Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse #1)(59)

Bill’s eyes were staring miles away.

“All dead?” he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

“All dead, and a human girl, too,” I said quietly.

“What have you been doing all day?”

“Cleaning. Sam made me clean my house.”

“Sam,” Bill said thoughtfully. “Tell me, Sookie. Can you read Sam’s mind?”

“No,” I confessed, suddenly exhausted. I submerged my head, and when I came up, Bill had gotten the shampoo bottle. He soaped my hair and rinsed it, combed it as he had the first time we’d made love.

“Bill, I’m sorry about your friends,” I said, so exhausted I could hardly get the words out. “And I am so glad you are alive.” I slid my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. It was hard as a rock. I remember Bill drying me off with a big white towel, and I remember thinking how soft the pillow was, and I remember him sliding into bed beside me and putting his arm around me. Then I fell into sleep.

In the small hours of the morning, I woke halfway to hear someone moving around the room. I must have been dreaming, and it must have been bad, because I woke with my heart racing. “Bill?” I asked, and I could hear the fear in my voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and I felt the bed indent as he sat on the edge.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I was just out walking.”

“No one’s out there?”

“No, sweetheart.” I could hear the sound of cloth moving over skin, and then he was under the sheets with me.

“Oh, Bill, that could have been you in one of those coffins,” I said, the agony still fresh in my mind.

“Sookie, did you ever think that could have been you in the body bag? What if they come here, to burn this house, at dawn?”

“You have to come to my house! They won’t burn my house. You can be safe with me,” I said earnestly.

“Sookie, listen: because of me you could die.”

“What would I lose?” I asked, hearing the passion in my voice. “I’ve had the best time since I met you, the best time of my life!”

“If I die, go to Sam.”

“Passing me along already?”

“Never,” he said, and his smooth voice was cold. “Never.” I felt his hands grip my shoulders; he was on one elbow beside me. He scooted a little closer, and I could feel the cool length of his body.

“Listen, Bill,” I said. “I’m not educated, but I’m not stupid. I’m not real experienced or worldly, either, but I don’t think I’m naive.” I hoped he wasn’t smiling in the dark. “I can make them accept you. I can.”

“If anyone can, you will,” he said. “I want to enter you again.”

“You mean—? Oh, yeah. I see what you mean.” He’d taken my hand and guided it down to him. “I’d like that, too.” And I sure would, if I could survive it after the pounding I’d taken in the graveyard. Bill had been so angry that now I felt battered. But I could also feel that liquidy warm feeling running through me, that restless excitement to which Bill had addicted me. “Honey,” I said, caressing him up and down his length, “honey.” I kissed him, felt his tongue in my mouth. I touched his fangs with my own tongue. “Can you do it without biting?” I whispered.

“Yes. It’s just like a grand finale when I taste your blood.”

“Would it be almost as good without?”

“It can never be as good without, but I don’t want to weaken you.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” I said tentatively. “It took me a few days to feel up to par.”

“I’ve been selfish . . . you’re just so good.”

“If I’m strong, it’ll be even better,” I suggested.

“Show me how strong you are,” he said teasingly.

“Lie on your back. I’m not real sure how this works, but I know other people do it.” I straddled him, heard his breathing quicken. I was glad the room was dark and outside the rain was still pouring. A flash of lightening showed me his eyes, glowing. I carefully maneuvered into what I hoped was the correct position, and guided him inside me. I had great faith in instinct, and sure enough it didn’t play me false.





Chapter 8


TOGETHER AGAIN, MY doubts at least temporarily drenched by the fear I’d felt when I’d thought I might have lost him, Bill and I settled into an uneasy routine.

If I worked nights, I would go over to Bill’s house when I finished, and usually I spent the rest of the night there. If I worked days, Bill would come to my house after sunset, and we would watch TV, or go to the movies, or play Scrabble. I had to have every third night off, or Bill had to refrain from biting those nights; otherwise I began to feel weak and draggy. And there was the danger, if Bill fed on me too much . . . I kept chugging vitamins and iron until Bill complained about the flavor. Then I cut back on the iron.

When I slept at night, Bill would go do other stuff. Sometimes he read, sometimes he wandered the night; sometimes he’d go out and do my yard work under the illumination of the security lights.

If he ever took blood from anyone else, he kept it secret, and he did it far from Bon Temps, which was what I had asked.