How the letter found him, Eric wasn’t sure. No one save his Child knew where he was and there is no way she would have been a part of this. She would rather stake herself. The words the letter contained were even more of a mystery. One he didn’t know whether he had the fortitude to solve. The whole thing reeked of Faerie and he swore long ago never to get mixed up with them again. A certain Faerie hybrid was the reason he was here in the first place.
But the ache in his chest, the hole she left there, has never gone away and after this long it doesn’t seem likely that it ever will. Maybe if he can finally put her to rest, prove the letter wrong by gazing on her resting place, he can be free of this eternal torture.
A growl rumbles from his chest as his fingers itch to rip the paper to shreds. Who the fuck writes letters these days anyway? And who would dare write him about her? Everyone who knows anything of Eric Northman knows to never speak of her in his presence or out of it for that matter. Many lost their lives before that rule became well-known.
With a sigh he gently folds the still smooth paper and places it back in its envelope, then lays it over the wrinkled and faded picture that somehow found its way to his chest, pressing them both against his silent heart. There is no need to read it for a twelfth time, he had it memorized by the third. Only one small word written within it is keeping him from destroying the whole thing and moving on with his night.
He barely recognizes his own voice, not having heard it in so long, but the hope he hears in it disgusts him. Whoever this impertinent trouble maker is, claims his lover still lives and when he finds this trickster they will pay dearly for giving him this spark of hope. There will be no quick death for them.
It’s pathetic that a thousand years have passed and she is still the bane of his existence. It hurts just as it always does when the thought crosses his mind- how much agony he could have saved himself had he only killed her the moment he realized the threat she was.
Tennyson can go fuck himself with his “better to have loved and lost” bullshit!
No matter how hard he has tried she has never let herself be pushed from his heart or mind.
He watched over her for a decade before he could no longer bear it and had to leave again. Seeing her carrying another man’s children was too much. Knowing that man gave her what he never could cut deeper than he had ever imagined. His only solace was the smile he sometimes glimpsed on her face as he hovered out of sight. She seemed happy and she deserved that happiness. Her life would be short and he loved her enough that he would leave her to find what joy she could from it without him. She would always be his la douleur exquise- that heart wrenching pain of wanting the love of someone unattainable.
With the help of Cataliades he had ensured her safety for as long as she lived, and of those she held dear. Once she was no longer a part of this earth he wouldn’t care what happened to them, but he had wanted to ensure her peace while she was still alive and protecting the ones she cared for was a start. He also put away a large sum to keep her comfortable over the years, again with the demon’s help. The lawyer swore to keep Eric’s involvement in her life a closely guarded secret, she would be made to believe the money was from Cataliades himself.
With that handled, he had left. Nothing except losing Godric had ever hurt more.
About two hundred years after that, a letter came from Cataliades saying she was no more. Her Fae blood and maybe that of his own had kept her alive for much longer than he expected, but not nearly as long as he had secretly hoped. The demon said she passed peacefully.
She took what was left of his with her.
In his grief he finally understood why his Maker had left this world behind and he no longer blames Godric for leaving, but envies him instead. From his long dance with it, Eric has found that life offers nothing but pain in the end. Sure he had a little fun here and there, but after a while the joy left him. A vampire can only spill so much blood, gain so much money, or fuck so many people before it all becomes pointless. The light faded from his blue eyes and now every long night that passes between sunset and sunrise he is haunted by the loneliness and despair she left him with.
For awhile he tried to find another to fill the void she ripped open in him, but none of them ever met her equal. Not even close. They were just foul-smelling blood bags with eyes not quite the right shade of blue, skin too pale or a body not soft and curvy enough. None of them had her fire or her heart. Not once since her had any stirred him to the heights she had or calmed the beast within him so effortlessly.
After wasting a few hundred years with that he traveled the far corners of the world, visiting all the places he had missed in his first millennia. That proved just as fruitless, nothing he found lit even a small spark of interest in him. So he went back to his roots, to the windy shit hole Pam loved to hate so much. That was where he allowed himself to sink into the melancholy he had seen his own Maker succumb to and where the letter had arrived along with his monthly blood delivery today. Taking the letter from the box he had tossed the blood into the freezer along with the last two years worth, then had went back to bed. Slipping his fangs into warm flesh was just a memory to go along with all the others now. None he tasted after her were as sweet anyway. Hell, he couldn’t even remember when he last saw another being, let alone drank from or fucked one.
If he were honest with himself he lost his zest for life the night he told her goodbye for the last time a millennia ago. Since then it has only been his stubbornness and that of his Child’s that has kept him from meeting the sun.
Speaking of which, she will be furious when she finds out about this. But thankfully she’s in Milan so maybe it can all be put to rest for good before she finds out.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Nothing gets by my Child.
Even with their bond silent and gone for so long she still manages to know his every feeling. How she does that without actually speaking to him, he’ll never know, their communications limited to only a few scant printed words every few months. But it doesn’t matter, she will understand with time. Yes, it will hurt her, just as the loss of Godric hurt him, but she will understand in the end why her Maker met his.
Enough is enough. It is way past time for these emotions to be gone and it seems there is only one way to accomplish that- the being they reside in must meet his end -and maybe, just maybe, the one he has longed for will be there on the other side to meet him.
But first there must be closure.
Within a week Eric has every loose end from a two thousand-year existence neatly tied up. Most of which had already been in order for some time, there was little else that needed to be handled. Pam has been distracted and will be for a few months longer. Her own children will help her bear her loss when the time comes. She is an exceptional vampire and Maker, as are her progeny. Godric’s line will no doubt continue for many millennia.
The trip overseas, to the place he swore he would never step foot in again, was uneventful and too quick. It made him long for the days of the big cumbersome ships that ensured weeks of travel or even the jets that took only hours to cross the oceans instead of these rockets that got you there in less than one. As ready as he is for this pain to finally not be felt, he cannot help but be wary and even afraid of what lies ahead of him once he returns. Reading the letter over and over on the short journey did not help those fears.
I hope this letter finds you well and that you may find it within you to allow me this intrusion. You do not know me, but I believe you once loved someone who is very dear to me, as she did you.
I have heard stories of your love for each other all my life, from the time I was a small child, but now that my time is coming to an end I wish to see her truly happy. I do not believe I have ever seen her so. My Mother and Grandfather said the same. She is exceptional at hiding that fact from everyone. She will be alone once I leave this world, for she is the last of us. By some cruel twist of fate she is the only one of her line to possess the spark and it seems determined to make her outlive us all despite her wish not to.
It is my understanding that you were told she left this world long ago. I am not sure why you were told this because it is far from the truth. She is alive, though assuredly different from when you last knew her so long ago. I believe that sly demon had something to do with convincing her it was for your own good. It very well may have been, but I do know she has always regretted that decision and many more where you are concerned. They have weighed on her immensely over the centuries. Thankfully the demon’s twisted dealings finally caught up with him and he burned not very long ago. I’m sure you would be pleased to know it was the hottest fire I have ever felt.
We are home again, her and I. She wanted my last days to be as comfortable as possible, surrounded by the house that has been our family’s for so long. I hear that it would have rotted ages ago if not for you. She regretted never thanking you for that. I’m certain if you choose to find us it will be among the long list of her regrets she will apologize for.
I know I am asking a lot from you. You may have lost your love for her long ago, but I assure you she has never lost hers for you. I see it in her eyes every time you are mentioned and though she would be furious with me for prying, I have also read it in her words. You very well may have moved on and want nothing to do with her, but she has done so much for me and our family as a whole, that I want to do something in return. Finding you and hopefully bringing you back together, even if it is only to say hello, was the best gift I could think of. Please hurry, for I fear once I’m gone she will find some way to follow me.
After reading it another dozen times he had nearly ripped the seat he sat in from the floor despite how well it had stretched and molded itself to fit his large frame perfectly. It had groaned under the strain drawing the attention of the crew who thankfully retreated with a single shake of his head. Every being within that flying tin can would have died had they pressed him. None of them knew the tenuous hold he barely had over himself, they would never have dared let him board if they had.
There were still many hours before dawn when they landed in Dallas and he could easily make his destination with plenty of night to spare, but his ancient body refused to move from the tarmac. What was he doing back here? This was insanity. She was dead and had been for eight hundred years. Yes, yes she was and he was here to prove just that. But what if the letter is true?
He takes off at top speed, headed east as fast as he can go. He has to know and he has to know as soon as possible. Though the closer he gets the slower he flies.
The thick, humid air almost seems to be invading him with memories. Every nuance within it bringing another picture of her to his mind. He slows to give himself time to relive them despite the pain each one causes. It’s surprising to him that the air is so similar to last time he was here and that it’s able to conjured so many shades of her at once. All his time here before her and after is lost in a deep fog, but every moment with her is crystal clear. A thousand years spent trying to forget has failed to dim any part of her from his memory.
True death will be his only escape and he will welcome it as soon as he knows.
Before he knows it, his instincts have taken him to the place he swore never to return to. Seeing the lights from her home filtering through the trees nearly brings him crashing to the ground. He lands, but not gently, into the woods surrounding the house. He quickly finds his feet, his eyes finally settling on the place she called home once, and maybe still did. The flood of emotions he feels at seeing it again threaten to overwhelm him. It is the same, yet different, just as he is. But while it has a lively new countenance to it, he knows he no longer does. He has lived inside his dead body for thousands of years, but has never felt more dead than he does now, being faced with his gut wrenching past.
When the realization that the house is empty hits him another piece of his cold heart is chipped away. She isn’t here, no one is.
A scent he never dared hoped to breathe in again is floating through the air along with the moist breeze. It’s her, it’s stronger, more potent, but it’s her. He would know her scent anywhere.
But it cannot be. Surely it is only a cruel trick. Or is it?
He nearly slams into the front door his need to know is so intense. Will it open for him? Or has his entrance been blocked all these years? With a shaky hand he lifts the handle, holding a breath he doesn’t need. After hearing the soft metallic click of the latch releasing he gently pushes on the door. Frozen on the outside of the threshold, his eyes scan every inch of the familiar yet foreign interior that’s revealed as the heavy door swings slowly open. Her scent almost brings him to his knees when he tests the air again, only his grip on the door molding keeps him upright. She was here and recently too. Very recently. No less than half an hour if his nose is correct. His heart would be pounding its way through his chest right now if it could only beat.
She’s alive. His lover is alive.
He slowly closes his eyes and a lone tear slides down his cheek as he breathes her in deeply before taking a step forward. More tears and a strangled laugh escape him when nothing stops him, his invitation still open after all this time.
Could it be that she hasn’t forgotten him any more than he has her?
Smearing his bloody tears across his cheeks and palms he moves to reorient himself with her home. He probably shouldn’t, she would surely scold him for being rude, but he can’t help himself. He needs to know her again, feel close to her.
He starts at his left, drawn that way by the smells of food wafting through the rooms. They strengthen his hopes even more.
He enters her dinning room, now large and open, painted in a soft, almost nonexistent blue, holding only a sleek dark wooden table surrounded with a dozen chairs made of the same rich wood. He once sat at a different table in this room and signed her house back over to her. He had hope at the time it could be a new beginning for them, that once she had some time to collect herself they could start again. Then Burrell and his twisted fucked up mind came along. Something always seemed to come along and ruin things for them. If she really was still alive, he would never let anything tear them apart again.
In the center of the table a candelabra he recognizes as her grandmother’s sits on top of a long strip of fabric that runs the length of the table and then off each end a few inches. He moves closer and runs his fingers lightly over the delicate stitching. Another piece of her grandmother she has held onto. It’s astounding the cloth has stayed together for so long.
He looks through the new thick, floor to ceiling windows that face her meticulously manicured yard. He was too anxious to be inside to pay attention to it before, but now he sees the beds of beautiful roses winding their way across it. Their colors are barely muted by the darkness outside, they must be brilliant during the daytime. She always did love flowers.
The smells are coming from the kitchen which lays just beyond the dining room. It’s twice the size of her old one and a hundred times more modern. Long gone are the ancient appliances and thin, worn out linoleum. The cabinets are made of the same rich wood he found in the dining room and just as sleek. They are topped with a smooth white stone that has swirls of blue and gray running through it, giving the appearance of smoke against a snowy sky. The light blue walls and darker blue tiles add to the appeal. A huge metal island fills the middle of the room and holds the source of the smells. On top of a shiny black cooking surface within it sits a large pot, steam escaping from under its lid. He can almost see her standing there, surrounded by food, bowls, and utensils cooking up a feast for her family just as her grandmother had done. It is easy to imagine the many happy hours she must have spent here. The thought heals a tiny piece of his broken soul. It’s one of the reasons he let her go, she never would have had those times with him. It’s good that she had them.
Before he can dwell on it anymore he continues on through the house only glancing into the two pristine bedrooms and the one bathroom he finds. While her scent is there it isn’t strong enough for them to be hers. The new doorway at the end of the hall makes him pause. He tries to sort through his mind to remember the lay out of her home before, when it suddenly hits him. He jerks the door open and finds exactly what he expected- his cubby.
She kept it, he can’t believe she kept it.
She was always tolerant of his kind, maybe she has had a regular stream of vampires staying with her and that’s why it’s still here. He drops slowly down into the entrance, landing softly on the floor. All his notions fall away once there. No one save her has been in his cubby in a very long time. And from the strength of her scent she apparently spends many hours down here.
His chest tightens at that revelation, the books and picture he finds on the nightstand only increase the pressure. The books are his, the ones he kept here over that seemingly endless year she was missing and they are even more worn than they were then. Not only from time, but from use. A few have been sealed inside protective cases, assumedly to prevent them from turning to dust. Those have new copies next to them.
His eyes move to the picture and he gently picks it up. It’s them, faded and cracking, but them. He has never seen it before tonight, but he remembers taking it. They had made love for hours, then cuddled together in her bed just talking of everything and nothing. She had suddenly jumped up and ran to her closet coming back with the camera. At the time he hadn’t known what the contraption was, but she explained it to him, then asked him to smile for her has she held it over their heads. He had smiled, but not at the camera. When she had turned to face him, sweetly scolding him for not doing it right he had reached up and pressed the button. They had been caught staring into each other’s eyes, with goofy smiles stretching across their faces. A perfect moment frozen in time.
He places it back down and returns to the hallway before he falls apart. Following the almost black wood floors down the hall he finds himself back where he started. No longer is the entrance filled with the old rickety stairs and hideous wallpaper it once had. Now gleaming steps of glass, edged with dark metal seem to float out of the crisp grey wall and up to the next floor. The urge to climb them is strong, but he forces himself into the room on his right instead. The living room where she took such care of his feet, where they made love on the sofa, then talked in front of the fireplace for hours.
It shames him how badly he wants it to look as it did then. A part of him wishing she had kept it just as it had been because she couldn’t bring herself to part with the memories they made there, even though he knows there is no possible way the old sofa and chairs didn’t turn to dust ages ago. Some parts of it are the same though. It hasn’t been expanded, the walls still stand where they were first built, and the cutting edge furniture sits in the same arrangement as the old pieces did. The warm earth tones on the walls and fabrics still make it feel as warm and cozy as it did that first cold week of the new year a thousand years ago, despite the large new windows that now stretch across the exterior walls. He moves to stand in front of the warm fire she or someone else has left burning in the fireplace, memories of that God awful afghan she wrapped them in floating through his mind, causing his lips to pull up at the corners for the first time in centuries. It’s rather disappointing that it’s no longer necessary for him to go chop wood to keep her warm.
The task would surely calm his frayed nerves.
He turns and wanders around the room, looking at the moving pictures within their frames of people he does not know, but who look familiar anyway. They all have pieces of his lover in their faces. Some have her beautiful eyes or hair, others her nose, he even sees one with her smile. A boy, tall and lean, with light brown hair and green eyes. Probably a grandson many times removed.
The pull to go upstairs finally becomes too strong to fight and he makes his way up, more moving and changing pictures slowing his progress. He watches each one closely, desperate, but afraid to catch a glimpse of her. Relieved, but saddened when her face never graces any of the frames.
Slowly he steps up onto the landing at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t have to sort through the wealth of smells coming from the house. Ignoring the mustiness of the old wood hidden behind the brash chemical odors of the new walls and the paint that covers them, he allows her scent to draw him to the right room, to her room. It’s the same one they made love in so many times in that short week. He braces himself in the doorway, head down, eyes closed, the memories staggering.
He only knew her for a few short years. One week out of two thousand is all they spent together as lovers. She should be a blip in the map of his long life, but he knows even if it had only been a day it would have been enough to change him irrevocably. Nothing and no one before or since has meant what she has to him, not even Godric or Pam.
Opening his eyes he scans the room, his chest tightening painfully again at seeing the ornate old bed right where it had sat back then. His emotions won’t let him marvel that it has survived so many years, instead he stumbles over to it and snatches up the flimsy white cotton nightgown that lays across it. He presses it against his face so he can breathe her in between the sobs that come as his emotions finally overwhelm him. Time fades around him as he mourns her and the love they shared. The mistakes they made, the time they wasted.
She finds him there, sitting on the floor, his fists clutching her bedding and nightgown as the tears from his pitiful cries stain them.
“Eric,” his name comes to him in a strangled whisper from the voice he feared he’d never hear again. Then familiar arms wrap him tightly in their embrace, her tears flowing just as heavy.
“Sookie? Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” he chokes, crushing her against him.
Her head shakes as a sob erupts from her throat, “I’m here. You’re here. So sorry, I’m so very sorry,” she wails.
The world outside the house goes silent. The creatures there showing deference to the two ancient beings inside as their heartrending cries fill the air. They stay that way for hours, wrapped around each other, pouring out more grief and sorrow than any two beings should ever have to feel. Even after she falls asleep from emotional exhaustion, still drawing in deep shuddering breaths, he doesn’t let her go. He’ll never let her go again if he can help it. Not that it would be possible right now anyway, even in sleep her grip on him is almost painful.
He rises from the floor and floats them over and onto the bed. She grasps at him desperately, “No. Please don’t leave me again,” she whimpers.
“Never, min älskade. Never again,” he swears to her, burying his face into her golden hair.
His rumbling voice and cool breath cause her to fully wake. For the first time in a thousand years their eyes meet again and the air around them thickens, both of them noticing, but neither caring.
Tentative fingers reach out and trace eyebrows, cheekbones, lips, and jaws. They stare in silent awe at each other of several long minutes then Sookie bolts off the bed and into the bathroom. Eric jumps up to follow, not wanting her out of his sight for a second, and nearly crashes into her as she runs back to him. She sees the fear in his eyes and can feel it in the tight grip he has on her arms so she immediately works to calm him.
“I swear I’m not going to leave, Eric. I only want to clean you up,” she says, waving the wet cloth in her hand. “Please come sit,” she tells him softly, pulling towards the bed.
He quickly lets her go, a chagrined look clouding his features, then turns to sit down as she wants.
She’s not use to this Eric, his fear and unease are breaking her heart all over again. She walks slowly to him, giving him the sweetest smile her broken spirit is capable of then lifts his chin to bring his eyes to hers. They are awash with emotion, telling her everything he hasn’t been able to voice yet, and surely mirroring her own. Swallowing down the lump in her throat she begins to gently wash the red tears from his face.
To him she is still the most beautiful creature he has ever seen and he has missed her desperately. Other than the paleness of her once sunny hair he can barely see the effect the years have taken on her. Only her eyes show the true weight of time. They are still his favorite shade of blue even if they do not shine as they use to. He has to work very hard not to start weeping again.
She isn’t able to hold back her tears though when she sees what their long separation has done to him. He looks even worse than he did when he had hep-v. The light that once sparkled and shined from his beautiful blue eyes every time he looked at her is gone and his skin is more pale than she ever remembers it being. It is a sickly grey color and it clings tightly to his bones as if he hasn’t eaten in months. She never once thought of him as dead, he had more life in him than any creature she ever knew, but she can see it clearly now and it rips her heart wide open.
“Oh, Eric! What have I done to you?” she cries, falling to her knees in front of him, her face buried in her hands. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. All of it. All of it’s my fault!”
With the pieces of his heart tearing apart even more he reaches down and picks her quaking body from the floor and lays them down again.
“Ssshhhhh, älskade. Not all of it is your fault. I am to blame too. I should have fought harder for you, I shouldn’t have let you go so easily,” he says, his voice laced with self hate.
She jerks back, “No! No, Eric. You tried so hard. You were so good to me and I was nothing but a bitch to you. The things you made me feel terrified me. I was so afraid if I let myself really love you like I wanted to it would destroy me. I was petrified of loving you only to lose you. Turned out I lost you anyway,” she sobs.
He gathers her back into his chest, “Please, Sookie. Let’s not do this. No more pain and sorrow. I don’t want to waste another second on them,” he whispers to her.
She does her best to calm down, not wanting to be the cause of him enduring another ounce of pain. “I’ll try, but I’ve hated myself for what seems like forever. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself,” she sniffs.
“I know, I have felt the same. Maybe if we can forgive each other, we can find a way to forgive ourselves?” he asks, barely above a whisper.
She pulls back to look at him, cupping his gaunt cheeks, “I forgave you ages ago, Eric. Not that there was much to forgive,” she swears, smiling sadly.
He leans forward until his forehead rests against hers, “I forgave you too. The moment I choose to leave.”
She gasps with a shudder, “Why did you? I kept waiting for you to come back to see me. I waited six years before I let myself believe you didn’t want me anymore,” she whimpers, ripping another tear in his heart.
He takes in an unsteady breath, then lets it out with a sigh before pressing his lips to her forehead, “I stayed for ten years,” he starts and has to tighten his grip on her when she tries to pull away. “Please,” he begs. After a breath her body relaxes into his arms again and he continues, “At first I came once a week. I always seemed to miss you though or you would already be asleep. You seemed busy and happy, I did not want to ruin that for you. I had only brought you trouble and pain, you deserved some peace. And I was afraid. I didn’t think I could survive you turning me away again.” She lets out a pitiful cry and clings to him tighter. “I only came once a month after that, though I had others watching over you to keep you safe.”
“I did. I could not let you go unprotected. It was only after Cataliades told me you had died that I called it off.”
“I’m sorry,” she chokes. “I thought…”
“Shhhh, I know you are and I am too. We will leave that story for another night, okay?”
They lay quietly for a while, just soaking up the comfort of being in each other’s arms again. After centuries of begging the dawn to take him sooner, he wants to curse it when it starts drawing near.
“Dawn is coming, will you go with me to my cubby?” he asks, his voice smaller than she has ever heard it. Even with her clinging to him he’s afraid she won’t want to stay with him.
She looks at him and smiles softly while she strokes his limp hair, “Found it, did you?”
He only gives her a small sad smirk in return. She decides never to give up on making it as infuriatingly sexy as it use to be. “We can go to the cubby if you want, but you can stay here with me if you’d rather. Every window in the house is made to protect you from the sun.”
“You. Only you. It has always been only you, Eric. I never truly gave up. It’s why I kept this place. I wanted you to be able to find me and if you ever did, I wanted you to be safe here. So I kept the cubby and had all new windows put in. If you want, we can even watch the sunrise,” she tells him, kissing each of his prominent cheekbones.
“I would like that very much,” he sighs contentedly.
She gets up and holds her hand out for him. Once he’s on his feet she leads him over to the huge chaise lounge sitting in front of the window. He moves to sit down first, but she stops him, climbing in and settling back with her thighs spread. “Will you lay here?” she asks, patting her chest.
He doesn’t hesitate, quickly but gently laying back in her arms. One of them wraps around his chest, while the other begins to slide through his hair. His eyes close as she starts to hum a soft melody. He smiles, knowing it’s out of tune.
“Once the sun is up, I want to feed you,” she whispers.
Her heart clinches when he stiffens in her arms. “You don’t have to take it from me if you don’t want to, I have blood in the freezer,” she says trying to keep her voice steady.
He cranes his neck back to look up at her, “Who’s blood?” He has no appetite for any but hers, he is only curious.
“Mine. I have a chest freezer packed full of it. I had a tech come out once a month for years to draw it for me. With their new methods they can preserve it for centuries nowadays.”
“But why, Sookie?”
“You really don’t know?”
He shakes his head.
She leans forward and kisses his forehead softly then whispers against it, “For you, my love.”
When he looks back at her still confused she asks, “I take it you have not drank a single drop of the blood that has arrived at your door in the last two years?”
He sits up, and stares at her, incredulous, “That was your blood?”
She nods, shamed at her own actions, sadden that he let himself starve for so long. “I’m sorry. I should have never sent it. It was selfish of me to…..”
“Stop. I’m not angry, just confused. How did you know where I was? And if you did, why did you not come yourself?”
“I didn’t know, Eric, I swear. I would have come the second I knew if I had. The lab wouldn’t tell me where they sent it. It was hard enough to get them to agree to put my blood in place of your usual order. It took five years to convince them to do it. I thought surely if you tasted it, you would know I was still alive and come find me. I still had hope after the first year, but then I began to think you either didn’t recognize it, or didn’t want to find me. I never dreamed you weren’t drinking it! Why, Eric? Why are you starving yourself?” she cries.
He pulls her into his lap and sits back into the seat, stroking her back and arms and placing kisses against her pale hair. “I was tired, min älskade. Just tired,” he sighs.
She sits up, her blue eyes staring deeply into his soul, then they widen in fear. “You’re lying to me! You came here to tell me goodbye again, didn’t you? You want to meet the sun, to die for good. I won’t let you, Eric! I won’t!” she starts to scream, pulling and yanking him by his shirt.
He gently but firmly grips her face in his large hands, pulling her lips to his, kissing them and her tears over and over as he murmurs to her, “I came to see your grave, Sookie. I thought you were dead. So yes, I was going to tell you goodbye then meet the sun. I hoped you would meet me on the other side, but you’re here, you’re alive and I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“I love you too, Eric. I never stopped, not ever,” she cries, kissing him back.
The sweet, tender kisses soon become all-consuming, their lips, tongues, and hands desperate for more contact. Their clothes hastily shredded and in a scattered mess on the floor around them and then everything slows down. She cannot stop the tears from falling from her eyes, seeing her beautiful vampire’s body so wasted and weak. “Oh, my love,” she weeps, ghosting her hands over the cold, fragile skin of his once magnificent chest.
Eric refuses to let her distress stop them, “I’m okay, Sookie. Look at me. I’m still here and everything is right again,” he breathes out, picking her up and gently thrusting his way home.
“Eric,” she sighs, clinging to his neck as he moves her over him. “I love you, I love you,” she chants, matching her hips to his slow, deep pace.
“I love you,” he returns, sliding his hands into her hair and grinding his hips up into hers. “Look at me, lover. Let me see you. I’ve waited so long to see you again.”
Through her tears her eyes meet his and he is beautiful, just as he always has been. His long pale limbs, soft pink lips, and his golden hair. His blue eyes are brighter now, begging her to love him. She wants to open him up and pour her love into him, to heal his heart and soul with her own.
He surrenders to her love, entrusting his heart to her once more. She begins to heal it with every look, kiss, touch, and word she whispers in his ear. In return he loves her for each night they were apart, each kiss they weren’t able to give, for surviving long enough for him to find her again, but mostly just because he does. More than anything in existence.
Oblivious to the rising sun, they love each other so completely that they forget about the pain, the fear, the loneliness, and mostly importantly what hating themselves feels like. They just love.
His fangs have still refused to slide down, despite their passion, and she realizes how very weak he truly is. Reaching for the necklace that once was his and has adorned her neck for a century, Sookie quickly uses the eagle’s claw to puncture and tear at her jugular, her blood rushing out to meet him.
“Drink me,” she gasps, a second before he latches on.
He barely takes one swallow before he erupts inside of her, pulling her over the edge with him. He drinks from her deeply as they ride out the aftershocks.
Sookie had almost forgotten how amazing it was to make love to Eric. She will never allow herself to forget again.
Just as he finishes sealing the wound in her neck, he breaks through her lust filled haze by grasping her face and staring at her with desperate glowing eyes, “You will never leave me again,” he growls softly, his fangs finally snapping down, giving her a glimpse of the powerful vampire she knew so long ago.
It sends a shiver of pleasure running down her spine.
He tears into his wrist and offers it to her, “Drink.”
Keeping her eyes locked with his, she gently takes his wrist and brings it to her lips, “I will never leave you and you will never leave me,” she demands.
“Never again,” he growls.
She closes her lips over his torn skin and pulls deeply from the wounds, both of them shattering from the inside out as their bond that has been silent so long awakens once more.
An hour later they are two sated bodies in a tangle of limbs who only have eyes for each other.
“We missed the sunrise,” she whispers with a sad smile.
He whispers back, softly kissing her lips,”Being in your arms again is worth more than a million sunrises.”
“I love you, Eric.”
“I love you too, Sookie. Forever.”