Eric told himself that Layla hadn't been a vampire long enough to appreciate that their kind did, in fact, grow and change over the years, even if their bodies stayed the same. He knew vampire couples – few, to be sure – who had been together ever since one turned the other centuries before. In one case, the couple had stayed together over a millennium… and counting.

Yet Layla had advised him to embrace Sookie's humanity. That was something he could not do. He wouldn't accept it, and he certainly wouldn't embrace it. Pam was no less "precious" to him because she could never die. He attributed this mistaken perspective, too, to Layla's inexperience with her new life.

There was one bit of illumination Layla had provided, however: that Sookie was afraid to love him because she didn't trust his feelings to last. He did have difficulty imagining himself with Sookie when she was white-haired, wrinkled, and bent, primarily because it had been his intention (and was still, he admitted to himself) to prevent that from happening.

Sookie didn't stay in the ballroom for long after that, and Eric wandered over to the corner where Bill had been standing idly for most of the evening. "Forget how to dance?" he asked.

Bill frowned and turned away. "No taste for it this evening. I trust you are Sookie's hero since you went upstairs to gallantly take the bomb from her. I saw her face when she danced with you."

"Bitterness doesn't suit you, Bill," Eric needled. "It was better not to have many people running up there to save the day. The situation was already… explosive." He grinned at the pun and grinned even more when Bill gave him a look. "Let it go," he said. "It's done. If it makes you feel any better, I am hardly her hero at the moment. Now, about why I walked over here to interrupt your brooding."

"Yes, please get to that."

"The arrow-tosser was obviously a trained archer, and I told Sookie to investigate archery facilities here in Rhodes. All we have is a name: Kyle Perkins. His driver's license had a photo, but it was too worn to make out anything clear. I want you to look him up with your little computer game and see if there's a better picture. Whatever you find, leave it for her at the front desk."

Bill took a pencil stub from his suit pocket and scribbled the name on a napkin. "I'll do it to help her," he said.

"Your chivalry is truly touching." He left Bill and went to the hotel desk to arrange for Sookie to have use of one of the cars that Sophie-Anne had just inherited from Arkansas. Satisfied that everything was arranged for Inspector Stackhouse's work the next day, he returned to the ballroom and didn't leave until the horizon began to fade from black to brown.

When he rose the next night, he went immediately in search of Sookie, who didn't appear until well after dark. He found her in the crowded hotel lobby, arguing with the Dallas telepath. The latter was screeching at her too loudly for Eric's taste. He used his vampire speed to place himself right beside them, smiling slightly when Barry turned ashen and stumbled back.

"And you're yelling at my--" Eric stopped midsentence. The dangerous word "blood-mate" (the now-archaic term for what Russell and Bart had become to each other) had been on the tip of his tongue, and Sookie's eyes were flashing as if she dared him to claim ownership of her in any way. "…at Sookie," he finished lamely.

"Do you need something?" she asked with a withering look.

His happiness upon seeing her thoroughly quashed by her mood, he didn't dance around the point. "What did you find out today?"

She didn't answer right away, and he waited as she said goodbye to Barry.

"Come," he said, extending his arm to lead her back towards the elevators. He pushed the button for the ninth floor and leaned back comfortably against the elevator wall. "Pam was just finishing her hair when I left the room, so she should be gone now. We can speak in private." She nodded. "You look tired," he observed, and she nodded again.

He showed her into the room. She looked around for a few moments, then sat down on the edge of his bed. The temptation to sit beside her was great, but he knew that would be the opposite of helpful. He sat on Pam's bed and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward across the small space between the two beds.

She was upset; even if her behavior hadn't been enough of a clue, her blood told him outright. "Tell me," he said gently.

She took a deep breath. "Well, it's not good." He frowned, waiting for her to continue, and she explained that she had found the right place, and that "the gal behind the counter" had been willing to help, but… "We came back at the appointed time, and she was dead… murdered in the store. I went past her to look in the office, and the tapes had been burned."

Another vampire? "Killed how?" he asked.

"She'd been stabbed," Sookie said with a shudder, "and the knife was left in her chest. And the killer or someone with him had thrown up food." She rubbed her upper arms briskly with her palms. "Also, a guy who worked at the store was killed, but I didn't check him out to see how."

"Ah." None of this explained why Barry had been yelling at her, or why she felt… what was that? Guilty, he realized. She felt guilty. It was something he hadn't felt in many centuries. "Anything else?"

"No." She stood up.

He sat up to better meet her gaze, but he didn't stand. "Barry was angry with you."

"Yeah, he was," she said with a shrug. "But he'll get over it."

"What's his problem?" he pressed.

She looked down and studied her shoes, the carpet, whatever else was down there. "He doesn't think I handled the…" She swallowed, and despite the partial shield of her downcast eyelids, he could see that her eyes had brimmed a little. "He doesn't think we should've left, or… I don't know. He thinks I was unfeeling."

That's because his blood can't tell him that you are nothing but feeling, my dear one. What would the idiot have had her do? Report the crime – which would be discovered soon anyway – to the police and have herself and everyone in the hotel investigated by humans who knew nothing? The security tapes had been lost, but her investigation had nonetheless been invaluable.

"I think you did exceptionally well," he said. And fuck what Barry thinks.

"Well, great!" she snapped. She winced and looked at him, immediately apologetic. "Sorry. I know you meant to compliment me." She sank back down onto the edge of his bed. "I'm not feeling all that good about her dying, or leaving her, even if it was the practical thing to do."

"You're second-guessing herself."

She nodded and blinked back the tears that still welled in her eyes. "Yes."

Before he could reply, a knock at the door interrupted them. He wasn't done with Sookie yet, so he ignored it, but she leapt to her feet to answer it. Eric looked over his shoulder to see Bill standing there, then turned back to stare ahead at the spot where Sookie had been. He waited for her to tell Bill to go. Instead, Bill strode into his line of sight, and Eric peered over his shoulder again to see that Sookie had slipped out.

"What do you want?" he asked Bill.

"You made a blood bond with her?"

Eric looked up at him and smirked. "You would have preferred to see her bonded to Andre?"

"I would have preferred to see her bonded with none of us! But at least Andre would have seen her rarely, and she could have gone about her life!"

"You are a fool."

"That may be, but at least I love her and try to protect her from predators like you and Andre, who only care about using her up or fucking her or both, then casting her aside like yesterday's fang-banger. When I heard Sophie-Anne mention the bond in our meeting an hour ago, I--"

"Bill," Eric interrupted, and he spoke slowly. "If you value your miserable, undead life, get the fuck out of here."

"Wh--"

"Now."

* * *

"Eric!"

"Sookie…" He bent to kiss her hungrily as he thrust into her faster, their compounded pleasure surging up between them.

"Now," she gasped as she bared her neck to him. "Do it now. Turn me."

He bit.

"ERIC!"

He fought up through the dream, up through the daytime stupor, and tried to open his eyes. "W-what?" he mumbled. Even the sight of Sookie standing over his bed couldn't stop his eyes from drifting shut again.

"You have to get up!" she shouted, and he felt her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "You have to! You have to go out!"

Somewhere in the distance he heard an alarm buzzer, but his mind didn't process it. "Daytime," he said, shifting away from her.

Then she slapped him. "Get! Up! Get up, Eric! Please, get up!"

It was her blood, rather than her voice, that roused him at last. Her fear and desperation twisted inside him until everything hurt. Once his body was awake, it was fairly easy for his mind to follow suit. He sat up, though it felt like he was supporting tons of bricks on his shoulders. The hotel was actually shaking.

He looked around the room, trying to will his body to move, as Sookie covered him with the black robe from Russell's wedding. "Cover your head!" she shouted at him. There was an explosion overhead. He watched as she shook Pam, screamed at her, pulled her hair. Sookie was crying now as she returned to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. "You have to help me get Pam out, Eric. You just have to."

Whether or not she had done it intentionally, she was transferring strength from herself into him. The floor shook beneath their feet, Sookie screamed, and the connection snapped. But the incredible weight of day no longer felt impossible to lift. If he didn't move, Sookie would die. He and Pam would die. Sookie had used the bond to rouse him. Sookie had come to save his life. He swung his legs out to the side of the bed and lifted himself up.

Bash one of the coffins through the window. One of them had said it. Or thought it.

He helped her slide his coffin over to the window as the building shook again. "Pam," she said urgently. He nodded and concentrated on taking each laborious step towards Pam as Sookie knelt to open his coffin. That done, she helped him carry Pam and lay – well, drop – her inside. Eric blinked against the pull of sleep as Sookie latched Pam safely inside the coffin.

"We have to break the glass!" she shouted at him.

It took two shoves, but the heavy plate glass finally broke and fell away.

Sunlight seared into him like fire, clawing under his flesh and ripping at him. He felt himself scream, though he was in too much pain to process the sound. His hands burning, he drew the edges of the cloak more closely around himself, reached for Sookie, and held her close to him as they sat on the coffin and used their feet to force it out of the window. Sookie cried out as the coffin slid, rattling, down the side of the pyramid-shaped hotel. Eric could stay with the coffin and earn only a few bruises, but he knew very well that Sookie would not survive such a crash.

He made his decision and let the coffin go. Pam would burn if it broke, but she would survive. Now to make sure that Sookie survived as well. He kept his eyes closed to protect them from the scorching sun, so he couldn't see where he was going. All he knew was down. If anyone wanted to see Eric Northman flying at his best, they could find him at night and pay for a ticket. Today, they could all fuck themselves.

He heard the splintering of wood not far beneath them, and he opened one eye to see where Pam had fallen. Smoke was rising up from her burning skin. He landed over her and spread out the edges of the robe to cover what he could.

Sirens neared, and he heard Sookie yell, "Two vampires! Get them out of the sun!"

Then he fell asleep.

------

This brings us to the end of book 7. It might take me a while to post the next chapter, and book 8 is going to be tricky, so thanks in advance for your patience. Thanks for all your reviews. They mean so much.