Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 56 Verbal Chess
SPOV
Nothing is ever simple is it?
I've done this 'reading between the lines' stuff before, just never on my own behalf and I guess I have a slightly better appreciation now of why Tara used to push me so hard in High School to dip into the head of the boy she liked, and no matter how much evidence we already had, find out once and for all if he liked her.
Of course I can't read Eric's mind. Not that I need to, I can feel him instead. But despite all that I'm the insecure and unsure teenager and I doubt that's going to change until he tells me outright, and in small non ambiguous words, why he wants me to belong here. Which he probably isn't going to do. Which probably leaves us at some kind of impasse because I know I can't. Which probably doesn't matter because there's a big ole impediment to progress that needs to be discussed first.
It pains me to still be so mad at Gran and her apparent inability to keep her knees in their proper place.
And now the silence is getting awkward because a full minute has passed since he 'might' have declared himself and I haven't said a word. That's got to be considered rude by any species . . . .
An ominous reverberating growl rends the air.
"Was that your stomach?" He asks incredulously.
I should fake some ladylike embarrassment but I'm so relieved for the interruption I start giggling instead.
"Yes, I'm sorry, I should probably get something to eat."
"I agree." He says seriously. "I would not want to face that thing without a sword if it got loose . . . ."
Tension broken I shove him playfully and roll myself out of the bed, taking the sheet and winding it round me in a smooth move that seems to amuse him.
"Would you like me to escort you down to dinner?" He asks, smirking up at me, completely unabashed by his nakedness, or my ogling.
"Yes please." I mutter, grabbing my clothes and retreating to the bathroom.
I hope he doesn't mind waiting, my crowning glory is in serious need of some attention, my hair is my one real vanity, no one looks as good in a ponytail as I do without putting in some serious effort . . . .
Done I realise that my clothes from last night are in a less than ideal state, in fact I can smell them over Eric's shower products. Ick. Now what? If I go back to my room to change I'm both going to want another shower, and lose my nerve about having this conversation with him. I am so useless . . . .
"Sookie." He calls through the door. "I have fetched fresh clothes from your room, would you like them?"
"Please."
I open the door a crack, my inner thirteen year old, and he passes them through, withdrawing his hand so I can shut the door again, which sets off more giggling. Really, there are elements of this whole situation that remind me of High School, he's thoroughly explored parts of me my Doctor hasn't even mentioned and yet I'm embarrassed about him seeing me in a towel?
I snort when I examine what he's given me. A knee length, tight, black jersey skirt and a midnight blue sleeveless silk blouse with a scoop neck that frames the top of my cleavage, no underwear. Is that something he likes or was it just the first thing he picked up? I've no idea but at least I look good in it.
When I exit the bathroom he looks me up and down appreciatively with one of those infrequent meltingly genuine smiles.
"Shall we?" He says, offering me his arm.
"I don't have any shoes." I point out.
"We are at home Sookie." He murmurs as he guides me out into the hallway. "Who cares?"
We pass a few people in the hallways who nod politely but the kitchen is unexpectedly deserted, even with the fewer humans in the Palace now this kitchen is usually a twenty four hour hub of activity since apparently all weres eat like Alcide and his pack mates, as in constantly and copiously.
The center island is clear of everything except a place setting and a note from Smith, letting me know where my dinner is waiting. Poor man, though he is happy to have provided me with one of my favourite meals, he's currently pacing his office waiting for the 'King' to allow him back into his own kitchen.
I bustle round for a few minutes, my empty stomach urging me to hurry, before settling myself on a stool with Smith's excellent lasagne. Eric has already poured me a large glass of wine, heated himself a blood and perched on the stool opposite me. This feels so normal it makes my eyes prick alarmingly.
My stomach insists that I eat but I can't taste the food and I'm not enjoying it, the pressure to speak, it's my turn, is making me queasy. Eventually I set my fork down with a sigh and take a slug of wine instead.
"I can't make a choice that puts other people in danger." I blurt out.
He sighs but doesn't seem disappointed, more like this was what he was expecting. What does that mean? Is my being me his 'get out of jail free' card?
"So you will go to Faery then?"
Damn, how can he sound so reasonable when all I want to do is hurl crockery and scream up a storm?
"I don't want to."
Great. At least I didn't stamp my foot, at least I don't think I did.
"What do you want Sookie?"
My mouth opens and then closes again. I can't say it.
"Whatever you want Sookie. I am more than prepared to find a way to make it work."
"Why?"
He laughs softly and shakes his head.
"I am no expert but I thought relationships were about give and take." He counters, raising his eyebrow. "I believe it is your turn to give."
"This isn't funny Eric." I warn him. "We're not playing a game."
"Are we not?" He asks in an infuriatingly calm voice.
"Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"
"Perhaps. If you become mad enough you will eventually tell me what I need to know, once we have that the rest is just details."
"How did you get to know me so well?"
"I have no idea." He answers truthfully.
Another slug of wine is called for.
"Britlingens huh?"
"They are a species of Demon." Eric explains, twirling the bottle in his hands. "They are universally acknowledged to be the finest warriors in any realm. They possess a little magic, mainly invisibility related, but their instincts and abilities in battle are unparalleled. You would equate them to the legends of the Swiss Guard I believe, because they are not natural aggressors, they often work as mercenaries or bodyguards, but they are extremely selective about whom they will serve."
"And they'd work for me?"
"They are willing, because of your connection to the Prince, he saved their realm and they consider themselves indebted to him."
"There's something you're not telling me." I can sense it.
"They are, expensive." He admits after a moment.
Ouch.
"So what you are telling me is that if I stay here, but leave New Orleans, you will be forking out a sum of money you don't want to tell me about, in order to preserve my life?"
He nods, returning his attention to his now empty bottle.
"We both know I'm not your responsibility."
He smiles, deviously.
"How do you define responsibility Sookie, is it just something that's been given to you by another or do you decide whether or not you want if for yourself?"
"You haven't really answered my question."
"I am sorry." His politeness belies the deviousness I can feel rolling off him in waves. "I thought I was the one who asked the question."
Argh!
Fine.
"I'm not going to go swanning off to god knows where with a demon bodyguard, at your expense, and especially not if you would still be in any kind of danger."
"Aw, Sookie, you want to protect me?" He says, imitating my Miss Smarty Pants voice from that night with eerie ease.
"There's nothing wrong with my memory Eric and those circumstances were entirely different!"
Still smiling he inspects his empty bottle and gets up for a refill, my narrowed eyes following his movements. I know what he's trying to do and I really can't blame him, who says the man has to be the one that says all the hard stuff. But is he really so blasé about what could happen to him, and the people he cares about, if anyone finds out about me?
He settles back on his stool and I quaff some more wine.
"It's not details Eric." I sigh in defeat. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because of me or what I am."
"But you will not mind if something happens to me after you have moved to Faery?"
I scowl at him.
"You would not be in this position if I were not Vampire." He points out. "This is not your fault. This is neither of our faults"
"But I could keep you safe by leaving."
"No. You could not. You cannot control what happens. No one can."
I have no answer to that, the thought of anything happening to him makes my insides twist violently and my pyrotechnic palms itch.
"You cannot protect me if you are not here."
"Eric . . . ."
"And I cannot protect you if you are not here. I can assume that you will be safe in Faery, just as you can assume that I will be safe if you are. But neither of us will know for certain."
"We won't know for certain if we're together."
"But at least we will be together, to face whatever happens."
"The people you care about . . . ."
"Pam and Thalia? They know what you are, they are aware of the potential danger, they care as little as I do."
"You'd risk them, for me?"
"Yes."
"Eric, that's not right . . . ."
"You would make their decisions for them?"
"No. Of course not."
"You wanted to belong somewhere Sookie. And you do. Here. With me, us. Would you really leave?"
I shake my head, hanging it in shame. He's right. I'd rather be here trying to do something than 'away' and worrying about it, even if that isn't the right thing to do. Because I'm so scared that I'll lose him, whatever of him I have, if I'm not paying attention . . . .
"I want to do the right thing." I whisper.
"The right thing according to whom?"
My mouth opens and then closes again.
God? The Preacher? Gran? Me?
The right thing according to me is to stay here, I want it so badly . . . . and I could at least try to protect him . . . . and my friends . . . . if I was here . . . .
"You are not a disabled waitress from bum fuck Louisiana." He growls. "And it's time to stop thinking like one. Do you not deserve to be happy? Are you not capable of helping your friends, your Great Grandfather and I make that happen? Is your happiness not worth fighting for? Are you going to climb on your misshapen moral high horse and ride away from me? Will you fret about your decision? Will you shed a tear when you hear that a glamoured Fangbanger staked me?"
"Alright!" I scream. "I'm a bad person. I don't want to leave you. I want to stay here. I need to protect you too!"
I love you. I'm weak. There's no point to any of it without you . . . . and it scares me how I got here so quickly and how much further it might go . . . .
"Then we are on the same page." He isn't gloating but he definitely seems satisfied with my admission.
I wish I was.
I hope that staying here without endangering him is as simple as he seems to think and I'm apparently selfish enough to take that at face value for now. And I'm also selfish enough to shift my focus immediately to my other fear.
Is it bad that I've just admitted that I want to stay with him without any kind of qualification whatsoever? He's already reminded me that he doesn't think like a human, what does his idea of my 'belonging here' actually entail? I trust him. I can feel his desire for me to stay and his, esteem for want of a better word, for me. But I've no idea what that actually means in practise. Staying here, the way I feel about him, well it could turn out to be an act of outstanding self-flagellation. And still I don't really want to leave him . . . .
Groaning I flop forward, shoving the wine away and resting my head on my arms, not sure if I have the guts to ask him what my staying here means for me.
Head Fangbanger? Asset with Benefits? Mistress of the Harem? Saturday Night Special? Resident Feed and Fuck?
I want to know and I'm frightened to ask.
"What would I do if I stayed here?"
"Do?" He sounds surprised.
"Yes Eric, do." I snap, dragging myself upright to find him watching me with concern.
"What do you want to do?"
An innocent enough question but I shake my head.
"Well." He responds carefully. "You could continue to work for me as my paid asset, if you wish it."
"Okay."
"You would live here?"
I shrug. He doesn't want to live here, why would I, we both hate it . . . .
He sighs.
"I do not know what you are asking me Sookie."
Damn. A genuine question. Not part of the 'game'.
"I'm not a fangbanger." I mutter, letting my head fall onto my arms again.
"Ah." He sounds as amused as he feels. "You desire to know the nature of our relationship?"
You're pathetic enough, take the opening when it's offered.
"I guess so."
"And you do not already know?"
"I don't trust myself. I think we've already covered that . . . ."
"I am sorry." His voice is heavy. "I do not have a description for what we are."
I knew it.
Silence. Resignation. Defeat. Eric?
"I would lay down my life for yours. I would kill anyone who threatened you. I would want to kill anyone who tried to take you away from me, no matter how benign their intentions. You are mine and I am yours. I would do anything in my power to make you happy. I would let you go if that is what it took. I suspect that I am no longer able to be truly content without you. I think about you all the time. I would spend the rest of my existence with your naked body beneath mine, if I could. You are the only woman I want, can even imagine wanting. I am ruined for all others. And you terrify me. I am sorry Sookie, I am Vampire, and I do not know what that makes us . . . ."