"Who the fuck was that tonight?" Pam asked.

Tara had finished wiping down all the tables and Eric was busy flipping chairs upside down to place them atop the freshly cleaned surfaces, using his vampire speed to get the job done in a fraction of the time it would take a human. The club was finally silent, clientele gone, music off, and just the four of them—Ginger included—as they closed the bar out and cleaned up.

"What are you on about now, Pam?" Eric asked, feeling cranky. She'd been like this ever since he'd returned to the club and given up the idea of Sookie. Constantly badgering him about every little decision he made. Bugging him when he got too quiet for her satisfaction. Making him eat when he had zero appetite. In general, making a nuisance of herself because she was fucking worried. He was tired of it.

"That scrumptiously dressed man you were flirting with," Pam said, fist on one hip as she contemplated her maker.

"I was not flirting," Eric growled. Lucifer had been, but Eric hadn't. They'd just been talking.

"Sure looked like it from where I was standing," Pam replied.

Eric slammed down the last chair and glared at her. "I was talking. To a customer."

Pam stared as if she could get him to speak further by will alone. All it was doing was pissing him off though. It wasn't like he was being a broody, self-hating vampire like Bill Compton had been for so long. And talking to a patron was something she wanted, wasn't it? "He was a paying customer. Friendly. Seemed to think he was the devil himself."

"And you entertained that idea with him?" Pam asked.

"So what if I did?" Eric asked. "Isn't this what you want from me? To be more social. To stop being a fucking stick in the mud?"

Pam looked crestfallen at his outburst, but he wasn't in the mood for any of this. Eric went behind the bar, grabbed the tray from the cash register, and turned to the door into the back. "I'll be closing out. You and your . . ." Eric paused to look at Tara, ". . . progeny can finish cleaning up. Perhaps have a word with her about employee etiquette while you're at it. Pam."

He didn't bother looking over his shoulder at the two other vampires. He could tell Tara was staring daggers into his back—honestly, when was she not—and Pam was probably looking upset, if not a bit guilty. When they were good, he and Pam were amazing together. But when they weren't good, their dynamic truly became that of a parent and a needy child. And Eric simply didn't have the patience for it right now.

It wasn't just him that needed a good roll in the hay. Pamela needed her own distraction so she'd stop hyper-focusing on him and his problems. You'd think being a brand new maker would occupy her worries, but no. It seemed Pamela preferred to be a hands-off sort of parent. It made for two very annoying women in his bar and in his life.

Eric slammed the door behind him when he entered his office, hoping Pam would get the hint and leave him the hell alone. He dropped the tray of money on top of the invoices and receipts that were already stacked on his desk and then dropped down into his desk chair. It creaked in protest as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Finally.

Blessed silence.

Ever since Lucifer had just disappeared Eric's headache had returned. Even after the DJ had shut down for the night it had still lingered. But now that he was alone in his office, just him and the internal workings of Fangtasia, the headache finally eased. It had been a long night, even with the pleasant but weird diversion of that man Lucifer to keep him occupied for a few minutes.

Almost at the thought of his name, there was the soft rustle of feathers in the office. Eric's eyes sprang open and he sat up straight, the chair surprised at the sudden move, rocking forward on its wheel. Sitting in front of Eric's desk in one of the extra chairs, legs crossed neatly and hands clasped above one knee, sat the very man Eric had been thinking of. Still perfectly coiffed and dressed, not a wrinkle on his expensive suit.

Eric's gaze flickered toward the door, but it was shut tight and he certainly hadn't heard it open. The sound of feathers, though. He tried his best to hide his shock but Lucifer had a wide grin on his face, knowing he'd surprised the vampire.

"Well, I've some news," Lucifer said, clearly in a good mood. "Your soul certainly isn't in hell. So at the very least, I can confirm you aren't damned. For the moment." A salacious grin showed white teeth behind Lucifer's increasingly thick stubble. The glint of sexual desire in Lucifer's eyes stirred something similar in Eric. He wondered what it would be like to kiss that look off the man's face. "Now, I supposed I could ask Dad about your soul, if he were actually around to bother having a conversation with me. But even if he were, he'd only answer in riddles, anyway."

Eric's kindled desire mixed with amusement. The man was still pretending he was the devil. His father, Eric would wager, was supposed to be God.

"I must admit, Viking, I am intrigued. I do say, let's find out if the big, bad vampire has a soul, shall we?"

"Why are you so concerned?" Eric asked.

"It's not very often I'm met with a desire I don't know how to give," Lucifer said. "Normally they just want, well . . ." Lucifer blushed. "A piece of me, of course."

Eric folded his arms on the top of his desk and leaned forward, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. No, Lucifer Morningstar most definitely was not human. Not vampire, not were, not shifter. Not even fairy. "What are you?" Eric asked, stumped.

Funny, this wasn't the first time he'd asked that question in the past year or so. And unlike Sookie, Eric knew Lucifer's answer wouldn't be waitress. Or fairy, for that matter.

"Come now, Eric. I'm the devil. Lucifer Morningstar. We've already discussed this." He gave Eric a cheeky grin—ha, making him a cheeky devil, Eric supposed—but the look in his eyes was dead serious. This man truly thought he was the devil.

"The devil . . ." Eric began to think it over. Could he be?

"Yes, it technically makes me an angel," Lucifer continued, deciding that Eric was asking his species, not his title. "The fallen one, as Dad likes to say."

"The prince of darkness," Eric supplied.

Lucifer waved a hand at that. "Such a moniker would do better for a vampire, don't you think? I assure you, I am able to walk in the sunlight."

Eric grunted at that, a tad jealous. He remembered the morning after he'd accidentally killed Sookie's… fairy godfather? Cousin? Regardless of who the fairy had been, he'd spent a glorious morning swimming in the bayou, the most dangerous predator in the water. It had felt wonderful. The sun on his skin, the warmth of the water tugging on his hair. But it had lasted but for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry; that was quite rude," Lucifer said. "I did not think."

"A devil that apologizes?" Eric asked, surprised. Wasn't the devil supposed to be evil?

"I oversee the punishment of those who deserve it. I am not an evil person, Viking." Lucifer's response was quick and offended. Regardless of whether he was the devil or not, he certainly was convinced he was.

And the longer Eric talked with him, the more he felt persuaded that Lucifer might just be what he said. He wasn't anything else. And why not angels? Although it meant that perhaps there was no Valhalla waiting for him when he finally died. Not that there were any Viking warriors about anymore that believed in it anyhow.

If he was an angel—what would he taste like? The sudden urge to know was too much to ignore, and Eric suddenly lunged across his desk, vampire quick, hands outstretched to grab the man by his lapels and drag him close enough to bite. Teeth out, mouth wide, Eric aimed to grab and bite and taste, desperate for something sweet on his tongue.

Instead, he found his hands empty, his teeth dripping only saliva. Lucifer was suddenly completely across the room, back against the door and a wild look in his eyes—a mixture of fear and excitement. A wide grin was plastered across his face. A growl escaped Eric's throat. He wanted this man. In many different ways.

"Well," Lucifer said a little breathlessly. "Would you look at the time. It seems I must be going."

"I'd prefer it if you stayed," Eric said, moving around his desk in a liquid motion.

"Don't be silly," Lucifer said. "It's time you went to ground, isn't it? Besides, Viking, I've a plan to do some digging. Let me see what I can come up with. I want to give you what you most desire."

"I've changed my mind," Eric said, stalking closer. "I know exactly what I desire."

"And that is?" Lucifer asked.

"You."

"While normally I'd say yes," Lucifer replied, holding a hand out as Eric stalked closer to him, "I'm going to have to take a rain check today. Perhaps tomorrow, yes?"

Eric wasn't even going to reply. He hadn't been asking for permission. While he'd always respected Sookie's saying no, she had belonged to Bill at the time. This man, however, belonged to no one. He could tell.

Eric very rarely didn't take what he wanted. Here was a man with virgin blood—well, to a vampire's bite, anyway—and Eric had every intention of tasting it. And tasting a bit of the rest when he was finished. He wasn't taking no for an answer. Lucifer had boldly entered Eric's office, kept giving him that cocky smile with just enough seduction behind it, and now Eric was going to repay—his own way.

He lunged forward, intent on his prey. But he came up short, hands empty, when with a rush of air Lucifer just . . . disappeared. No vampiric speed. The door never opened. The man—no, the devil—just vanished into thin air. Eric stopped his momentum just in front of the door, fangs out, a growl ripping from his throat.

He was just gone.

But he'd awoken something in Eric and it wasn't going to be silenced. For the first time in weeks he was hungry. Hungry for food, for sex. For the thrill of the hunt. And for the heat of Lucifer's fingers against his jaw again.

His shoulders slumped. It didn't matter if he could follow the man or not. Lucifer had been right. The sun was almost up. Eric had to go to ground, even if he wanted nothing more than to chase the man into the growing dawn.

Frustrated, and with an uncomfortable hard-on making his jeans feel too tight, Eric took the cash tray and dumped it in the safe, promising himself he'd deal with it the following evening. He also vowed he'd track the man in the green suit down, too.

If the devil had taken a shine to Eric, he was going to use it to his own benefit. Tomorrow, Eric vowed. Tomorrow he'd sniff the damn man out if he had to. But he wasn't going to bed the following morning unless he'd found Lucifer and gotten precisely what he craved.

Eric stood up straight, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, scenting the room. He could smell just the faintest whiff of expensive cologne and the linen of the suit Lucifer wore.

Underneath that was the spicy, wild scent that was Lucifer Morningstar.