Nervous energy thrummed within me as I finished double-checking that my suitcase had everything I needed. There was only one thing left to pack. I looked between two pairs of heels. It was the moment of truth, I had to pick.

The gold stilettos looked fabulous with my dress, but uncomfortable as all get out. The white pair on the other hand were a few years old but strapped onto my foot so I'd be able to run in them. I was determined to make sure I was prepared in case something went awry at the ceremony, and that required wearing a pair of heels I could run in if need be. Besides, who was I trying to impress? With a sigh I packed the white pair.

Quinn had left a few hours earlier for his flight for Las Vegas. I'd waved him off, relieved he wouldn't be here when Eric arrived. There was too much drama there, and I did not want to deal with it at the moment. I had enough on my plate for the next few days. I was going to focus on myself, and I'd deal with all of it—Quinn, Pam, Eric—once I was back home, safe and sound.

A feeling of warmth began creeping over me. I looked out my window just as the headlights flickered between the trees. A thread of anticipation curled as the familiar cherry red corvette rolled down the driveway, stopping a ways back from the house.

I could see Eric's pale face, illuminated in the dark car. His expression was guarded as he exited the car, his gaze swept over the house before moving to catch my own. Something flipped in the pit of my stomach. I turned away, feeling my face warm.

My suitcase was packed full and it took me a couple of minutes to get it closed. In the end I had to lean on it so I could zip it up.

I lugged my bag out to the porch.

Eric was leaning on the car, his legs crossed at the ankle. I almost rolled my eyes. Trust Eric to wait outside the one time I could actually use his help.

I huffed as I plonked my suitcase down the stairs. "Would you mind giving me a hand with this?"

"I wouldn't want to encroach on your tiger's territory."

"That'd be a first," I quipped.

He smirked as he rose from where he leant on the car, moving toward me and taking the suitcase in an easy motion. He looked decidedly put together this evening. In a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt so white it was almost glowing.

"Would you like to come in for a blood before we get going?"

Eric didn't look up, his eyes were fixed on his task as he deposited my suitcase into the compact trunk. "As tantalising as that sounds, we should be on our way."

I shrugged. "Let me grab my purse."

It only took me a few minutes to grab my purse and a jacket. While I was in there I closed the windows and made sure they were locked. Amelia wasn't downstairs often and she didn't always notice things like that when she was.

"Amelia! I'm off!" I called out.

I heard her answering shout from upstairs and she appeared, taking the stairs two at a time. "Here, take this."

She gave me a small package. I could read from her mind it had her special chamomile tea and a herbal mix for sleep. I pursed my lips, tempted to give it back. My nightmares had lessened some the last few weeks, at least to the point where I didn't cry out in my sleep, but it was far from perfect. I needed to be sleeping as soundly as possible to make sure I was on my game the next few days.

"Thanks," I said, tucking the package into the folds of my jacket. "I should get going."

She walked me to the car, giving Eric a wave. He raised a hand in response and I had the distinct sense of a child being picked up from a friend's house. I hopped in the car, a fizzing sense of anticipation in the pit of my stomach as we drove away from the house.

Eric was the first to speak, "Where is Quinn this evening?"

"Not in Nola if that's what you're worried about. He's off visiting family," I waved my hand vaguely.

Eric only raised an eyebrow at me, but I chose to ignore the implied question. We drove in silence for a few minutes.

I glanced ov"Mind if I put on some music?"

"So long as it's not Kenny Rogers."

I grinned, "Have you been car-pooling with a certain neighbour of mine?"

"Only the once, and it is not a mistake I intend to repeat," Eric said drily.

"Well, count your lucky stars because I've had enough Kenny Rogers for one lifetime." I fiddled with the radio until we found a station we both agreed on and settled back into the seat looking out the window as the dark woods blurred by.

The drive to New Orleans was long, we had about five hours of driving all in. Except with Eric driving I had a feeling the time would be cut down significantly.

"Does the Queen still want to see me tomorrow night?"

"Yes, we are due at the palace at first dark so you can be briefed for the ceremony."

We drove in silence for a few more minutes, the radio churning out an old Springsteen song, before I broke the silence once more.

"I got my dress, it's real nice. I think I might be able to rewear it for the Bellefleur wedding."

"That is the human wedding you have next weekend?"

"Uh-huh. Have you ever met Andy Bellefleur? He's a detective for Renard parish."

"And he is a friend of yours?"

"Not really. I've known him since we were in school, but his fiancée Halleigh is a teacher and we're sort of friends. So they've invited me. It's a double wedding actually, Andy's sister Portia is also getting married. It's the talk of the town back home." I realised I'd been prattling on and looked over at Eric. "Anyway, now I have a dress."

"I look forward to seeing you in it." He checked his blind spot before moving into the left lane and speeding up, overtaking four cars in the process.

We passed a diner on the side of the road, its patrons a flash of silhouettes against the night.

"I'm surprised we're not flying to New Orleans."

"The Queen considered the expense to be unnecessary."

Something about his tone told me there was more to the story. "She's broke?"

"Not yet," he said drily.

"I guess Katrina did a number on her, huh?"

Eric glanced at me. "The palace suffered some damage in the hurricane and her area has seen a loss of income from the vampires who were lost or left the State."

It took me a few moments to process the meaning of his words. "Cause they can't pay their taxes?"

A nod.

"I guess Rhodes wasn't cheap either," I thought about that for a moment. Paying for the hotel alone would have added up, plus we'd used a private jet to get there. And that was before the hotel exploded. "Do vampires have medical fees?"

"Not in the human sense. I understand she has employed several witches in the last weeks to try and heal her legs faster."

"Seems like a strange time to be holding a big party," I grumbled.

"It is a display of strength." I looked over at him, but he didn't continue.

"So she's holding a party because…" I trailed off. That didn't make sense, why was she trying to prove her strength to her wedding guests. "Are vampires from other States invited? Kings and Queens and all that?"

"Yes."

"And we're part of that display? Her telepath and her viking?" Eric ignored the bitter edge to my tone, inclining his head ever so slightly. "So, what…is she worried about someone attacking the State? Trying another takeover?"

Eric looked at me appraisingly. "You have a good mind for politics."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe you vampires aren't as complicated as y'all think you are."

Eric's lip curved upwards in amusement but I was still thinking through the implications of everything. Before everything else, Sophie-Anne had married Peter Threadgill. I wondered if this was part of that as well, an avenue for another alliance. Hopefully a more successful one this time. If it wasn't, did that mean…what? She wanted to keep her friends close, but her enemies closer? Or she wanted to indicate that Louisiana wasn't a sitting duck, ripe for the picking. That we were thriving.

The last party I'd attended at the palace had been catastrophic—Peter Threadgill's attempted takeover had led to a fight and losses on both sides. If I hadn't seen the potential for a takeover firsthand, the risk might not have occurred to me.

It was strange to imagine Sophie-Anne being killed in a takeover. I'd seen plenty of vampires die in my time, by my hands and by others, but none as wily as the Queen of Louisiana. She was a force to be reckoned with.

It occurred to me that if someone took down Sophie-Anne they'd have to go through Andre. I didn't want the Queen to die necessarily, I almost liked her in a way. But Andre scared the pants off of me, and if it meant I was free of him then maybe it would be worth it. Eric seemed to know where my mind had wandered, because he spoke as though I had spoken my thoughts aloud.

"In my experience it is better the devil you know."

I looked over at him in surprise. "How'd you do that?"

"Maybe you are not as complicated as you think you are."

"Eric," I said, my voice heavy with warning.

Eric glanced over at me, his expression almost hesitant. "I cannot read your thoughts, if that is what concerns you."

My shoulders relaxed. "Then how did you know what I was thinking about."

"I felt your emotions shift through the bond," he said, his eyes on the road. "You became contemplative, solemn, and there was a tinge of", he paused as if searching for the word, "guilt".

"Didn't you say we could feel each others' emotions? I've never felt any of yours."

Eric looked over in surprise. "You have. In my office."

When we'd fought. I remembered feeling furious. It had dissipated without warning, leaving me with only a fizzing sense of frustration in its place.

"But that just felt like my own anger. How am I meant to know what I'm even feeling if I can't tell your emotions apart from my own?" My words were starting to bump into each other as a sense of disquiet rose within me.

Eric didn't say anything for a moment, before he seemed to come to some decision. "You have been reading my emotions to an extent, perhaps unconsciously, but you are doing it."

"I think I'd know if I was reading your feelings."

"If you are not aware you are doing it, or you cannot discern my emotions from your own then that is a problem," Eric said quietly.

"You're worried how I'll act with Andre, that I'll give something away?" Eric raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm not reading your emotions Eric, I was just putting two and two together," I snapped.

"And you have gotten remarkably good at doing that since our last exchange."

I thought back on our interactions since the bond. Perhaps I had felt that Eric was easier to…decipher, but I was sure I'd just been reading his expressions and his tone.

Eric's voice pulled me from my reverie. "We have several hours until we arrive in New Orleans. We should use it."

"To what?"

Eric's face was expressionless. "Practice."

It took me a second to grasp his meaning. "Practice reading your emotions?" I was stunned.

He nodded so slightly I almost missed it. "We need all the advantages we can get." His voice was calm and clinical, and it sent a chill down my spine. If Eric was willing to let me read his emotions, to help me do it, then we must be in a tighter spot than even I realised.

I swallowed and nodded, not trusting myself to speak at that moment.

His eyes met mine and he inclined his head, giving me the go ahead.

"Okay," I said. "I'll try."

Eric's face rearranged itself into a mask. I stared at him, struggling to find some emotion.

My frustration bubbled over after a few minutes. "I can't feel anything," I snapped.

He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait, is this your emotion? Are you feeling annoyed?"

"No, that is how you are feeling."

Irritation spiked within me. "I haven't been reading your emotions, I've just been reading your expressions and your tone, that's very different. I can't do that when you're sitting there like a statue."

Eric turned off the radio, "Focus."

"Sure thing Mr Miyagi," I grumbled under my breath.

He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the road.

I pushed down my frustration, trying to focus on my breathing and Eric. This was different to telepathy, with that I'd never had to try. In fact it was hard to block the thoughts out, and impossible when I was touching someone.

I reached out, placing my hand on Eric's arm before I'd finished the thought. Our eyes met briefly, before his gaze returned to the road.

We sat that way for a few minutes, the sound of my breathing the only noise above the quiet engine. I shifted in my seat. It felt strangely intimate to be sitting like this with Eric. I crossed my legs before uncrossing them once more. I had an eerie feeling, almost as though I was being watched, or–

Realisation dawned on me. Eric felt uncomfortable, but it was a particular flavour of it. He felt exposed, vulnerable, bare.

I dropped my arm, clearing my throat. "Discomfort. You feel discomfort."

Eric nodded in confirmation. "Again."

We practiced over the next few hours. Eric drawing on different emotions to test me as I learned to distinguish his emotions from my own. They had what I was started to think of as an undercurrent of energy that felt different to my own emotional responses. A crackling, pulsing vivacity that underlaid each.

As we practiced I found I was able to identify his emotions more quickly. It was easiest when when we were touching or when it was a more intense emotion.

Eric flitted through different emotions. Anger. Intrigue. Excitement. Concern. Confidence. Surprise. Annoyance. Amusement. Hunger. Apathy. Wariness. Hatred. Loss.

"I need a break," I said after the last one, removing my hand from Eric's arm. I could distinguish Eric's emotions from my own, but that didn't mean they didn't affect me. His sense of loss was a gaping chasm within me. It reminded me of losing Gran, of losing my parents as a child. I took a steadying breath.

I hadn't asked about how he'd been summoning these emotions. I expected he was drawing from a well of memories I could only wonder at. I was acutely aware that by being privy to Eric's feelings I was crossing a threshold neither of us were comfortable with. I tried not to think about the implications of that. If Eric was willing to expose himself to me like this, then he hadn't been exagerating how carefully we needed to tread with Andre.

The depth and breadth of Eric's emotions, the ease with which he had drawn from them confirmed a suspicion I'd always held about him. He held an appetite for life that few humans held, and probably even fewer vampires. I couldn't imagine Pam or Bill possessing such deep reservoirs of emotion. But maybe they did.

When I'd first met Eric I'd thought he was cold and calculating, inhuman. But the more time we'd spent together, the more I'd gotten to know him, he'd started to feel more human to me. I still knew he could be cold and calculating, anyone who'd spent any time with him had to see that, but now I saw it as an ability rather than his core nature. Looking back, I wasn't exactly sure when that had changed. Was it after I'd had his blood for the first time, or earlier? Or maybe it had been when he'd lost his memories.

We made good time and before long we were approaching Baton Rouge. I refrained from even looking at the speedometer, there were some things I didn't want to know.

As we neared the city, there was mounting evidence of Katrina. Front yards were littered with piles of rubble and debris, felled trees and power lines, water-damaged furniture and belongings. An abandoned house—its windows and doors still boarded up in preparation for the hurricane. A quiet gasp escaped me at the sight of the first devastated house. I'd seen all the damage on the news: we all had, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely.

"So much destruction." I murmured. It was impossible to imagine having to recover from a disaster like this. I thought of my own little farmhouse. Sure, it had seen its own damage over the years—the fire to the kitchen a few years ago being just one of them—but I'd be devastated if it was ever obliterated so completely.

Eric's face was solemn as he surveyed the damage but when he spoke it was matter-of-fact. "The city will recover."

"You sound pretty sure about that."

"It is rare for a city to fall completely," he said thoughtfully. "Humans are remarkably resilient."

I looked over at him. "I guess you've seen a few disasters in your time."

"It is the price of living a long life."

I couldn't imagine living through disaster after disaster, for a millenia. Not to mention the wars and disease. Disaster, loss and survival was as much a part of the human experience as breathing.

"So, where exactly are we staying?"

"A hotel in the French Quarter."

Despite everything, a spark of excitement ran through me. I'd never had a chance to spend much time in the French Quarter as an adult. The last time I'd visited the city I'd been too busy cleaning out Hadley's apartment, amongst dealing with vampire politics and fending off werewolves.

I watched out the window as we drew closer to the city. Eric slowed as we entered the French Quarter, waiting at a crossroads as a handful of tourists passed, beads draped around their necks. I reached out, curious about who would be here only months after Katrina but their minds were a blur. Too filled with booze and music to offer much insight. I looked over at him, curious as to whether he would be annoyed by the rowdy partygoers, but he seemed at ease. I switched off the radio and wound down the window so the sound of the city could fill the car.

We had passed into a comparatively quieter section of the French Quarter when Eric pulled up in front of a historic looking building that spanned most of the block. A valet met us at the car, taking Eric's keys as another fetched our luggage from the trunk.

If I'd been expecting a vampire hotel, I was wrong. The foyer was open and airy, with white high ceilings, plush carpets and antique-style french furniture in rich mauves and turquoise, instead of the usual blacks and reds I'd come to expect from vampire hotels.

Eric strode up to the desk and spoke to the attendant, while I hovered back, my eyes drifting around the airy lobby.

He handed me a key card in a small envelope on his return and nodded toward an elevator.

I raised my eyebrows, "Pretty swanky."

"Only the best for my bonded," Eric gave me a roguish wink.

I rolled my eyes, relieved to have left the strangeness of the car ride behind us.

Since it was an older building there were only three floors and we were on the third. We were in a suite with two rooms. My room had a generous double bed, private ensuite and a small balcony with a wrought-iron railing, overlooking the street. I was pleased to see the room wasn't lightproof. It was creeping into the early hours of the morning. The sounds of music and revelry floated up the street from the heart of the French Quarter.

I unpacked my suitcase into the wardrobe. I hadn't been able to fit many outfits and I didn't want to wear one of my outfits I'd bought for the following night, so I changed into a fresh top and denim shorts, leaving my sneakers on. I washed my face, put on some lip gloss and pulled my hair back from my face, fixing it with a band. I fished out my purse and slung it over my shoulder, making sure it had my phone, key card, wallet and lip gloss.

Eric was on his phone when I emerged from the room, he looked over at me and murmured something into it before ending the call.

"I'm going to go down to explore," I said.

Eric studied me for a moment before nodding.

"That's it?" I asked. I'd been expecting a flat refusal or at the very least an argument. I'd spent the week planning how I'd persuade Eric to let me explore the city.

"I can feel your determination," he said simply.

I shrugged, at least the bond had some benefit.

He finished off the half drunk bottle of blood that was on the table and nodded his chin toward the door. "Let's go."

It had been months since Katrina, but I was still surprised by the crowds and music, the energy and bars. I'd read in the newspaper that the French Quarter had been one of the first areas to reopen, and I was surprised at the number of people out.

The crowd pulsed with energy, the street music only drowned out by their thoughts. There were tourists and volunteers, relief workers and locals. Some were here to see the famous French Quarter, others simply to let off steam. After a block of Bourbon Street Eric put his hand out to me.

I took it wordlessly. The relief was immense and immediate.

I led us to a crowded bar, where live music spilled out the door. A black woman in a spangly top was belting out a Queen cover. It was too cramped to dance properly but I bopped as much as I could while I sang along, hitting none of the notes. I felt giddy and warm. The band finished their song, the bassist and drummer continuing the beat as the melody shifted to the next cover.

The crowd pulsed, moving and rearranging around us. A woman in a bright green mini dress and cowboy boots came by, a tray of shots in her arms. I hesitated, tempted despite myself. Eric arched an eyebrow at me, a question, a challenge. I fished some cash out of my purse and perused my options, my eyes snagged on a bright red liquid in what looked like a test tube. I had a wicked thought.

"You got anything for him?" I yelled over the music, pointing to Eric.

She looked at him appreciatively, gesturing to some shot glasses with a darker jello at the back. I grinned and fished some cash out of my purse, selecting a test tube with a blue liquid inside it for me and handing the crimson jello shot to Eric who sniffed it suspiciously.

"Bottoms up!" I yelled over the music.

If I was expecting Eric to be thrown off by the drink then I should've remembered my audience. He merely clinked his glass against my test tube and downed it, smiling widely at me afterward to show he'd had his medicine.

I grinned and knocked back my own, scrunching up my face at the strong liqueur. Mirth bubbled up inside me, crackling and dissipating. I grabbed Eric's hand once more, silencing the thoughts around me so I could focus on the music. Jessie's Girl was playing, one of my favourites.

The crowd thrummed behind us and Eric moved behind me, his hand dropping mine and moving to my arm so I could still dance. At the end of the next song I gestured toward the door, Eric dropped a number of bills into the band's tip bucket on our way out.

We stopped in at another bar further up the street. The band was big for this one, including a saxophone and a trombone, as well as all the usual instruments. The singer was an older black gentleman, sporting a trilby and sunglasses despite the fact that we were inside and it was nighttime. This bar was quieter, the band playing their final songs for the night. I positioned us toward the back. I didn't know the songs, but I swayed a little to the rhythm as we watched, the music washing over me. They finished their set after a few songs, and Eric allowed me to pull him out to the street.

We wound our way through the crowd, our task all the easier with Eric's presence. As we trawled up the street, the bars became fewer and further apart.

I turned when I realised we'd reached the end of the street.

"I think I'm done with the crowds for tonight," I said reluctantly. I didn't want to go home, not quite yet. I wasn't sure when I'd be able to get back to New Orleans and actually see the city, but the demands of tomorrow were looming over me.

Perhaps sensing my reluctance, Eric spoke, "There is more to the city than crowds and cover bands."

"Maybe we could walk the long way home?" I suggested.

The bond pulsed with something, too brief for me to identify. Eric nodded, "This way."

The night was warm and humid. I was glad I'd changed into shorts. The streets still weren't empty, but they were certainly quieter, and I felt a peace wash over me. I looked up at the old buildings illuminated by flickering gaslights. As we walked I realised I was still holding Eric's hand and released it. There was no need now that we were away from the main streets.

Eric pointed out bits of architecture as we passed, described the difference between French colonial influence, the creole townhouses and the Spanish architecture. He pointed out the colourful houses, and the soft blue colour that appeared again and again—meant to ward off evil spirits. He talked about the early years when settlers had to face the challenges of living in a city built on a swamp.

"If it weren't for the glow sticks I'd almost feel like we were back in time," I murmured as we passed a few women, giggling amongst themselves, their arms decorated with the pink and orange fluorescent tubes.

I couldn't imagine what Eric had seen. I didn't ever think about it much, a millenium being too long a span of time for me to comprehend. "I can't believe you got to see all this when it was being built."

"Oh I didn't see it," Eric said lightly. "I was in Europe."

"Then what have you been telling me for the last ten minutes?" I asked, torn between amusement and exasperation.

"There is such a thing as history books," he said drily, but I sensed something else.

I narrowed my eyes. "Really?"

"I went on a tour of the French Quarter some years back." Eric glanced at me, his lips curving up as he continued, "A ghost tour. Pam was insistent."

"Well, now I feel hard done by," I teased. "Why did I only get the architecture facts? You haven't told me any ghost stories."

"I will tell you of them another night," Eric said softly. "Come, we should get you to sleep."

He took hold of my hand, tugging on it gently. I let him lead me back the way we came. I was tired, I'd realised, although I didn't know if I'd be able to sleep.

We walked back in contented silence. The city was quietening, the clubs and bars had emptied out or closed. The bond warmed pleasantly between us. After our car ride I was sure I could feel it more clearly, find its edges. Right now it felt like a glow in my chest. I concentrated on Eric, wondering whether I'd be able to sense his emotions still.

He was…content, that was the primary emotion. I focused on my steps and the warmth of the bond, the ambient sounds of jazz in one of the bars that was yet to close, the simple pleasure of holding someone's hand.

I didn't let go until we approached the hotel. The light spilling out the french doors making the contact feel more real than it had in the darkness. We made our way up to the room in silence.

"Thanks for tonight," I said, feeling almost awkward. "It was nice to actually see a city for once instead of spending the whole time dealing with vampire politics."

Eric nodded, his face expressionless. I reached out to the bond, pressing against it, but this time I couldn't feel anything from him.

"Goodnight," I said quietly, turning toward my bedroom door.

He responded before the door closed, his voice only just audible to my ears. "Goodnight, Sookie."

It took a long time for me to fall asleep, but once I did, I slept deeply and soundly.

Author's Note: Thanks for all the likes, follows and comments through the Quinn chapters! Here on out Eric is in every chapter. Hope you enjoy.