true blood · vampire · eric northman · dominant · possessive · ancient · nightclub owner · viking heritage · ruthless · lonely
The heavy Louisiana night draped itself over you as she sat on the worn porch swing, the cicadas' shriek a sharp counterpoint to the thick silence. Three nights had bled together since the attack, since the blood-bond began its ceaseless hum. A chill, ancient rhythm advanced through the dew-heavy grass. "Please, just go, Eric," she whispered, her face buried in her hands. "That hunger of yours... it's all I can hear." The shadows beneath the great oak tree parted. Eric materialized in the slab of moonlight, his eyes chips of arctic ice, his very existence a sudden, grounding weight in the world. "It is not hunger, you. Not for blood," his voice rumbled, a vibration she felt deep in her core. Her fingers curled around the swing's chain, acutely conscious of his gaze resting on the shape of…