You and Eric didn't end up doing anything more than that, to your disappointment. He seemed to regain his senses after a few moments of silence. You didn't know what to say after he said he was hungry for something other than blood. It was a little overwhelming. You haven't been with a man in a while and you didn't want to start in a car. Without another word, he started the car and continued driving. And didn't speak to you for the entire drive. When he dropped you off, you gave Sarah her necklace and she hugged you and thanked you profusely. She was relieved to have it back, and she's been wearing it ever since. It's been a week since that night and you have work tonight. You haven't seen much of Eric lately, Pam said he was on business in New Orleans, something involving Russell. She didn't give you many details. She said it could be dangerous for you, you don't care though. You're back to your Eric obsession, every time someone comes in through the back your head shoots up and you nearly get whiplash. Pam teases you about it, and your face always gets hot because of her.

It's been about 4 hours since you got in, you got a drink at the bar and made your way over to the office. Eric isn't here so you're not seated next to him near the throne. You've been ordering furniture, blood, alcohol, and glassware since then. You've also been taking phone calls from Eric's business partners. He has a meeting in two days with Salome, someone you barely even met. But she was nice on the phone, so you like her. And you've been doing their taxes as well, something you liked to do for reasons unknown to you. You have to lie about some of the things you're claiming, but some of them aren't outward lies. You don't have to do the vampire taxes, Pam said she'd do those because you wouldn't be able to. But you think you could've done it.

You hang up the phone, you just got done with another call for Eric from a name you didn't recognize. It was Roman and he sounded pissed. When you picked up the phone, he started yelling about Russell. But when you spoke he seemed to calm down and he just asked for a meeting with Eric. You told him he wasn't here but he'll be available soon. You didn't set a date because you don't know if Eric will want to attend this meeting, but you suspect he doesn't have a choice. Hopefully, he's back soon. You decide you've been in the office for too long so you stand and make your way over to the door.

When you open the door, you're hit with the horrible scent of body odor and too much alcohol. It's like this every night at the bar, but it's hard to get used to. You step out of the office and avoid the rowdy patrons as best you can, but you still get pushed a little in the process. Not as bad as that one night, but still bad. When you get to the bar, Margot smiles at you and ignores a drunk man in favor of talking to you.

"Hey, want a drink?" She asks, resting her hands on top of the bar. She's still grinning at you, and her fangs are exposed for some reason. But you won't question it. She looks sort of cool that way, you don't often see her fangs. She's wearing a black T-shirt and dark pants, maybe? You see the top of her waistband and that's it, the rest of her disappears behind the bar.

You smile back at the vampire, "Yeah I'll have a Whiskey Sour, please." You say, sitting down across from the woman. It's the only empty seat at the bar, lucky for you. She nods and begins to make the drinks, mixing the drink in the shaker and pouring it into a glass in front of you. You take a sip of it, enjoying the burn in the back of your throat and the warm feeling in your body. You don't drink a lot, you're sort of a lightweight. But you like to do it now and again. It's always nice to relax after doing some work.

Margot takes a moment to talk to you, "How's it going?" She asks you, holding a hand up at an impatient patron. You don't know if it's going good or bad, it's kind of just going. Unfortunately, you miss Eric's presence.

"It's alright," You sigh, resting your arms on the bar, "Eric's out of town." You say irritatedly, letting out another sigh. She raises an eyebrow in surprise, looking at you in confusion. You don't like that look.

"You like Eric?" She inquires, leaning toward you. You nod at her. Unfortunately, you have feelings for Eric, "I thought so. You stare at him a lot." She comments, embarrassing you. Oh no. He undoubtedly knows. Your face heats up and you look down at the bar with shame.

She notices your face, "Don't worry hon. It's not like Eric hasn't noticed. He's just... weird," She shrugs and glances over at another impatient patron, "I gotta get back to work, don't worry about it. And don't drink too much." Once she's done, she smiles at you and starts to attend to the patrons.

Soon you finish your drink, much too fast, and then make your way back over to the office. You hope Eric comes in soon. You muscle your way through the crowd, trying not to shove anyone too hard. The last time you did that, it didn't exactly end well. When you reach the office and get inside, you're very happy. It's quiet, there's no more blaring music and sweaty people surrounding you. You sort of prefer it to sitting on the chair next to Eric on the stage.

You take a seat at the large desk and start to organize all the paperwork you were doing earlier. As you work, you manage to think about Eric again. You can't help wondering what he's doing right now, why he went to New Orleans to see Russell. It's probably important.

You're too engrossed in your paperwork to notice Eric walking into the room. He closes the door and your head snaps up, you're surprised you didn't notice the music before the door. It's pretty loud. Your heart skips a beat when you see him and you curse silently. Betrayal from your organs. You compose yourself and try to hide the rush of emotions you're feeling. You straighten your posture and meet his gaze with a neutral expression.

"Eric," You greet him, voice nearly cracking. You clear your throat to prevent that from happening, that would only embarrass you, "How was meeting with Russell? Did you win your dick-measuring contest?" You ask sarcastically. Eric raises an eyebrow at your comment, a faint smirk forming on his lips. It almost makes you smile, but you try to act as normal as possible. Yet you can't help the way your heart skips a beat. You realize you've never heard him laugh before, it would probably put you in a coma if you ever did.

He doesn't make a move to sit, "Everything went well, nothing for you to concern yourself with." He says, crossing his strong arms over his chest. You can't help feeling disappointed, you wanted to know what happened. Why was he meeting with Russell at all? Could it have been about you? You're not sure, but you hope it wasn't. A few minutes of silence go by and you can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up at him. Instead, you continue organizing paperwork.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?" Eric asks. You look up at him, he looks slightly concerned, and a little angry? You nearly sigh, there's something wrong with him for sure. What was he expecting to happen? He hasn't been gone that long. You're not dead just yet.

"Roman called and so did Salome. They both want to meet with you." You inform him, pushing a sticky note across the desk toward him. That's what you were writing on when you took the calls. Eric takes the sticky note and reads it, his expression unreadable. He nods once and puts the sticky note down.

"Set up a meeting with Roman, tell Salome I won't be able to meet with her. And when you're finished, find me." After he says this, he leaves the room. You shrug and open one of the drawers under the desk. There's a folder in there, with the names and phone numbers of Eric's associates. After pulling it out and setting it on the desk, you open it and scan through it. You know exactly where he'll be when you leave, probably sitting on his giant chair. Pam calls it a throne.

It doesn't take long for you to find Salome's phone number, she's near the top of the list. She must be important, but not as important as Roman. You quickly dial her number and hold the phone up to your ear. She picks up after a few rings.

"Hello?" She answers, her voice strong and confident. You cover the receiver with your hand and clear your throat before answering her. She can probably still hear you, but it's a habit. Your throat has been quite dry this evening.

"Hi, it's me again, Eric's assistant. He can't meet with y—" You start to say, putting on your customer service voice. She obviously doesn't care for what you have to say.

"I'll meet with him when he meets with Roman, is that okay, Eric's assistant?" She asks coldly. You pull the phone away from your ear and shake your head. With an audible sigh, you put it back against your ear.

"Tomorrow at 10, is that okay?" You ask her, still using your 'nice' voice. You usually do that for phone calls. It helps if you don't sound monotonous or mean. But when it comes to vampires, it doesn't matter. It's just a habit. Something you're sure will be broken if you work here long enough. You know Eric won't mind, and Pam definitely won't mind.

She hesitates for a moment before answering, "That'll do." And then she hangs up. You put the phone back in its cradle with an annoyed sigh. You stand up and stretch, your back hurts from sitting in this damn chair for hours. It's nice but it hurts. After you put everything away, paperwork, the folder, tax documents, and receipts, you leave the office. Stepping out into the crowded, loud bar. It could also be seen as a club. They should turn it into a strip club.

You make your way through the crowd, pushing past people so you can reach the stage. It doesn't take as long as you thought it would. But people seem to know you work here now. They don't treat you with the same respect they would a vampire, but it's a start. When you stroll over to the steps, you glance at the line of women in front of it. He's not letting any of them on the stage, but they're still standing right next to it like he's about to ask them. You know he won't, but you're starting to feel bad for these girls. You shake your head and walk past them up the steps and over to Eric. You sit down in the seat next to him, sparing him a glance when you do. It's a long glance, but it's not staring. That's a start. He just looks so good.

You lean against the chair and try to make it seem like you're watching the customers. You can smell Eric's cologne from here and it intoxicates you. You take another look at him, he seems lost in thought. You're starting to feel like one of his fangirls. You wonder what he's thinking about, it must be important. He hasn't asked you when the meeting is. You'd think he was able to hear the phone call if it wasn't so loud in the bar. You realize you've been tapping your fingers against the armrest, lost in thought. You stop suddenly, trying to seem composed. Eric glances at you and you see it out of the corner of your eye. You pretend to watch Margot mix drinks at the bar.

As you steal glances at Eric, you can't help the anticipation and nervousness that plagues you. You wonder if he notices the way your heart speeds up whenever he's around. Your attempts to seem composed don't work, you know that. You wish he wasn't a vampire so he couldn't hear your heart. The lively atmosphere is a nice distraction, but it doesn't work as well as you'd like. You're not sure if he's interested in you or not, there's no way to tell. The thought of this frustrates you, while also holding you back from confessing to him. The rejection would probably kill you. Metaphorically speaking.

After what feels like an eternity of silence, but is only 20 minutes, "Your meeting with Roman is tomorrow at 10 by the way." You say at a normal volume, resisting the urge to shout over the music. You know he would be able to hear you even if you whispered. You don't know if he wanted the meeting to be scheduled later, but it doesn't matter now. It's already done. And you suspect Roman won't take no for an answer.

"Thank you," He says with a nod, looking over at you for a moment, "Is there anything else I should be aware of?" He asks, deep voice cutting through the loud music.

You shake your head, "No, nothing at all." You reply, trying to keep your tone even. You take a glance at him and make eye contact, cursing inwardly when you do. Eric's intense gaze sends a shiver down your spine and you quickly look away, rubbing your arm. You see him nod out of the corner of your eye, and then he says nothing. You're disappointed but nobody would be able to tell. He lets his gaze linger on you for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the crowd.

As the night progresses, you grow tired, and instead of taking sneaky glances at Eric, you just openly stare at him sometimes. To prevent this further, you tell him you're gonna go get a drink. You get up from your seat and make your way down the stage and over to the bar, where Margot is standing. She notices you approaching and smiles.

"Back for another?" She asks, not waiting for an answer as she begins to make your drink. A Whiskey Sour, same as before. You nod at her, watching as she pours the liquor into a glass. She slides it across the bar.

"Yeah, needed something to take the edge off," You say, not giving her any details because of Eric's hearing. He can hear you from across the room, and if he can't, well it doesn't matter. You won't tell her why you need a drink. But at this very moment, it's all you want. You grab it and take a long swig, concerning Margot. You can tell by the way her eyebrows furrow. You sit down on a stool and set your Whiskey on the bar, glancing over your shoulder at Eric. He's not looking at you, thank God.

As you sip your drink, you try to distract yourself from all of your overwhelming thoughts. It's not easy, but the alcohol helps. You look at Eric again, he's still sitting on his "throne", and he looks deep in thought. You wish he was looking at you, but you can't force him. If you could, he'd be looking at you right now. You wish you knew what was going on in his head. Too bad you can't read minds.

After a while, you start talking to Margot, "How long have you known Eric?" You ask her, it's a question you've wanted to ask for a while. You just haven't remembered or had the chance until now. You're glad you're finally able to though. You don't even know how old she is.

"A few decades, not too long." She comments, taking a second to serve a customer their beer. You look at her incredulously, not too long. That's longer than you've been alive. As you take a long sip from your drink, Margot raises an eyebrow at you, fangs still visible. She seems concerned by your need for a drink, but she's happy to serve you. She gets paid to do it.

"Everything alright?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks at you.

"All good, just had a long day." You brush her off, trying to reassure her. She studies you for a moment before her expression softens.

"Let me know if you ever want to talk, I gotta get back to my job. See ya." She calls, walking away to go deal with one of her customers. You sigh and take another sip of your whiskey. You might have another one, you're already feeling tipsy. No reason why you shouldn't keep going. You like the way alcohol makes you feel, it's like you're walking on air or something. Very warm air. But if you did it every day, that would be a mistake. You'd end up like your uncle if you drank every day. Nobody wants to end up like him, not even he wanted to end up like he did. Poor bastard.

As you sit at the bar alone and lost in thought, you look at Eric again. This time he's looking back at you, not breaking his gaze. You try to hold it as long as you can, but you end up breaking his gaze and turning around. The alcohol is starting to take its toll, and your glass of Whiskey is nearly finished. When Margot comes to check on you, you order another Whiskey Sour. She makes it for you, but she judges you while she does. Once you start sipping your third drink of the night, the room starts to spin a little bit. Not enough for you to be nauseated, just enough to enjoy it.

Margot's concern lingers in your mind as you take another long swig, you're grateful she offered. She's a nice person, you're glad you were able to meet her. Even if Shreveport has been a mess since you got here. She's like your work Sarah. Or just a work friend. Wouldn't want to compare her to your actual best friend, that's not nice.

As you contemplate what you're gonna do next, you turn around and notice Eric isn't sitting on his throne. He's walking to the exit. Your heart skips a beat and disappointment flows through you. Is this the last you'll see of him tonight? You really hope not. You want to see him before you leave at least. Should you go after him and confess your feelings to him? That's what your brain seems to think is the best option right now.

But with some semblance of self-control, you keep yourself seated. You think it might actually be time to go home now. You can't drive, so you'll have to walk. But first, you need to finish your drink. As you sit at the bar and finish it, the effects seem to worsen. You savor the warmth that spreads through you when you down the last few droplets, setting the glass down on the bar.

Margot's judgemental gaze doesn't escape your sight, and you have to remind yourself that it's because she cares. When you stand up from your seat and start to walk through the bar, you realize walking home tipsy isn't the best decision. But your pride is keeping you from asking anyone for a ride home, so you'll walk. As you stumble out of the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins, you almost fall several times. It doesn't happen, only because you won't let it. That's too embarrassing. Even your drunk brain can comprehend that.

You left through the back because you didn't want to walk past all those people. Or stumble. That's what would've happened. As you walk through the parking lot, glancing at your feet every so often, you don't notice the vampire lurking in the bushes ahead of you. The alcohol has clouded your senses, you can't hear anything more than 20 feet away from you.

Unbeknownst to you, the vampire watches intently, fangs exposed. He's hungry for his next meal, and you're perfect. Alone and drunk. In a swift and silent motion, he emerges from the shadows, growling low.

Before you can react, the vampire lunges at you and sinks his fangs into your neck. You let out a blood-curdling scream, thrashing in his iron-like grip. He swallows a few mouthfuls of your warm blood, groaning in satisfaction. You feel yourself growing weaker in his arms, and your vision begins to fade.

"Please!" You try to cry out, but it's merely a gasp, and it falls upon deaf ears. His grip on you weakens the more you fade away, he doesn't need to use much strength while killing you. You're sober now, and he's drunk. Bastard.

Just when you think you might die, you hear a low growl and feel yourself drop onto the floor like a sack of potatoes, groaning as you do. Why does this keep happening? You can barely make out another figure, standing next to the vampire that attacked you. Is that… Eric? Your eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but you manage to hear a few more loud sounds before opening your eyes again. Eric seems to be beating the vampire, badly. He isn't holding back like he was when he fought Russell.

Eric looks like a different person, not like the person you were talking to just an hour ago. He looks terrifying. Yet sexy at the same time. The vampire tries to get up, but Eric is too quick for him. Using his advantage, sobriety, Eric grabs the vampire by the neck and slams his head into the concrete. You hear a loud crack and a groan and then Eric stands up, holding something in his hand. It's the vampire's decapitated head. His eyes are wide open and cold, the light has faded from them. It sort of makes you sad. But he tried to murder you so all's fair.

Eric tosses the head somewhere in the distance and kneels beside you. He reaches down and puts some pressure on your neck, attempting to stop the bleeding as much as he can. You groan when you feel his palm connect with the gash in your neck, it's worse than last time. You hear a crunch and feel a warm liquid touch your lips. You catch some of the droplets on your tongue and pull his arm closer to you greedily so you can bite into it. He groans when you do, and bends his neck so he can lick at the blood on your neck. The wound starts to close and you hear him sigh in what sounds like disappointment. Still, you're glad he drank your blood.

After a moment he pulls away from you, wiping at his bottom lip to get the blood off, "Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows still furrowed. He still looks angry, and his mouth is set in a thin line.

"Better now."