Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 44 Love Not Given Lightly
EPOV
"Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Your Majesty." Smith announces.
I nod, folding my arms over my chest and arranging my features accordingly.
"Master." She intones, sinking to her knees the moment the door closes behind her.
"You are in a lot of trouble." I growl.
She nods.
"Stand."
She complies, keeping her eyes averted and I take the time to inspect her closely. To my relief I can see no lingering signs of silver poisoning in her, she looks fit and strong.
"I cannot protect you Pamela if you conceal things from me."
"I am sorry Eric." Her voice is sincere and devoid of the teasing that is her usual way in private between us.
"You lied to me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Thalia and I felt it was important to give Sookie the chance to explain to you what happened."
"Why?"
"You needed to hear the truth about her from her."
"You know what is best for me now?" I demand.
"No Master. I apologise." She sounds contrite.
"Pam . . . ." I sigh, my ire wilting like a flower in the sun.
Wisely she keeps her eyes averted. It has been a long time since I have genuinely needed to chastise her and in truth we are well past that point, I have already taught her everything I can, if she deemed it right not to reveal the truth to me over the telephone then I cannot help but trust her judgement, even if I do not understand it.
"I will have to punish you."
"I understand." She sighs, raising her eyes to mine.
"You will take the position as Sheriff of Area Five."
She opens her mouth to protest.
"You will not argue with me. You will be diligent and do a good job."
Her mouth is still open.
"You are ready." I insist, smiling slightly. "You will make me proud."
Her eyes light up briefly in recognition of my words, then her jaw works for a moment, then she nods, an evil glint forming in her eye.
"How is Sookie?"
…..
With Pam successfully diverted to interfering with whatever the Tiger is planning for my wretched coronation I collapse behind Sophie Anne's stupidly large desk to get some work done. But it is impossible to concentrate.
Sookie is well. I know this because I am more attuned to her than I have been to anyone else, Godric and my equally beloved child included. And because she is tantalisingly near.
I had no conscious agenda when I went to her but somehow it made sense to tell her about the contract, to explain myself, to have her understand. And despite her muted reactions and our muted bond I think she did, at least I choose to believe so.
She came back anyway, one of the few things I wanted from her that I understood well enough to ask for.
And now?
The gnawing ache I felt when she was absent is gone and this is good. She is happier too and this does not displease me either.
I know that she is fairy, a genuine mortal danger to me, but for the time being I cannot see a way to extract myself nor begin to conceive a desire to do so, and in its way this is exactly what I feared all along. That she was placed in my path to entice me, to lure me into giving up something important. And though I do not understand what that important thing is, instinctively I know that I am coming close . . . .
Eventually I stop my obsessing over the woman and actually manage to force myself to focus on keeping us all alive.
I did not lie last night, not one trace of Victor Madden has been found in Louisiana, not even a ghost trail from one of his aliases. This worries me since he must have been here during his doomed takeover attempt. Has he fled? It is possible but I cannot fathom why he would not have returned to Philadelphia and denied all knowledge of the takeover. If he has met his true death, then how and who, and is there any danger I can be held accountable for it? It could be tricky, after all I have no proof now Andre has met his end that Madden conspired to kill the Queen. Killing another monarch in battle or in a duel is acceptable, anything else, assuming you get caught, and most don't, is punishable by the true death. Could Madden's disappearance leave me vulnerable? In some ways it would be to my advantage to find him, since I absolutely know I had no hand in whatever happened to him.
Nevada's interest in my state and Sookie is bothersome. I believe he is probably testing me by sending his people into Louisiana without my permission, though I have had little to do with him previously, by reputation he appears too shrewd to have assumed that I would neither find out nor take action. The things I do not know worry me, conscious ignorance is just as deadly but more wearing than the unconscious kind. Why was the Queen passing him such huge sums of money? What, if anything, does he know about Madden? Or worse, does he know about the involvement of the Fae? Being seen as in league with them is very definitely something I could get into trouble for.
Thankfully any evidence of their involvement seems to have disappeared just as surely as Madden. Nevertheless I need to have words with Sookie's relative as soon as it can be arranged after the coronation, because the Council of Monarchs will require a full report on Rhodes soon and I am still not sure what I am going to tell them.
Damn fairies.
My fairy is still awake, concentrating.
Done with tonight's efforts at untangling Louisiana's finances I slip out of the French windows behind me and wander along to hers, surprised she is up and apparently working so late.
She has moved her desk so that she can see both the gardens and her office door but she is so focussed on what she is doing she does not see me. I had wanted her to have a view but now I am concerned at the security risk posed by these windows, she is dangerously exposed at this moment.
I watch her, head bent over her laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard, lips pursed. Her glorious hair is scraped back and twisted onto the top of her head, secured by a pencil, and though I should dislike that I find the view of her long slender neck very appealing.
Her eyes flick briefly sideways to the pad beside her and then she re-focusses on the laptop, her fingers moving even faster. Far quicker than a human could ever manage, does she even realise? If someone other than me should see . . . .
What is she doing?
What am I doing?
Taking the opportunity to watch her undisturbed and unobserved.
Such a beautiful woman, I have known many through the years but none has affected me like she does. I have never wanted anyone as much I want her and yet my epic lust for her body feels like the tip of the iceberg. A mere hint at what lies beneath.
So close to losing . . . .
As if sensing my sudden desire to retreat she looks up, capturing me, freezing me in place with her piercing blue eyes. Wide and deep they have always drawn me to her yet it is their very intensity that continues to try to convince me that there is far more to her than the naïve waitress she claims.
The cackle of electricity in the air between us, despite the glass, is an imagined manifestation of my awareness of her. All of her. Even out here in Sophie Anne's ludicrous and exotic gardens her scent is in my nose, clean, fresh, alluring, drawing me in.
I cannot look away, let alone walk away.
She swallows and my eyes drop to her throat. What I would not give to caress it, kiss it, taste it with my tongue, sink my now aching fangs into it.
Compelled by some unknown force my eyes travel back to hers.
I wish I knew what she is thinking, in our bond it feels like she is paused, waiting . . . .
Does she fear me as I fear her?
Or is she simply waiting for me to yield?
"Eric?"
Even her voice is designed to entice me in. Fairy.
I open the door and slip inside her office.
"What are you doing up so late?"
"I'm working." She answers with an embarrassed smile.
My eyebrow shoots up.
"I didn't know what you wanted me to do so I'm writing a report." She shrugs self-consciously. "It seems to be what everyone else does."
"A report?"
"On all the staff and visitors here, what I've heard from everyone."
Cold dread washes through me.
"Please tell me you are not including anything about the vampires?" My voice sounds harsh even to my own ears.
She flushes and I feel contrition from her as looks down at her keyboard. "I'm sorry Eric, I didn't think, do you not want me to read them, is that wrong?"
"Sookie." My chest constricts painfully. "I am only concerned that someone could access your laptop and realise what you can do. It could be dangerous for you."
"Oh."
In the silence her eyes find their way back to mine.
"I'm sorry Eric, I'm not very good . . . ." She gestures around the room and at both of us. "With all this . . . . I didn't think, I was just trying to be useful, I don't want to make things any harder on you."
My ire spikes and I am a hair's breadth from stalking out. Except. I no longer believe her to be the consummate actress pretending to support me, not really.
My hesitation with her will be my undoing.
"Shall I delete it all?"
"No. I can take it to my room, it will be secure there, I can destroy it after I have read it. You will have a new laptop in the morning."
"Okay." She sighs, reaching out to save her file and shut the laptop down.
She stands and prepares to leave, gathering her notes together.
"We should destroy these too."
I nod, taking them from her.
Sighing she turns to precede me from the room, taking the pencil from her hair so that it can cascade down her back.
Not needing to look where I am going I watch it swing as she walks ahead of me into the marble hallway. As she begins to ascend the stairs my eyes drop, like a horny adolescent, first to her shapely ankles, she is wearing one of her 'serious' business ensembles, before rising to take in the flex of her calves. By the time we reach the landing they have risen all the way to her bottom where her glutes are moving the tight grey skirt in delicious ways.
Feeling like a devoted dog following its master I surreptitiously reach up to rub my thumb over my gums, trying to coax my fangs into staying there as we walk along to her room.
She pauses at her door.
"Pam has arrived." I inform her, annoyed that I am seeking to prolong our contact with such apparently trivial information.
"I saw her." She nods. "She helped me move my desk."
I raise my eyebrow at such un-Pam like behaviour and Sookie giggles in understanding.
"She was pumping me for information about my Great Grandfather. He's made quite an impression on her."
"Humph."
My displeasure at the mention of her relative must be apparent because she blushes, her eyes leaving my face to study something on my shirt for a moment.
She sucks in a breath and shakes her head slightly before raising her eyes back to my face.
"I can't help what I am Eric."
She says it quietly but there is a challenge in her words and her gaze.
And it sends me into a tailspin. I have unconsciously been buying into the concept that she does not truly know what she is and yet her words and emotions in this moment tell me that she knows precisely why what she is may be a problem for me.
Needing time and space to process the implications I do the only thing I can think of, I walk away, her tangled and unhappy emotions following me like a dark cloud. After a moment I hear her door open and close.
And I stop, held in place by something I do not understand and cannot fight.