A/N: This was a response to another prompt at the lj community, houseofwaldorf. Hope you guys enjoy it! (I'm not too familiar with True Blood so I hope I didn't get anything wrong!)
He didn't know who the girl was and frankly, he didn't care. He was given permission and there was something... tempting about her. Sweet laced with a dash of poison. She stood in the middle of a vampire ring and seemed to loom over everyone else, even the magister himself.
He got close to her, and fast with fangs bared, and while that would scare any grown man into tears and shakes, she merely stood there, bored. She slowly rolled her big brown eyes to him before looking away disinterested.
He wasn't one to be dismissed.
"What's your name, girl?" The words bit out in the cold and he held her face in a tight grip, his fingers pressing the insides of her cheeks together. It would leave a mark, but that would not matter for much longer. She was weak beneath his hand, even for a human. Her skin as soft as a babe's covering delicate bones. Pale, with red lips. She was born to be one of them.
He pressed his lips close to her ear and held her back against his chest, a hand wrapped around her throat. "I said 'what's your name.' Don't make me ask twice."
The girl gave an impetuous sigh, another surprise for him, and he raised his eyebrows before slightly grazing a fang behind her ear.
She smelled delicious.
"Blair," she replied breathlessly. "What's yours?"
"I ask the questions here, Blair." This girl had to learn her place.
"I don't talk to boys whose name I don't know."
"Eric, then." Boy... he was a thousand years old. "How old are you, Blair?"
"Nineteen." She was an infant.
"Aren't you scared, little girl?" He wanted to taste the fear when he sank his teeth into her. Was there anything sweeter than the hot, pulsing blood of a young, beautiful girl laced with a blood-curdling scream?
She shook her head, dark curls brushed against him. "I want to start over." For the first time he noticed that she didn't have that God-forsaken southern accent and judging from the way she's dressed, she's definitely not from around here. What's her story, he wondered.
But there would be time for that later.
"Oh I'll let you start over." His hand yanked on a fistful of silken curls and exposed her throat to him, his other arm wrapped around her tiny waist and right before he sank in, her eyes found his and she offered herself to him.
Apparently she deemed him worthy and, for whatever reason, that pleased him more than it should.
She didn't make a noise, but instead wrapped a ghostly arm behind her to settle on the back of his head to draw him closer - almost in an embrace - and when she turned her head, her soft lips grazed his temple.
So he slowed and savored the feast. Even Sookie Stackhouse hadn't been that entrancing and the tinge of resentment he felt when she definitively chose Bill over himself, a sheriff, all faded away. Here was something better - something more to his taste. Her perfume was expensive and her blood, exquisite. She curved like a woman should and what she lacked on top, she more than made up for it in her hips.
From what he could tell, she was perfect.
He could hardly hear the cheers over the soft sigh from her lips that blew through his hair and sent chills from his scalp to his toes. Her body fell limp against his and he picked her up in his arms wordlessly and walked away with Pam trailing the two with a shovel in hand.
The moon was beautiful as he laid her down in the dirt. Even with her own blood dripping down the front of her white dress, she still looked lovely. Perhaps even more childlike and delicate than she had before with her hand curled up to her lips and her knees tucked upwards towards her chest. He curled in beside her, an arm around her waist, and felt the dirt come down in droves. He stared into oblivion, eyes wide and unseeing.
He woke to small movements beside him. Something tickled his nose and pulled at the front of his shirt. He found her big brown doe eyes staring back at him, her nose nudging against his and little hands fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He brushed the hair away from her face and gave her a small kiss - he felt her fangs with his tongue and already deduced that they were quite smaller than he was used to. Perhaps they were fit for her size.
"I'm hungry, Eric," she said in the softest voice she could muster and curled up even tighter beside him. She depended on him like he had depended on Godric, and he wanted to show her exactly how much he would provide for her.
But he could save that for later.