Dead as a Doornail

hear the response on the other end, but Eric nodded, as he would if the speaker had been present. “Of course I’ll hold. Briefly.” In a minute, he said, “And hello to you, too, most beautiful princess. Yes, it keeps me busy. How’s business at the casino? Right, right. There’s one born every minute. I called to tell you something about your minion, that one named Mickey. He has some business connection with Franklin Mott?”
    Then Eric’s eyebrows rose, and he smiled slightly. “Is that right? I don’t blame you. Mott is trying to stick to the old ways, and this is America.” He listened again. “Yes, I’m giving you this information for free. If you choose not togrant me a small favor in return, of course that’s of no consequence. You know in what esteem I hold you.” Eric smiled charmingly at the telephone. “I did think you should know about Mott’s passing on a human woman to Mickey. Mickey’s keeping her under his thumb by threatening her life and property. She’s quite unwilling.”
    After another silence, during which his smile widened, Eric said, “The small favor is removing Mickey. Yes, that’s all. Just make sure he knows he should never again approach this woman, Tara Thornton. He should have nothing more to do with her, or her belongings and friends. The connection should be completely severed. Or I’ll have to see about severing some part of Mickey. He’s done this in my area, without the courtesy of coming to visit me. I really expected better manners of any child of yours. Have I covered all the bases?”
    That Americanism sounded strange, coming from Eric Northman. I wondered if he’d ever played baseball.
    “No, you don’t need to thank me, Salome. I’m glad to be of service. And if you could let me know when the thing is accomplished? Thanks. Well, back to the grindstone.” Eric flipped the phone shut and began tossing it in the air and catching it, over and over.
    “You knew Mickey and Franklin were doing something wrong to start with,” I said, shocked but oddly unsurprised. “You know their boss would be glad to find out they were breaking the rules, since her vamp was violating your territory. So this won’t affect you at all.”
    “I only realized that when you told me what you wanted,” Eric pointed out, the very essence of reason. He grinned at me. “How could I know that your heart’s desire would be for me to help someone else?”
    “What did you think I wanted?”
    “I thought maybe you wanted me to pay for rebuildingyour house, or you would ask me to help find out who’s shooting the Weres. Someone who could have mistaken you for a Were,” Eric told me, as if I should have known that. “Who had you been with before you were shot?”
    “I’d been to visit Calvin Norris,” I said, and Eric looked displeased.
    “So you had his smell on you.”
    “Well, I gave him a hug good-bye, so yeah.”
    Eric eyed me skeptically. “Had Alcide Herveaux been there?
    “He came by the house site,” I said.
    “Did he hug you, too?”
    “I don’t remember,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
    “It is for someone looking for shifters and Weres to shoot. And you are hugging too many people.”
    “Maybe it was Claude’s smell,” I said thoughtfully. “Gosh, I didn’t think of that. No, wait, Claude hugged me after the shooting. So I guess the fairy smell didn’t matter.”
    “A fairy,” Eric said, the pupils of his eyes actually dilating. “Come here, Sookie.”
    Ah-oh. I might have overplayed my hand out of sheer irritation.
    “No,” I said. “I told you what you wanted, you did what I asked, and now you can go back to Shreveport and let me get some sleep. Remember?” I pointed to my bandaged shoulder.
    “Then I’ll come to you,” Eric said, and knelt in front of me. He pressed against my legs and leaned over so his head was against my neck. He inhaled, held it, exhaled. I had to choke back a nervous laugh at the similarity the process held to smoking dope. “You reek,” Eric said, and I stiffened. “You smell of shifter and Were and fairy. A cocktail of other races.”
    I stayed completely immobile. His lips were about two millimeters from my ear. “Should I just bite you, and end itall?” he whispered. “I would never have to think about you again. Thinking about you is an annoying habit, and one I want to be rid of. Or should I start arousing you, and discover if sex with you was really the best I’ve ever had?”
    I didn’t