Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [837]
After a sip of the dark fluid in the wineglasses, their fangs ran out to prove their enjoyment. Some of the human guests looked a smidge uneasy at this expression of appreciation, but Glen was right there smiling and nodding. He knew enough about vampires not to offer to shake hands. I noticed the new Mrs. Vick was not hobnobbing with the undead guests, though she made one pass through the cluster with a strained smile fixed on her face.
When one of the vampires came back for a glass of ordinary TrueBlood, I handed him the warm drink. “Thank you,” he said, tipping me yet again. While he had his billfold open, I saw a Nevada driver’s license. I’m familiar with a wide variety of licenses from carding kids at the bar; he’d come far for this wedding. I really looked at him for the first time. When he knew he’d caught my attention, he put his hands together and bowed slightly. Since I’d been reading a mystery set in Thailand, I knew this was a wai, a courteous greeting practiced by Buddhists—or maybe just Thai people in general? Anyway, he meant to be polite. After a brief hesitation, I put down the rag in my hand and copied his movement. The vampire looked pleased.
“I call myself Jonathan,” he said. “Americans can’t pronounce my real name.”
There might have been a touch of arrogance and contempt there, but I couldn’t blame him.
“I’m Sookie Stackhouse,” I said.
Jonathan was a smallish man, maybe five foot eight, with the light copper coloring and dusky black hair of his country. He was really handsome. His nose was small and broad, his lips plump. His brown eyes were topped with absolutely straight black brows. His skin was so fine I couldn’t detect any pores. He had that little shine vampires have.
“This is your husband?” he asked, picking up his glass of blood and tilting his head in Sam’s direction. Sam was busy mixing a piña colada for one of the bridesmaids.
“No, sir, he’s my boss.”
Just then, Terry Bellefleur, second cousin to Portia and Andy, lurched up to ask for another beer. I was real fond of Terry, but he was a bad drunk, and I thought he was well on his way to achieving that condition. Though the Vietnam vet wanted to stand and talk about the president’s policy on the current war, I walked him over to another family member, a distant cousin from Baton Rouge, and made sure the man was going to keep an eye on Terry and prevent him from driving off in his pickup.
The vampire Jonathan was keeping an eye on me while I did this, and I wasn’t sure why. But I didn’t observe anything aggressive or lustful in his stance or demeanor, and his fangs were in. It seemed safe to disregard him and take care of business. If there was some reason Jonathan wanted to talk to me, I’d find out about it sooner or later. Later was fine.
As I fetched a case of Cokes from Sam’s truck, my attention was caught by a man standing alone in the shadows cast by the big live oak on the west side of the lawn. He was tall, slim, and impeccably dressed in a suit that was obviously very expensive. The man stepped forward a little and I could see his face, could realize he was returning my gaze. My first impression was that he was a lovely creature and not a man at all. Whatever he was, human wasn’t part of it. Though he had some age on him, he was extremely handsome, and his hair, still pale gold, was as long as mine. He wore it pulled back neatly. He was slightly withered, like a delicious apple that had been in the crisper too long, but his back was absolutely straight and he wore no glasses. He did carry a cane,