Pam had shown me into Eric's dark office. The place could use a cleaning, to my eyes, but I knew not to mention it--Lord knows Eric had more on his mind lately than dusting, what with the Vegas takeover and all. He'd even forgotten to change the calendar, apparently; I leaned forward, trying to see across his desk.
"Well, I'll be damned," I muttered. But it fit; of *course* Eric would have kept his own page open on the Fangtasia calendar. Why bother with the date when you can look at your own glorious ass?
As I was mesmerized--by the artistic value of the picture, I'll have you know--I was interrupted. Of course.
"I thought I gave you your own copies. Are you needing more?"
I gasped and jumped--natural, when you're surrounded by vamps most of the time--around. Eric looked very satisfied at my reaction. Of course, he looked immensely satisfied at just about any reaction he got out of me. But some he liked better--
Okay, enough thinking about that.
"Where were you? You said to be here at 8."
"So I did." He walked around my chair, tossing a large white bag on the wallside rack. "Costco. You silly humans create the most unfortunate messes and we needed supplies. Which reminds me." He paused to reach into the bag. "Looks like your tiger, doesn't it?"
I shoved Mr. Clean back at him. "Oh, for pete's sake, Eric, aren't we past name-calling?"
"A spade is a spade, lover," he said, shrugging. He dropped the cleaner back on the rack and peeled off his leather jacket thoughtlessly, before flopping in his desk chair. It tilted back for him obligingly. My mind barely registered that. For Eric was wearing a simple, form-fitting, sleeveless black t-shirt. Normally, they say, black's supposed to cover sins. That's why I like it for jeans, y'know. In Eric's case, black was all for setting off his sins. In particular, a body that would have made Adonis weep--big, cut shoulders, with muscle indents that looked about as inventing as a bowl of ice--
"Sookie, you've been around your shifter too long."
I blinked; I'd like to say the spell was broken, but his shoulders were still bare. And, oh, God, those arms. "Huh?"
He smirked at me. "You're drooling, lover." A blond eyebrow arched naughtily. "Has it been so long without me?"
Well, that busted my chops. "Oh, get real. I was just thinking about dinner. I was at work and didn't get to eat, y'know!"
"Right." He smiled serenely at me. "So, you are *hungry*. Let's see what I can do for you. Would you like some....meat? Like...."
"Don't you even say it!" I waved a finger at him. "Remember I am a lady!"
"Of course." His white fangs flashed at me. "As if I ever forget."
He probably heard me snort at that. Hell, the majority of Fangtasia probably heard me snort at that. Instead of responding though, he just stretched. His broad chest moved outwards and upwards as it took in air, and as he bent his arms behind his head, the roping muscles of his arms stood out in perfectly sloping silhouettes. His biceps seemed to glow beside the little light on his desk.
I bit my tongue this time, to keep it from flopping outwards. I managed, with great pain, to drag my eyes back to his face, which was strangely still and test. His eyes were blue blazing slits, regarding me; his mouth, a flat line. It didn't take a telepath to figure out what this vamp was thinking: prey.
Before I could shiver, cry out, or rip either of our clothes off, though, a single rapid knock struck the door and Pam strode in sharply.