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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 years

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In The Blood - Chapter Twelve.

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Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Eric's POV.

The light from the open fire bathes my whole apartment in a deep, orange glow, illuminating her nakedness as she lies next to me. Her beautiful eyes could light up the whole room anyway, I feel. Just looking down at her, watching her as she studies my face and strokes my hair, I feel the kind of contentment I haven’t experienced in many years.

“Your mind is restless. I can see it in your eyes,” she states, a small frown of concern shadowing her otherwise perfectly beautiful, flawless face.

“There's nothing wrong, nothing on my mind other than you,” I tell her, watching her shake her head.

“Eric, you should know by now that line works on other people, but never me, love,” she replies, leaning in to kiss me.

“I never could lie to you, could I?” I ask, watching her shake her head as she strokes the side of my face. At the very moment I decide it probably is the best option to alleviate my mind and reveal my troubles, the door flies open and in run three huge, black wolves.

Before I can jump up fast enough to protect her, to put myself in harm's way, they tear her from my arms and rip her to pieces, until the only thing that's left of Tyra is her blood and torn off limbs all over the floor, while all I can do is sit and watch in utter horror.

“Being a vampire means a lot of human pleasantries are lost forever. Why can't dreams be included in those pleasantries, too?” I mutter to myself after waking with a start, looking at the time and seeing it’s only 11am. Four hours after I shut my eyes and four hours after I began dreaming about Tyra, like I have for the last four days since I saw her.

Is it not enough that I spend a lot of my waking hours with the woman on my mind, now I have to suffer thinking about her in my sleep as well? This constant quest to find out what she is, why her blood and the energy she transmits affect me as much as they do is becoming a bother to me, since I'm still no closer to discovering what she is.

Even though my blood flows through her veins now and hers in mine, I still cannot decipher what she is. I find it vexatious, especially since I often find myself thinking about her for reasons that don't involve what she is, or my desire to pin her to my bed and fuck her until she can't move for a month.

I confess, I've been starting to wonder if there's something else about her that attracts me so heavily, pulls me in further than any other woman I’ve ever met. I swiftly pull myself together and realise that at my age, I'm immune from such emotions and feelings. However, I cannot justify or discount how her energy makes me feel, her blood either.

When I visited her after finding out that it was indeed Russell who murdered my family, that very energy I felt when I held her hands to my face made everything melt away completely. The painful memories, the dangerous rage, the longing for vengeance, when she held my face in her hands, it just went away. She made me feel at peace, nourished by her even, healed. I still cannot fully describe it, how her energy acts upon me.

I cannot comprehend why her blood made me change to something close to human in the way I regarded her either, the guilt I felt for being the cause of her falling down the stairs, or the contentment I felt at looking after her, just having her lying next to me. It doesn't make a shred of sense, and it doesn't add up either.

Also, I see it as a weakness, and that is a word that does not enter my vocabulary. Unless I'm applying it to somebody else, that is. Otherwise, I do not have weaknesses, yet I can feel I have one slowly building up where Tyra is concerned. That energy I feel, I have a weakness for it. Also, when I drank her blood, how I felt, I confess that I liked it. I cannot allow myself to, though. No.

“I’m fucking sick of this,” I mutter, frowning.

“If you're so sick of it, then admit defeat. It won't make you any less of a vampire to realise what is good for you, Eric. Surely that is something I managed to teach you?” I hear, looking over to the couch, where the ghostly form of Godric sits.

“You also taught me it is bad for any vampire to have a weakness, to form a soft spot that can be used in manipulation. You always vehemently instructed me to rein in my emotions!” I fume as I sit up and stare at him angrily, or rather his form. He just laughs softly, annoying me further.

“Admitting you feel something towards Tyra is no act of weakness, my child. You will understand why you do, one day soon. You will know then that what you feel cannot be helped. No vampire ever could resist the charms of her kind. You'd be the first in all of history if you did. I'm telling you right now, you shouldn't resist her. Pretty soon you'll discover that you can't, it will be impossible,” he explains cryptically, causing the flames of my fury to burn more intensely.

“You still cannot tell me why either, can you?” I spit coldly, my temper only being met by good nature.

“Of course, I can't! That would make everything just too easy. To be rewarded with what you will one day claim as yours and no one else's, you will see why you had to work so hard to attain it. You are not far from having everything fall into place for you. You must not give up now. The answers, they are all here now, just waiting to be discovered. As I've told you before, have patience Eric, have patience. On this you must trust me.”

These are his final words before his image becomes fainter and fainter, vanishing into thin air. Trust you? I've trusted you for over a thousand years and you've never infuriated me to this level before, Godric. Never.

This is the only thing I can cling to, the fact that all this guessing and his cryptic behaviour, must be concealing something big. Whatever Tyra is, she's been sent for a reason, one of great importance. I am starting to lose patience with wondering what on earth could possibly be worth all this fucking effort, though

“Let me see that!”

“No, it's nothing!”

“Nothing my cold, dead ass. Hand the cell phone over, Tyra.”

“No! Fuck off, Pam, stop!”

“Oh! This is who you're hiding from me, then? You dirty cat, could your tongue be any further down his throat?”

That's the sound I’m greeted with upon waking up hours later and heading upstairs to the bar, Pam and Tyra having one of those playful bickering moments all female friends seem to insist upon sharing with each other, usually when one wants information the other is reluctant to give, as is the case here.

With the last comment made by my progeny, it doesn't take a genius to work out what the exact topic of their conversation is, another potential boyfriend I'll have to glamour away by the sound of things. Moving back to conceal myself behind the partially open door, I eavesdrop in order to garner the information I need.

“Oh hush! He took that picture anyway, not me. I was just trying to delete it when you came a' spying on me,” I hear Tyra reply, looking through the crack in the door and seeing her trying to snatch her cell back away from Pam, who looks like she's having too much fun snooping to let that happen right now, moving the cell faster than Tyra can try and swipe it back.

“Who is this mystery - and may I say very attractive, for a man - young gentleman you’ve been sucking face with? Also, why didn’t you tell me about him sooner?” Pam then asks, finally giving her the cell back.

“Because I only met him a week ago. Even still, something clicked with him. He’s really different to the long line of losers I've dated recently. So far, he appears to be a very good choice for me, too. He’s into all the same things as I am, doesn't want to be and won't be under my feet twenty-four seven since his job keeps him away for most of the week. Also, yes. He is just a little bit gorgeous, isn't he? “Tyra replies, while I watch Pam nodding.

“He's a keeper, then, is he? This Mr Black hair and green eyes? Give me name!” Pam then demands.

“Danny,” Tyra begins, pondering for a few moments. “You know me, though. I never rush into making a decision but yeah, so far I have a real good feeling about him,” she finishes with, while I feel something inside me swell with anger. Danny, make the most of her while you can, because you're on limited time.

“Either that or it's the fact that for the last year you've been celibate, which is still something I find very hard to believe with someone as criminally sexy as you, my friend,” Pam compliments her, giving her a playful prod in the shoulder with her fingernail

That piece of information does nothing but make me want her more. The fact that she's no slut really piques my interest, despite my otherwise – and fairly obvious - liking of women who are quick to invite me between their legs. Tyra's resistance to give in to me attracts me more, though.

“Pam, if you've quite finished distracting my bookkeeper, I'd like her to be working for what she's paid to come here to do, not gossip with you about her love life,” I say as I finally decide to enter the room, watching Pam give a 'well, I guess that’s told me' look from under her long eyelashes before she saunters out, leaving just me and Tyra alone.

“Could I ask that you actually do some work instead of chattering about unimportant babble with my progeny? Surely that's not too much to ask of a fucking bookkeeper, is it?” I request, envy rising by the second as I keep seeing an image of her in my head kissing another man, becoming furtherly furious at myself for letting it bother me.

“Duly noted,” is all she replies with her usual insouciance.

“Don't give me that tone,” I warn her firmly, leaning across the desk and into her personal space, so much so that she has no choice but to look up at me.

“Why? Don't blame me for your own envy, Eric,” she correctly deduces, my fury burning. How fucking dare she, how dare she have the measure of me like this.

“I am not envious of anyone! All I want is for you to do the job that I pay you for, Tyra! I roar, beyond enraged that she stirs me like this and completely furious at myself for letting her push my buttons.

“Shouting at me like that goes a long dissuade your assertion.” she replies with heavy sarcasm. There it is again, the urge to either kiss her or kill her, polluting my mind so much I don't answer, leaving quickly as my burning temper shows no signs of subsidence.

Tyra's POV.

Envious with a capitol E, that's exactly what he is. Well, that isn't my problem. I'm sick to death of him blowing me hot and cold, one minute interested, the next far from it, playing his stupid little games with me because I won't do the one thing he wants and open my legs to him. Fuck him if he's going to be like that. I really want no part in it all.

After I happened to meet Danny just eight days ago, while I was having a relaxing afternoon working away on my laptop at Starbucks, I decided to give up on anything that might or might not be with Eric and just move the hell on. I decided it was time to find someone who wants me because he wants me and not to fuck with my head as much as he can.

I'm seeing him again tomorrow night for our third date. It’s moving along fast, but I can hardly wait. Until then, I do have the company of a certain male to enjoy, since we never did get round to rescheduling that little dinner date of ours.

“Sit your ass down and tuck in to some serious chow, honey child,” Lafayette tells me, pulling out my chair for me and tucking it underneath me as I sit down to perhaps the largest burrito I've ever seen. There are also refried beans, dirty rice, an array of freshly made dips, homemade tortilla chips and tamales. He really went all out.

“Well, if I manage to finish all this then I think I deserve some kind of prize,” I reply, thanking him as he pours me a glass of wine, mixing his with cherry Coke in the same bizarre way he always does. 'If it's good enough for Jimi Hendrix' he often says in way of explanation, referencing the late guitarist’s liking of red wine and Coke together.

“Cheers. So then, ice princess, how are things with Danny boy? You got that third date lined up yet?” he asks me, as I cut into the mammoth burrito, the smell of freshly seared spicy chicken hitting my nose as the steam rises from the middle.

“Tomorrow, he's taking me to see a band. You know I've spoken to him on the phone every day since I met him. I never run out of things to say to the dude, it's amazing. We just mesh and it's a little scary to be fair, how instantly we clicked,” I inform him, watching him nod as he blows on a forkful of rice.

“Well that definitely sounds like you found yourself self a keeper, I'll drink to that,” he announces, swallowing his mouthful of food and lifting his glass.

“You're the second person to say that to me this evening,” I comment, watching him stare at me for a minute, looking a little unnerved.

“I assume that since you’ve been at Fangtasia, you mean you told that Pam woman and not Eric, right? Because I can imagine that'd go down as well as if you bought the dude a silver watch,” he snorts, while I laugh quietly.

“Yes, Pam. I don't talk to him about stuff like that. He did come in part way through our conversation though, so heard what we were talking about. He didn't like it one bit, either. He was envious as hell, truth be known,” I confide, still feeling a touch proud I managed to inadvertently ruffle his feathers as much as I did. Damn, he was pissed.

“You look way more pleased by that than you do about your third date with Danny boy,” he observes, while I stop eating momentarily to gape at him slightly.

“What do you mean by that, exactly? Yes, I'm aware of the dialogue used, but I kind of picked up on some underlying connotations there,” I ask, watching him look uncomfortable for a moment, before erupting.

“Damn it hooker, you playin' Eric Northman just as much as his dead, white boy ass be playin' you, shit!” he exclaims, dropping his fork somewhat dramatically and grabbing his drink. “I feared this would happen, you're into him and you's just using that poor fucker to either make Mr dead man envious, or you’re tryin’ to hide from the fact you like him more than you’re prepared to admit, either of the two. Or maybe both,” he shouts, adding “truth!” just before I'm about to speak.

“Okay, so maybe I've thrown myself into this whole Danny thing a bit quickly, but it's so I can just move on from Eric and not get all messed up in him. He isn’t what I want!” I justify, to the sound of Lafayette snorting.

“Yeah? All I ever hear you bitching on about is Eric! Eric, Eric, fucking Eric! You playin' him, and you loving every last second of it. You know you’re playin’ with more than just fire honey child, you playin' with the devil himself. I know I don't gotta tell you how fucking dangerous the son of a bitch is, but either way you gotta do something here. If you ask me it's either of two things,” he tells me, eventually calming down more as his speech goes along. I know he's only worried for me, that's why I'm not losing my shit back at him. I'd be doing the same if it was him and someone who I didn't approve of.

“Alright, big poppa. What are those things?” I inquire, taking a gulp of my wine.

“Stop being a vampire dick tease permanently and quit the job, or fuck him and get it the hell out of your damn system. I advise the former, though,” he reveals neatly and simply. I can't help but to suddenly laugh.

“Sweet cheeks, I'm being serious over here! You gotta decide what it is you want, and stop second guessing everything you think Eric wants,” he then barks at me, but with no anger in his voice, just his usual boom.

“You're right. As usual, Lafayette, you're absolutely right,” I concur, figuring it's useless to try and find any other way out of this. Still, something has to be said for the fact that leaving my post at Fangtasia is not the first option that crosses my mind, no matter how much my friend sitting opposite might disagree with that notion.

Strangely enough, the person who that notion would be carried out with sends me a text just a few minutes after I've finished eating my huge dinner, or rather as much of it as I could handle.

‘Can you come back to the bar? There's something I forgot to give you, and it's very important that you receive it tonight.’

‘Why can't it wait until tomorrow?’ I text him back, as Lafayette re-joins me at the table after taking our plates into the kitchen.

‘It just can't. Come back as soon as you can, please.' I receive a few minutes later.

“Danny?” He asks me hopefully.

“Eric,” I sigh.

“Thought so,” he laments. “What does he have to say for himself?”

“He wants me to go back to the bar, tells me there's something he forgot to give me and it's important that I get it tonight,” I tell him, while he nods and then surprises me greatly with his words.

“Go,” he says simply at first. “Go now and get whatever he has for you. But you've got the half hour it'll take for you to drive to Shreveport to decide on what you tell him when you get there. If you hand in your notice, or if you hand him the booty. That's a fair enough deal, right? You know you can't sweat on it forever, Tyra,” he follows with, his words very wise. Once again, he's right.

“I will, I'll do just that. Thank you, I'll come back and let you know what I decided,” I reply as we get up, Lafayette folding me up in a big hug.

“If I don't answer the door, it's because Jesus and I are gettin' busy,” he confides with a wink, referring to his new boyfriend of sorts.

“Then I'll text and make sure the coast is clear first.” I chuckle. After he's seen me out, I walk straight back down to my house, put on a jacket since it's started to rain and then head out to the car.

As I drive, I begin thinking, thinking hard as I take the long way over to Shreveport, buying myself little extra time while I mull over my choices and nervously crunch my way through a whole box of orange tic tacs to pacify my juddering teeth.

Suddenly, the thought of never seeing Eric again leaves me short of breath, just as the idea of having sex with him does. In this moment, I have no idea what to decide upon, which conflicts strongly with the knowledge of what Lafayette said being right, and the only decision I must make. I have to end my own torment one way or another.

Even as I'm walking across the main floor of Fangtasia, after Pam tells me Eric is waiting for me in his office when we kiss cheeks in greeting (she surprises me all the time with such friendly gestures) I'm still no wiser as to what to decide upon. All I know for sure is that I’m burning with nerves.

“So? What's this important thing you forgot to give me, this thing that can't possibly wait until tomorrow?” I ask, somewhat wearily as I enter the office. This better be fucking good, or I'm gone. There, decision made.

He looks up at me, holding my gaze from behind the desk, holding it so fast, in fact, that I can feel my resolve weakening. His stare so powerful that I’m stuck to the spot, feeling like a deer being stalked by a wolf. Silently, he holds me there as he gets up and walks slowly towards me.

The way he's looking at me, he's never looked at me like this before, coming to a stop in front of me and reaching out over my shoulder to push the door shut, while I feel my heart starting to thunder in my chest. I’m suddenly incandescent, but not with anything else other than the purest way he makes me feel, the way I’ve trying to ignore for weeks.

“This.” He leans down and without even a flicker of hesitation, kisses me with the kind of force that knocks the wind clean out of me. As I kiss him back with every bit of urgency returned, everything else just melts away as I fall into the most passionate, unbreakably strong, intense kiss I've ever received, ever participated in.

At the very moment I feel him try to lift me I jump, up into his arms with my legs locked around his waist, his arms around me so tightly he's crushing me to him, and not once does our kiss break...not now...and not for the entire time that follows it either. We’re locked in this kiss for what seems like forever, reality far, far away.

“Go,” he finally says when our lips finally part, dropping me down to my feet. Thank god I have the landing skills of a cat, or I'd be on my ass about now.

“What?” I ask, incredulously.

“Go!” he demands, his face contorting as he screws his eyes shut, before literally vanishing and leaving me to wonder one thing. Have I lost my mind? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I giving in to this man’s demands time and time again just to be rejected at every turn in this complicated saga that is me and him?

I don't know, but I do know one thing, on the drive home I tune into total rock radio and the song 'Where is my mind?' by Pixies comes on, coincidentally enough. It feels like Black Francis is posing the question directly to me, too. It feels karmic in a strange way that I hear this song now, perhaps the universe is letting me know I'm right. Where is my mind?

Honestly, where is it? I must be some kind of masochist to keep torturing myself like this. Then again, I'm not the only one doing the torturing, the game playing. Oh no. For when I arrive home, he's standing on my porch waiting for me. I cannot believe it! The audacity of him!

Getting out of my car I look right through him as I head up to my house, unlocking my front door and hating myself for feeling like every tiny hair on my body is standing on end as I feel him right behind me, turning to look at him once I’m inside, feeling tingles I don't want to feel run through me as my heart somersaults.

“You kiss me and you tell me to go. Now you're here! I mean, what the fuck? What do you want from me?” I cry shrilly, totally exasperated, my cool lost long ago.

“I don't know, but I know one thing. I can never be satisfied with just kissing you ever again.” He states vehemently, advancing on me and then taking my head in his hands, his mouth connecting with mine again in a kiss so deep, it doesn't break.

I feel every single barrier I've put up against him break in half, letting him in totally as he floods my senses entirely. We make it roughly another two steps back into the house before the floor is where we fall, our kiss only breaking to pull each other out of our clothes, until all that covers our skin is each other.

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