Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [81]
Bill made a noise deep in his chest and convulsed inside me. I raised my head from his neck, and a wave of dark delight carried me out to sea.
This was pretty exotic stuff for a telepathic barmaid from northern Louisiana.
Chapter 9
I WAS GETTING ready by sunset the next day. Bill had said he was going to feed somewhere before we went, and as upset as the idea made me, I had to agree it made sense. He was right about how I’d feel after my little informal vitamin supplement the night before, too. I felt super. I felt very strong, very alert, very quick-witted, and oddly enough, I also felt very pretty.
What would I wear for my own little interview with a vampire? I didn’t want to look like I was trying to be sexy, but I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by wearing a shapeless gunnysack, either. Blue jeans seemed to be the answer, as they so often are. I put on white sandals and a pale blue scoop-neck tee. I hadn’t worn it since I’d started seeing Bill because it exposed his fang marks. But Bill’s “ownership” of me, I figured, could not be too strongly reinforced tonight. Remembering the cop last time checking my neck, I tucked a scarf in my purse. I thought again and added a silver necklace. I brushed my hair, which seemed at least three shades lighter, and let it ripple down my back.
Just when I was really having to struggle with picturing Bill with somebody else, he knocked. I opened the door and we stood looking at each other for a minute. His lips had more color than normal, so he’d done it. I bit my own lips to keep from saying anything.
“You did change,” he said first.
“You think anyone else’ll be able to tell?” I hoped not.
“I don’t know.” He held out his hand, and we walked to his car. He opened my door, and I brushed by him to climb in. I stiffened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, after a moment.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, and I sat in the passenger’s seat and stared straight ahead of me.
I told myself I might as well be mad at the cow who had given him his hamburger. But somehow the simile just didn’t work.
“You smell different,” I said after we’d been on the highway for a few minutes. We drove for a few minutes in silence.
“Now you know how I will feel if Eric touches you,” he told me. “But I think I’ll feel worse because Eric will enjoy touching you, and I didn’t much enjoy my feeding.”
I figured that wasn’t totally, strictly, true: I know I always enjoy eating even if I’m not served my favorite food. But I appreciated the sentiment.
We didn’t talk much. We were both worried about what was ahead of us. All too soon, we were parking at Fangtasia again, but this time in the back. As Bill held open the car door, I had to fight an impulse to cling to the seat and refuse to get out. Once I made myself emerge, I had another struggle involving my intense desire to hide behind Bill. I gave a kind of gasp, took his arm, and we walked to the door like we were going to a party we were anticipating with pleasure.
Bill looked down at me with approval.
I fought an urge to scowl at him.
He knocked on the metal door with FANGTASIA stencilled on it. We were in a service and delivery alley that ran behind all the stores in the little strip mall. There were several other cars parked back there, Eric’s sporty red convertible among them. All the vehicles were high-priced.
You won’t find a vampire in a Ford Fiesta.
Bill knocked, three quick, two spaced apart. The Secret Vampire Knock, I guess. Maybe I’d get to learn the