Dead and Gone Page 0,14
I yearned for him uncontrollably when we were separated; it was just that I was aware of him. All the time. I wondered if it was the same for him.
"Tomorrow night?" he said, releasing me.
"If I can get away. We have a lot to talk about." I gave Victor a stiff nod, and I left. I glanced back once to see the knife shining against the black velvet as it lay on Eric's desk.
I knew how Eric had gotten the knife. He'd simply kept it rather than returning it to Quinn, who'd been in charge of the wedding ritual between two vampires, a ceremony I'd witnessed in Rhodes. Eric, who was some kind of mail-order priest, had officiated at the service, and afterward, he'd evidently kept the knife just on the chance it would come in handy. How he'd retrieved it from the wreck of the hotel, I didn't know. Maybe he'd gone back during the night, after the daytime explosion. Maybe he'd sent Pam. But he'd gotten it, and now he'd used it to pledge me to him.
And thanks to my own dazed affection ... or warmth ... or infatuation ... for the Viking vampire, I had done exactly what he'd asked without consulting my common sense.
I didn't know who I was angrier with - myself, or Eric.
Chapter 4
I spent a restless night. I would think of Eric and feel the warm rush of joy, and then think of Eric and want to punch him in the face. I thought of Bill, the first man I'd ever dated more than once, the first man I'd ever gone to bed with; when I remembered his cool voice and body, his contained calm, and contrasted it with Eric, I couldn't believe I had fallen for two such different males, especially when my all-too-brief episode with Quinn was factored in. Quinn had been warm-blooded in every respect, and impulsive, and kind to me, and yet so scarred by his past, he hadn't shared it with me - which, in my view, had led to our relationship being ruined. I'd dated Alcide Herveaux, pack leader, too, but it had never gone further.
Sookie Stackhouse's All-Male Revue.
Don't you just hate nights like that, when you think over every mistake you've made, every hurt you've received, every bit of meanness you've dealt out? There's no profit in it, no point to it, and you need sleep. But that night, men were on my mind, and not in a happy way.
When I'd exhausted the topic of my problems with the male sex, I launched into worrying about the responsibility of the bar. I finally got three hours' sleep after I made myself admit that there was no way I could run Sam's business into the ground in a few days.
Sam called the next morning while I was still at home to tell me his mother was better and was definitely going to recover. His brother and sister were now dealing with the family revelations in a much calmer way. Don, of course, was still in jail.
"If she keeps improving, I may be able to start back in a couple of days," he said. "Or even sooner. Of course, the doctors keep telling us they can't believe how fast she's healing." He sighed. "At least we don't have to conceal that now."
"How's your mom handling the emotional part?" I asked.
"She's quit insisting they should release him. And since she had a frank talk with the three of us, she's admitting she and Don might have to get a divorce," he said. "She's not happy about the idea, but I don't know if you can completely reconcile with someone who's shot you."
Though I'd answered the phone by my bed and was still comfortably prone, I found it impossible to go back to sleep after we'd hung up. I'd hated to hear the pain in Sam's voice. Sam had enough to fret about without troubling him with my problems, so I hadn't even seriously considered bringing up the knife incident, though I would have been relieved to share my worries with Sam.
I was up and dressed by eight o'clock, early for me. Though I was moving and thinking, I felt as rumpled and wrinkled as my bedsheets. I wished someone could yank me smooth and orderly, the way I yanked the sheets. Amelia was home (I checked to see if her car was parked out back when I made the coffee) and I'd glimpsed Octavia shuffling into the hall