Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 34 Twisted Sister
SPOV
In an echo of the night I met my Great Grandfather he whirls away from me into a protective stance, fangs clicking into place.
His thoughts are chaotic but even so my spirits plummet. She's his Maker, Lorena, and like me he can see nothing positive in the arrival of the dark haired, dark hearted, vampire.
"Bill." She shakes her head sadly, leaning back against the door she's closed softly behind her. "You disappoint me. The King suggested you would do this but I told him you would never endanger yourself, nor betray your kind, for a human. And now look what I find."
"Lorena . . . ." His voice is dark and silky, like an involuntary reaction.
"Step away from her Bill." She commands with a timbre to her voice I recognise from Godric's when he ordered Eric from the Dallas roof. "And stand still."
He complies immediately, moving to the side and casting a pained glance at me.
Casually she leans her sword against an armchair, like a visiting aunt setting down her hat.
Brilliant. I am in so much trouble. A crazy bitch, I saw her in his mind, and a vampire who can only do what she says.
"It is a good thing I decided to come down here to protect you from your own stupidity." She glides forward to trail her long finger nails over Bill's chest, causing him to shudder. "Victor will be furious if he discovers you have run off with his eagerly awaited new telepath."
I'm still in Bill's mind and it's not a comforting place but I dare not back out as I watch the dynamic I can see remembered in his head play out in front of me. If a person really had a little devil on one shoulder and little angel on the other she'd be his devil. She's always been his devil. The one he's worked so hard, with such limited success, to repress.
Ick.
Their relationship is so twisted.
"Lorena, please . . . ." Puppy dog eyes.
"Come now Bill." Her voice is dark and low as she circles him, running her hands lightly over his body and purring as his muscles twitch and jump in reaction. "It's been such a long time since we've played one of our little games. You used to enjoy them so much, and you've waited so long for her to give you what want, my poor boy . . . ."
"Lorena! Please." He sounds desperate.
Oh god the images in his head. The things they've done. It's beyond depraved. And I can't miss that my face and body are substituted in some of those memories. He's not just fighting her desires. He's fighting his own. I can't believe I almost came to love him, I had no idea . . . .
"Bill." She whispers soothingly, coming to a stop in front of him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I can help you. You know I can. Victor will never forgive this so we must remove all trace of your actions. But that does not mean that you, we, cannot have our fun first."
"Ungh." He grunts, jerking his body into hers.
Yep, Stackhouse, he's not going to be putting up much of a fight.
"My poor boy." She coos. "I know your needs. I've always known what you need."
Her fingers are combing through the hair at the back of neck, I can hear the nails scraping against his scalp and the fabric of their clothes rubbing as their bodies start to move together like snakes climbing a rope.
He moans and their mouths crash together, their noisy, needy, violent kiss is about as unsexy as I could ever imagine but the wave of disgust I feel at being witness to it causes me to shudder and the ripples chase the last of the drug from my muscles and the horrified stupor from my mind.
This is insane.
Her tearing his shirt off with quick hands covers the sound of me easing to my feet. In the quiet of the house the sound of her fingernails transferring their attention to his chest, combing through the dark hairs there, feels like its loud enough to cover my cautious backward steps toward the window. But sadly it only feels that way . . . .
She frees his mouth from hers, turning her head to me with an evil laugh, fixing me in place with her darkly glowing eyes. With one finger resting on his chest she faces me completely.
"Oh my, she is beautiful Bill." She concedes, looking me up and down as she licks her lips, flicking her tongue over the point of one fang. "So lush and smooth. Such a delicious scent. And yet you've resisted her for so long. I admire that darling, I really do, such a strong vampire I made."
She turns back to him and his whole body is vibrating. And not so much with a desire to protect me. It's so easy for her twist him to her will . . . .
She darts over to me and unconsciously I step back, not that it matters, she easily captures me and fastens her lips over mine, her cold tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
"Mm." She hums into me. "She is tasty."
"Ungh." Bill groans with need.
Chuckling at his reaction she drops me negligently back onto the couch I've just escaped from.
"I'd like to taste the rest of her my darling." Lorena sighs. "But she's wearing too many clothes, can you help me?"
Bill groans and shudders again. Harder this time.
"Help me." That certain timbre is back in her voice and suddenly his quivering body is hovering over mine, his hands tearing away my jacket, bra and blouse.
"Ah, ah." Lorena chides as his mouth lowers to my sternum. "Mommy gets to taste first, you know the rules."
He arches away from me but doesn't release me from the couch. And I'm so fucking scared I can barely even think . . . . Eric, please, I really need you . . . . I can't do this on my own . . . . not that I won't try . . . . . I can interfere with a human, why not Bill . . . . But it's not like he's been glamoured, he's more hardwired to do whatever she commands . . . .
"All of her Bill, we want to see and taste all of her . . . ."
And my pencil skirt is gone, leaving me in one of Pam's expensive thongs, a pair of sensible heels and abject terror . . . .
Bill, the vampire I knew is totally gone, in his place is a beast held only in check by his Maker. His saliva dripping down his fangs and splashing onto my face . . . .
It's too late, there's nothing I can get a hold of, my mind is scrabbling for purchase on his madly spinning void . . . .
All I've got left is my limited ability to resist them physically. And resist them I will, with every last pathetic thing I have . . . .
I make a break for freedom, surprising them both when I spill Bill onto the floor and hurl myself over the back of the couch.
Lorena laughs and he growls. It's a feral sound . . . .
I back up against the wall, covering my breasts with my arms, aware suddenly of my blood being forced through my veins by my panicked heart. How enticing that probably sounds . . . .
Behind Lorena the door blasts open, banging into the wall and tumbling, smashed, to the floor.
Eric's murderous fury infects me and I snatch up the first weapon I can lay my hands on, an ornately carved dining chair, brandishing it in Bill's advancing face even as I wish for a stake.
"Kill her!" Lorena snarls, launching herself at Eric.
Immediately the two of them dissolve into a barely discernible blur but I only have eyes for Bill coming for me, flat black eyes flicking between my face and my breasts. If the circumstances were different his inability to focus fully on his Maker's instructions would actually be funny . . . .
I wave the chair at him.
Someone, I'm assuming Lorena because of the pitch, screams. Bill barely flinches as he continues to advance on me, his fangs still down. And that's when I realise, he's actually going to do this, he'll kill me and his only real regret in this moment will be that he won't get to fuck me first.
Of course he rips the chair out of my hands in an instant, hurling it over his shoulder without looking, his hands lashing out and closing around my neck painfully before I can even blink.
I close my eyes.
Am I giving up? I can't fight him off, he's too strong. Already I can feel my oxygen supply drying up. Why am I so calm? I'm a Stackhouse, and a Brigant, whatever that means. A self-proclaimed non-quitter.
Instinctively I struggle but Bill just tightens his grip mercilessly and I can feel whatever resides in my neck preparing to collapse under the pressure as he presses me up against the wall.
Eric's going to be a real jerk about coming all this way for nothing if I die . . . . .
Eric. His warm pulse inside me is becoming urgent and hot. I can hear the clash of metal. Loud and insistent. And I'm fiercely sorry that I can't do more than stand here and let poor Bill kill me.
Fiercely sorry . . . . on the verge of something . . . .
My eyes snap open to latch onto Bill's as he dispassionately proceeds to strangle the life out of me.
And all of a sudden I'm back in his mind again.
Feeling and seeing the sudden snap as Lorena's hold on him is broken like an overstressed steel cable.
"Sookie." He gasps, releasing his grip and lurching a step away from me.
His eyes are wide, fixed on mine, suddenly expressive enough to convey all the things he's about to say . . . .
Instinctively I shove him away from me with both hands . . . . screaming as a metallic flash severs his head from his shoulders.
It seems to hang in the air for a moment, compelled by his need to speak. And then it and his body explode in a shower of blood and gore, the splashes and clumps trying to cling to me in a way he's no longer able to.
I drag my eyes up to meet Eric's as he lowers his huge sword, resting the point on the floor so he can lean on it.
And that's how we stay, for an inordinate amount of time, our bond open but strangely empty . . . .
"Are you alright?" He asks eventually, bringing me back to the harsh reality of the moment.
"Yes." I answer as honestly as I can.
"They did not harm you, in any way?" He presses, studying my face carefully, almost being gentlemanly about not looking at the rest of me.
"No." I reassure him quickly when I realise what he's asking.
You just sliced my ex-boyfriend's head off without a second thought. You didn't know he was about to attack you instead, you couldn't read his mind . . . .
My focus sharpens and I look at him properly. He's covered in blood too. Suit jacket long gone, shirt all but destroyed, pants not much better. And I realise it's mostly his blood even as I notice he's swaying slightly and relying on the sword to hold him upright.
He needs my help, that's why he's not letting me feel anything.
Without a word, and still holding his eyes, I advance on him, taking away the sword which is so heavy I barely manage to keep hold of it, and resting it against the back of the couch. Then, our eyes still locked, I place my hand on his chest and push him gently back until his legs hit the armchair which has somehow arrived in the middle of the room during the chaos.
"Sit." I order.
He resists. I push his chest harder. He sits.
And, Gran forgive me, I straddle his lap, sweeping my hair back over my shoulder to expose my neck.
"No." He objects. His voice harsh and forbidding. "I do not need to feed."
"Fine. But if any other vampires turn up here you should consider that I can barely even lift that sword you were carrying, never mind attack someone with it." I know better than to point out directly the state he's in, so I'm going with logic.
"Sookie . . . ." A little less harsh, a little less forbidding.
The bond is in chaos so I tweak it down to the bare minimum, somehow not able to close it completely.
"Eric. I never thought I'd live to see the day I actually had to persuade a vampire to drink my blood. Its not rocket science, if you want me to spoon feed you like a baby I'm telling you now I wouldn't even know where to start."
His chest rumbles in a low growl as his hands fasten around my waist, long fingers practically meeting at my spine. Cool, not cold.
Like before he leans down to skim his nose repeatedly over the skin on my neck, seeming to breathe me in and soothe me at the same time, before his fangs slide painlessly into my flesh.
The only sounds are his deep slow swallows and my own slightly harsh breathing. His hands kneading my body in time with his jaw working at my neck are our only movement. To keep myself calm I close my eyes and count sheep. A mere twenty seven sheep later he retracts his fangs with a snick, moving his tongue purposefully over his marks to get every last drop of blood and heal the wounds before wrapping his arms tightly around my back to pull me flush against his chest, my forehead resting in the crook of his neck.
"You are safe." He decides after a few moments and I nod in agreement.
I am also practically naked but I'm not bringing that up until it's absolutely necessary.