Anticipation

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Thursday, January 22, 2015

Three nights.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand three hundred twenty minutes.

Over a quarter of a million seconds.

No matter how Eric calculated the time, it all boiled down to one basic thing.

It felt like an eternity. An odd concept for a being that has lived an eternity.

Eric has been more short-tempered than usual in the three days leading up to Sookie’s visit to Fangtasia. He has made all the staff, including his errant progeny, clean Fangtasia from top to bottom. Pam grumbled the entire time; they didn’t go through this much work when the queen or one of her representatives came to visit. Why the fuck was Eric trying to impress a bloodbag?

Eric wasn’t trying to impress Sookie. In truth, he didn’t think Fangtasia would be in her comfort zone. She seemed too wholesome to ever grace his den of inequity. Yet she didn’t shy away from him. Eric had the distinct impression that Sookie was secretly laughing at him. The sparkle in her eyes had shined brightly while looking at him and her lips kept curving in a smile.

Eric wasn’t sure if he found it endearing or insubordinate. Sookie Stackhouse was unlike the other mortal women he met. The women that came to Fangtasia were all cut from the same cloth. They wanted to walk on the wild side, have a taste of danger. The patrons of Fangtasia wanted to have a taste of the forbidden before scampering off in their minivans and compact cars to their boring, ordinary existence.

His gut feeling told Eric that Sookie was different. All of his instincts told him there was more to her than the pretty packaging she was wrapped in. There had to be; Eric had never seen the old crone Ludwig greet another being so warmly.

The question is why Sookie is so important to Ludwig, the Werepanther pack master, and all the other Supes Eric had made discreet inquires of since Monday. She’d piqued his interest when she’d mentioned Niall. Eric knew the Prince of the Fae; you didn’t call him Niall without his permission.

Who is Sookie Stackhouse?

His investigation had left him with more questions than answers. He’d even been tempted to visit her brother, glamouring the information out of him if he needed to. The only reason that Eric had refrained from doing that had been André calling the previous evening on the queen’s behalf. It seems Sookie had been correct that Sophie-Anne had banished Hadley from her court; the queen was in a foul mood and was taking it out on her sheriffs. She was increasing the tithes required from each area in her kingdom, all in the name of rebuilding New Orleans.

More like rebuilding her jewelry collection.

Thursday evening when Eric rose he felt a sense of anticipation. It had been a long time since anything had peaked his interest like this. Not since he’d followed Pam the night she’d snuck out of her parents’ home in London to meet her lover. Eric knew he wasn’t compelled to turn Sookie, but there were definite things he wanted to do to her, with her, and in her.

Thoughts of her plagued him while he showered. Despite his intentions, his cock had risen and nothing could make it go down. Eric snarled with fury as he tried in vain to avoid thinking about her pouty lips, bountiful curves, and intoxicating smell. His frustrations had gotten the better of him and he pounded his fist against the tile, shattering the ceramic. Shards of tile were embedded in his hand, but Eric didn’t notice the pain. His pain was far worse in another area of his body.

After his shower, the normally cool and collected vampire stood in his extensive closet, unsure of what to wear. Pam would laugh her ass off if she saw him acting like a schoolgirl getting ready for her first date. He rolls his eyes at himself. He is Eric Northman, the Sheriff of Area Five; he does not have to impress people. People fawn over him, trying to earn his favor. However, that doesn’t stop Eric from changing his outfit four times before settling on a pair of fitted black slacks that mold to his muscles perfectly. He couples the pants with a silk button down dress shirt in a dark shade of gray with purple hues. The shirt he leaves open to mid chest, showing a hint of the faint blond hair that peppers his broad expanse of his chest. Instead of his usual motorcycle boots, Eric completes the outfit with a shiny pair of leather Italian loafers custom-made for him. Eric remembered the height difference between him and his new obsession and didn’t want either of them to crane their necks to get to the other. Why he was thinking of Sookie having easy access to his face and neck escaped his notice. His usual mode of operation was not to kiss his feed and fucks; they only felt his mouth on them if he was performing cunnilingus or had his fangs buried in them. Kissing was too intimate a gesture for those he quickly discarded. Besides, most did not know how to kiss around his fangs, and he had no patience to be anyone’s teacher.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Eric regards his appearance with a critical eye. His hair looks artlessly styled, his skin has a faint flush thanks to the bags of blood he’d consumed trying to satiate one aspect of his appetite. The color of his shirt darkened the color of his eyes, making them seem infinite. With a smirk, Eric leaves his chamber, heading to the main level of his home where he leaves a note for Bobby, his day person, to have someone fix his shower. Eric specifies the work is to be completed on an evening when Eric or Pam can be present. There is never such a thing as being too careful with one’s safety. It’s how Eric has survived for a millennium.

Walking through the door that leads to his garage, Eric presses the button to open his garage door. He effortlessly folds himself inside his cherry red Corvette, a gift from Pam the night they had opened Fangtasia. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine hums to life. The opening chords of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell come through the speakers. Gunning the engine, Eric peels out of the garage amid the sound of squealing tires and the tolling of a church bell, leaving a carbon monoxide trail in his wake. The garage door automatically closes and Eric arms the alarm on his house. Eric has a fangy grin as Bon Scott’s raspy, gritty vocal drifts through the surround sound system in his car.

It’s going to be a good night indeed, he thinks to himself in anticipation of the night to come.

Less than ten minutes later, Eric is in his reserved parking spot. The signs Pam chose to have installed said, “Parking for management only. Park here and we’ll eat you.” Surprisingly that didn’t act as a deterrent. The more zealous of the fangbangers parked in the spot at least once a week, hoping to attract Eric or Pam’s attention. To them, any attention from the master or mistress was good attention.

Unfolding himself from his car, Eric rises to his full height. His senses are on alert as he assesses his surroundings. In addition to fangbangers, his club attracts protestors and undercover police officers. Pam says the protestors reek of garlic and silver, while the undercover cops reek of stale donuts, burnt coffee, adrenaline, and fear. The protestors view Fangtasia as the new Sodom and Gomorrah. In their minds, the club is an endless blood buffet and orgy, with dead bodies carted out on a nightly basis.

The protestors have delusions of grandeur.

Eric has never allowed a human death to take place in Fangtasia. Too many variables can go wrong. As for vampires, those are easier to hide and humans do not notice when a vampire goes missing. If they do, it is easily explained away or they are glamoured to forget.

The undercover cops on the other hand are far more troubling to Eric. They have continually attempted to place his bar under surveillance. At first, they watched from unmarked parked cars but they have gotten bolder in their attempts since they have found nothing. Electronic surveillance and undercover agents are regularly discovered in the club. Eric and Pam have become increasingly vigilant about sweeping the bar and their vehicles for transmitters. Listening devices were easily planted in the bar by the undercover agents that have snuck in as patrons. The undercover agents are incredibly easy to spot and one of the vampires always makes sure to glamour them to forget anything they may have seen in the bar. All of this attention is focused on Fangtasia because the police think illicit activity is occurring in the building.

As Sheriff of Area Five, Eric is a fair ruler but he has very specific rules for residing in the area. They are not many in number, but the penalty for disobeying them is severe. In some cases, the penalty is the True Death. Eric demanded that the vampire residents of his area swear fealty to him. They were to follow him without fail. Those that challenged his authority quickly learned how ruthless he is.

Eric’s style of leadership had been due to the influence of the two most important men in his life: his human father and his maker. Eric’s father had been the leader of his village. His father had been a fair and just leader, but he knew when to be cruel. His father had taught him that the good of the village came before his own desires. It had been Godric who taught him brute strength did not always equal victory. His maker taught him how to use all of his abilities to his advantage. Godric may have been known as Death, but he used his intellect far more than his abilities to defeat his enemies. Sometimes one had to admit defeat in battle to win the war. Godric was a firm believer in the teachings of Sun Tzu and had committed them to memory long before they ever made their way to the European continent.

Eric had blended the ideas of both men with great success. Area Five may not have the glitz and glamour of New York, Las Vegas, or New Orleans, but it is one of the most successful vampire areas in the country. There is a waiting list of vampires seeking residency in the area, but Eric limits the number of vampires in the area. Population control helps keep problems to a minimum.

Sensing nothing amiss in the area, Eric strides confidently towards the back entrance of Fangtasia. He taps twice on the back door, waiting for one of the bouncers to open the door. Maxwell Lee swings the steel door open, but leans his head outside before letting Eric in.

“Five tonight Sheriff,” Maxwell announces in a low rumble. Eric hisses angrily. Five surveillance devices were detected before opening tonight.

“They were different from the usual ones we’ve found,” Maxwell continues. “More sophisticated; high tech. I’m thinking Feds.”

“Knulla mig! Call the American Vampire League. They need to be aware. Use the appropriate channels and find out if others are having similar problems.” Eric storms inside after giving his command. He is furious at this latest turn of events. It is the last thing he needs tonight.

Tonight is supposed to be about him and the mouthwatering Miss Stackhouse.

Eric vamps to his throne, settling himself in a position of arrogant indifference. A hush descends over the crowd as they adjust to the sudden appearance of the magnificent vampire. Eric does not acknowledge his impact on the patrons. Instead he begins counting the seconds until Sookie Stackhouse arrives.

***

Seven hundred forty-two . . .

Seven hundred forty-three . . .

“What has your fangs in a twist?” Pam is beside him on the stage; her arm resting along the top of his throne as she leans against the wooden chair. She is dressed in one of her outrageous outfits. Tonight she wears a black leather jumpsuit with black leather high-heeled boots. Instead of a belt, she has a bull whip around her waist. All she’s missing is the face mask and she could be Catwoman.

“Nothing,” Eric growls. His growl increases as one of the fangbangers drifts closer to the stage. The woman scurries away with a shriek.

“You are being one of those emo fools,” Pam scolds. “Perhaps next time I cut your hair, I’ll give you one of those asymmetrical cuts they favor and dye it black,” she finishes with a smirk.

Saying nothing, Eric continues to stare without blinking at the bar occupants. He keeps the bond with his progeny void of emotion so she does not catch on to his plans. He is already thinking of ways to make her suffer. First, he will glamour Bobby to take all of Pam’s laundry to a laundromat. He will wash and dry it on the highest temperature settings possible, including the dry cleaning. As an added bonus, he wants Bobby to add red dye to the light-colored items while adding bleach to the darks.

It will serve the brat right.

“Did you hear of our problem earlier this evening?” Eric switches to his native language so even if they are overheard, no one will understand what they are saying.

“Yes,” she hisses with her fangs popping down. “The revelation was years ago. The VRA has passed. What do these fools hope to accomplish?”

“They are looking to make an example out of one of us, prove that we aren’t above the law. It’s what I would do. The more prominent the vampire, the better for them,” Eric intones.

“Do you think we should ‘give’ them someone?”

Eric’s head snaps to look at his progeny. She may have just saved her wardrobe from its fate. “Who are you thinking?”

Pam eyes the vampires in the club critically. “I’m not sure. Everyone here is loyal to you. Give me some time to think about it. I’m sure I can find someone suitable; someone who we won’t miss.”

***

Eight thousand nine hundred ninety-nine . . .

Nine thousand . . .

Two and a half hours on his throne and still no sign of Sookie Stackhouse. Eric is in a decidedly foul mood and everyone can feel his displeasure. No one dares approach him; a usual occurrence in his club.

All manner of thoughts go through his head, ranging from she stood him up to the fantastical idea that she’d been kidnapped by a rogue group of Supernaturals intent on torturing her because of what she is or her vague association with him.

As the clock draws nearer to midnight, Eric gives up hope that Sookie is coming. He feels a keen sense of disappointment as well as bitterness and anger. He stands from his throne, done under the ever watchful gaze of the vermin on him. One of the more drunken women in the crowd stumbles to the stage.

“You lookin’ for someone to drink?” Her words are slurred thanks to the five Long Island iced teas she’d consumed trying to work up the courage to approach a vampire, any vampire would do. The woman’s eyes lose focus as she sways on her feet.

Not only does she look repulsive in the form-fitting leather and spandex that was not meant for someone of her size, but she smells like kitty litter doused in alcohol.

“Get out of my way before I drain you dry!” Eric snaps his fangs down and looms over the woman menacingly. Her eyes widen with fear and she stumbles backwards, toppling the table behind her. Both of them crash to the floor amid the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering.

Eric flicks his eyes to Indira and Clancy, both hurrying to clean up the scene before anyone can react. Indira escorts the sobbing, bleeding woman out while Clancy removes the debris from the dance floor. Without another word, Eric stomps down the hallway to his office, slamming the door behind him once he is inside.

“Ya know, it’s a wonder y’all are still open if that’s the way you treat your customers.” Seated primly on the office sofa is his object of tonight’s frustration. Sookie looks like something out of a 1950s sitcom. Her golden hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, leaving her face and neck clear for all to see. Eric cannot see the full details of her dress, but the square neckline enhances her bosom while cinching in her waist. The full skirt and crinoline are spread out over the cushions of the sofa and her ankles are crossed daintily in her high heels. Underneath the harsh fluorescent lighting her golden skin shimmers, and those laughing blue eyes stare up at him. There is a curve to her pink, pouty lips.

“They come to be treated poorly; they expect to be used and abused,” Eric says somewhat defensively. His gaze narrows at the woman relaxing so nonchalantly on his sofa. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Sookie glances at the watch on her left wrist. “I said I’d see you Thursday; it isn’t quite midnight yet so I made good on my promise,” she replies with an impish grin.

She breezes on as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to have a vampire glare at her. “I would have been here earlier if it wasn’t for the flat tire I got while driving to Shreveport.”

“Are you alright?” Eric asks the question before he can stop himself. His eyes check her for injuries but find none.

Sookie waves her hand dismissively. “I’m fine; can’t say the same for the opossum that ran out in front of my car. I already called Dawson to come get my car. He’ll get it in the morning and have it as good as new in no time.”

Eric advances further in the room, his brow furrowed. “How did you get here?”

“That’s complicated,” she huffs out. “I’ve never been in this part of town before, so I had no idea where I was going. A cab would have cost me a small fortune since I was closer to home than here. So I compromised. I teleported to the mall and had a cab bring me here. Now that I’ve been here, I can teleport in and out when I need to.”

“And why would you need to teleport here?”

You would think Sookie was the one with vampire reflexes with as quickly as she’s off the couch and standing before Eric. She moistens her lips all while staring at his. “Because sometimes a girl needs a kiss,” she whispers before leaning up on her toes to brush her lips experimentally against his.

Eric notices that her soft lips taste of honey and berries while her warm breath fans over his cool skin. Her body leans into his as her lips begin moving with more demand against his. Eric wraps the ends of her ponytail around his fist while the other hand settles on the small of her back, pulling her closer. All the while Sookie’s hands are sliding along the silk of his shirt until she’s gripping his shoulders.

Sookie pulls her lips away, panting for breath. She licks her lips and hums with appreciation. “I’ve been thinking about that since Monday,” she confides.

“Was it worth the wait?” Eric quirks an eyebrow at the woman in his arms, thinking she is too far away for his liking even though it is only mere inches that separate them.

“Hmmmm,” she says noncommittally. “Why don’t we talk about it over a drink? I think we’re both a little thirsty.”

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7 Responses to Anticipation

  1. kleannhouse says:

    oh i am loving this strong willed Sookie, she is FAE hear her roar. KY

  2. ashmo2000 says:

    Long wait and I’m sure if a kiss was all Eric got, he’d be satisfied:)

  3. lostinspace33 says:

    Uh-oh! She’s going to get him in big trouble if he’s not careful! Or maybe she’s tempting/teasing him because she knows he can’t really act on it.

  4. mom2goalies says:

    Did she really just offer Eric a drink? LMAO
    I’m sure that’s not what she meant but I figured Eric’s mind will go there!
    Loving strong Sookie, Eric has no idea, lol. Sookie can have loads of fun with him and he can’t do much about it for a bit yet. Can’t wait to read more!

  5. Mindy781 says:

    Seeing Eric nervous and frustrated was funny. His little tamper was funny. The ending was perfect and make me want more.

  6. redjane12 says:

    Badass Sookie’s in da house!!!

  7. anem72 says:

    pmsl, that was funny! I think poor Eric wants more than a drink and has no chance of getting it. Fairy Sookie is going to drive him insane or he’ll kill SA to overturn the punishment!

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