Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 65 Just the Two of Us
SPOV
Blurk! My mouth feels like the inside of shepherd's sandal. That's so nasty there aren't even words . . . .
My bed is seriously lumpy and I have clearly become incredibly spoilt. My bed, humph, my room, with light tight shutters. My brain is so sluggish this morning . . . .
Huge Viking crushing me, normal enough.
But really?
Could he be any heavier?
Jesus but he gives new definition to the term dead weight.
Is he trying to suffocate me in my sleep?
Annoyed I jab my elbow into him.
Nothing.
Of course.
My bladder needs attention, time for the Stackhouse wiggle . . . .
Two minutes later I have evaded his clutches and am able to stagger, surprisingly weak, into the bathroom.
Jeez, what the hell did we do last night? My head is killing me.
I peer at myself in the mirror.
Yep. Death warmed over. Huge bags under the eyes, dull streaks in my hair, and I really need to get some sun, sallow doesn't even begin to cover it. Vampire blood must be running out . . . .
"Shit!" I scream, wrenching the bathroom door open to check that he actually is hogging the entirety of my bed.
He is. Glorious body, bed hair, and all.
Slowly I close the door and inspect myself in the mirror again.
Alright Stackhouse. Calm. Facts. Consider them.
Court. Trial.
Staked. Very definitely staked.
I turn away from the mirror and open the door a crack to check.
Okay, good. Still sprawled over my bed.
Good. Definitely good.
I close the door again and return to the mirror.
I could be dreaming. Better check . . . .
Ow. Jesus. Fuck. That's gonna bruise.
My eyes are wide and threatening to tear.
Ow. Who came up with that stupid idea? Eric will have a fit when he sees the mass of broken blood vessels already flowering on my upper arm.
Eric . . . .
The rest of it comes flooding back.
Holy shit!
I slump to my knees in relief, my head thudding into the counter.
Ow!
We're not dead . . . .
EPOV
I wake physically alone.
But impelled into the bathroom.
Where Sookie is knelt on the floor, rubbing her forehead and cursing like a trooper.
"Fucking, ow." She hisses, oblivious to my presence.
"He's going to kill me when he finds out." She mutters, still rubbing frantically. "I shouldn't have done it, I really shouldn't have done it."
She is rocking now.
"What should you not have done?" I demand. I have a list of things . . . .
Her bloodshot eyes snap to mine.
"Jesus! Eric! Fu . . . . mbalina . . . . do you have to sneak up on a body like that?"
I shrug, no other option available to me. I am in shock, I think.
She is here. Our bond is here. I am dreaming, obviously.
Shuffling on her knees in the long white nightgown she turns to face me. Her expression contrite.
"I bit you."
"What?"
"I bit you." Her head bows. "While I was feeding you. I'm so sorry Eric. I just wanted, needed awaytotryandtieustogether I didn't know what I was doing, not really. I didn't want you to die butiftherewasawayformenottodietoo . . . . I thought it might help."
I do not feel my mouth pop open, merely the resulting change in temperature on my tongue.
"I think we might have blood bonded for a third time." She whispers, head still downcast. "I'm so sorry Eric. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't mean to force you."
My lack of understanding has plumbed a depth I did not know was available to a sentient being.
"I love you." I blurt out, falling to my knees in front of her with a resounding thunk.
"Eric?" She asks quietly, her brow furrowing as her hands lift to brush the hair away from my forehead. "Are you alright?"
Yes. No. I have no idea. My emotions are rioting and I do not even know how to begin reining them in.
Already I am breathing in time with her strong, vital, heartbeat, the sweep of her fingers across my face.
I do not understand the absence of pain. Nor the giddy feeling that is threatening to spiral out of my gut and splatter my brains all over her damp and aged ceiling.
"Eric. You're scaring me."
"You are not dead." I inform her since stating the obvious seems the best way to go.
"Um, no." She admits, managing to look both surprised and concerned at the same time. "And neither are you."
"I should be." I point out sternly.
"Yes, well." Her jaw tilts and my dead heart swells with, something. "That was entirely unacceptable."
"You are misquoting Clint Eastwood at me?"
"Apparently." She concedes, her fingers still combing through my hair and brushing my face.
"Why?" I ask calmly.
Her jaw tilts a little higher and her eyes flash.
"Why what?" Ah, the innocent act. Whether she knows it or not it this is quite a skill she possesses. Unfortunately for her we have a bond and I know her a little too well.
"Do not play with me." I warn her, narrowing my own eyes. "You said 'but if there was a way for me not to die too'. I require to know why you would do something so incredibly stupid as to kill yourself to save me."
Her lips quirk as she fights back a smile.
"You caught that, huh?"
"I am vampire. Of course I did."
"You're not angry with me." She assures me.
"I most certainly am."
"No you're not. You're rubbing your face into my palm. Even the cat never did that when she was pissed at me."
I am offended that she has just compared me to a domesticated animal but cannot find the will to move my head away from her soothing hands. Her eyes have captured me and fairly effectively brought my thought processes to a screaming halt.
"I love you Eric. There was no way I was going to let you die if I could prevent it . . . ."
I open my mouth but one of her dainty fingers is immediately placed against my lips, which press together obediently beneath it.
"When I realised, don't ask me how, that it was probably going to be too much for me I bit you, don't ask me why I did that either, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And don't give me a hard time about it because you would have done exactly the same thing if our positions were reversed."
"You could have died." I whisper into her finger.
"I don't know why I didn't." She admits, that admonishing finger abruptly switching to caress my lips.
My previously limp arms come back to life, wrapping around her tiny body, pulling it less than delicately against mine.
"We are not done discussing this." I inform the crown of her head.
"Okay." She sighs, winding her own arms round my torso, hugging me surprisingly tightly.
"I do not like this nightgown." I murmur after a while.
"Neither do I." She huffs. "In fact I'm pretty sure I've never seen it before in my entire life."
In silence, and in complete lack of logic, we continue to attempt to squeeze the life out of each other.
"What happened?" She asks finally, the movement of her lips tickling my throat.
"I have no idea."
"You know it scares me when you say that, right?"
"Not as much as it does me." I huff.
More silence.
"Hadn't we better find out?"
I blow out a petulant breath that ruffles the golden strands of her hair. "Must we do it now?"
"I think so. There's a fairy in my kitchen. And Mississippi, and the one you call the Ancient Pythoness. I don't know about the fairy or the old crone but Mississippi's head is going to explode in a minute if we don't do something."
"Let it."
"I'd rather not." She groans and a vivid image of that same kitchen bathed in her Grandmother's blood, flashes into my mind.
"Sookie, I am so sorry you had to endure that."
"It's life Eric, not one of the good parts, but part of it nonetheless."
Silence.
"How did you know what I was thinking about?"
"How did you know I knew what you were thinking about?"
Clearly neither of us can answer that question.
"We need to talk to Niall." She sighs, relinquishing her death grip on me.
After a moment, and against my every instinct, I do the same, transferring my hands to her face, cradling it carefully and inspecting it intently. She looks tired and drawn but her eyes are burning fiercely. And I was absolutely correct. I do love her.
And I will love no other.
SPOV
Eric leaves me alone to take care of my human needs and talk to his 'people'.
My needs are great. Bladder relief. Clean teeth. Shower. Clean hair, I've no idea what's stiffened it but it seriously needs to be gone. And some time to gird my mental loins. We may be ecstatic to still be alive and together but we're both aware that there are going to be consequences.
And don't ask me how I know that, I still can't read his mind, I just know.
I spend some time trying to read Mississippi's but other than a general sense of agitation it's a lot less clear to me than it was the last time I was around him.
And then I give up, channelling some of Eric's fatalistic acceptance, we'll find out when we make it out to the kitchen.
And besides, I can barely concentrate on anything except Eric moving around my bedroom as he gets dressed and talks, and my stomach, which thinks my throat has been cut. I'm starving, it feels like I haven't eaten in days.
As I towel dry my hair in front of the mirror my face splits into one of Jason's shit eating grins. There's nothing wrong with my hearing or memory either Viking. You told me you loved me.
Feeling devilish I sashay back into my room and drop my towel as I lean over to search through my drawers for something to wear. Chuckling to myself when I hear his fangs run out.
Some no nonsense underwear, sweat pants and a vest top later I turn to find him glaring at me while he finishes up his conversation with Pam. At least I assume it's Pam, as I recognise the sounds but none of the words.
Smirking I lift my arms slowly to twist my hair into a messy pony tail, pushing out my ample chest.
You love me.
He swallows thickly.
You want me.
His tongue flicks out to idly caress one of his fangs.
You're gonna have to wait a while . . . .
Whoa!
"Wait?" He asks, arching an eyebrow as he pins me to the bed and hovers over me.
"My Great Grandfather is down the hall." I giggle. "Show some respect."
"I am." He growls, glancing down at the space between our bodies to illustrate his point. "Because if I feel you pressed against me now I am going to take you, possess you, fuck you and make love to you until the sun carries me away."
Jesus Christ Shepherd of Judea.
I need clean underwear.
His eyes bore into mine as his face descends, until my tongue flicks out, without my permission, to lick my dry lips, then his attention lasers in on them like hawk that's spotted its prey . . . .
"Do you want me Sookie?" He breathes to them, fangs rubbing them up and down, nose strafing mine. "Do you want to reclaim what is ours?"
Yes, oh god yes . . . .
"Good." He chuckles. "Then we shall. Later."
"Eric . . . ."
I don't know what I'm pleading for. Now, later . . . .
But when his mouth slants down over mine I'm done thinking, only able to 'talk' on the most basic of levels. His tongue, his lips, his scent. They're all I can be aware of, all I will respond to. The only way I can attempt an answer to how glad he is that we're still together. His kiss sucks the breath out of me and curls my toes. Stands my bound hair on end and has goose bumps breaking out all over my skin. Turns my stomach over and ignites my bones.
Love. I love him. Only him.
Groaning he pulls himself away from me.
"We have responsibilities." He murmurs regretfully.
"We do." I concur, untangling my hands from his hair and attempting to use my fingers to comb it back into some semblance of order.
Briefly he presses his forehead against mine and then he leaps to his feet, pulling me with him at a speed that has my head spinning.
Lacing our fingers together he leads us out of the door and down the hall to my kitchen.
I can feel the dust under my bare toes, this place is falling apart without me. And the chances of it containing a meal to accommodate my hunger are miserably thin . . . .
I am not surprised to find Niall, the Ancient Pythoness and Mississippi waiting for us. Though the sight of them gathered around the Stackhouse table with bottled bloods and a beer is a little disconcerting.
Eric tightens his grip on my hand but makes no attempt to hide me behind him, though I know he wants to, he thinks of us as equals and as such he expects us to deal with this together.
Niall is smiling fit to bust. The old crone is deadpan. Mississippi's thoughts have suddenly become crystal clear to me again.
He knows everything, as do the other Monarchs who formed the Council, everyone else has been 'glamoured' by Niall. They all think that Eric unveiled De Castro as a traitor who was in league with Newlin to feather his own nest and expand his kingdom, that they watched him meet his true death at the hands of his peers. And that's what Nan Flannigan has already reported to the press. Its genius really. The vampires have shown they are capable of keeping their own house clean and Newlin and his hate spewing followers will be thoroughly discredited.
Everyone gets to their feet and the two vampires incline their heads at me respectfully.
"Russell, Surina, may I introduce you to my Great Granddaughter, Sookie Stackhouse Brigant, Princess of the Sky Fae and her Vampire, the King of Louisiana."
Before I even have a chance to wonder how Eric feels about being described as mine Mississippi's thoughts distract me.
. . . . . now we are in trouble . . . . .