Chapter Text
SPOV
The knock was a welcome distraction since I had been tossing and turning for over an hour. I'd been conflicted about the prospect of falling back asleep, knowing that on the other side of consciousness might lie another dream about a big, distressingly sexy vampire I couldn’t stand. I was surprised that Jason was stopping by again after our earlier heart-to-heart, but I figured he must still be having difficulty sleeping too -- though almost surely for different reasons.
“Coming,” I called out as I rolled out of bed and pulled on one of the thick terrycloth robes provided by the hotel. I briefly considered putting on something more decent, figuring Jason wouldn’t particularly appreciate the image of what was(n’t) underneath, but I was tired and decided he could just deal with it. The room was light-tight of course, but the bedside clock said it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon, so we would have plenty of time to talk more before Bill arose.
I double checked the peephole to make sure it was Jason (carefully keeping my shields up so I didn't inadvertently dip into his private thoughts), but instead of my brother’s clueless face, I saw a disgustingly handsome smirk. Dammit.
“What do you want?” I huffed as I flung open the door.
“Nice robe,” he answered smoothly before I’d even finished my sentence. I ignored that comment, but checked instinctively to make sure it was fully closed. I was just about to follow up my own question by telling him it didn’t matter what he wanted because whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get it. But as I looked up at him with a scowl, I caught sight of the blood. It was trickling down from his ear, making a red path to his jaw line.
“Eric, what happened?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
He smiled. “Nothing. It’s just the bleeds since I’m meant to be dead right now.” Oh, right. As quickly as it came, my concern vanished.
“Yes, why are you even up? You’re lucky I’m awake. I’ve been trying to get back to sleep for a long time now,” I said irritably.
“Oh? Did you have sweet dreams?” he asked with a meaningful leer.
My skin betrayed me with its blush.
“Ohhhh, you did.” He eyed me smugly, raising his brow in a clear invitation to share. An invitation I would be accepting over my dead body. (Not his.)
I rolled my eyes and then glared at him again.
“I’m going back to bed now. That is not an invitation.”
“Sookie,” he stopped me. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“It will take some time. Come sit with me.”
“Not now, Eric. We can talk later when it’s not the middle of the… day.” What a weird schedule I was becoming accustomed to.
“Sookie, I want to talk to you now.”
“And why do you think I should just accommodate your schedule whenever it happens to be convenient for you?”
It wasn’t so much that I wanted to go back to bed – quite the opposite actually – but I was irritated by his presumption.
“Well, I could just arrange for repeated visits from room service, housekeeping and maintenance,” he grinned. He was teasing, but knowing Eric, he would do it.
“Fine,” I grumbled, intent on conveying that things between us still were not fine. “I’ll be out in a minute.” With that, I shut the door in his face.
I took quite a bit more time than necessary getting ready. All I needed to do was throw on some clothes and brush my teeth; I certainly wasn’t doing any primping for him. But I needed to make it clear that I was not at his beck and call, and if he wanted a meeting, he could darn well wait until I was ready. By the time I was opening the door again, I half wondered whether he would have left (either having given up or turned the tables on me) or would be aggravated that I’d kept him waiting so long. But he was calmly leaning against the opposite wall, apparently unperturbed by the delay.
“You’re hungry,” he told me. “There’s a restaurant on the second floor.” He straightened up from the wall and extended a crooked elbow towards me as if he expected me to take his arm.
I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly, stalking quickly past him towards the elevator. “How do you even know I’m hungry?”
“I can sense it,” he said matter-of-factly, following after me in easy strides.
I didn’t know whether he meant there was some physical indicator – perhaps even subtly growling stomachs were easily audible to vampire ears – or if he was referring to the emotions that he could apparently now “sense” thanks to his blood in me. But the simple reminder of his duplicity made my blood boil. He had no right to be in my head, or anywhere else for that matter. Once again, I was tempted to shut him out (at least in the manner that I could still control) and head straight back to the room. But the adrenaline of last night’s events had shot my appetite at the time, and now my neglected stomach was leading the way whether I liked it or not.
We rode the elevator in silence. It was making me extremely crabby to deal with the combination of my intense indignation and the unbidden twinges of desire as I tried to tamp down thoughts of my dream. But as soon as the elevator doors opened again and we stepped out, nearly all traces of irritability evaporated as my senses were overwhelmed with the delicious smells wafting from the restaurant facing us. I had to concede that my stomach was now growling at a volume even an elderly human would have no trouble detecting.
We were immediately greeted and ushered into a booth, where the leggy hostess handed me a menu while her gaze lingered on Eric for a minute too long. He didn’t even seem to notice though, and soon she had left us alone. Normally I might have been preoccupied with her rudeness – after all, she didn’t know he wasn’t my date – but I pushed away any errant trace of jealousy in favor of studying my breakfast options.
Thankfully our waitress telegraphed far more appropriate thoughts (the part of her brain that wasn’t focused on our order was reconciling her work schedule with her son’s various sports practices), and she was also very prompt. Before I knew it, I had hot caffeine coursing through me. I didn’t bother conversing much with Eric, figuring we were well beyond pleasantries – not that he deserved them in any event – and that I would be in much better shape to deal with whatever his newest request was once I had a full stomach.
Happily, my food also arrived in short order. The Elvis pancakes looked and smelled amazing, and I couldn’t help but murmur in pleasure as I took my first bite. Peanut butter, chocolate, bananas and pure decadence rolled around on my appreciative tongue; this concoction was indeed fit for a King. As I relished each bite, it occurred to me offhandedly that it was surprising to find such delicious fare at a hotel catering to those who could only consume blood.
Speaking of which, the vampire sitting across from me (who had not even bothered ordering a Tru Blood) had been surprisingly quiet, seemingly content to watch me eat. Perhaps it was amusing to him to see me make a pig of myself, but I didn’t much care. After all, what better time for comfort food than following a night when you’ve nearly been killed multiple times? Not to mention unwittingly becoming tied to a sneaky a-hole thanks to your own naivety…
Now that he had invaded my thoughts, though, I figured there was no point in postponing our conversation. Between bites (I still was not going to waste any of this), I reluctantly posed the question.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”