FIGHT

Her head was pounding, every little sound a knife in her skull. Sarah forced her eyes open, but saw only darkness, the blindfold securely in place over her eyes, making the pounding in her head worse.

'I'm glad you've decided to join me,' he said, the soles of his shoes making a dull thudding sound as he stepped towards her. Vampires were usually silent when they walked, regardless of their footwear. She knew that he was letting her hear his approach, hoping that it would intimidate her. 'It wouldn't have been any fun if you weren't trying to fight me.'

She couldn't stop the shiver that sprinted down her spine, but she refused to cringe away from him. She wouldn't be scared, wouldn't be intimidated. There was a way out of her situation, and no matter what, she would find it.

She felt a finger trail over her cheek and didn't move. She sat as though she were bored, calming herself as she tried to organise an escape plan. If she could convince him to untie the blindfold or at least tie her hands in front of herself, she could attack him, burn him until he was a mass of blood and gore and he'd never see it coming.

She looked forward to that.

It kept her holding on, even as his hand slid down her neck, his fingertip playing with the collar of her shirt for a moment before his fingers wrapped around her neck with the smallest amount of pressure, his thumb lightly stroking her skin as though the act were to comfort her. 'Last night you and Eric humiliated me,' he said, sounding slightly amused. 'I don't care who he is. I don't tolerate such humiliation from anyone.'

'I warned you,' she said, keeping her voice strong even as she heard a little laugh escape his lips.

'You know,' he said as though she hadn't even spoken, 'I could have woken you, but I wanted to take time to just imaging all of the ways I'm going to take you.' His voice soft despite his words, making her skin crawl. 'You see, I'm not a gentle man by nature, especially when it comes to something I really want.' He leant close, letting her feel his fangs against her earlobe. 'And I really want you.'

She felt the cold tip of a knife press into her neck, but she strangled the whimper that tried to escape her lips, forcing them into a hard line. 'Eric's going to kill you,' she said, keeping her voice strong though she wanted to scream.

But he wouldn't find her. She didn't know how long she'd been out or how she'd gotten into the chair he'd placed her in. It could have been hours. They could be in a different state, so far away from Bon Temps, from her home.

But she wasn't about to let him see that she was losing hope. She wasn't going to let him see her tears over the pain she felt.

Pain not caused by the knife, but the gaping hole in her heart, making every part of her body ache, inside and out.

She would never get to tell Eric – no matter how ridiculous it would sound – that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that might have been. She would never get to tell him that she was falling for him.

That she had fallen for him.

He could hear laughter in Merlotte's as he stepped through the door, unable to hide the grin on his lips as he walked towards the bar, watching as Tara flicked Sookie with water.

'Nice to see that you take your jobs seriously,' he said, stopping beside Sookie.

She turned to him, her smile dropping a little. 'Eric, what are you doing here?'

'I'm here to pick Sarah up.'

'She told me that you were going to pick her up from her house. She's walking home,' Sookie said, untying her apron.

'She wasn't outside.'

'We finished up early tonight, so I told her I'd take care of the final cleanup so she could go and get ready.'

He smiled. 'I guess I'd better do the gentlemanly thing and walk her home. It is late after all.'

He darted out of Merlotte's, following the most recent trail of her scent with a little skip in his step, a smile on his lips as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

He glanced down, seeing scuff marks in the dirt. He dismissed then, but paused again when he saw another, one more pronounced, made by a larger shoe. He followed the line to the edge of the trees, looking down, his eyes locking onto a slight black shine.

He sprinted forward, picking up the bag, his heart wrenching as he recognised the scent that clung to the shining leather. He turned back, bending down where her scent came to a sudden stop, catching onto another.

Why was it familiar?

Of course, he thought as his fangs flicked out, digging deep into his lip, it had been clouded by the stench of fear.

He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles cracked, his whole body tensing, coiling, ready for a kill, desperate for it. Tonight, he would not be lenient, would not allow the scum who dared call himself a vampire to live.

But his death would not be easy, not when there were so many ways to cause excruciating pain with only the smallest amount of pressure or the briefest touch.

He took a deep breath, drawing in the scent as his head filled with fantasies of the torture and death he would mete out. He let the rage flood through him in it's purest form, let it boil his blood, a roar ripping from deep inside that would have put fear in the heart of even the bravest of beings.

He'd never sprinted so fast.

The point of the blade grazed over her skin, but still didn't break her flesh. Every time she felt the cold tip of the knife, she wanted to shudder with the knowledge that it was just a game for him, that he was just playing with her, trying to scare her.

But she wasn't going to give him what she wanted. No matter what he had planned for her – which she had no doubt was an experience she would never recover from if she survived him – she would not give him what he wanted: the pleasure of hearing her beg.

She felt the blade press against her stomach, lifting her shirt inch by inch, her muscles twitching as they tried to avoid the cold point. She heard a rip, the fabric of her shirt torn by the blade, but he didn't pass the bottom edge of her bra.

His fingers followed the tip of his blade and she felt her stomach lurch, the feel of his rough skin making her sick, a shudder rippling through her.

'I've never seen such creamy skin on a human,' he said, finger dipping just below the hem of her shorts.

Oh God, she thought, tears in her eyes. She wanted to be strong, but the reminder that he didn't just intend to torture her hit her with a fresh rush of fear that had her begging in her mind. Just kill me.

'I'm going to take my time, but I'm not going to prepare you for what is to come,' he said, slicing the button off of her shorts. 'If you bleed, and I expect you will with what I have planned, I'll just enjoy taking you more,' the zip slid down a little and she bit her lip, fighting the tears as he laughed, the sound making her tremble as it turned back to that mock-soft tone, 'though I believe that if I were to take you, it would sound far too kind. Really, I'll be violating you in every way imaginable.'

'Sounds fun,' she said, forcing a bit of bravado into her tone. 'It would only be more fun if I wasn't such an easy conquest, being tied up and all. That wouldn't really impress your friend.'

She withheld her shudder as laughed again. 'I decided that I didn't want to share, so I sent him off to find his own entertainment. Trying to distract me is very brave of you, but also very stupid. With your hands behind your back, I can force you into any position I choose and control you.' He forced her legs apart, grabbing the chair between her knees to drag it forward, making her gasp. 'However, I would like you to see everything that I do to you, ever little violation, so I'm going to take off your blindfold.'

And just like that, there was hope in her heart again. Yes, it would be difficult to hurt him without the added advantage of having her hands, but it was better than nothing.

'Not that,' she said, adding a little tremble to her voice for effect, cringing away when his finger brushed over her cheek. 'Please, do whatever you want, but not that.'

She felt his fingers pull at the tie on the blindfold and forced a whimper, though inside she was rejoicing. The fabric shifted from over her eyes and she snapped them shut as though she was too afraid to look at him, too afraid to meet his gaze.

He pressed the tip of the blade to her temple and this time she felt the rush of heat as it pierced her skin, a line of blood rolling down her cheek. She cringed as he licked the line from her cheek, a little quiver sliding over his skin at the taste of her blood. He took a breath, against the cut to feel a rush of heat at the mingled scent of fear and her delicious blood. 'I'm going to mark every inch of your creamy skin, and there's nothing you can do about it.'

He sliced another line along her other temple, repeating the action until there were four lines on each side, lines that would turn into scars, acting as a reminder of what he'd done when the body was found in a few months time.

She opened her eyes just a little, fighting tears as she glanced at him. He was staring at the blood that was rolling down her cheeks.

Now was her chance.

She fixed her gaze on him, focusing every thought on getting a spark, on turning him to ash. She saw just a little bit of smoke start to rise on his shoulder and hid a smile, even as he continued to watch the blood that rolled down her skin. She let herself feel the fear invoked by the throbbing pain in her temples, using it to lull him into a sense of power, that little column of smoke growing with every second. She just had to hope that he wouldn't smell it.

His shirt ignited and he jumped, an angry cry escaping his lips as he looked at the fire that climbed over his shoulder, burning through the fabric to make his skin sizzle. He tore at the shirt desperately, pulling the fabric over his head, stomping on it whilst swatting at the flame that still burned on his skin.

Sarah turned white as he stopped, his gaze fixed on his now healing shoulder for a moment before he turned to her, eyes devoid of any of the amusement that they'd held before. She had thought she could control it rapidly, but her powers had been hindered and now she could tell that he was done with playing.

He slammed his foot on the chair between her legs, pushing her back, keeping her balanced before letting her tip back with a cry as her head slammed into the concrete floor, the world going dark for a moment, her wrists screaming as they were crushed between her back and the chair. Despite it all, when he stood over her, she struggled, tears streaming.

'I'm going to enjoy this,' he said, wrenching her back up by her hair just to hear her scream again.

She took a breath, though a ragged one, forcing one more defiant stare. 'Eric is going to kill you.'

'You're his and all of that bullshit,' he said. 'Hate to tell you, but vampire property only works if the vampire claims you as theirs. You would have been saved from this if he'd just said that you were his.'

But he had. On that first night, he had told Sookie and Bill that she was his.

'He said it the other night.'

'And I'm supposed to just believe that?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said, voice a little stronger.

'Well that's just too bad for you, because he didn't say it to me. He had plenty of time to tell me that you were his, but he chose not to,' he said, that knife in hand again.

He was right, and that realisation hurt so much that the pain of her body was reduced to nothing. He had attacked the scum, but not once had he tried to claim her as his property in the eyes of the vampires, opting to cast glares. That made her wonder if she was just a temporary muse that he would tire of one day, soon to be cast back when he grew bored.

'How does it feel to be rejected by the man that you've been hoping would save you?'

Like a hole has been blown right through my chest.

'So, now I'm going to enjoy you, all because Eric Northman decided he'd rather search for another meal than spend more time with you.' He smirked. 'Any last words before I make that frown of yours into a smile?'

The blade neared, but she didn't fight, didn't try to stem the tears that fell. She stared at nothing, eyes unfocused, and despite everything, despite the realisation that had come to her, despite what he might think of her, there was only one thing she wanted to voice.

'I love you, Eric.'