

"This your new place?"

Eric nodded and gestured for me to slide into a booth, and he followed me, laying his arm across the back of the seat in a vaguely protective and slightly possessive way. Though I'd been a tad offended by Eric's three-week disappearing act, it was reassuring to see he'd been hard at work building his business and not just avoiding me.

"It's a little classier than Death Warmed Over," I said, admiring the polished wood bar and the fancy gas light fixtures.

"That would be my doing," Pam said as she glided up next to our table.

"I should have known," I said with a smile. Pam wasn't exactly friendly, but she certainly wasn't boring, and seeing her made me feel more comfortable about whatever tonight's agenda would entail.

"Eric has excellent taste in some matters," she said as her eyes flickered over the low neckline of my dress. "But he is rather lacking in decorating skills. Fortunately, I have been studying interior design and find I have a flair for the art. I could help do over your office, if you like."

Before I could respond, Eric interrupted our conversation. "That'll be enough, Pam. Has he arrived?"

She nodded.

"Then bring him out."

Pam turned and walked back to what must be Eric's back office, shaking her hips as she crossed the floor.

"Was that the change? The time of the meeting?" Eric still hadn't explained to me what exactly we were doing, and I wasn't one to follow on blind faith for long no matter how good a kisser he might be.

"No, we still have our midnight appointment. There was something I thought you should know prior, and I thought you should hear it straight from the source."

My heart caught in my throat. Though I was positive that I couldn't read vampire minds, I knew exactly who Eric had brought me here to see.

Bill.

I looked up and there he was, walking across the room with the slow, steady gait of someone who will live forever. He looked exactly the same as when I first met him, but of course I knew he would. The evidence of the prolonged torture he'd experienced would heal completely—he was a vampire, after all. And he'd fed well after I'd rescued him and staked his maker. So well that he'd almost killed me.

I held back the urge to elbow Eric in the gut before turning and smacking him across the face.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"I know he's hurt you. But you need to hear this," Eric said. "It's important."

"Sookie," Bill said in his lazy Southern drawl as he sat down across from us. After all this time, the wounds I thought had healed were torn open by those two syllables. He turned his eyes upward and said in a much harsher voice, "Eric."

So they knew each other. Everything between Eric and me must been an act. Worst of all, I'd been falling for it.

"Tell her," Eric said, and it was clear it was a command Bill couldn't refuse.

"I did love you. Even after everything that happened between us, you have to believe that."

My breath was coming in ragged, choking sputters, and I was fighting to maintain control of my emotions, but I nodded. There was no doubt in my mind that Bill had loved me—but it had still nearly killed me.

"Bon Temps is my ancestral home. That part was always true. But the reason I returned..." he trailed off, his eyes contracting with guilt as he looked to Eric, whose steely gaze demanded he continue.

My heart fluttered in my chest. Though I'd convinced myself I was over Bill, my emotions hadn't caught up to my head on the matter. Perhaps it's impossible to truly heal after your first broken heart.

"Out with it, Bill. We don't have time for your convoluted explanations," I urged. Though we weren't touching, I felt Eric lean closer to me. I couldn't look at him.

Bill gave me a forlorn smile and shook his head, then wiped his hand over his mouth before letting it rest on the table. He looked down at his fingers while he spoke. "I explained so little of what it truly meant to be a vampire. I hid the truth of my world from you. I was wrong to do that."

I could see how much that admission had cost him, but I couldn't comfort him. He'd given me his blood without informing me of the consequences or obtaining my consent, and he'd abandoned me when I'd needed him most because his maker had come calling. I couldn't even begin to process the rest of what he'd done to me. No apology could ever repair the damage he'd done.

"I know," was all I could say.

"Tell her," Eric commanded.

Bill sighed before beginning again. "I was sent, by my queen, to learn more about you and obtain your favor, so you'd use your gift for her benefit," Bill said, averting his eyes in shame.

I'd hated when he'd called my telepathy a gift, and he knew it.

I know you can't forgive me," Bill started, and I bit back a scoff. He was right about that. I wouldn't be forgetting about it, either. "But I hope you can understand that I didn't have a choice. Not in seeking you out, and certainly not in loving you."

I was painfully aware that Eric was a witness to this intimate discussion, and wanted to cut it short. Whatever my past was with Bill, I'd desperately wanted to prevent it touching my future. Eric had told me I was going to have to make a choice—letting him forget he ever met me wasn't likely to be on my list of options. But I still didn't see where he fit into all of this.

"This queen … she's the real reason you sought me out, then?" I turned to look up at Eric's inscrutable face.

He nodded, only once, and didn't elaborate.

So, just as I had suspected all along. Eric was no different than Bill. Same agenda, even. "I should have known," I said.

"You don't know half of it." His words were so icy cold I felt my heart freeze. "I'll let you two finish your conversation while I confer with Pam," Eric slid out of the booth. It did not escape Bill's notice that he let his hand trail across my shoulders as he stood. I'm sure it did not escape Eric's notice that I shuddered slightly under his touch.

Bill waited for him to walk away before speaking. His next words were obviously difficult to utter. "Eric found me when he realized you had knowledge of vampires. He … wanted to be sure you didn't hold a grudge against my kind for what happened between us."

"How noble of him," I said through gritted teeth. It was actually self-serving and high-handed. Typical vampire.

If Bill noticed my sarcasm, he didn't let on. "I know I ruined everything for us, Sookie. I know we can't be together. But I want you to be safe, and I'll always care for you."

"Why are you doing this? Saying this? Why are you here now? Because Eric put you up to it?"

Bill sidestepped my question. "He's an honorable vampire."

"I'm not sure we have the same idea of honor." I glanced over Bill's shoulder and saw Eric approaching us again.

"Point taken. But know this: you are in danger."

Any idiot could have told me that. I hadn't forgotten the killer in the alley the night Death Warmed Over was raided. The tiny white lines on my wrists reminded me of the near fatal car crash. And I didn't need to see Bill again to remember the risk of opening my heart to a vampire.

"All done?" Eric asked as if we had been finishing up a friendly round of drinks.

Bill nodded and stood. He exchanged a significant look with Eric and then took several steps towards the front door before pausing. "Take care of yourself, Sookie Stackhouse," he said without turning around, then continued walking out of the bar and out of my life.

Eric was smart enough not to say anything. He gestured to the vampire behind the bar and a glass of gin appeared in front of me just as the band started to play, slow and smooth, not the showy, high-energy jazz favored in the more raucous bars. The cool style was soothing, and I felt the tension from my unexpected encounter with Bill ease. The gin lit a fire in my belly, thawing me. After a few sips, I understood how it could melt your cares away, how people could seek solace in the bottom of a glass. Carried away by an emotional saxophone solo, the crowd settled in the smoky lounge. I settled back into my self.

I set the half-empty glass down on the table, and Eric covered my hand with his. We sat like that until the song ended.

"Tell me about the queen," I said.

Eric gave me a short lesson in vampire politics and managed to only supply enough details so I was clear how I fit in. It turned out, my lost cause of a cousin Hadley had gotten mixed up with vamps too, and she'd been the one to tell Sophie Ann, the vampire queen of New Orleans, about me and my unfortunate quirk.

Hadley was dead now, and I didn't want to join her any more than I wanted to live under the thumb of the queen. I may not have much of a life, but it was my own. I'd carved out a place for myself in New Orleans, and I didn't want to give it up.

"She's a good queen, but she's rather old-fashioned. And things are changing for us. It is becoming more difficult to hide what we are. Some are pushing for us to reveal ourselves, and having a telepath during that transition would be a decisive advantage. We no longer think like humans … and understanding their thoughts would be most helpful."

"So you need me for my gift," I said.

"But I want you for much more," Eric said. His fingers tightened their grip on mine, and when I looked into his eyes, I realized how much that admission cost him. Eric was not accustomed to needing—or even wanting—others.

I didn't want to think about that at the moment.

"You said it was a gentleman we were meeting tonight? Not the queen, then?"

"No. I've managed to delay that inevitability. But there's more I must tell you."

I wasn't sure I could stand any more surprises tonight. It was a lot to take in. Bill, the queen, and Hadley? I hadn't seen her for years, but to find out she was turned into a vampire and was now finally dead … Jason was really the only family I had left. I was glad I'd been able to clear his name and he was safely back in Bon Temps.

"I'm all alone," I said.

Eric released my hand and brought his own up to my shoulder and pushed my hair back. "You don't have to be."

"Eric … I can't—" I shrugged, but he didn't move his hand. His grip on me tightened, and his thumb lightly brushed over my pulse.

"No, you could. You could be mine."

Just one more chapter left! I'll try to have it posted in a week or so.