Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 49 But You Cannot Make it Drink
EPOV
My hand is resting over hers. No, not resting exactly, pressing it into the highly polished wood, holding it in place.
Her abrupt explosion has not come as a surprise to me, and despite once accusing me of knowing her best, her Great Grandfather does not appear shocked by it either. I am no real judge of Fairy but he seems to be enjoying it.
He is evil and manipulative. Agreed.
He is a power mad dictator with delusions of grandeur who risked my life and those of the people I care about without once considering whether or not it was right or fair. She is still naïve of the supernatural world, I may not like what he has done, I may wish I could kill him for it, but I respect his ability to do it. I do not think he is power mad, just powerful.
He killed people in her name without once consulting her. I understand why she would object to that, not that that means I believe her to be correct in her regard for the rights of the undeserving or those who wish her harm.
He dazzled her with 'safe' stories of the Fae, never once bothering to acquaint her with the truth.
When she demands to know 'why the fuck' she would want to move to Faerun on his say so I can't stop myself from smirking, even when his eyes flick briefly over mine without disrupting his polite attention to Sookie's tirade.
He endangered me. Put me through hell. Emasculated me.
That last bit makes me wince, which makes him smile, and then she's done, emotionally and verbally spent, her head hanging down as if her neck is no longer able to support it.
I squeeze her hand slightly as she calms, already regretting her outburst, embarrassment for it suffusing her body with extra warmth.
I glare at him, letting my loathing show, not that he is perturbed, he stares back, still sporting his politely bland demeanour, reaching up to pat the woman's hand which has not moved from his shoulder.
We appear to be waiting for something and the silence is oppressive.
How I would love to kill him in this moment, tear him apart with my bare hands, rip into his flesh with my fangs. So many reasons, such regrettably little chance of a successful outcome.
Finally Sookie takes a deep breath and raises her head again, I can imagine the heat of the gaze she is fixing the Fairy with, her predilection for what she considers polite southern manners does not completely hide the warrior queen within, she is still angry. He should be proud . . . .
"What happens now?" She asks in an icy tone.
"That is up to you." He answers, smiling like he has just won the lottery. "There is more that you need to know, that I should tell you."
"Humph." She is not pleased, just resigned and a little afraid.
"If you do not wish to come with me now I would like to suggest that we meet again tomorrow."
My hand, which does not appear to be ruled my head at the moment, flattens hers into the wood again.
She is unsure. Does she want to go, despite her outburst? Certainly she has little real reason to remain here.
Or is she unsure of her welcome? She knows being Fae in the vampire world is an issue on many fronts, she knows it is an issue to me. She may believe that issue has just become insurmountable. And perhaps it has, but she is entitled to a choice.
"Sookie is welcome here for as long as she wishes to be." I offer. "I will see to her safety."
"Of course you will Northman." He snaps, suddenly testy again. "We have already established that. Would you like to tell her why?
What?
He throws up his hands, dislodging the woman's hand from his shoulder.
"Niall." She murmurs, fighting back a smile. "You can lead a horse to water . . . ."
He takes an exaggerated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.
"Fine." He huffs. "Sookie, I apologise, I realise this is difficult for you but know that I have always had your best interests at heart. We really do have more to discuss and I hope you will be willing to do so though it is growing late and now probably is not the time. May we meet again tomorrow?"
Sookie turns her attention to me, her eyes pleading.
"I have a meeting with de Castro just after first dark." I answer for her. "It should not take too long."
"Your presence is not required." He observes, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"If Eric is willing it's required by me." Sookie growls quietly.
Apparently it is not just my hand which is dancing to the beat of a different drum, my whole arm has joined the party, snaking around her waist, pulling.
She resists briefly and then allows it to draw her to my side, the fabric of her dress sliding easily across the desktop until she is leaning into me.
The contrary Fairy is grinning from ear to ear, his smile like a lighthouse beam.
"Very well." He agrees happily. "Be careful with de Castro Northman, he is an empty vessel but still a dangerous one, let me know if my assistance is needed."
My chest vibrates with a soundless growl which cuts off when Sookie's tiny arm slips around my waist. Is it actually possible for that smile to split his face in half? He looks like a frog. No, more poisonous toad, or snake . . . .
"We will take our leave then." He decides, rising so abruptly even I flinch. "I will know when you are done with Nevada, I will come then."
I nod but my chin has not even completed its dip before he and the woman vanish with a faint pop, leaving the room cold, still and quiet.
Sookie's curse word drowns out my own Old Norse oath, breaking the tension slightly as we both laugh.
Her corset, damn Pam, she knows me so well, is firm to my touch, allowing her dress to slide over it in a way I have been acutely aware of all night.
For me at least, the tension in the room shifts, taking on a different flavour, building to a different explosion.
I have grown so accustomed to tempering my attraction to her that its heightened presence now surprises me, The Prince of the Sky Fae being her blood relative should have quashed any lingering desire for her body with my own sense of self preservation. Yet I want her more now than I ever have . . . .
"I'm sorry." She whispers, turning her face into my chest, her hot breath flowing over me, setting a tingle to my skin even through my jacket.
I tense automatically. No, she is not. It is a game, a ruse, a wile . . . .
"None of this is your fault." I respond, because it is the truth.
"Not deliberately . . . ." Her soft voice fades to nothing.
Silence, as tense and awkward as me. The air around us is growing thicker with every beat of her heart.
This situation is so dangerous, it requires my attention, for all our sakes. Duty first, it has always been so, in my human life and in Godric's. Always duty first, survival . . . .
"My feet are killing me." She murmurs, kicking off her shoes and fisting her toes in the luxuriant shag of the carpet.
Her feet are small but perfectly formed, I have noticed this before.
My arm is still around her waist, her body still leaning into me, warm. Does she belong here? Do I want her to? Would I willingly let her leave? Would I willing let her lithe body move away from mine in this instant? Would I rip away her dress and bury myself inside her? Would I sink my fangs into her neck as I thrust? Would I be able to stop myself, if that was what she wanted? Would that make her mine?
She is Fae. I do not know how to make her mine, how to keep her, if that is what I want . . . .
She is tired.
"You are tired."
"Not really." She responds. "I don't think I could sleep."
Sleep Sookie, you need to sleep, I need you to sleep . . . .
"Thanks." She says quietly. "For offering to be with me tomorrow . . . ."
Do not say anymore . . . . please . . . .
"I really appreciate it. I know that you don't need to look out for me with my family stuff, you've got far better things to do."
My groan of near pain causes her to pull away from my chest and look up at me, thickening the tension until it is chewable, apparently trapping us both in it like flies in molasses.
So beautiful . . . . such Vampire Bait . . . . how little I realised . . . . how much I have been able to surprisingly ignore . . . .
Why the sudden failure?
It is like the first time I saw her. From her painted toe nails to the golden crown of hair atop her head, how she looks just as good now, despite what I know. And I know her curvaceous, womanly body better now, though less than I should, tonight's less than demure dress doing nothing to hide it. Her skin is still flawless and golden, still glowing with vitality, despite the nights I have forced her to be by my side, how does she do that? I inhale and the fresh clean scent of her blood, mixed with the aroma of the lotion she has used to moisturise her skin hits me in just the way it always has. Time stands still and lust rips through my startled body like electricity, threatening to pull my fangs from my gums.
Her lips are slightly parted as she studies my face.
Duty, self-preservation, a need to break the spell.
"I will see you safely to your room, I should speak with Pam and Charles before they retire for the day."
Her spirits plummet and she tries to pull away but my unruly arm will not allow it. Instead I stand, sweeping her into my arms, she will be in her room, away from me, that much quicker this way. She stiffens and then relaxes, resting her head against my chest with a resigned sigh.
The foyer is deserted as I flit us through and up the staircase.
Her eyes open again as I lay her down on her bed, trapping me in place as surely as a hobo bolt.
Her hair is fanned out around her like a golden cloud, her soft beautiful hands resting on her stomach, her slender legs bent slightly and angled toward me, knees demurely together. Her eyes are wide, gazing at me with an unfathomable expression, her lips slightly parted again.
I did not move quickly enough, the thick cloud in my office has clung to us like a comet trail, settling around us again, stronger this time. It sucks my strength from me until I slump down on the bed beside her, closing my eyes, willing it to go away . . . .
I tense even further when she rolls toward me, hauling herself up so she can smooth the creased skin between my tightly shut eyes with the tip of her finger, unconsciously pressing herself against me.
No, no, no, no, no . . . .
After a moment I drape my arm around her, stroking my fingers across the soft fabric of her dress, feeling the corset beneath.
"It creaks when you move." I observe.
"No." She sighs regretfully, her head resting on my shoulder. "I think that's me, its tight, Pam's a sadist."
It's on the tip of my tongue to offer to unlace it, I know how they work . . . .
"I should go . . . ." I offer instead.
"Please . . . ." She breathes. "Don't . . . ."
"Sookie . . . ."
Her warm hand falls away from my face to rest lightly on my chest, it almost burns me through the thick fabric of my dress shirt.
Fuck.
"Talk to me Eric."
"Sookie . . . ."
"I need you to talk to me."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me what I should do Eric. Help me work out where I belong . . . ."
My free hand closes over hers, wrapping around it as I open my eyes, willing her to look up as I look down.
It seems to take forever but eventually, like a flower to the sun, she raises her face to mine.
She is beautiful, no matter what she is.
Tell me what you want me to say Sookie, do not let me do this . . . .
Her lips tremble as I claim them, apparently afraid of what might be said, but she is too strong to flinch away, she wants to listen and I can no longer fight the pressure to speak . . . .