Chapter 11: Double Dare Ya

There was one single decent restaurant in all of Shreveport, and it was the Rabbiteye at the Fairview Hotel. It was a historical Manor turned luxury Inn, or at least what people in this part of Louisiana thought luxury was. The place was nice enough, the food was good, so Olivia made dinner reservations for 2. It was going to be either this or the freaking Crab Shack in Bossier, across the river.

Since Olivia lacked a conventional office she had to take meetings at restaurants. Her daily workspace took over her own dining room because 1) who eats at the dinner table anymore? 2) she can only cook breakfast food anyway and 3) who was she going to invite over for dinner? The only people she knew in Shreveport don't eat food. Besides, in New York taking meetings over lunch and dinner at the next trendy place was totally normal.

Not here though. Tonight she was meeting Portia Bellefleur, a local lawyer, to finish off the purchase agreements for Eric. Portia thought it was very strange Olivia did not have an office. But she got with the program real quick once Olivia offered to meet at Fangtasia instead.

Portia was a short brunette, with long shiny brown hair and boring office clothes - white button-up, black pencil skirt and small pearl earrings. She looked like a small-town journalist interviewing - and don't mind the vanity - an LA celebrity. Olivia was wearing her favourite pink champagne silk wrap dress and her Jimmy Choo gold boots. She explained the future acquisition plans, and Portia was going to deliver the purchase drafts and contact the respective owners. Their business talk took most of the evening, and of course, Olivia kept all the information squeaky clean. No signs of illegal activity whatsoever. She didn't tell her why the IKEA Mafia wanted to expand their portfolio, and Portia didn't ask. Olivia liked that.

She was nice enough for polite conversation, but Portia had this permanent uneasy air about her as if she were dying to ask something but was too scared to. Like she had a frog stuck on her throat and she just wouldn't let it out. No matter how many times Olivia got burned by peeking into people's thoughts, she just couldn't help herself - she just had to do it. Getting answers was as easy as breathing and she was a curious cat.

I wonder if she's fucking him.

Ah, yes. And every time Olivia was let down by what people thought of her. "Have you met him? My client?" Liv asked while flagging the waiter down for the bill.

"I've seen Mr. Northman outside of his club a couple of times, but I haven't had the, uh… Pleasure," Portia glanced down and back up. Just fucking ask already. "What's he like?" She smiled shyly, like a middle school girl asking about her crush.

"Difficult," which in industry terms it means he's an Asshole, capitalized.

"Oh-" she gave a nervous laugh, knowing exactly what she meant. "Have you worked with many vampires before?"

"Just one, other than Mr. Northman and his progeny. You?"

"Oh Goodness, no!" She went bright red. She was one of those uppity judgemental types. How boring. "Well, I guess Mr. Northman would be the first,"

"Ah! A virgin," Olivia joked.

Shit! Shit! Shit! How does she know?! Is it that obvious? Portia's thoughts started to race with fear, shame and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy - just like a middle school girl. Olivia had to bite back the urge to laugh - that would be very mean. She did a double-take on the woman's face, who was now chugging the rest of her wine nervously. Portia looked to be around Olivia's age, how the hell was she still a virgin?! How did she survive law school without getting laid?! Portia was pretty enough, slim, nice hair - what was the deal here? Christian? Asexual? Waiting for The One™, or marriage, maybe clinically insane?

"Well, luckily for you, you'll only have to deal with me," the lawyer's shoulders slumped slightly. "Unless… You want to meet Mr. Northman?"

Good God say no.

"Oh, no, that's okay, thanks," Olivia breathed in relief. Eric would eat this little virgin alive. "Don't you… Uh, get scared… Being like, alone with him?" Her big brown doe-eyes studied her from across the table.

She felt a lot of things being alone with him. Literally saved by the bell, the waiter came in with the bill which Olivia paid in full.

"Are you sure?" Portia asked wide-eyed, getting a glimpse of the receipt.

"Oh yeah, business expense."

The two women stepped outside, waiting for valets to bring their cars around. Olivia's pulled in first.

"I see why you work for vampires now-" Portia said with a mildly malicious tone in her voice. Took Liv a second to understand what she meant - she was envious of her car.

In her head, Portia was no longer wondering if Olivia and Eric Northman were fucking - she was certain of it, and she was both disgusted and jealous of it. Why was it that every fucking time Olivia looked professionally accomplished, people always assumed it was done so by her spreading her legs? Olivia wanted to chew her out but had to bite her tongue. People were allowed to have thoughts, as long as they chose not to say them out loud was her father's golden rule. Still, in her heart, it made no difference if she heard it with her ears or her brain. It always hurt all the same.

"I expect the closing papers by the end of the week, yes?" Olivia said stiffly, getting in the car.

"Sure, my office will contact yours-" Portia said, only to remember Olivia didn't have an office. She hoped the lawyer felt stupid.

Liv revved the engine slightly just because she could (and Portia's Toyota Camry couldn't) as she pulled out of the Fairview Hotel's driveway. She wasn't done with work yet, however. Liv had one more stop to make, as per Pamela's request. She had to pick someone up and bring them to her at Fangtasia for a work meeting. She wasn't entirely happy being their chauffeur, but billable hours were billable hours, and Pam guaranteed her it was a work-related thing, not one of their wild side quests like Dallas.

The address took her all the way across town, to a rundown strip mall. Olivia had to stop describing everything in Shreveport as "rundown". Everything here was rundown. Financial collapse was this city's aesthetic. She pulled up to the final destination and had to do a double, no - a triple take at the sign that hung above the street number, she was at the right place.

Pam had asked Olivia to pick one Debbie Pelt from what turned to be Bail-EZ Bonds."Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

Olivia was severely overdressed for this little errand. She stepped into the dark straight out of the 70s low budget Bail Bond office. The place was small, no bigger than her dry cleaner, and it reeked of stale cigarettes. It had sterile lighting, papers and boxes everywhere, worn-out green golden carpet, grey with dust at the edges. Football was playing in a tiny tube TV in the corner, half-buried in a mountain of takeout containers and fast-food paper bags.

A man in his 60s with teeth missing and a scraggly beard came to the counter from who knows where outback. He was wearing a cheap polyester polo with yellow armpit stains and had a cigarette tucked behind his left ear. He didn't look like a Debbie Pelt.

Fucking Pamela was really going to make her bail someone out of jail. Olivia really had to stop doing them favors.

"Evenin' miss. What can I do for ya?" The man's voice was hoarse for years of smoking.

Was she really going to do this? She imagined Pam's reaction if she didn't obey her request. Eric, she could put up with, but Pam? She didn't quite want to find out. "I'm here for Debbie Pelt."

"Alright, let's see what we got here," the man opened a book ledger and she died a little further inside. This place still did ledgers? This was the fucking 70s. "Ah, Deborah Susan Pelt?"

"Sure."

"Alright alright…" He started to enter numbers into the printing calculator. Much to her grievance, he was typing a lot of numbers into the damn thing. "That'd be fourteen."

Whew, the relief. "Do you take credit card?" Olivia started to search for her wallet in her clutch.

"You goin' put that on card?"

"It's fourteen hundred dollars, no?"

"Fourteen thousand, miss," the man smiled, the teeth he had left were all yellow.

"What did Debbie do? Rob the city bank?!"

"Possession an' sum parking tickets."

What the actual fuck? That was an expensive ass meeting Pamela. "Fourteen grand for some weed and parking tickets?"

She glanced outside - the sun was still setting, but it wouldn't be dark for another 40 minutes or so. Olivia didn't want to spend another minute at Bail-EZ Bonds. She actually was surprised her car wasn't broken into in the 5 minutes she spent in this hellhole already.

"Weed? Nah, she had like 6 flasks of vamp juice or somethin'."

Olivia's blood went cold. Debbie was a V blood junkie, possibly a dealer who got arrested with their all made sense now, but God fucking dammit if she wasn't annoyed. "Fine, give me a minute," Jesus Christ. Olivia angrily typed in her phone, transferring the funds to the right account.

"I'll need ID too, miss."

She slid her favorite fake ID and matching black credit card across the counter and started filling the paperwork. Fourteen fucking thousand dollars. Olivia doubted Pam wanted Debbie out of jail out of the goodness of her cold dead icy heart. If she were to take a guess, Debbie was not going to make it to her court date so she could possibly testify against the vampires. Meaning Olivia would never see a cent of this money back. She was surely going to bill Pam for this.

"You related to Debbie or somethin', Miss Crawford?"

"No," she gave the man his pile of papers back.

"Dang, miss Debbie sure got friends in high places. She's in Shreveport County, just 6 miles south outta town. I'll give 'em a call and let 'em know her bail's posted."

"Thanks," Olivia left the little hell hole and took a deep inhale of fresh air which momentarily made her less annoyed. She got in her car (which miraculously still had its rims and tires) and drove out of town, straight to the county jail.

As she pulled in, a blonde woman with tasteful 80s bangs was yelling at a man wearing slacks, shirt and tie in the middle of the parking lot. The man was probably the biggest, most muscular man she had ever seen. He had flowy brown hair and an impeccable beard with a bit of salt and pepper in it. She wished she had the inner strength of this man's shirt's buttons. They looked like they could burst open at any second, his chest and shoulders were puffed and chiselled like a model firefighter. He had a strong straight nose and dark eyes that could make her drool.

The sight of the Greek God made her almost forget all about the woman he was having the heated argument with. She was wearing scuffed ripped jeans and a crop top revealing a butterfly tattoo on her lower back. Was Olivia about to test her luck? You bet.

She rolled down her windows. "Debbie Pelt?" The blonde turned around quickly. Of fucking course. "Get in."

The man protested and Debbie shoved him back, screaming her head off. She stormed away and hastily got into the car, shutting the door closed rather harshly. Olivia was about to scold the woman for it (her poor BMW), but she just picked up a junkie from jail. Best not to push it. Liv drove away, leaving the handsome hunk alone in the jail's parking lot.

"Who the fuck are you?" Maybe it was all the yelling, but Debbie had a hoarse loud voice.

"Your guardian angel, Ophelia Crawford," Olivia drove a little faster. It was officially night time now, and she had a very bad feeling about handing off Debbie to Pamela. She had to keep Debbie cool as a cucumber so she wouldn't do anything stupid. "Your lawyer contacted me, I'm part of a lobbying group trying to decriminalize vampire blood as an illegal drug. We think your case is exactly what we are looking for to set precedent."

"Wait. Really?" Her tone and posture changed. "Even with my priors?"

This woman was a mess. "100%, they're irrelevant."

"You're the one who paid my bail?"

Unfortunately. "Yes. How about we get a drink and I'll tell you all about it?"

"Uhm, you payin'? I don't have my wallet-"

"Of course, my treat."

"Cool."

Debbie didn't say much after that, other than she fidgeted a lot, like a big kid with ADD. She wanted to know more about the sex icon from the parking lot, so she tried to reach into the woman's mind, but it was murky in there, agitated dark waters. Not everyone was easily readable. She encountered this before, but it was rare. Liv pushed away the disappointment and just focused on the road back to town.

If she were to hand over Debbie to Pam, this poor woman was on a one-way ticket to Fangtasia's dungeons. And to make matters worse, Olivia was seen picking her up from county jail, after a woman matching her description, car and a fake ID paid 14k for her bail. Was Pamela out of her mind?! Unless… She designed it that way.

Olivia's knuckles went white from choking the steering wheel. She was walking through a field of landmines for them, expanding their business legally and illegally, knowing the feds and DEA were on their scent - getting backstabbed by her own client was the last thing she fucking needed right now.

"Actually," Olivia broke the silence. "I'm new in town and the only bar I know is kind of a shithole. Any suggestions?"

"Every bar in Shreveport is a bit of a shithole," she laughed. "But the one that stinks the least is the Rose Crown, been goin' there for years."

"Alright, let's do it."

Funnily enough, Olivia had recently become an expert in every business of Shreveport, so she knew where the Rose Crown was. It was one of the bars she thought about purchasing for Northman, but it had the reputation of being frequented by biker gangs, so it was a no-go. Debbie and Liv made small talk on their way to the Rose Crown. She was a waitress, originally from Jackson, Mississippi. She moved here years ago with her then-fiance Alcide Herveaux, the hunk in the parking lot.

"Why did you break up?" Olivia was being nosy, but the woman's head was a gloomy cloud.

She took a breath."Irreconcilable differences. My advice? Don't date a fuckin' narc."

This was definitely one of the times she wished she could have read her mind, but the murk in Debbie's head was thick as it got. She wondered how regular people lived with only getting half-answers to things. Olivia pulled into the Rose Crown's dark gravel parking lot, which was packed with pickup trucks and motorcycles, and men smoking under the blue neon lights by the door who eyed her car from afar. This was going to be a problem, especially if she walked into this bar dressed like this.

"I'll drop you off at the door, order me a beer and I'll be right in," Olivia told her, stopping the car.

Debbie must have read her face. "Oh, don't worry about 'em. The boys look rough but they don't bite… Hard." She winked. There was something she wasn't telling her, and her goddamn head was impossible to read.

"I just have to make a phone call before I head inside, I'll be quick."

The guys by the door cheered once Debbie approached, giving her pats on the shoulder and fist bumps. Olivia exited the lot and parked 100 feet down across the dark street, in front of a convenience store in the broad view of their street security cameras. If Debbie were to disappear off the streets tonight, she needed to not be the last person to be seen with Debbie.

Oliva picked her phone and dialled. Pam picked up after 3 rings. "Hello, peaches,"

"There are easier ways to seduce me, you know?"

"Oh-?"

"Now explain why you're trying to fuck me."

"Oh, I don't know what you're talkin' about, all I asked-"

"All you asked was for me to bail someone out of jail which you know I'd use a fake ID but a real account for, get them at the county jail letting my car to be picked up on the parking lot cameras, then bring her to Fangtasia so you can turn her inside out making me the last person on record to see Debbie Pelt alive."

Pam was quiet for a moment, but Olivia could tell she was smiling on the other side. "You really aren't as fun as you look, ya know?"

"I am climbing the fucking Everest for you and Eric, and I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't put bombs in my backpack."

"For the Queen-"

"What?"

"You are climbing for Queen."

"What difference does it make?!"

"A world of fucking difference, actually."

"So what do you want me to do? Get on my knees and kiss Eric's ring?!"

"Getting on your knees would be a start, darlin'. Now, where the fuck are you?"

"The Rose Crown."

"You're fucking kiddin' me." She sounded displeased, and that made Olivia angrier than it should. Pamela was pissed? The fucking nerve!

"I am not going down to the station to answer questions when Debbie's pieces are found in the Red River. I don't do cops, I thought I made that abundantly clear."

"No you dumb cunt, Rose Crown is a fuckin' werewolf bar!"

Nevermind Pam's fury, the wheels in her mind started turning full speed. Debbie's clouded mind - chances were she was a werewolf too. Other supernatural beings always had hard to read minds, vampires being the only impossible ones. And the Rose Crown wasn't just a regular biker gang bar, it was probably a werewolf bar. The beef between vampires and werewolves was ancient and complex and far beyond her understanding. And now Olivia had brought Pam's dinner to the only place she couldn't get her. Question was, how much trouble was Olivia actually in?

"Not my problem, Pam. Debbie Pelt is out of jail, I put her in a place with plenty of possible murderers. Catch her at your earliest convenience, but I'm done running your play with only half the instructions, I'm out."

Another silence. Another smile. "You don't get it yet, do you?"

"Get what, Pam?!" Olivia was getting real tired of this cat and mouse game. "I swear it's like you two get off on adding to my billable hours."

"Oh darlin', what gets me off will disturb you on such a deep level that it's best we don't even talk about it."

And then the line went dead.

Olivia walked into her dark apartment and judging by how she tossed her keys on the table, dropped her briefcase on the floor and kicked her shoes off far into the hallway, she was frustrated and about seven shades of annoyed about her night. She walked into the apartment still in the pitch-black darkness, unbothered to turn the light on. His anticipation grew even more, but it was okay. He would just savour the moment when it happened.

He watched her wander into the kitchen and open the fridge door, its yellow soft light inundated the apartment like a lighthouse. She reached inside and pulled out a half-full bottle of white wine. She was wearing a light pink shiny wrap dress and long dangly gold earrings that got lost in her hair. Her silhouette was impeccable, the dress had a sexy thigh slit, his fingers trembled to touch it. He felt thirsty. Someday.

The second she turned around and spotted him he felt her loud fear, cutting through the fabric of their blood bond like a guillotine. Sharp, quick, violent incision of fear at the discovery he was inside her apartment.

"Eric!" She cursed angrily, followed by a loud crash on the kitchen floor.

She had dropped her wine bottle, sharp glass everywhere. He didn't notice his fangs were out until he smirked.

"Shit!" She cursed again, flustered, looking at the glass all over the floor and then back at him. Olivia didn't know what to do with herself.

He stood up from the dining room chair he was sitting on at the head of the table, straightening his jacket. He was really hoping she would have turned the lights on as soon as she got home, but human habits were foreign to him - hers included. Olivia carefully stepped over the broken glass and across her kitchen and turned on the lights under the kitchen's top cabinets, illuminating the counters before the fridge's door closed, avoiding being in the dark with him.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?! I've never invited you in!"

"I'm painfully aware," he found himself walking into the kitchen, feeling the broken glass crush further under the sole of his shoes.

"Then how are you here?" She was defiant as always, her back leaning on the corner of her kitchen, cornered by broken glass. And him.

"Guess."

She was quiet for once, heart rate coming back down despite him closing in on her. Another step closer, more glass shards multiplying under his feet.

"You… Bought my apartment? My landlord didn't notify me."

She looked up at him, uneasy but unafraid of him. It was hard to be mad at her when every fibre of his being wanted her so much. "I bought the whole building."

"When?"

"Not long after you moved in."

He liked this - being alone with her. They weren't alone since the hotel room in Dallas. Punishing her was going to be difficult, but she had disrespected Pamela so it was necessary. Can't have Olivia thinking she can disobey what she's told. But for now, he was enjoying watching the illusion of safety and power and control she had over herself break like a glass ceiling. And he knew how much Olivia seemed to love to break glass.

"When I asked for all your accounts, you didn't really give me all of it, did you?"

"All but one."

"And when you asked me to find Godric, I didn't really have a choice, did I? You'd have taken me anyway."

"Now you're getting it."

Olivia shuffled her weight on her feet, the slit on her dress closed. Disappointing. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

Images of him pushing Olivia onto the counter and having her legs wrap around his hips popped into his mind.

"You disobeyed me."

She frowned, pressing her lips hard. "You mean Pam's half-assed text?"

"Any and all requests from Pamela are to be taken as seriously as if I personally request them myself. She is my progeny and about the only person in this world I trust, so if she says bark, you bark. If she says sit, you sit. If she says bring Debbie Pelt to Fangtasia, you-"

"I got it," she whispered through her teeth, he could see the anger coming off her body like sparks. "But I'm not going to burn myself for her or you."

"The edict-"

"Forces you to protect me against vampires, the cops are fair game. You really think I don't know about that little loophole? Now, if you are dissatisfied with my services just fire me, no need for these games."

He took the final step, they were now toe-to-toe. Oh, but these games are what he loved the most these days. "What? You don't trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

His hands touched her hip bones, bringing her closer. She raised her forearms, finally fighting him off and pushing him away, scared of the monstrosities his soul definitely wanted to do. But all he did was pick her up off the floor.

"Eric, no! Stop, no, you-" she squirmed in his arms, her hand pushed his face away by grabbing him tightly on his jaw - or at least that's what she tried. Her heart rate exploded again. In the fight or flight game, she was fighting.

Two seconds later he put her down in the middle of the living room, and just like that she broke free from him - because he let her.

"Don't want you cutting your foot open on broken glass, now do we?" In all seriousness, if she did there was no edict of protection in this world that would have stopped him from devouring her. Her smell was hypnotizing, intoxicating, poisonous.

Olivia was flustered, and took several steps back away from him. There was only one thing hotter than seeing her defy him, and it was to see her vulnerable. "What do you want, Eric? You want me to go back to the Rose Crown and get Debbie?"

"No, Pam's got it. Debbie has fulfilled her purpose."

She paused for a second, hesitating to ask what was Debbie's fate after all. "Then what do you want from me?"

The million-dollar question. "Your dress."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Another two steps back, wide-eyes stared back at him in the semi-lit room. "No."

"You disobeyed me, Olivia."

"Get out."

"I will," Eric started to slowly pace around her apartment. "All I want is your dress."

"Why?"

He could feel her anger spark in the air again. Her reaction was the most entertained he's had in years. He picked up a book from her shelf and pretended to shuffle through it, prolonging her anguish. "Because," he put the book back and slowly made his way to her, who stood lonely in the middle of her living room. "You need to understand that I own you and everything about you. I own your apartment, I hold the lease to your car, I own your career, your time, I own your sleep, the blood in your veins, the air you breathe, and your clothes-"

He was right in front of her again, bodies almost touching. There was a special glimmer in her brown eyes, the same ones he had seen after he force-fed her his blood. Olivia Carson truly came alive when she plotted her revenge. He dropped his voice low, and said the words deeply and slowly, hanging to every syllable, staring deeply in her angry eyes, fully hoping she understood him. "I. Own. Everything."

This time, there was nowhere for her to run. What was she gonna do? Make him rip it off her body? He could only dream of it.

"Turn around, you fucking creep." She whispered, finally caving in.

The absolute gift of seeing her body would have to be a win for another night. If Eric didn't enjoy this little game of theirs so much he would have stood still and watched. But alas he was a gentleman, so he complied with her wishes.

The two of them stood in silence in his semi-dark apartment. He heard the gentle rumbling of fabric, and then felt the soft touch of satin in his right hand. The back of her warm tender hand grazed his wrist unexpectedly, which sent a ripple through his whole body. Part of him was screaming to turn around, the knowledge that Olivia Carson stood absolutely nude right behind him was much harder to resist than he thought. Her scent enveloped him fully, making his fangs hurt for a bite. God he wanted to skin her with his tongue.

"Leave." She ordered. "And don't turn around. This, you do not own."

The seconds stretched on endlessly. If this were anybody else on earth, there was nothing or nobody - not even his own conscience - that would have had the power to stop him from getting what he wanted. And he wanted to take in the sight of her bare body, especially because he was being told he couldn't have it. Eric wasn't used to being denied. He knew, however, that there were certain lines that if crossed, would ultimately end the game.

Oddly, he didn't want that. It was almost as if he liked the torture. She was right, he didn't own this, not yet. But he vowed to himself that one day, he would. He was in it for the long haul, he was going to win this game. So before he talked himself into caving in and turning around, he dashed through the front door and left without looking back. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Olivia stood quietly naked in her living room for a while, unsure if Eric lurked in some dark corner, even though she saw him leave through the front door and close the door behind him, she couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Tonight felt like one long nightmare, and she was afraid that if she moved it would just continue to get worse, so she didn't for a long time.

Her whole apartment smelled like the wine that covered her kitchen floor. It could have been a lot fucking worse, she told herself. It was just a dress, she repeated over and over again. He didn't even see her naked or lift a finger to harm her. Then why did it feel like she almost fucking died?

I own everything, he told her. The thought scared her in levels she didn't know existed.

She finally snapped out of the trance Eric had put her in and made her way to her bedroom. Olivia was covered in goosebumps, unsure if she was cold from the apartment's chilly AC, or if it was just… the fear of Eric lurking in the dark. God, he was inside her apartment. He owned her fucking apartment - her whole building. Had he been in here without her knowing before? Was he hiding in the shadows, watching, and she's never noticed? This felt like such a gross violation of her privacy. But then again, Olivia constantly invaded people's minds for personal gain all the time, so perhaps this was karma.

Liv decided she had to move, pronto. Tomorrow she was going to look for sale listings first thing in the morning. The only way he would own her next home would be by buying her fucking bank.

Could he do that?

She got in her closet to put on some PJs on and instantly froze again once she turned the lights on. It was empty. She blinked a couple of times, to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks. No, her clothes were all gone. Her jackets, dresses, shirts, pants, blouses, skirts, shoes - all gone. Her Hermes purses still sat lonely on the top shelf, and her jewellery box remained untouched. But everything else was gone. She opened every dresser drawer: there was nothing in them, he hadn't taken just the dress off her body, he had taken everything. Everything except one item: in her lingerie drawer there was a single pair of black Dolce and Gabbana lacy underwear and see-through bra - courtesy of Eric's sponsored Dallas trip. With it, there was a small handwritten note.

"You son of a bitch!" She yelled, feeling the wrath beating in her chest.

The card read:

I own you in this too.

A.N.:

This chapter was so spicyyyy ohmygodness

I hope you guys are okay with me changing Alcide a little bit. He will be more or less the same, but he's a cop in this story because I wanted him to have a more central point. Plus, there had to be a cop chasing them why not make it the hottest Alpha wolf in Louisiana?

xoxo til next time my luvs