Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 41 Overture
SPOV
"Eric?"
My heart is beating wildly, hammering the blood through my veins, but wherever it's sending it, it doesn't appear to be making it to my brain.
"Sookie." He responds smoothly, inclining his head slightly.
And that's where it all stops for several awkward moments.
"May I come in?" He asks eventually. "There is something I want to talk to you about."
I hesitate but it's too late to do anything about my red eyed, considerably less than attractive appearance, or the couch strewn with soggy discarded tissues.
Mortified I draw back and gesture him toward the kitchen, praying his sense of smell isn't that good, shuffling after him in my fluffy bunny feet slippers, too confused to even enjoy the view as he walks ahead of me.
Why is he here?
"Would you like a bottled blood?"
"Please."
I grab one from the refrigerator, twisting the top off and shoving it in the microwave on autopilot.
"Sit down." I offer.
He does so silently, not even jostling the chair.
I take the heated blood and sit down opposite him, warming my hands on it while I will my brain to get past the fact that he's here so it can do something useful, like pay attention.
He's wearing a dark suit with a pale blue shirt, both clinging to him like a second skin and I have to avert my eyes in self-defence, it isn't fair that he's so beautiful. Or that I'm so hopelessly attracted to him. It's like some chronically bad joke . . . .
"I owe you and explanation." He says suddenly, voice and words startling me.
"I was always suspicious of you. You are Vampire Bait. Beautiful, sensuous, your scent and your blood are clean and fresh, you radiate health and vitality and your gift is one that any vampire would wish to possess for their own."
All I can do is stare down at my hands around the bottle and listen since I don't seem to be able to process what he's saying.
"I did not believe that a woman such as you would have been placed in my path by accident. You are brave, loyal and strong. It seemed incredibly foolhardy for a lesser vampire like Compton to expose you to me, without having laid claim to you properly first. You seemed specifically designed to be attractive to me.
Do you remember the night we bonded?"
I nod, not daring to look up.
"It is true that Compton asked me to protect you, he was trying to trick me into handing you over to the Queen. And that is what I attempted to do."
He pauses for a moment to let that sink in, and I wish it would, but they're just words and if my brain is processing them it's not letting me in on any of its conclusions.
"While I was meeting with the Queen to arrange your handover . . . ."
The dispassionate way he says it makes me wince, glad he can't see my face properly.
" . . . . we were interrupted by a lawyer with a contract for the state of Louisiana, for the Queen and myself, to protect you with our lives or face the true death."
What?
"I have known since that night that you were not who you claimed to be."
My head nods seriously of its own accord, a kind of understanding blooming behind the blank wall which is my conscious thoughts.
"The contract would have been drawn up when you were still a child but had not been enacted. One of the stipulations was that I was required to claim you as my human."
I suck in a breath and rotate the bottle gently in my hands, listening to the rough glass bottom scrape on the table top, waiting for him to continue.
"The Queen and I were furious, it is an intolerable position for vampire to be placed in. And try as we might we could not find out who was responsible, though a contract of such import has to be countersigned by a vampire of two thousand years or over. This one was signed by Godric."
My head flies up and I find him looking back at me steadily.
"He never told me about the contract."
With superhuman effort I manage not to reach across the table for one of his hands, instead I drop my eyes to the bottle again and rotate it violently a couple of times.
"The night we returned to the Palace and I accepted the crown, after you had gone to bed, the Lawyer's human came to see me. The contract has been cancelled, I am no longer under any obligation to protect you, or to pretend that you are mine."
Silence.
My chest constricts and my brain bursts into life, bombarding me with questions, conclusions and fears. My fingers tighten on the bottle and I jump a little as it shatters, spilling thick, fake, blood all over the scrubbed wood. Eric stiffens and then relaxes when he realises I miraculously haven't cut myself.
"Why are you telling me this?" I choke out eventually.
"I wish you to understand."
I nod, swirling my finger through the spilt blood, idly drawing patterns in it.
Do I?
I think so. I can sympathise with the way this must have made him feel, the idea of being coerced into something like this gives me the heebie jeebies, it must be a hundred times worse for someone like him. And Godric, I know he loved Eric, but did he actually think through how anything he did might affect him?
I understand why he distrusts me, spends so much time avoiding me, hates me.
I don't understand why he didn't tell me. It's not hard to guess who is behind this. Niall, what is he, The Godfather?
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"It was not permitted."
"I wouldn't have wanted you to have to do that, I would have tried to find a way to put a stop to it . . . ." I sigh, struggling for the right words. "Eric, I'm sorry, I know I was happy to let you claim me for my own reasons, but please believe I would never have been able to do something like that."
"I know." He says quietly and though I long to look up and see the expression on his face, I'm too chicken.
And I think I really need him to leave now. I can't think with him here. Not when all I want to do is curl up in his lap to cry myself out.
Is that irony? I'm not sure. The only person I want to comfort me is the one who is never going to do it.
My chest tightens again. This is it isn't it? I'm never going to see him again, I'm sure he can come up with a reason why I'm not at the coronation, he's a King now and I'm just his bonded asset, he can do anything he likes with me. Even get rid of me completely.
Jeez, my sense of self-preservation is so screwed up, I'm more afraid that he'll sell me than I am that he'll kill me.
Needing to do something I get up, clattering the chair back noisily so I can grab a cloth and clean up the mess. I manage to sweep the glass shards into my open and deposit them in the trash but I have to rinse out the soaked cloth immediately, twisting it under the water to wash away the thick red liquid.
"Shit." I hiss, as a sliver of glass pierces my finger.
Instinctively I raise the abused digit to my lips but Eric's large hands grip my shoulders, turning me to face him so he can take my hand gently, raising the bloody finger to his mouth.
Our eyes lock and my whole body suffuses with heat as his lips close around the tip of my finger so he can suck lightly on it. His tongue swirls around it, sealing the wound and eliciting a moan from me.
Embarrassed I close my eyes and pray for my heartbeat to slow, my knees to hold out
He releases my finger from his mouth with a pop but keeps hold of my hand, taking the cloth from the other and tossing it into the sink where it knocks something over with a clatter.
"Sookie . . . ." His voice is hoarse and a new terror gallops away with me.
My body and my head are not on the same page where he is concerned. Jesus I've got it bad. He sucked my blood and he's holding my hand, it's not even remotely sexy. Against my better judgement I inhale shakily. Eau de Viking. Really not helping Stackhouse . . . .
I'm so aware of him that even with my eyes screwed tight shut I can feel him moving closer, leaning down . . . .
Desperate, I whimper, shaking my head furiously.
I can't do that, not even if this is going to be the last time I ever see him. I can't, but I wish I could, how I wish I could . . . .
He exhales softly, his cool breath bathing my face and fluttering my hair.
Then he releases my hand and makes a noisy production of sitting back down in his chair. Nevertheless I keep my eyes shut until I've turned away over the sink, blinking back tears I rescue the wash cloth and right the scattered pile of crockery, filling the sink with water. I want him so much its almost making me feel sick, or maybe that's just all the other things gnawing away at my insides right now.
Why is he still here?
He told me what happened and I'm grateful, and I understand, I really do. But now it's done surely he's got something else he should be doing rather than torturing me?
The sink is full and procrastinated out I turn off the water and admit defeat, plopping wearily back into my chair.
"What happens now?" I ask quietly, fixing my eyes on the breast pocket of his suit.
"That is entirely up to you."
Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .
I know he's waiting for me to speak but I don't have words for what I want and I wouldn't share them with him if I did.
"Regardless of what has happened we are bonded." He begins, breaking the long silence. "You are my responsibility."
"Under false pretences." I point out.
"Granted." He chuckles briefly. "But this is what it is. You are mine."
He laced that word with far more possessiveness than Bill could ever manage and I bite back the urge to correct him, or tackle him to the floor, or possibly both.
"What I am trying to say." He says, our bond wafting me with determination. "Is that whatever you choose to do I would like you to allow me to continue to ensure that you are protected, safe."
"You don't have to do that . . . ." I respond automatically.
"I am perfectly well aware of that Sookie." He interrupts smoothly. "But I wish to."
"Oh."
Silence.
"I don't actually know what I want to do." I admit, thinking about Merlotte's.
"Godric taught me that the first part of making any decision was to decide if it needed to be made quickly."
Sensible advice, 'wait and see' was one of Gran's favourites.
"I would like you to return to New Orleans with me."
My mouth drops open and I close it hastily. Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .
"But I understand you may not wish to do so immediately, I was unpleasant."
Without thinking I nod.
He sighs and his muted emotions shift around rapidly before settling on determination again.
"It would please me if you were with me for my coronation."
"I understand."
"Do you?" He asks softly. "We work well together as a team Sookie, I am uncomfortable with losing that just because we were forced to become one."
Breast pocket, breast pocket . . . .
His large hand slips a card out of it and slides it across the table toward me.
"The Palace numbers are all on here. If you need anything please call. If you decide to attend I can arrange for you to be collected and returned home . . . ."
"I have one of your cars here."
"Yes." He laughs. "Perhaps I could arrange for you to have one for the other foot?"
Despite myself I snigger. It is like a skate . . . .
"I should go. I have things I need to do."
I nod again as he stands.
Then I remember my manners and scramble to my feet, leading him to the door.
We pause, on the edge between the light of the house and the dark of the night, too close together, him looking down, me looking up.
"Please Sookie." His eyes are intense, holding mine. "Come to my coronation. We can work out what happens next together."
. . . . . I need you . . . . .
I gasp in surprise and stumble back from the only vampire I don't hear anymore, his arm lashing out to stop me crashing into the door jamb, cradling me, supporting me.
Kiss me. Please. I've changed my mind . . . .
Instead, one armed, he sets me back on my feet leaving me in the light as he disappears into the darkness.