This is the epilogue to Better Off Dead; thank you for reading my first book, and please check out Fairest of the Fae, my second venture in fan fiction. I have an outline going for a third book that will tie the two previous ones together in a trilogy! Look for that one to begin posting after the winter solstice.


My existence as a vampire has not followed expected paths; am I actually surprised?

Not really. Nothing in my time on earth has been predictable, although much of it should have been.

Bill and I live in Cornwall—that's in England, ya'll—where I've established a psychology practice for supes (mostly vamps) struggling to mainstream and get along in a human world. The States still does not want vamps to become docs (even though there were many fine vampire doctors before the Great Revelation), and when I realized that I was perfectly equipped to help vampires assimilate, Bill suggested we move somewhere more progressive in their attitudes toward who is allowed to help others. In thirty short years, I've established a reputation as the top—and close to only—psychologist to successfully treat the vampire mind; vamps come from all over the world to see me. Usually, they've tried to make sense of the modern world by reading advice columns in the newspapers or watching talk TV, and there are huge internet chat rooms and forums where vamps try to "help" each other; those usually degrade into name-calling and online fisticuffs pretty quickly. But vamps have to deal with problems no humans have had to (other than in their worst nightmares) and modern psycho-babble ain't gonna cut it for older bloodsuckers. What's funny is that I mostly just, well… listen to them.

My job is doing something I ran from doing my entire human life.

Thinking about being human reminds me that I am especially grateful Bill and I escaped most of the craziness that the South went through when the weres got organized and made themselves known to humans. Louisiana in particular is still dealing with the aftermath of that violent time. I had to leave behind a few friends—although Eric still calls once in a while to plague me and Pam was actually in treatment with me for a few months when a woman she'd turned got staked in the supe civil war of 2015. And I'd had to abandon one large hope: that of finding my daughter, stolen from me before I ever saw her face. I keep praying that I will survive long enough to meet her, but I don't dwell on it too hard.

Bill has continued his wild love affair with technological advances, and actually runs his own company (he's always maintained that he never wanted to run anything, but he secretly enjoys it).

We spend too much time apart, Bill in London and Tokyo and California. But I still remember like it was yesterday a time when I was human and Bill and I were apart for three weeks after a trip to Dallas—when we got back together, we had the most unforgettable, mind-blowing sex either of us had ever had—at least, up to that time! So as tricky as it is to stay faithful to each other over the days he's gone—especially for me; as a newish vamp, I can get arousal confused with hunger when I feed—the reunions are fucking fabulous. Literally.

Years ago we had caused each other so much heartache over infidelity, we are not going to jeopardize our love for each other by being stupid like that again. We'd spent entirely too much time punishing each other for things that neither of us could control. Once we were finally able to admit that we were made for each other—and I was quite literally made for Bill, by Bill—we didn't waste any more time being foolish about love.

And boy, do we love each other. I had no idea that I could love Bill more than I did when he first turned me, but it just gets bigger and bigger. Turns out, by having each other's blood regularly—for the first decade or so, it was daily—our blood bond makes us almost like two halves of the same being. We feel each other's emotions to the point where we are practically in each other's heads—and absolutely in each other's hearts. When he returns from a trip, I can usually feel his presence back on British soil and it makes me ridiculously happy.

Vampire marriages are pretty common nowadays. Although when Bill and I tied the knot, it was pretty unusual. And there still aren't a lot of vamp/vamp marriages; trust is always going to be an issue for us. Although you'd think, with our overwhelming sense of possessiveness, we'd have jumped all over the idea of officially, legally "owning" each other.

It took a while for humans to get used to the idea that vamps can be wonderful or criminal, considerate or nasty, thoughtful or bastards—exactly like their fellow humans—before mortal/vamp relationships got widespread. But that irrepressible human curiosity about vampires eventually won out. Before I went to college, I worked real hard to fight prejudice against vamps. I was pretty good at persuading humans to see my side of things—that was what made me see I should be in the persuading line of work.

Bill keeps a photograph on his desk of us at our wedding. We look like any other radiantly happy couple, if a bit paler than most. He is simply edible in his tuxedo, those exquisite dark eyes staring down the camera. I look pretty hot myself, in a long, dusk blue dress with loads of frilly petticoats (Bill did some pretty fancy petticoat diving once we were alone after the ceremony) and my hair all piled up in curls. Just about everyone we knew was there… except Eric. He sent an amazing gift, though. Pam and Amelia stood up for me—I had wanted to ask Portia to please Bill, but ultimately we both agreed that she'd never do it; she did attend though, and so did Andy. The biggest shock was Bill asking Sam to be his best man and Sam actually agreed. There were no fairies there—if you don't count Russell Edgington and his mate Bart—but I guess… what with all the vamps present… and all…

Before the sun rises each morning, I thank my lucky stars that Bill is my sire, my lover, my best friend, my husband. Mostly, I am grateful that Bill walked into Merlotte's that night so long ago, even if it was under false pretenses. I am so glad that my first vampire became my eternal one. To anyone who says they don't believe in love at first sight, I just tell 'em I found love at first bite, ha ha.

Now don't get me wrong: we still drive each other nuts. But because we can read each other so perfectly, we rarely get to the point of fury. And when we do, I'll tear a tree out of the ground and Bill will flip over a car and we'll fuck until we can't walk.

I remember once Bill got super jealous—some things never change—over a young soccer player I fed on one too many times for Bill's liking. He knows I have an unfortunate tendency to want to be friendly with my meals, and I spent too much time talking with this particular kid (he reminded me of the young David Beckham, a gorgeous soccer player from long ago—he died last year. But when he was young? Whew, somebody should have brought him over.). Bill got all fangy with me, telling me I had to rely on synthetic blood more and on humans less.

"You want me to feed less?" I was incredulous.

"Sookie, you don't need to feed as often now that you are older," Bill said. He still liked playing teacher, but even though he was over 200 years old, I already knew more about vamps as beings than he ever would.

My eyes narrowed. "You are jealous."

"Yes."

His bluntness got my ire up. "Then I'll only feed… from YOU!"

I pounced on him and grabbed him. Bill was still a lot stronger than me, and that was likely to always be the case. But for the most part, he never showed me his true strength, especially directed toward me. I had seen him shove other vamps through walls, but I trusted him to never do that shit with me. So he let me grab his arm and twirl inside it until my back was against him and his arm was held fast over my shoulder. Before he could really react, I'd pressed my mouth inside his elbow and let down my fangs through his skin. I sucked HARD and Bill's first reaction was to pull away—all that did was tear his skin and make the blood flow more, and I sucked on the wound mercilessly.

Now, if Bill had truly wanted to get away from me, he certainly could have. But he started rumbling in his throat (vampire men in my sexual experience—all two of them—growl when aroused) and swayed against my back. I pushed backwards and felt his hardness filling his jeans. He snaked his other arm around me and unzipped my jeans, slipping his cool hand inside them and his cool fingers inside me. I gave him a bump with my butt and drew on his blood even harder. Bill moaned and crooked his fingers inside me in a come here motion guaranteed to scratch that especially sensitive spot inside me, and he got exactly the reaction he was looking for: I sighed and bubbled in his blood. He dug his fingers in me so hard that he was lifting me off my feet just a bit, the bones in his hand making urgent contact with my swelling nub.

Bill was rubbing his erection on me in earnest now, and I could feel in his body and in his blood that he was ready for something more.

Still, I drew on his arm, holding it tight with both my hands. Bill began a low whine, bumping harder into my back and stabbing his fingers in me, grinding my nub almost—but not quite—painfully, as his desire for me took him. "I want you," he gasped, and I just drew harder on his wound.

Suddenly Bill, got very still. "Sookie?"

I just sucked in his blood.

"Sookie?" Bill sounded urgent.

"Sookie! Are you trying to drain me?!" Bill roared. I jumped, but I didn't let go.

"You demon," Bill howled, and shoved off our jeans, even as I arched my back to him, going up on my tippy-toes. I heard his zipper and felt him enter me in the same second. His free arm went around me to pull me onto him, and his mouth came down on my shoulder with barely contained ferocity. He bit so hard I almost let go of him, but I managed to still pull in his blood as I felt mine pouring into his mouth.

Bill pounded me at one end and sucked me at the other, and I couldn't tell which made me giddier. I slammed my hips back into him, driving him deeper, and as I felt his legs tremble—loss of blood? Lust?—I lifted my mouth and cried out his name. I felt our blood rampaging through our bodies and I came. My orgasm must have shot through my veins because Bill bubbled blood too, and moaned into the wound as he came.

We sagged against each other, and Bill cleaned my shoulder. I was too drained—oh big frickin' HA HA—to give his arm more than a cursory lick, as Bill nuzzled into my neck.

"No more soccer players?" Bill whispered in my ear.

"Oh, I'll still play… with you," I murmured back. Then I flipped my foot back and kicked him.

But not very hard.