Eric drove to Dallas on Friday night and arrived at Stan Davis' nest before Bill and Sookie did. He introduced himself as Leif from California – an alias he used frequently – and was greeted politely by the other vampires. After his brief tour of the house, he waited for news of his investigator and telepath, masking his impatience by being especially talkative.
He smelled Sookie's presence long before word spread around the room that Stan was meeting with some visitors from Louisiana. Her scent was like crisp, clean air cutting into the stink of a sewer.
Some time later, the one named Isabel came into the room where he was chatting to several others. "The sheriff wishes to see you, Leif," she said.
He followed Isabel into the room where the others were waiting, careful not to glance at Bill and Sookie, and smiled as Isabel introduced him to Stan.
Stan gave him a cursory nod. "Leif, welcome to my nest. This evening we have a problem here."
"How may I help you?" Eric asked, very much the innocent and helpful visitor. He allowed himself a look around the room, but didn't let his eyes rest on the subject they most wanted to see. She was standing close to Bill, and both of them seemed much too tense.
"It seems that someone has entered this room and performed an act of spying."
Eric smiled and replied calmly, "I am a visitor to your nest, and I have no problem with you or any of yours." He was about to go into his made-up story about why he came from California, but Sookie spoke first.
"Excuse me. The uh... item would have had to be put in here earlier than today to get the details of our arrival in Dallas." She hesitated as if waiting for Stan to reply, but the sheriff said nothing. "And excuse me," she went on after a moment, "but I am really worn out. Could Bill take me back to the hotel now?"
"We will have Isabel take you back by yourself."
Eric swallowed a protest. They couldn't have any good reason for separating Sookie from Bill. If she did indeed leave with Isabel, he would have to find a way to make a casual exit and follow them.
"No, sir," said Sookie firmly. Good girl.
"No?" Stan repeated.
"By the terms of my contract, I don't go anywhere without a vampire from my area." She lifted her chin, and Eric hoped he wasn't beaming with pride. "Bill is that vampire," she continued. "I go nowhere without him, at night."
Eric looked at Stan, who was regarding Sookie as though she were something alien to him. She was, of course. She was something set apart from all of them.
When Stan finally gave them permission to go, Bill and Sookie made a hasty exit, followed by Isabel. Eric caught Bill's eye as they passed, but Sookie did not glance his way.
"Humans," muttered Stan with a roll of his eyes. "Tasty little thing, though, isn't she?"
I'm glad you don't know just how tasty. "I imagine so," he replied with a shrug.
"And how long will you be with us, Eric?"
So Stan deserved the position he held. Eric met the other sheriff's eyes evenly. "Until her work here is done. I have no interest in interfering with you or your nest."
"Fine," Stan nodded. "I don't want any more trouble than we've had already."
* * *He bought a room at the Silent Shore and glamored the young desk clerk into revealing Sookie's room number. After tossing his bag carelessly into his own room, he made his way to the room in question. Just as he raised his hand to knock, he heard the unmistakable shuffling, panting, and kissing indicative of Sex About to Happen. He knocked.
"Go away," came Bill's voice.
Not a chance. "I need to talk to you," he said, speaking close to the door.
He heard Sookie's frustrated voice next. "Nooo. Say it isn't Eric."
Grinning broadly at the door, he replied, "It's Eric."
A few moments later, Bill unlocked and opened the door, glaring at Eric with malice in his eyes. "Eric... What?"
"May I come in?"
Bill stepped aside, and Eric strode into the room, his eyes falling on the torn scraps of Sookie's underwear. Well, well.
"What do you want, Eric?" Bill asked again.
"I just came to tell you that you did well this evening." There was a soft click from the direction of the bathroom, and Eric watched Sookie as she emerged in a short bathrobe. "And, of course, you were marvelous, Sookie." His throat felt suddenly dry. He calculated the consequences of shoving Bill from the room, locking the door, and teaching Sookie about true pleasure.
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, thanks so much for coming up to tell us this. We couldn't have gone to bed without a pat on the back from you."
"Oh, dear, did I interrupt something?" he asked with a smile. He picked up one of the scraps from the floor. "Would these – well, this – be yours, Sookie?" It was difficult to continue smiling now that he was distracted by the vision of her actually wearing the thong.
Sookie's only response was an angry glare, so Bill spoke for her. "In a word, yes. Is there anything else you would like to discuss with us, Eric?"
"We haven't got time tonight since daylight is so soon, and there are things I need to see to before I sleep." Like ordering room service and fucking her against the wall. "But tomorrow night we must meet. When you find out what Stan wants you to do, leave me a note at the desk, and we'll make an arrangement."
"Goodbye, then," said Bill.
He looked around the room, then rested his eyes on Sookie. "You don't want a nightcap? Warm from the vessel?"
They were both silent, and Eric took a few steps backwards out the door, never looking away from Sookie until Bill closed the door. The lock slid in place.
"You think he's listening outside?" Sookie asked.
He didn't linger to hear more.
On his hall, an attractive blond in hotel uniform looked up from her cart. "A drink before dawn, sir?" she asked.
He eyed the bottle of TrueBlood she offered, then looked at her. "Your neck or your thigh?" he murmured, stepping close to her.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
She called on her god many more times before he was through with her.
* * *The next thing he was aware of was his cell phone ringing. "What," he mumbled into it.
"Sookie," said Bill's voice. "The Fellowship has Sookie."
"Shit." He leapt from the bed, still naked, and unzipped his bag with so much force that he almost ripped it. The pinstripe suit inside was a little wrinkled, but it would serve well enough. "How do you know this?" he asked as he threw on his clothes.
"One of the hotel employees, Barry, is a telepath, apparently. Sookie... well, connected with him and told him where to find her. I am on my way there now."
"Save some of the fuckers for me," Eric snarled.
"I think you should stay at the hotel. What if she contacts Barry again?"
He sighed and sat on the bed. He hated to concede the point, especially when there was potential killing involved. "Very well. Does Stan know what's going on?"
"Yes."
"Good. Call me when you have her." Before Bill could respond, he had already flipped the phone shut. "Shit," he said again, flopping back on the flimsy bed. "Shit."
He spent a few minutes lying there, imagining creative ways to kill anyone who harmed Sookie, then left his room in search of Barry. He was directed to the reception desk, where he found the young man chatting with another employee.
"Can I help you, sir?" the other one, a female, asked.
"Barry," he said shortly. "Come with me." He led Barry to the small lounge where the hotel served its continental breakfast to the human guests each morning. Tossing some hundred dollar bills on the table, he said, "Sit."
"C-can I help you?" Barry asked. His fear didn't seem to have prevented him from shoving the bills into his pocket.
Eric paced, then turned on his heel. "Tell me everything you heard from Sookie. Every detail you remember."
As Barry related his disjointed "conversation" with Sookie, Eric continued to pace, interrupting with an occasional question. There was nothing further he could do at the moment, he realized with frustration. Barry left, and Eric sat down in the chair he had occupied.
He spent the next few hours outside the hotel, standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. Fucking useless, he thought. Bill called twice: first to report that Sookie had somehow escaped the Fellowship on her own, though she was injured and had to be taken to the hospital; secondly to tell Eric that Sookie had left the hospital and was... who knew where? He also heard from Stan, who told him about the nest's raid on the Fellowship. Godfrey, who had started this whole mess, had escaped.
And for himself? Nothing to do but wait. As it happened, he was glad to be there.
A car pulled up to the hotel sidewalk. The door opened, and Sookie – blindfolded with a scarf – stepped out. "Sookie!" he exclaimed, starting towards her. The door slammed, the car peeled away, and Sookie was left standing there, trying to unknot her blindfold with shaking fingers. "Sookie?" he said again.
"Eric?"
She still hadn't succeeded with the blindfold, so he reached behind her and pulled it off in one easy motion. She was a mess. Her face was bruised and bloody, not to mention the rest of her body. She seemed to have shards of glass embedded in her arm. Her clothing was barely hanging onto her. Another time he might have taken a moment to admire the swell of her breasts behind the missing buttons or the smooth line of her leg underneath her torn skirt, but he was too occupied with anger.
He took her arm – gently, he hoped – and steadied her. Could she be convinced to take his blood? No, Bill would be furious, and Bill could heal her just as well. He looked down at her and tried to determine why he wanted to give his blood to her. As with every other time he thought about this, no answer came to him.
"What has happened to you?" he asked her.
"I got..." She paused and shook her head. "Well, it's hard to explain in a second. Where is Bill?"
He told her about Bill's adventures that night, frustrated again that he had taken no part in them. "And then there was no trace of you," he concluded. "The doorman had only heard the once from you, mentally."
"Poor Barry. Is he all right?"
Eric gave her a wry smile. "The richer for several hundred dollars, and quite happy about it. Now we just need Bill." This time his smile turned into something more genuine. "What a lot of trouble you are, Sookie," he said, taking out his cell phone and dialing Bill.
"What have you heard?" Bill asked without preamble.
"Bill, she is here. Some shapeshifters brought her in."
"Is she hurt? They said she shouldn't have left the hospital."
"Battered, but walking," he replied. He realized that he was still holding her arm.
"Does she still have her key?"
Eric repeated the question to Sookie, who searched her pockets. "Yes," she replied as relief flooded her face.
"Good," said Bill, hearing her.
"Oh, wait!" she exclaimed. "Did they get Farrell?"
"Yes, tell her that they—" Bill began, but Eric interrupted him, raising his hand to indicate that Sookie should wait a minute. He knew the story already, and he could tell her on the way to her room. She had to be hurting, and the sooner he started helping her, the better.
"Bill, I'll take her up and start doctoring."
"No!"
He thought of many choice and profane words for Bill Compton in that moment, but he said only, "Bill..." Now was no time for the younger vampire's petty jealousy. Sookie needed attention, and she shouldn't have to wait for her boyfriend to arrive to administer it.
Bill sighed. "Just don't give her any blood."
"All right then. Goodbye." He flipped the phone shut and nodded in the direction of the hotel's front doors. He walked slowly as she hobbled beside him, keeping his hand under her elbow to help support her. "Yes, Farrell is safe," he told her as they walked. "They raided the Fellowship."
"Did... did many people get hurt?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.
"Most of them were too frightened to approach. They scattered and went home. Farrell was in an underground cell with Hugo."
"Oh, yes, Hugo," she said. "What happened to Hugo?"
He looked at her, wondering how she could be thinking of all these other nobodies when she herself was so shaken and hurt. She should think only of herself right now. She was certainly the only person or thing on his own mind.
"May I carry you?" he asked. They reached the elevator, and he pressed the round plastic button. It was still a long walk to her room.
"Oh, I don't think so," she said lightly. "I've made it this far."
He stared up at the lights that indicated the elevator's position on the floors above. She was proud and stubborn, traits he ordinarily admired. Now they frustrated him, though he understood the desire to regain control after a situation in which she had been held and abused against her will. Could it be also that she still didn't trust him? Did she fear him?
The elevator reached them at last, and he followed her on. He pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall, watching her. She met his eyes for a moment, then her gaze shifted to the wall behind him. The elevator was lined with mirrors, and he knew what she was seeing for the first time.
"Oh, no... oh, no." She reached up to her hair, of all things, and her face crumpled in tears.
He couldn't bear her crying, not someone as brave and proud as she was. Not someone whose tears probably tasted sweeter than any other person's. "Sookie, a bath and clean clothes and you will be put to rights," he said gently. Would she resist if he tried to embrace her?
She blinked and forced a smile. "The werewolf thought you were cute." Her attempt to cheer herself didn't work because she began to cry even harder.
The elevator door slid open. They stepped into the long hallway, and he folded her into his arms, holding her close.
"The werewolf?" he repeated, speaking against her disheveled hair. "Sookie, you have had adventures tonight."
It was the first time he had held her, really held her, alone with her, and he felt as if he were absorbing her warmth like a sponge. As she sobbed against him, her tears released the scent of the dried blood on her face. He bit his tongue, refusing to allow his fangs to extend.
She stepped back from him suddenly. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly. He didn't realize that she was talking about his suit until she started to dab his shirt with the scarf that had served as her blindfold.
"Don't cry again. Just don't start crying again, and I won't mind taking this to the cleaners. I won't even mind getting a whole new suit." The corners of her mouth pulled up, and then her shaking sobs turned into a small laugh. "Something funny?" he asked curiously.
Shaking her head, she unlocked the door to her room. She limped inside with a wince and tossed the scarf onto the bed. He knew instinctively that what she wanted was a bath. The idea excited him in spite of himself. He had never claimed to be perfect. And he did want to help her.
"I'll help you into the tub if you like, Sookie."
Her voice was light and carefree as she refused, as he knew she would. "Oh, I don't think so."
He smiled. "I'll bet you are a treat, naked."
"You know it," she replied as she eased herself into a chair. "I'm just as tasty as a big éclair, though at the moment I feel more like boudain."
He pushed the other chair close to her and raised her leg onto it. As she adjusted her ice pack and tried to relax, he picked up the room phone and dialed the front desk.
"Front desk. How can we help you?"
"We need tweezers, a bowl, some type of antibiotic ointment, and a chair with wheels. Right away if you don't mind."
Without waiting for a response, he laid the phone back in the cradle. In the cramped bathroom he took one of the neatly folded washcloths from the rack above the toilet, ran it under warm water in the sink, and twisted it to wring out the excess. That done, there was nothing more to do until the room service arrived. He sat on the bed near her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She was leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed, and he took advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the sight of her.
"I am sorry this happened to you, Sookie," he said eventually.
She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to look at him. "It wasn't your fault."
"No, but I am sorry all the same."
They spent the rest of the time in silence until a hotel employee arrived with the supplies, rolling them in on the chair. Eric tipped the young man and immediately set to work. He moved the small desk next to Sookie and set her right arm on it carefully, then turned on the overhead lamp.
He used the washcloth to clean the surface as much as possible without hurting her, picked up the tweezers, and leaned over her. Each tiny fragment landed into the empty bowl with a soft tinkling sound. She was biting her lower lip.
"If you were an ordinary girl, I could glamour you, and you wouldn't feel this." He looked up at her. "Be brave." The most useless words for anyone to say to Sookie Stackhouse, but there was little else to say that might comfort her. It had to hurt like hell.
She nodded, leaned back, and closed her eyes again. Even with her eyes shut, tears fell down her cheeks in a steady stream, and it took all his will not to lick them. Occasionally she would let out a soft gasp or a barely audible whimper, but she was quiet as he tended to her. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to prove to him. Once or twice he leaned in closer to lick away the blood, which would also help the wounds heal faster.
They heard Bill inserting his key card, and then he walked in, wincing when he saw Sookie's face. Eric knew the feeling. After Bill checked on Eric's handiwork with her arm, he touched her cheek.
"How did this happen?" he asked. Eric was keen to know that himself.
While Eric carried on removing the glass from Sookie's arm, Bill pulled up a chair, and then Sookie began.
"Well, we got there and met the Newlins. And they wanted to give us a tour of the place. I tried all kinds of excuses to get us out of there, but they just kept herding us deeper inside. We ended up going down into that dungeon thing they have. I started feeling real claustrophobic, so I tried to run back up the stairs. But this guy, Gabe, grabbed my ankle. That's when I fell, and that's when most of this..." She paused and made a motion with her hand to indicate her body. "Happened. Well, they knew who we really were because Hugo was in on it. And he and I were stuck down there. Hugo explained to me why he did it and all that. Then Gabe came back." Her voice trailed off, and she stopped speaking altogether.
Eric finished his work on her arm and began spreading the ointment on it gently, feathering his fingers over her skin. He made a small prick in his finger with one of the shards of glass in the bowl, and spread that on her skin with the ointment. Neither she nor Bill noticed.
"Go on, Sookie," said Bill softly.
"He put Hugo in the cell with Farrell, and then he came for me." She swallowed. "He tried to rape me. I fought him off with a chair, but he had a stun gun and—He had his pants open... He ripped open my shirt... kept calling me a bitch..."
Again her voice failed her. Bill leaned in and lifted what remained of her shirt. Her bra was torn as well. "What happened to this Gabe?" Bill's voice was strained with the self-control he was trying to maintain.
"Well, he's dead. Godfrey killed him."
Eric raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. "You saw Godfrey?"
She nodded. "You were right, Bill. He was the one who kidnapped Farrell, though I didn't get any details. And Godfrey stopped Gabe from raping me." She raised her chin and smiled a little. "Though I got to say, I had gotten in a few good licks myself."
Eric grinned. He envied Godfrey the pleasure of killing that miserable fucker. The idea of Sookie being violated by such a... He clenched his fist but said nothing.
"Don't brag," Bill said, smiling himself. "So the man is dead."
"Godfrey was very good in stopping Gabe and helping me get out," said Sookie. "'Specially since he just wanted to think about meeting the dawn. Where is he?"
"He ran into the night during our attack on the Fellowship. None of us could catch him."
"What happened at the Fellowship?" she asked.
She was clearly past the point of telling her own story, and all that remained now was information that Eric essentially knew. He rose with the bowl, washcloth, ointment, and tweezers and went to set them on the counter by the sink.
"I'll tell you, Sookie," Bill said, "but let's say good night to Eric, and I will tell you while I bathe you."
"Okay. Good night, Eric. Thanks for the first aid."
So that was it, was it? He looked at Bill, expecting something more than this, but he was not to be satisfied. Bill looked determined. And Sookie had to be desperate for a bath. It was that thought only that pacified him, and he headed for the door.
"I think those are the main points," Bill said. "If there is more, I'll come to your room later."
Like hell. "Good," said Eric. He regarded Sookie again, hardly knowing what to say to her. He felt inexplicably drawn to her, even more than before. "Rest well, Sookie," he said at last.
"Oh!" she said suddenly. "You know, we owe the shapeshifters." She must have seen the looks on both of their faces because she went on. "Well, maybe not you guys, but I sure do."
Eric smiled. "Oh, they'll put in a claim. Those shapeshifters never perform any service for free." And he would happily pay that claim, since they had returned her to him alive and relatively well. "Good night, Sookie. I am glad you weren't raped and killed." He grinned at her broadly; he meant what he said, but he had said it mainly to cheer her up.
"Gee, thanks a lot. Night." She had leaned back and closed her eyes again, and Eric wondered if she ever would actually make it to the bathtub that night.
He used the rest of the night to go through emails and other business on his laptop, then surrendered to the approaching dawn.
* * *Sookie looked much better the next night when he saw her again at Stan's nest. Her face was still badly bruised, and she was limping, but her color had returned. She was wearing a grayish-brown knit dress and no bra. His mouth went dry. One of the fangbangers had just left her alone on the couch, and he took advantage of the situation by sitting beside her.
No panties either, his nose confirmed. She would be embarrassed if she knew that any vampire passing within five feet of her would be aware of this. He forced himself to ignore the rising tide of lust.
"How are you?" he asked her, glancing at her arm.
"Better than I look," she hedged.
"You've seen Hugo and Isabel?" A stroke of genius on Stan's part, he had decided.
"Yes."
"Appropriate, don't you think?"
"In a way, yes," she admitted. "Assuming Stan sticks to his word."
Eric grinned. "You didn't say that to him, I hope." A small part of him wished that she had said that to Stan, and that he had been there to see it.
"No, I didn't. Not in so many words. You're all so damn proud."
She may not be able to read their minds, but she certainly knew them. "Yes," he said slowly, "I guess that's true."
"Did you just come to check up on me?"
"To Dallas?" he asked, unsure if she meant tonight or the entire trip. She nodded. "Yes." He gave a casual shrug, as if he would have done the same for anyone he sent. "We are loaning you out for the first time. I wanted to see that things went smoothly without being here in my official capacity." It was complete bullshit, and it didn't make total sense, but she accepted it.
"Do you think Stan knows who you are?" she asked.
"It's not far-fetched," he said after deciding on a neutral answer. "He would probably have done the same thing in my place."
"Do you think from now on, you could just let me stay at home, and leave me and Bill alone?"
The question was like a punch in the stomach, but he forced himself to smile. "No. You are too useful. Besides, I'm hoping that the more you see me, the more I'll grow on you." That was more truth than he had expected to spill out tonight.
"Like a fungus?" she asked, smiling back at him.
All he could think of was pulling her onto his lap, lifting that dress a little, and having her in the middle of the crowd. Instead he laughed.
"You look especially luscious in that knit dress with nothing underneath." Though he meant to be flirtacious, his thoughts became more serious. "If you left Bill and came to me of your own free will, he would accept that."
"But I'm not going to do any such thing."
He was about to suggest that she might change her mind one day, but she suddenly laid her fingers over his mouth. He would have licked them if she hadn't looked so serious. She was moving her head as if she were straining to hear something... which, of course, she was.
"Help me up." He did as she asked and stared at her, waiting for some hint as to what was going on. "Eric..." she murmured, then yelled to the whole house, "Hit the floor!"
He threw himself over her as various types of guns from outside the house rained bullets over them. Sookie had shut her eyes, but he felt invigorated. He had wanted to fight these bastards, and here was his chance. When he looked down at Sookie again, she had opened her eyes.
She looked terrified, so he grinned. "I knew I'd get on top of you somehow," he teased.
"Are you trying to make me mad so I'll forget how scared I am?" she asked shakily.
"No, I'm just opportunistic." She fought to free herself, but it wasn't quite safe to do that yet, so he breathed, "Oh, do that again. It felt great."
She lay very still as her eyes welled up. "Eric," she said slowly, "that girl I was just talking to is about three feet away from us with part of her head missing."
He lifted some of his weight from her body, though he continued to hold himself over her. There was a stinging pain in his shoulder, but he ignored it. "Sookie, I've been dead for a few hundred years. I am used to it. But she is not quite gone. There is a spark. Do you want me to bring her over?" She said nothing for a long time, and he sensed that the girl's life was gone for good. "She is gone," he murmured.
The house seemed very quiet when the shooting stopped and the tires peeled away, and then the screaming and sobbing crashed into the silence like shotgun blasts themselves.
Eric pretended to sigh as he raised himself off of Sookie. "No excuse to linger." Noticing his own blood seeping through the cloth of his once-pristine shirt, he added casually, "My shirts always get ruined when I am around you."
"Oh shit, Eric, you're bleeding. You got hit," she repeated, as if he didn't know it already himself. "Bill! Bill!"
He knew very well that Bill had left with others to kill the attackers. That only strengthened his resolve to get some of his blood in her. Bill wouldn't always be around, and she needed the extra protection. He told himself that his own desire for her was only a small fraction of the reason for what he was about to do.
He took off the bload-soaked shirt. "The bullet is right inside the wound, Sookie. Suck it out."
Her reaction was exactly what he expected: "What?"
"If you don't suck it out, it will heal inside my flesh," he lied. "If you are so squeamish, go get a knife and cut."
"But I can't do that," she said, partly to herself.
"I took this bullet for you," he growled. "You can get it out for me. You are no coward."
She seemed resigned, so she took his shirt and wiped the excess blood away, then pressed her mouth against the wound.
These were not the circumstances he would have chosen, but the sensation of her taking his blood was pure pleasure. He was unable to suppress a moan. She pulled away from him with the bullet between her teeth, and she turned aside to spit it - and most of his blood - on the floor. But he knew instantly that he was now part of her. She had swallowed some of his blood, just as he intended, and as his blood entered her body, he felt her spreading through his consciousness.
Fear, frustration, worry...
"This room reeks of blood," he heard his voice rasping.
She looked up at him as if she hadn't heard him. "Well, there. That was the grossest-"
At that moment he wanted her as he had never wanted anyone in his long life. The excitement of battle, the new sensation of her becoming a part of him, the lust he had felt for her since that first night in Fangtasia, the lust he felt for her tonight as she sat beside him with nothing but a scrap of cloth separating him from what he desired - they all demanded one response. "Your lips are bloody," he said, and his voice was still a whisper.
Without giving it much thought, he took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the passion he had to offer. His fangs had extended at some point without his notice - during the shooting, perhaps? - and he moaned again as he felt her tongue wrap around one of them. She was actually returning his kiss, and that aroused him even more.
But she did break off the kiss. He felt her desire as if it were his own... it was his own, and hers, too. But then her fear and worry began to take over again.
He licked his lips and tasted his own blood from her mouth. "Go look for Bill," he managed to say. He hardly recognized the sound of his own voice.
Before she left, he watched as she took the bullet, wrapped it in a torn piece of his shirt, and slipped it in her pocket.