A/N: My thanks again to Lilah93 for being an incredible beta 3

Chapter 4

The dark sedan made its way through the French Quarter. It never got quiet in this part of New Orleans, just less busy, and Monday night was one of those less busy nights. The glow of gas lamps cast a warm and inviting light, highlighting the green ferns hanging from intricate ironwork balcony railings. People walked the streets, milled around open stores, sold their wares or promoted their clubs. Music and life could be heard and felt all around. The car parked down a narrow side street.

"Is this it?" I asked. The building beside me was tall and dark.

"The animal hospital is two blocks further down, then across to Bourbon Street, and you'll find it there on your right."

"Then why are we stopping here?" He'd stopped on Royal Street, not Bourbon.

"I don't know, lady. The Queen tells me to drop you off here, so I drop you off here."

I checked my watch. It was ten thirty. I should be getting ready for bed right now. Not tramping across the French Quarter picking up animal blood. I sighed.

"Fine," I said. "Wait for me here, will you?" At least I'd worn a pair of comfortable shoes.

The guy behind the reception at the animal hospital did not so much as react when I collected Bubba's meal rations. If only he knew who and what it was for. He passed over a blue and white plastic cooler and made me sign a form. I hoped this wasn't a usual sort of request for them. Surely not. I chose to believe that rather than the idea it was a common occurrence to sell cat blood over the counter to strangers. Maybe it was just that the Vampire Queen of Louisiana had enough power and influence to get anything she wanted and for no one would bat an eye, regardless of what on earth it was. Like a crazy rock star.

I made my way back to the car and tried to make the most of my evening's adventure. Jazz was playing from one of the bars, filling the night air along with the smell of spicy fragrant foods. I dawdled. The worst of the day's heat had faded to a pleasant, enveloping humidity.

As I neared the last block to where the car was waiting, I crossed back over to Royal Street. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I grappled with my free arm to pull it free from the depths of my handbag. It was a text from Diantha telling me she was eating the leftover pasta and asking where I was. As I tapped out a slow one-handed reply, I bumped into a tall immovable statue. Or was it a utility pole?

"Hello, Sookie."

Nope. It was Eric Northman.

The cellphone slipped through my fingers and I crouched just as quickly to swipe it up off the pavement.

"Hey!" I said. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

He towered over me, tall and unfairly, obscenely, good looking. I forgot my text and threw my phone back in my purse.

"Come to say hello?" he asked.

We were in front of a store which looked to be in the midst of demolition or extreme renovation. I must've been so caught up in my task that I hadn't noticed when I passed it on my way to collect the blood. The shoulders of his black jacket were sprinkled with plaster dust, and I both saw and sensed the bustle of contractors inside working. The interior of the store was lit with bright portable work lights that spilled out onto the street.

"I'm just on my way back to the car. I came to collect something." I lifted my cooler. "For Bubba."

As I spoke, I felt my face flush red. The last time I'd seen Eric I'd been drunk as a skunk, and while I was fairly confident I'd hadn't made much of a fool of myself, I was still embarrassed by my behavior the night of the coronation… barging into his home, passing out on his couch.

"Bubba? He's here?" he asked.

"You didn't know he was back in the state?"

He shook his head. "I've taken some time away from the palace to focus on other things."

"You quit?" My stomach lurched.

"Paid leave. I'll be back next week."

Oh, well that made more sense. Seems we'd both taken a break.

"So, what do ya got going on here? Flipping commercial property?" I leaned past him to look through the open doorway. Now that I had taken stock of the place, I could see now that it'd been completely gutted and was in the process of being renovated.

"I'm opening a bar."

"A bar?"

"I figure I can make a good go of it. Even with the recession. Humans are nothing but consistent when it comes to liquor. They yearn to drink in good times and bad."

I pictured the place transformed—dark and moody decor, filled to the brim with patrons, live band on a stage at one end. The bar wasn't as big as Fangtasia, but it would do killer business here.

"You'll do well here. It's the perfect location."

"I certainly hope so."

"Are you thinking a Fangtasia 2.0?"

He shook his head, "There are already vampire bars like that here in the French Quarter. I've something different in mind for here."

"Different how?" I asked, interest officially piqued.

"Something more up market, in keeping with the city."

"Lemme guess, vampire lounge with velvet curtains and fancy cocktails, blood on tap?"

"You're not far off. Though I'm not fussy on clientele, vampire, humans, anything in between. Everyone welcome."

"You've gone soft, Northman."

He laughed at this. "It's about maximizing profits."

"Fine," I said. "Knowing you, I'm sure you'll make it work. Need any help with the decorating or anything?"

He raised an eyebrow, amusement crossing his features. "Are you offering your skills? I do have a designer."

"I was thinking more along the lines of making sure your bar stools were as comfortable for humans as they were for vampires."

The headlights of a car moving up the street illuminated his pale, handsome features. "I'll let you know." He nodded to my cooler. "Why are you relegated to delivery service?"

I wanted to say ''long story" but instead I heard myself screaming: "Watch out!". The passing car had sped up and veered off its course right toward us. Unceremoniously, I was flung to the side. I landed heavily to the ground, the cooler skittering away from me. Eric had pushed me out of the way.

My cry of pain was drowned out by the screech of brakes and the sound of glass smashing. I'd landed hard on the concrete path and bore the brunt of the fall on my right wrist. The car's headlights were just feet away from me and dazzled me, but I just made out the silhouette of Eric dragging someone through the windscreen. The car hadn't hit anyone or anything, thank the Lord. Had Eric stopped it with his bare hands? A fight ensued, with grunts and shouting mixed with the sound of glass and feet scrabbling across the ground. I got to my knees and dragged the cooler closer to me. Darn it, I'd come all this way. I wasn't going to let Bubba go hungry.

I wasn't sure who Eric was fighting but they were a vampire and no match for Eric. He threw his assailant against the bonnet of the car, and the other vampire landed against it with a dull, metallic thud.

I abandoned my bloody quarry and got to my feet unsteadily. I grabbed a piece of broken lumber that was sitting with a heap of construction rubble by the bar's front windows. My wrist screamed with pain and I dropped the damn thing; I grabbed it with my left hand instead.

"Eric, catch!" I tossed the piece of wood in a wide arc his way and he plucked it effortlessly out of the air. He pressed the improvised stake up against the vampire's chest. I didn't recognize the vamp. A big and beefy guy, bald and with prominent cheekbones.

"Either you leave, or I call a clean-up crew to hose your remains from the street," Eric snarled. He didn't sound as angry as I would've expected. Invigorated, if anything.

The guy hightailed it out of there, escaping back through the crushed windscreen Eric had pulled him out of. The assailant backed up his car and left us with an echoing screech of tires and the acrid scent of burning rubber.

"What on Earth?" I nursed my injured wrist against my chest and stared after the departing tail lights.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded tightly. Eric seemed fine, though his eyes were bright and bloodlusty.

The construction crew were bustling around the door, and Eric left me momentarily to glamor them. I couldn't tell exactly what he glamoured them to think but judging by the thoughts of the guy nearest me, it wasn't that he forgot what just happened, more that he didn't think that the fight was such a big deal anymore. They all went back to work.

Well, that was easy.

I looked around the rest of the street, there were onlookers, but no one seemed to be calling the authorities. I got the sense from their moods that this was part of the life and dramas of New Orleans' nightlife.

"What in the name of Sam Hill was that about?" I asked Eric when he returned.

He scowled. "It's my current pain in the ass." He took my wrist gently and set about examining it. I let out a soft moan, pain lancing through it. "It's fractured," he said.

"It hurts like a son-of-a."

"Want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No point," I said. "I'll take a couple Advil and go to sleep. I'll be fine by morning. I've healed from worse."

I'd not only healed from worse without medical intervention, but I'd healed from what was generally considered the unhealable. Eric's gaze lowered to my stomach, and I could tell he was revisiting that same memory. The night at Fangtasia when a part-God shifter disguised as Eric impaled me with a short sword. Guess what buddy, I had flashed backs too. I wanted to click my fingers in front of Eric's face to snap him out of his reverie.

"Who just tried to run you down?" I said since I didn't think I was up to doing any finger snapping.

"No idea. Someone from out of state, by my best guess."

I blinked at this, and he shrugged blandly. "Claire Duvall has been sending assassins to make my life difficult."

I blinked again. Where had I heard that name before? It rang a vague and very distant bell.

"Firstly, who is Claire? And secondly, I don't think the purpose of hiring an assassin is to make the intended victim's life difficult."

"It is if you hire them for me. They're hardly peskier than flies," he said this with a shrug. "Claire was Freyda's old pet. You would've met her during your time in Oklahoma. She blames me for Freyda's untimely passing."

I thought hard and an image of a beautiful young woman covered in fang marks came to mind. "Yeah, I think I remember her."

"Her father is a man of endless means, so she is raiding her trust fund to get me back."

"Bold move." Foolish, even. It didn't matter how deep my pockets were, I wouldn't want to test the patience or anger of a vampire who could squash me like a fly. "You'd think she'd go after Sigrid and Christof since they were the ones who actually killed Freyda."

I'd never asked him how his wife had died outright, but from how I'd heard around the water cooler it was a fairly perfunctory murder as far as vampire murders went. Stake to the chest.

"Claire never liked me."

"Well, you're getting up in years now. I guess your effect on women has to change at some point," I quipped.

"Ah, Sookie, you always know how to flatter a vampire."

I went to pick the cooler back up off the ground, and the pain of my wrist reared back to life. I hissed and Eric guided me to sit down on the curb.

"Really," I said. "It's okay."

"Eric!" called a warm as honey voice. The sound was punctuated by heels rapping on the sidewalk. A knock-out of a woman, her hourglass figure on display in a fitted sheath dress, came to a stop at Eric's side. She brushed a kiss on his cheek. She was nearer to his height and hardly had to stand up on tip-toes to reach him.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm so late," she said. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

I wanted to burst into tears, right then and there. Big messy embarrassing tears. Lady, I wanted to say, you wouldn't believe the day I've had. The woman noticed me sitting like a sack of potatoes on the curb.

"Miss," she said. "Are you okay? Eric, does she need help? And what is all this glass? Oh my God, it's everywhere. What happened?"

"I'm fine," I said, gritting my teeth as I got back to my feet. I stooped and picked up the cooler with my good arm. "Just a little accident."

"You need help getting home," Eric said and took the cooler from me.

"No, really, it's fine. My ride home is a block away, waiting for me."

The woman smiled a tight sympathetic smile, and I tried my very best not to brush against her thoughts. Pain made my shields shaky, and I'd already heard from her head all I didn't want to know. It's funny the things that pop into a woman's head when she presses a kiss against the cheek of the vampire she's knocked boots with.

I tried to beat a retreat, blood be damned, but Eric stood in my way.

"I'm not letting you walk off on your own. Let me take you."

"I'm fine. Really."

"You're in pain."

"It's fine."

"Emily," he said, ignoring me completely. "Would you mind?"

"Please. Help her," the woman, Emily, said. "I think medical attention is in order. Inside can wait." My wrist had visibly begun puffing up. "I'll go in and make sure those contractors don't try tearing out that authentic lead glass again. And I'll see if I can get someone out here sweeping up."

"Very well."

She wished me well (all the while thinking I was a passing delivery girl who had happened to trip over in front of Eric's property) and made her way into the bar with a sense of ownership I found upsetting.

However, my thoughts were jolted elsewhere as Eric stepped close and lifted me by the waist. He was careful not to jostle my wrist, but the movement still hurt like nobody's business. We rose from the city street, Eric apparently unaware or uncaring of the various pedestrians watching on in amazement. The wind buffeted against me, and I spat what might've been a bug out of my mouth. I hid my face under the lapel of Eric's leather jacket. I knew I was likely missing out on an amazing view but frankly I didn't give a hoot.

We moved east, away from where the town car was parked and instead in the direction of my duplex. I worked hard to keep my arm very still. The smell of Eric, dry and pleasantly vampire-y with a hint of leather and some other unnamable but quintessentially Eric-like smell became my world. I'd forgotten how he smelled, but here and now it was a wonder I'd ever been able to. It had been a long time since we'd been this close. I clasped his waist tighter with my good arm.

He landed us gently on my doorstep and retrieved the keys from my purse, unlocking the door for me. He set the cooler inside the entry.

"Thank you," I said.

"Sorry for throwing you out of the way."

"I'd rather that than being hit by a car."

"Who was hit by a car?" Diantha came to the door, eating directly out a tub of ice-cream with a spoon.

"No one," I said.

"Uncle called to tell me we're going to have a new neighbor," she said.

"Yes," I said. "Looks like we are."

Eric looked mildly interested, but I found I had neither the energy nor the will to fill him in. He'd find out soon enough.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked. We'd watched nearly the entire first season of the X-Files on DVD together in the quieter moments of the murder investigation we'd worked on together in previous months. I'd wanted to keep watching more but hadn't had an opportunity.

Our gazes met and something unreadable passed across his.

"I have to get back," he said with a shake of the head. Ah, that's right, his lady friend. How could I forget?

"Smell you later," Diantha said, wiggling her spoon at him.

Eric looked startled for a second before chuckling and disappearing back into the night.

I got Diantha to put the cat blood in the fridge for me, while I struggled out of my clothes and into the shower. By the time I collapsed in bed, all I could see, think, hear and taste was the pain in my wrist. It was dull, throbbing and relentless. Advil did nothing to lessen the pain.

I heard movement next door. Furniture being shifted into the apartment, was my guess. I hoped Bubba wasn't expecting me to keep him company. I wanted to nurse my injuries, both physical and emotional, in peace.

I'd never really considered the idea of Eric finding someone else now he was bachelor again. I mean, sure he was a get around. He oozed charm and sex appeal, with a libido to match. I assumed he was sleeping with multiple women at any given time. That didn't bother me. What I hated was the idea of him finding just the one. I still loved him. I didn't want to… I ought to know better. We'd tried to make it work those years ago, and it most certainly didn't. Not only that, he'd made it abundantly clear he wasn't interested in giving it another shot for those very reasons.

Perhaps the worst part of all was because he'd given me his blood, he would feel and know all my feelings. I hated that it didn't move him. I buried my face in my pillow and groaned. It felt like my brain and my heart were warring with one another. But the heart wants, what the heart wants, right? He had moved on with his life; I had to let him. I was just the dummy left behind nursing feelings that should've faded long ago.