Alcide Herveaux sat up. He was bare-chested. The rest of him I couldn't see under the sheet.
"This is pretty fucking weird," I said, riding a rising swell of anger. "Let's have an explanation."
Alcide dropped his slight smile, which was pretty much the wrong expression to be wearing if you're in my bed without asking me first. He looked serious and embarrassed, which was far more appropriate.
"You've broken the bond with Eric," the Shreveport packmaster said. "I've been wrong in my timing on every single occasion we could get together. This time I didn't want to miss my chance." His eyes steady, he waited for my reaction.
I collapsed onto the old flowered chair in the corner. I often toss my discarded clothes on it at night. Alcide had tossed his there, too. I hoped my rear end was mashing wrinkles in his shirt that would never come out.
"So who let you in?" I asked. He must have good intentions toward me or the wards wouldn't have let him in, or so Amelia had told me. But just at the moment I didn't care.
"Your cousin, the fairy. What does he do, exactly?"
"He's a stripper," I said, oversimplifying in the heat of the moment. I was not aware this would be big news until I saw Alcide's face. "So, what, you just decided to sack out here and seduce me when I walked in the door? Home from spending the night at my boyfriend's? After having sex with him that could go in the Guinness Book of Records?"
Oh, God, where had that that come from? come from?
Alcide was laughing now. He couldn't seem to help it. I relaxed, because as snarly as Were brains are, I could see that he was also laughing at himself.
"It didn't seem like a good idea to me, either," he said frankly. "But Jannalynn thought this would be like a shortcut, and we could draw you into the pack."
Huh. That explained a lot. "You did this on Jannalynn's advice? Jannalynn just wanted me to feel uncomfortable," I said.
"Seriously? What does she have against you? I mean, why would she want to do that? Especially when she must have realized that would mean making me uncomfortable, too."
Him being her boss and all, and pretty much the center of Jannalynn's universe. I understood what he meant, and I agreed with his assessment of Jannalynn. However, in my opinion Alcide wasn't uncomfortable enough enough. I was convinced that he hoped if he sat in my bed and looked rumpled and handsome, I might reconsider. But looking good wasn't all it took with me. I wondered when Alcide had turned into the kind of guy who thought it might.
"She's been dating Sam for a while," I said. "You know that, right? I went to a family wedding with Sam, and I think Jannalynn had expected to go."
"So Sam's not as crazy about Jannalynn as she is about him?"
I held out my hand and wobbled it to and fro. "He likes her a lot. But he's older and more cautious." Why were we sitting in my bedroom talking about this? "So, Alcide, do you think you could get dressed and go home now?" I glanced at my watch. Eric had left me a note to say that Mustapha Khan was supposed to be here at ten, just an hour from now. Since he was a lone wolf, he wouldn't want a meet'n' greet with Alcide.
"I'd still be glad if you joined me," he said, and he sounded both sincere and self-mocking.
"It's always nice to be wanted. And you're plenty hunky, of course." I tried not to sound like I'd thrown that in as an afterthought. "But I'm going with Eric, bond or no bond. Plus, you went about trying to court me the completely wrong way, thanks to Jannalynn. Who told you we weren't bonded, anyway?"
Alcide slid out of bed and held out a hand for his clothes. I got up and handed them to him, keeping my eyes raised to his. He did have on underwear, kind of a monokini. Manakini? As he shrugged into his shirt, he said, "Your buddy Amelia. She and her boyfriend came into Hair of the Dog last night to have a drink. I was pretty sure I'd met her, so I started talking to them. When she heard my name, she already knew that you and I'd been friendly. She got pretty chatty."
Oversharing was one of Amelia's flaws. I began to have a darker suspicion. "Did Amelia know you were going to do this?" I asked, waving my hand toward the rumpled bed.
"I followed her and her boyfriend back here," Alcide said, which was not exactly a denial. "They consulted with your cousin-the stripper. Claude? He thought me waiting for you in here was a really great idea. In fact, I think he would've joined us for about fifty cents." Alcide paused in zipping up his jeans to raise an eyebrow.
I tried not to let my distaste show. "That Claude! What a kidder!" I said with a ferocious smile. I had never felt less amused. "Alcide, I think Jannalynn was having a big joke at my expense. I think Amelia needs to keep my business quiet, and I think Claude just wanted to see what would happen. He's like that. Besides, you got good-looking Were women hanging all over you, you big ole packmaster, you!" I punched him on a brawny shoulder playfully-more or less-and I saw him flinch just a little. Maybe I was was stronger with my fairy kin around me. stronger with my fairy kin around me.
Alcide said, "I'll drive back to Shreveport, then. But put me on your dance card, Sookie. I want a chance with you, still." He gave me a big white smile.
"Haven't found a shaman for your pack yet?"
He was buckling his belt and his fingers froze. "Do you think that's why I want you?"
"I think that might have something to do with it," I said, my voice dry. Having a pack shaman had gone out of style in modern times, but the Long Tooth pack was trying to find one. Alcide had induced me to take one of the drugs that shamans took to enhance their vision, and it had been both deeply creepy and weirdly empowering. I never wanted to do that again. I had liked it too much.
"We do need a shaman," Alcide admitted. "And you did a great job that night. Obviously you've got the aptitude for the job." Gullibility and poor judgment must be prerequisites. "But you're wrong if you think that's the only reason I'd like us to have a relationship."
"I'm glad to hear that, because otherwise I wouldn't think much of you," I said. This exchange completely slammed the door shut on my good nature. "Let me reemphasize that I don't like the way you went about this, and I'm not nuts about the way you've changed since you became packmaster."
Alcide was genuinely amazed. "I've had had to change," he said. "I'm not sure what you mean." to change," he said. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"You're way too used to being king of everybody," I said. "But I'm not here to judge you or tell you that you ought to change because that's just my my opinion. God knows, I've been through plenty of changes myself, and I'm sure some of them haven't done my character any good." opinion. God knows, I've been through plenty of changes myself, and I'm sure some of them haven't done my character any good."
"You don't even like me." He sounded almost dismayed, but with an edge of incredulity that enforced my feeling.
"Not so much anymore."
"Then I've made a fool of myself." Now he was a little angry. Well, join the club.
"An ambush is not the way to my heart. Or any other part of me."
Alcide left without another word. He hadn't been listening until I'd said the same thing in several different ways. Maybe that was key? Saying things three times?
I watched his truck on its way back out to the road to be sure he was really gone. I looked at my watch again. Not yet nine thirty. I changed the sheets on my bed with lightning speed, stuffing the removed bedding into the washing machine and starting it. (I could not imagine Eric's reaction if he climbed into bed with me and found it smelling like Alcide Herveaux.) I opted to use my remaining minutes before Mustapha Khan arrived to do some much-needed grooming rather than wake up Amelia or Claude and lay into them. As I brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail, I heard a motorcycle on the driveway.
Mustapha Khan, punctual lone werewolf. He had a small passenger clinging to him. I watched out the front window as he swung off the Harley and sauntered to the front door to knock. His companion stayed on the motorcycle.
I opened the door and looked up. Khan was about six feet tall with his head shaved close, leaving a mosslike burr. He was wearing dark glasses, trying for a "Blade" look, I figured. He was the golden brown of a chocolate chip cookie. When he took off the glasses, I saw that his eyes would be the actual dark chips. And that was the only thing remotely sweet about him. I took a deep breath, inhaled the smell of something wild. I heard my fairy kin come down the stairs behind me.
"Mr. Khan?" I said politely. "Please come in. I'm Sookie Stackhouse, and these two guys are Dermot and Claude." From Claude's avid expression, I was not the only one who'd thought of chocolate chip cookies. Dermot only looked wary.
Mustapha Khan glanced at them and dismissed them, which showed he wasn't as bright as he might be. Or maybe he just didn't think they were pertinent to his errand.
"I'm here to get Eric's car," he said.
"Could you come in for a minute? I made coffee."
"Oh, good," Dermot muttered, and headed for the kitchen. I heard him talking to someone and deduced that Amelia and/or Bob were staggering around. Good. I wanted a word with my buddy Amelia.
"I don't drink coffee," Mustapha said. "I don't take stimulants of any kind."
"Then would you like a glass of water?"
"No, I'd like to head back to Shreveport. I got a long list of things to do for Mr. High and Mighty Dead Guy."
"How come you took the job if you think so little of Eric?"
"He ain't bad, for a vamp," Mustapha said grudgingly. "Bubba's okay, too. The rest of 'em?" He spat. Subtle, but I got his drift.
"Who's your buddy?" I asked, tilting my head at the Harley.
"You want to know a lot," he said.
"Uh-huh." I stared right back at him, not backing down.
"Come here a minute, Warren," Mustapha called, and the small man hopped off the Harley and came over.
Warren proved to be about five foot seven, pale and freckled, and missing a few teeth. But when he took off his goggles, his eyes were clear and steady, and I didn't see any fang marks on his neck.
"Ma'am," he said politely.
I reintroduced myself. Interesting that Mustapha had a real friend, a friend he didn't want anyone (well, me) to know about. While Warren and I were exchanging comments on the weather, the muscular Were was having a hard time reining in his impatience. Claude drifted away, uninterested in Warren and losing hope of interesting Mustapha.
"Warren, how long have you been in Shreveport?"
"Oh my gosh, I been there all my life," Warren said. "'Cept when I was in the army. Course, I was in the army fifteen years."
Easy to find out about Warren, but Eric had wanted me to check out Mustapha. So far the Blade wannabe wasn't cooperating. Standing in the doorway was not a good way to have a relaxing conversation. Oh, well. "So you and Mustapha have known each other for a while?"
"Few months," Warren said, glancing at the taller man.
"Twenty Questions over?" Mustapha said.
I touched his arm, which was like touching an oak branch. "KeShawn Johnson," I said thoughtfully, after a little rummage in his head. "Why'd you change your name?"
He stiffened, and his mouth was grim. "I have reinvented myself," he said. "I am not the slave to a bad habit who was named KeShawn. I am Mustapha Khan, and I am my own man. I own myself."
"Okeydokey," I said, doing my best to sound agreeable. "Nice to meet you, Mustapha. You and Warren have a safe trip back to Shreveport."
I'd learned as much as I was going to today. If Mustapha Khan was going to be around Eric for a while, I'd gradually catch enough glimpses into his head to piece him together. Oddly enough, I felt better about Mustapha after I'd met Warren. I was sure Warren had had some very hard times and maybe done some very hard things, but I also thought at his core he was a reliable man. I suspected the same might be true of Mustapha.
I was willing to wait and see.
Bubba liked him, but that wasn't necessarily such a recommendation. After all, Bubba drank cat blood.
I turned away from the door, bracing myself to face my next set of problems. In the kitchen, I found Claude and Dermot cooking. Dermot had found a cylinder of Pillsbury biscuits in the refrigerator, and he'd mastered opening the can and putting them on a baking sheet. The oven had even preheated. Claude was cooking eggs, which was kind of amazing. Amelia was getting out plates and Bob was setting the table.
I hated to interrupt such a domestic scene.
"Amelia," I said. She'd been suspiciously focused on the plates. She looked up as sharply as if she'd heard me pump my shotgun. I met her eyes. Guilty, guilty, guilty. "Claude," I said even more sharply, and he glanced at me over his shoulder and smiled. No guilt there. Dermot and Bob simply looked resigned.
"Amelia, you told my business to a werewolf," I said. "Not just any werewolf, but the packmaster of Shreveport. And I'm sure you did that on purpose."
Amelia flushed red. "Sookie, I thought with the bond broken, maybe you'd want someone else to know about that, and you'd talked about Alcide, so when I met him, I thought . . ."
"You went there on purpose to make sure he knew," I said relentlessly. "Otherwise, why pick that bar out of all other bars?" Bob looked as though he were about to speak, and I raised my index finger and pointed it at him. He subsided. "You told me you were going to the movies in Clarice. Not to a werewolf bar in the opposite direction." Having finished with Amelia, I turned to the other culprit.
"Claude," I said again, and his back stiffened, though he kept on cooking eggs. "You let someone into the house, my house, without me here, and you gave him permission to get in my bed. That's inexcusable. Why would you do such a thing to me?"
Claude carefully moved the frying pan off the burner, turning it off as he did so. "He seemed like a nice guy," Claude said, "and I thought you might like to make love with something with a pulse for once."
I actually felt something snap inside me. "Okay," I said in a very level voice. "Listen up. I'm going to my room. You all eat the food you've cooked, then you pack up and leave. All of you." Amelia started crying, but I wasn't going to soften my stance. I was royally pissed off. I looked at the clock on the wall. "In forty-five minutes, I want this house empty."
I went in my room, shutting the door with exquisite quietness. I lay on my bed with a book and tried to read. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door. I ignored it. I had to be resolute. People staying in my home had done things they knew damn good and well they ought not to do, and they needed to know I wouldn't tolerate such interference, no matter how well intended (Amelia) or simply mischievous (Claude). I buried my face in my hands. It was hard to keep up this level of indignation, especially since I wasn't used to it-but I knew it would be very bad to give in to my craven impulse to throw open the door and allow them all to stay.
When I tried to imagine myself doing that, it felt so wrong and bad that I knew I genuinely wanted them out of the house.
I'd been so happy to see Amelia. I'd been so pleased that she was willing to rush up from New Orleans to do magical repairs on my protection. And I'd been so startled she'd actually found a way to break the bond that I'd let myself be rushed into actually doing it. I should have called Eric first, warned him. No excuse for doing it so brutally, except I'd been sure he'd talk me out of it. That was just as poorly done as letting myself be persuaded to take the shaman's drugs at Alcide's pack meeting.
Those two decisions were my fault. They were mistakes I had made.
But this impulse of Amelia's to try to manipulate my love life had been a bad one. I was an adult woman, and I had earned the right to make my own decisions about who I wanted to be with. I had wanted to remain Amelia's friend forever, but not if she was going to manipulate events in an attempt to try to turn my life into one she liked better.
And Claude had been playing a Claude sort of joke, a sly and naughty trick. I didn't like that, either. No, he needed to go.
When the forty-five minutes were up and I emerged from my room, I was a bit surprised to find that they'd actually done what I'd told them to. My houseguests were gone . . . except for Dermot.
My great-uncle was sitting on the back steps, his bulging sports bag beside him. He didn't try to draw attention to himself in any way, and I guess he'd have sat there until I opened the back door to leave for work if I hadn't happened to go out on the back porch to move the sheets from the washer to the dryer.
"Why are you here?" I asked in the most neutral voice I could summon.
"I'm sorry," he said, words that had been sorely lacking until now.
Though a knot inside me relaxed when he said those magic words, I wasn't totally won over. "Why'd you let Claude do that?" I said. I was holding the door open, obliging him to twist around to talk to me. He stood and turned to face me.
"I didn't think what he was doing was right. I didn't think you could want Alcide when you seem tied to the vampire, and I didn't think the outcome would be good for you or either of them. But Claude is willful and headstrong. I didn't have the necessary energy to argue with him."
"Why not?" It seemed like an obvious question to me, but it surprised Dermot. He looked away, over the flowers and bushes and lawn.
After a thoughtful pause my great-uncle said, "I haven't cared very much about anything since Niall enchanted me. Well, since you and Claude broke the enchantment, more accurately. I can't seem to achieve any sense of purpose, of what I want to be doing with the rest of my life. Claude has a purpose. Even if he didn't, I think he'd be content. Claude is very human in his nature." Then he looked appalled, perhaps realizing that in my clear-the-decks mood I might find his opinion a good reason to tell him to hit the road with the others.
"What's Claude's purpose?" I asked, because that seemed like a pretty interesting point. "Not that I don't want to talk more about you, I do, but I find the idea of Claude with an agenda pretty interesting." Not to say alarming.
"I've already betrayed one friend," he said. After a moment, I realized he meant me. "I don't want to betray another."
Now I was even more worried about Claude's plans. However, that issue would have to wait. "Why do you think you're feeling this inertia?" I said, returning to the topic at hand.
"Because I have no allegiance. Since Niall made sure I was put out of Faery . . . since I roamed around crazy for so long . . . I don't feel part of the sky clan, and the water clan wouldn't have me even though I allied with them. While I was cursed," he added hastily. "But I'm not a human, and I don't feel like one. I can't really pass for a man for more than a few minutes. The other fae at Hooligans, the cluster of them . . . they're only united by chance." Dermot shook his golden head. Though his hair was longer than Jason's, shoulder length to cover up his ears, he'd never looked more like my brother. "I don't feel like a fairy anymore. I feel . . ."
"Like a stranger in a strange land," I said.
He shrugged. "Maybe so."
"You still want to work up in the attic?"
He exhaled a long slow breath. He looked at me sideways. "Yes, very much. Can I . . . just do that?"
I went into the house and got my car keys and my secret stash of money. Gran had been a great believer in keeping a secret stash. Mine had been hidden in the inner zip pocket of my weatherproof winter jacket at the back of my closet. "You can take my car to Home Depot in Clarice," I said. "Here. You can drive, can't you?"
"Oh, yes," he said, looking from the money to the keys eagerly. "Yes, I even have a driver's license."