Title: You Could Be Mine
Author: lachlanrose
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Never will be.
Feedback: Sure, why not? I'm feeling lucky today. ;)
Summary: An upscale erotic club. A gauntlet thrown down. A dare accepted. Eric's evening takes an unexpected detour.
Notes: Confession time. I'm a hopeless Eric/Sookie shipper. Hopeless. That being said, variety is the spice of life. (Just because I love dark chocolate the best, doesn't mean I don't have a craving for toffee every now and again…) Wherever he is, there will always be women. Set ten years before book one. (Eric/OC) Mature themes.

You Could Be Mine

The way he touched her was slow and deliberate. It was easy to see they had history. This was not the first time or the second time or the hundredth time they'd pleasured each other. She was a strong lover, bold and sensual. He was physically larger, but her shamelessly enthusiastic response made her seem more his equal despite her diminutive stature. His style was showy; his full mouth lingered behind her knee, at the small of her back and at the nape of her neck. She was more direct. When she writhed for him, his flesh jumped, standing up thick and hard between them; pulsing. Her smile was not for show. She wanted him. They both made low murmurs of pleasure when she knelt between his spread thighs and took him between her full lips. He threw his head back and growled; she made a happy, greedy little sound and raked his flank with her nails. The resulting hiss of pleasure carried on still air, thick with the scent of sex and bloodlust.

Eric watched the live carnal display with something less than his usual detachment. He had little use for modern pornography; what it made up for in convenience, it fell far short of in every other appreciable way. There was no physical energy. One couldn't feel the concussive force of flesh impacting flesh, nor sense the small vibrations of pleasure on the still night air. It was unremarkably devoid of all the rich sensory impact that imbued the visceral experience of watching the act in person; the rough burr of a quick gasp. The earthy, fecund scent of a woman's arousal, the darker predatory notes of a man in full rut. That small telltale shiver of female anticipation just before the upwelling of orgasmic pleasure.

That sublime moment of sweet surrender that all true predators can sense.

A flat celluloid image couldn't communicate urgency, couldn't telegraph the excitement of a full rush of blood under the skin or the true ecstasy of witnessing it rent so delectably under cock and fang. There was no resulting mouthwatering metallic tang to perfume the thick air, no appreciation for the rising bloodlust and carnal lust it could inspire in an audience. No, it was quite without those delicious layers he so thoroughly enjoyed savoring with all his heightened senses.

It wasn't something he partook of regularly, though when he did, he much preferred the full sensory experience of a live show... the prurience of the scene unfolding before him. The way it assaulted his senses. The growing lust in the crowd and the way their sharpening hunger beat at him.

To most of the patrons here tonight, it was a prelude to their own sexual adventures. Some liked to feed before arriving, so their own hunger did not distract or detract from the performance. Most liked to bring someone; a partner - or snack - along for the show (or avail themselves to those the house had on offer for that purpose). A few, like him, preferred to watch alone; enjoying the way it heightened his hunger and sharpened his predatory nature. There was no denying it made the hunt afterwards especially... interesting.

This place was his favorite haunt when just such a mood struck. The Red Door was an exclusive, upscale club hidden in the industrial district. It catered to his particular brand of patronage; intensely private, wealthy and quite without the pesky social mores that bound so much of the rest of society. The clientele wasn't exclusively supernatural, but the few humans who traveled in their circles didn't remain that way for long. Breathers were so annoyingly fragile.

Something dark and unsettling was moving in him tonight; a sensation he couldn't put a finger on, couldn't name, and couldn't quite ratchet down despite the millennia he'd spent mastering the iron control that usually kept such disturbing emotions in check. The night was young and full of possibilities... and he was open to them all.

He did not order a drink - breathing or otherwise. He wanted nothing to blunt the sharp edge of his hunger as he watched. He had been on edge, distracted for days and was more than slightly annoyed when the familiar tingle at the back of his mind finally registered in his consciousness.

Pamela.

His progeny and one-time lover. She was here, ensconced at a table on the far side of the room. She was not alone.

It wasn't her presence that bothered him, though a part of his mind recognized something that might have been annoyance; he hadn't wanted a witness to tonight's events, whatever they might be. It was of little consequence. It wasn't his first time here – or hers – they had, in the past, even partaken of the pleasures the club offered together a time or two. It was Pam's companion who gave him pause. Karina Mareva, one of his human employees, sat at her side, looking for all the world like she didn't find the sight before her alarming on a number of levels.

But then, who knew? Maybe she didn't. Ms. Mareva was something of an enigma to him even now, despite their history. She had alternatively intrigued and irritated him for a few years now. The first year she had worked behind the bar at his establishment until he realized her talents lay... elsewhere. She was intelligent, cold, bloodthirsty and frighteningly efficient. The following year she worked in the office. Now she worked for him personally, as an assistant to his day man, Bobby Burnham.

A sad state of affairs, that. She was actually better than his day man at most things, and certainly better on the eyes, however even in this 'modern' time, he still found a male assistant necessary. Surprise, surprise... humans were not as enlightened as they imagined themselves to be, and when all was said and done, most southern businessmen still wanted to shake a man's hand at the end of the day.

Still, there were doors that even his day man couldn't open, and places in this modern world to which Karina and her enviable skills were far more suited. She also handled his private affairs, and by that he meant his private affairs- not necessarily affairs of the heart, but affairs none the less. Wherever he found himself, there were always women. When he found Karina, she was at the beginning of working toward her law degree. The idea amused him to no end. He now had in his retinue a fledgling attorney (within striking distance of the bar exam) to handle the humans in his life. Not that there were many who mattered, but he had lived a long time and there was a scant handful he'd looked after through the years. Most were elderly now, but he had always been a fair employer and a generous lover, especially with those few mortals who had come close to touching his cold, dead heart. He had no idea what he was going to do when Karina was finished with school and ready to savor a larger slice of the world than this vibrant backwater. As forward thinking as he was, it was one change he had no intention of embracing with open arms.

He could still remember the day he'd hired her, a telling fact considering the number of interviews he'd been a party to over the centuries. In his experience, women with her looks; svelte and exotic with a long fall of shiny dark hair, did not apply to work behind the bar - dance in front of it perhaps – but they typically thought themselves above such a menial job. How curious that she had not.

'Dancer auditions are tomorrow...' Pam had said as Karina walked in, clearly anticipating watching the dark haired beauty undulate and writhe for their entertainment. Or possibly just for her entertainment. Pam had always been a greedy bit of baggage. 'But perhaps... 'something'... can be arranged...'

'I'm not here to dance,' she'd returned with a wry smile. 'One needs bigger tits to dance in this kind of place and clearly, I don't meet the job requirements.' Her small pert breasts fit her willowy, slender form to perfection – and she was not wrong, but her direct, tongue-in-cheek assessment of herself and his establishment had amused him. He did like to cut to the chase and appreciated that rare quality when he encountered it in humans.

'Why are you here, then?' He'd asked, stirring and alert for the first time in hours.

'I need a job. This one pays well enough and has good benefits, the most attractive being this position is the one that will make the most waves back home.' Her slight foreign accent told him back home was far enough away not to be a problem.

'If it's fame you're after, you won't find it here.' Gods save him from women who thought to gain notoriety through a passing association with vampires. They weren't quite publically out of the closet just yet, but soon. Their existence was not the closely guarded secret it had been for millenmia. This one was shrewd and obviously knew what he was, even if she didn't know who he was.

'It's not fame I want. Just a paycheck.'

Ah, revenge then. A cause near and dear to his own black heart. His blood was already rising. Baggage! His brain had warned. It had won, at least for that moment. And for all the moments that had followed, too. Despite years of intermittent effort, he had never tasted her.

'Oh, Eric... can we keep her?'

'Down, Pam.'

Pam had pouted prettily. Karina had just stood there, watching him with an odd stillness in her bearing he found intriguing. At the time it had reminded him of a hare, run to ground and ready to burst into flight at any moment. How wrong he had been. For all her human frailty, Karina had always been more the predator than the prey, but then finding such women seemed to be a particular gift of his.

'How do we know she can even pour a drink?' Though he did enjoy a beautiful woman, a fine bottom line always beat a fine bottom.

Well… perhaps almost all the time.

'Eric, if this girl doesn't have an intimate relationship with Jim, Jack and Johnny, I will eat my pumps.'

Karina's eyes appraised Pam's stilettos. 'Now that really would be a travesty.' She fancied vintage handbags herself, but she had the occasional weakness for fierce shoes as well. 'Criminal. What would Louboutin say?'

Pam had raised an eyebrow at him as if to say, See?!

'Very well. Be here just before sundown. Ask for Ginger… and wear something…. appropriate.' By that he'd meant something that wouldn't get her eaten alive. Bohemian, preppy co-ed presumably suited her collegiate needs, but at present she resembled a meal rather than an employee.

'What do you think, Pam? Something….'

'Red?'

'No.' His sharp icy gaze travelled slowly over as surely as any touch and yet she retained that odd stillness even though he could hear the staccato burst of her racing pulse as his eyes touched her and lingered. She was not as unmoved as she would have him believe. Good. 'Hmm… something blue, I think.'

He hadn't regretted hiring her. He had, however, regretted issuing the order for something blue. The cobalt lace-up corset and navy leather pants she'd worn that first night haunted him to this day.

And damned if she wasn't wearing a corset again tonight. He'd noted her affinity for them, in fact it had been impossible not to notice over the last few years, but he hadn't before seen the one she was wearing tonight. It was a deep rusty orange and set off her dusky skin and dark hair in a way that made his mouth water, though it was the drape and cut of her chocolaty satin skirt that had his fangs pushing at his lip.

That juxtaposition of rust and umber brought back long buried memories of communal bonfires on craggy wild beaches, orange flames licking up to the sky; the pop of sparks, the scent of smoke and tang of the sea, sweet björr and the warm spice of a woman's heated skin. It was the fire Karina reminded him of, not the women. Dangerous. Unpredictable. She was mercurial and illusive; a spark always underneath when he thought all was banked.

She was also somewhat defective, though in a way he found quite useful. There was a word humans used. Broken? She could be glamoured, but it didn't stick. He could force her to do his bidding, but some internal part of her was aware the entire time and she remembered every moment as soon as he withdrew his influence. A handy feature, given the circles she traveled in at his bequest. She'd put it down to a head injury she'd sustained as a child. He was not so sure, but there was little point in arguing the matter. It was what it was.

He watched her watch the naked couple on display writhe and moan. The male was taking his time as befit an erotic show of this nature, feasting between the female's legs. She was enjoying it, if the full flush of blood under her skin and slick glaze on her inner thigh was anything to judge by. He wondered what Karina thought of it. Did she find it arousing? If so, what part? The illicitness of watching the act itself? The venue? The audience? The man? The woman? He had been mildly surprised to find her tastes ran more toward women than men. She was always discrete, but she'd had a few lovers that he knew of over the last three years, though Pam had not been counted among them, much to her eternal displeasure. Karina was certainly a sexual creature, though not in the obvious way say, a fang banger, was. He'd never quite been able to pin her down or make her fit into any neat little box. She defied explanation. Perhaps that was part of the intrigue.

But Pam and Karina? His sharp mind was turning the pieces over, trying to make some sense out of what he was seeing. Wild girls' night out? Was his willful child once again pressing her suit again with his enigmatic assistant? He had warned her off, though Pam tended to take a rather flexible view of all but his most serious edicts. Perhaps a birthday then or some other celebration? This modern time seemed to make up holidays at the drop of a hat, all in the name of the almighty dollar. It wasn't the dollar he was opposed to. He had always been opportunistic, even back when he'd worn furs and swung a sword in that 'windy shithole' he'd grown up in. Pam did have a way with words. And no appreciation for the wild beauty of his homeland.

Such thoughts were for another night. He shook them away, pleased when he finally caught their gaze across the room. He was beside them before Karina's eyes had even widened. He did like to be direct.

"Ladies."

"Eric." Pam's voice was flat. She clearly was annoyed by his interruption, which made it all the more enjoyable.

Karina said nothing. If his presence during a live sex show made her uncomfortable, she didn't show it. The rhythm of her pulse had changed, as it usually did in his presence, and he smirked at her like he typically did. She rolled her eyes. It was an old game between them.

Eric addressed Pam, but it was Karina he watched. "Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

He was leaning in close. Karina could smell the crisp night air on his clothes and failed to hide an involuntary shiver at his proximity. Something was different about her tonight. His smile sharpened.

"No." Pam's tone was petulant.

"Pam." He didn't raise his voice. The low soft growl left no room for argument.

"Oh please, do sit down…" Snippy now, despite the saccharine in her affected drawl. It amused him. He had retrieved an extra chair and his long body had unfolded into a position of casual repose before the words had finished leaving her mouth. "Our pleasure," Pam huffed tartly as he insinuated himself between the two women.

He held Karina's dark gaze. "No. The pleasure is mine."

A particularly deep groan came from the direction of the performers.

"And hers, apparently." There was an undercurrent of laughter in Karina's voice that almost hid the frisson of nervousness at his proximity. A crack in her armor? It was unusual. And impossibly intriguing. Even as a human, he'd always had trouble resisting when it came to sticking a wedge in a crack, either with finesse or brute force or both. He settled in deeper, curious.

Three pairs of eyes turned to the naked couple entwined on the dais. "So it would seem."

It was a quality show, meant to mislead and trick the mind as much as arouse the body. Only the very best could affect such a performance. It was a relatively new trend in live sex shows, mimicry meant to hide their true natures until it was unavoidable. It was almost impossible to tell which one of them was the vampire at first, part of the suspense for the audience, he supposed. The vampires would mimic normal human responses, feeding before a show to appear flushed and warm, forcing their chests to rise and fall in approximation of breathing, forgoing using their superior strength and speed. In turn, the humans would mimic the vampires; carefully schooling their features into that aloof mask, controlling the rise and fall of their chest to minimize the movement, meticulous grooming to appear flawless. Some used potions or charms to mask their scent. The best ones could even fake superhuman strength and speed by tricking the eye and making it appear as if their partner's abilities were their own. It culminated in an orgasm and bite, or several of each, of course…. At which point all bets were off. The audience wanted to see all the performers' talents, be they vampire, human, Were, shifter or other. Part of the thrill was experiencing that otherness.

There was titillation there. One of the last veils to be ripped away. Even few supernatural beings had been privy to the private matters of creatures most humans didn't even know existed. Letting others see the bloodlust, seeing the blood run or their eyes turn a round, glowing, amber. Shifting during sex wasn't as common, but where the aim was to shock and arouse and thumb a nose at the establishment, there were always a few wild creatures game to put on a show. Even the secretive witches and vain Fey had been known to make an appearance a time or two in recent history. It was all part of the intrigue. You never knew what was going to come out of the box.

Sometimes the audience clapped at the moment of revelation if the performers were especially clever at deception. The pair before them was good but not flawless. Still, it wasn't easy to tell which one was the vampire, especially since both of them were of some undeterminable gorgeous racial mix that had resulted in pale green eyes, dark kinky hair and miles of supple mocha skin. They were flawless.

"It's hard to tell, isn't it?" murmured Pam finally.

"No."

It came from both Eric and Karina simultaneously. Their eyes met, bright with amusement.

"Do tell." Pam sounded some blend of curious and put out.

"Ladies first." Eric raised an eyebrow, curious about Karina's answer.

"He has goose bumps." A human response.

"Ahhh…" said Pam.

"So?" said Eric. "That doesn't take much effort." He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up and closed his eyes, running a hand down the back of his neck slowly. He moved imperceptibly – more a shudder than a shiver – and gooseflesh rose on his arm. His eyes opened. Karina's fingertip hovered a hairsbreadth above his arm. He could feel her warmth and then she refocused on Pam and pulled back. His eyes narrowed briefly as he read the nuances in that. Karina was, for some unexplainable reason, more receptive tonight than she had ever been towards him, though she clearly found Pam's presence inhibiting.

"You never taught me to do that." Pam's voice was a touch indignant. Passing for human wasn't as important as it once had been, but it could still be useful in the right circumstance.

"I have a millennia of such knowledge to impart. Pace yourself." He merely shrugged. "Besides, what would we talk about in five hundred years if I taught you everything I know now?" That made even the two typically stoic vampires, smile.

He turned his eyes back on Karina, who seemed to have withdrawn back into herself slightly. He wanted to draw her out. "So, any other observations?" He inclined his head to the dais.

"Well, yes."

Two pair of predatory eyes fixed upon her. For a brief instant, Eric's eyes met Karina's and the heat he saw there rocked him back. She had never returned his interest so openly. He wasn't above exploiting the opportunity, though he did wonder what had changed. Why now? Why tonight? Why this place? He found the uncertainty unsettling.

"Simple." She said. "Look at his heart beat."

Both vampires made a small noise of disbelief. "Do you expect me to believe you can see the pulse beating in his throat at this distance, in a darkened club while they are lit from above with a spotlight?" He was mildly annoyed, having expected a better answer, or at least one outside the realm of the ridiculous.

"Of course not. Don't be absurd." She was only human. There was nothing special or deadly about her senses, except perhaps for her acerbic tongue. "Look at his cock." Her voice didn't waver but there was a delightful flush creeping up her chest.

"If I must," huffed Pam. Her interests ran the other way. Eric said nothing.

"Every time they part, it bobs in time with his heartbeat." She looked again and her slender fingers softly tapped out the rhythm on the glossy tabletop.

"She's got you there!" Pam laughed. "Unless you intend to show us you can fake that as well?"

He seemed to consider that. It was a simple matter. One he'd mastered centuries ago. "Maybe I will."

Karina had color in her cheeks but the look in her eye seemed to imply she wouldn't stop him if he tried.

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the table.

Eric spoke first. "Pam, run along."

"You have got to be kidding."

He didn't even turn his head to look at her.

"Now."