If you will read no matter what, skip this warning so that you are not spoiled.
Okay—if you are still reading, then I need to give you a warning. In this chapter, there is some violence against our beloved Viking. This is not done by Russell. It is done by Yvetta, whose intention is to rape Eric. She does not succeed, but in her anger, she does hurt him. I do not think that I pushed the violence here too far, but if you don’t want to deal with it at all, but still want the narrative, I have an alternative for you. I have a “PG-13” version of the chapter. It still contains “suggestions of violence,” but it glosses over the details. However, you will be able to read the dialogue, etc. that is not describing the violent acts if you choose that option. I warned from the start that this work would be dark. One reader worried that I would draw out the violence perpetrated against Eric for 50 chapters. I will NOT be doing that, and I will always give you a warning and an alternative if you want to skip the more disturbing descriptions. But keep in mind that I am not one for what I would call graphic violence for its own sake, and I strongly believe in “protecting my readers” by providing alternatives.]
Chapter 164: Bad Penny, Part 1
Eric knew it was not quite night yet, but his mind screamed for him to wake up. Something was wrong—very wrong. The fairy bond was literally crying for him to wake up, but he was still weak from the blow Russell had given him the night before.
However, the urge to wake up was great—overpowering. It was as if Sookie herself were shaking him. He was able to activate his sense of smell, even though he couldn’t quite open his eyes yet. That is when he smelled her, felt her above him—Yvetta. Eric marshaled his strength and bucked the Estonian dancer off of his body. He opened his eyes to find his jacket and T-shirt already cut from his body.
He heard Yvetta cursing from the floor. “Fuck! Värdjas!” Yvetta cursed, her accent prominent in her anger. She got to her feet and moved to stand beside him, a small knife and the shreds of his T-shirt in her hands.
Eric growled at her. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled.
Yvetta laughed and said moodily, “No—Russell said that I could have my fun, and that is what I intend to have from you.”
Eric shook his head, both to deny her words and to finish waking himself.
Undeterred, Yvetta reached over and popped open the button of Eric’s jeans. He was still tied down to the table at his hands, his feet, and his upper chest, and though his hips could move a bit—had, in fact, moved to dislodge Yvetta before—he couldn’t do anything to stop her from taking his clothing.
She laughed again as she unzipped his jeans. “Lift up,” she said, seductively.
Eric kept his ass planted firmly on the table.
“Fine,” Yvetta said petulantly as she began to cut his jeans from the bottom of the leg toward his waist, snaking around the chains that held him as she went. He noticed that his shoes and socks had already been removed.
She purred as if she could tempt him, “You know, I could let you go if you are nice to me. All you have to do is treat me like before—before you became enamored by your little country barmaid,” she spit out those words. “Do you not remember what a good time we once had?”
Eric cringed at memories of anyone other than his bonded. And Yvetta―at most―was a distraction. She’d never meant anything to him. Plus, he was getting goddamned annoyed by her accent; one would think she’d learn how to say a fucking W by now!
“It’s not going to happen,” Eric grimaced.
“Oh,” Yvetta said with confidence, “it will happen whether you wish it to or not. Some things,” she laughed spitefully, “a man cannot control.” She ran her hand lightly over the crotch of his opened jeans. “I will enjoy you, and I am sure that at least one part of your body will cooperate.” She began to stroke his penis harder through his jeans. “I will fuck you as you once fucked me. Why not just enjoy it, Eric?” She licked her lips. “I know you once cared for me.”
Eric closed his eyes and shook his head. He tested the chains that were holding him one time and knew that he could not break them. Struggling against them would not help. He opened his eyes and looked at the dancer, whom he had once thought of as attractive. But mostly he’d just used her to numb the pain of losing Godric—the pain of knowing that Sookie belonged to another at the time.
Eric tried to speak to her reasonably. “It was your misfortune, Yvetta, to ever think that I felt something for you. I did not. I have not, and I will not. I took your blood and I took your body for a time—with your complete cooperation, I might add. I gave you money and a job in exchange for your services. I never misled you, and I will not begin doing so now.”
She looked at him with a question in her eyes and then looked quickly away again so that he would not have the chance to glamour her. Russell had warned her about that.
Eric continued, “The truth is that you mean nothing to me—less than nothing. The truth is that if you continue this course of action, you will die.”
Yvetta seethed with anger at his words and cut off the rest of Eric’s jeans in jagged slashes. Eric cringed at the feel of her hands on his body as well as the singe from the silver blade, which she was no longer being careful with. Of the two touches, however, he would have preferred the silver any day.
Eric closed his eyes and steeled himself. He knew that Yvetta’s attempted seduction was all part of Russell’s game. Russell expected for Eric’s own body to betray him. That would mean that Eric had betrayed Sookie with another woman. And that would hurt Eric worse than any cut with silver.
“You never used to wear these,” Yvetta observed as she dragged her hands over his underwear, her fingernails scraping against his sensitive cock and balls. However, they made absolutely no movement at her touch. She snorted. “Do you think you can resist me for long? I do not think so. Even your control will have its limits.”
She cut the waistband of his boxer-briefs roughly, slicing into his pale flesh at the same time. She ripped the thin fabric and then cut the garment the rest of the way off.
Eric looked at her with hatred in his eyes. “If you do this, Yvetta, I will be the last of your worries. My wife will fucking kill you.”
Yvetta just laughed as she began to massage his balls with her fingertips. “She will do nothing, except die at Russell’s hands.”
Eric closed his eyes again, disgusted by Yvetta’s touch. The fairy bond within him was snarling rabidly, and a wave of what Eric could only describe as nausea was rising in his throat—though Eric had not felt such a sensation since he’d become a vampire.
His face contorted in pain at the feeling of Yvetta’s hands on his body. No—his body belonged to his wife, goddammit! It wasn’t his anymore.
“This is her body,” Eric said harshly. “I am her property.”
Yvetta was becoming frustrated. She rubbed and fondled his balls and then moved her hand to his cock again, stroking up and down. He was large as he always was, but he’d not hardened. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked angrily.
“Not yours,” Eric spit out as he shut his eyes again. Far from arousing him, Yvetta’s ministrations were actually hurting him. He clung to the fairy bond, thankful to it that he was not able to physically respond to Yvetta. Truly―he thought with awe―he did belong solely to his Sookie now, and though Yvetta was undoubtedly proficient in what she was doing, it was to no avail.
Yvetta mumbled a few more curse words in Estonian, and then Eric felt her hot mouth engulf his cock. He gritted his teeth in discomfort as she attempted to arouse his stubbornly flaccid member. For several minutes, she worked his penis with all of her skill, but he felt no stimulation at all as the fairy bond screamed out against Yvetta’s touch and her intentions.
“Fuck,” she said pulling back. “You really are broken,” she sneered as she looked him over. “The bitch has broken you.”
“No,” Eric seethed. “My wife fixed me, you gold-digging whore!” He mustered his strength to shout out the last few words. “I belong to her and her alone.”
Yvetta slapped his face hard and brought the silver blade next to his limp cock. She spoke with venom, “If this thing doesn’t get hard in the next two minutes, Eric, I plan to circumcise, and then I will cut the whole thing off.”
Eric shook his head and grunted. “I don’t need two minutes, bitch. Go the fuck ahead and cut!” He steeled himself as Yvetta sliced along the foreskin of his penis in her anger. The silver burned against his flesh and a stream of blood gushed from the organ until it began to heal.
Yvetta looked at him with anger in her eyes. “You fucking bastard! Maybe I should just drink your blood and make you drink mine! We’ll see what your little Sookie thinks of that. Then, you’ll be tied to me—bonded to me!”
Not letting his physical pain show, Eric looked up at Yvetta with hatred in his eyes. “Never―my bond with Sookie will never be broken.”
Yvetta crowed, “It will be broken—just wait.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he managed to grin. “A bond is only formed out of love, and I fucking hate you.”
She looked momentarily troubled, but then her eyes brightened sinisterly. “If I cannot do it, Russell will. By now, Russell’s blood is in your precious little whore. His is so old that it will make you obsolete!”
Eric closed his eyes for a moment. He knew rationally that not even Russell’s ancient blood could supplant his bond with his wife, but the thought of her being forced somehow to take it still enraged him.
“That will never happen,” he growled as his eyes popped open.
Yvetta momentarily recoiled at the hatred and murder in his eyes. Then she brought the knife up to her palm. “Let’s just see, shall we?” She cut her hand and put it over Eric’s lips, which he’d clamped together tightly. “Fuck,” she said, as she tried and failed to pry his mouth open. She stabbed the knife into his cheek then, trying to get him to drink her blood, but he didn’t. His eyes told her that she could cut his body to shreds before he would take her blood. She smeared it on his lips. “You’ll take it,” she seethed with insanity in her voice. “You’ll eventually take it!”
Next, she slit his throat and pressed her lips against his flesh, taking in his blood; he could do nothing to stop her from doing that.
The fairy bond was screaming inside of him. By instinct, Eric squirmed beneath Yvetta, his body trying to get away from her sucking lips and tongue, but the chains kept him down.
When Yvetta finally stood up, she stumbled. She was drunk from his blood—blood that had been taken from him unwillingly, but blood that Eric was more than willing to fucking control now that it was inside of her!
As Eric saw it, Yvetta had taken something from his wife, and now the Estonian was going to reap the fucking whirlwind!
Controlling his blood inside of Yvetta’s body was one thing he could do, despite being strapped to a table by silver.
All vampires maintained a level of control over their blood as it made its way into humans—as long as that blood was taken directly from their bodies. Otherwise, the magic within it died, and only the “drug” was left behind. That was why V could affect humans so differently than blood taken from the source. A vampire could choose—as Eric had done with Sookie—to keep his or her blood from impairing the human in any way. This fact was a kind of “failsafe” that was taught to all vampires when they were young. If someone drank blood from the source, then that person could be “influenced” as he or she was in an impaired state.
As they grew older, vampires could learn to fully control the immediate reaction that their blood had inside of humans—in much more profound ways. Eric didn’t hesitate.
The first thing he did when he felt his blood hit Yvetta’s system was to take her goddamned control away! V generally caused a high in a human’s body, but he doubled the effects of his blood in her. So she was now in a drunken stupor, teetering helplessly next to him.
He looked at her in triumph as he felt the magic of his blood working through her system. She’d taken quite a bit of it, and he felt every single fucking drop.
Vampire blood―so adept at healing―was also keen to obey its master. Eric knew this fundamental fact, just as most older vampires knew it.
He’d been taught this lesson by the A.P. herself when he was 773 years old. Blood taken unwillingly and directly from the source could be a weapon for the vampire―a closely-guarded secret weapon. And that was one reason why only the oldest of his kind knew about it.
In fact, only the oldest and most disciplined vampires could use the blood in this way. Eric hadn’t told Pam about this, nor would he unless she reached an age when she might be able to control the power; otherwise, she would be injured if she tried to use it.
Truth be told, he had been too young when the A.P. had told him―was probably still too young when compared to when others generally received the knowledge, which was around their fifteen-hundredth year. But she had seemed confident in his ability; she’d told him to keep his knowledge a secret, even from Godric, who had himself never mastered how to use the power of the blood.
Now—it looked like Eric would be testing his own ability for the first time.
Eric once again closed his eyes and used his blood to look through Yvetta’s body—to test it for weaknesses.
It saw the broken femur she’d suffered when she was younger. It saw the mild asthma that she had likely never noticed. He saw the twists in her fallopian tubes, which signaled that she’d had a tubal ligation. And then, he saw the slight heart arrhythmia.
“Now that is something I can work with,” Eric said to himself softly. He whispered to each drop of his blood inside of her—spoke to it of his plans and then ordered it quickly to her heart in force.
It obeyed him.
Yvetta was already “too” high—what the younger vampires called over-cooked. They had no fucking clue how “over-cooked” a human could be. Eric had never killed this way before—he had never needed to―but after his blood found the flaw in Yvetta’s body, he knew that he was about to. A bad penny needed to be melted down—destroyed.
He also knew that he’d injure himself badly if he failed, that the force of the blood magic—if it rebounded onto him—would weaken him, perhaps even cause his final death. But he also knew that he wouldn’t fail―couldn’t fail.
He almost felt sorry for the Estonian. She’d brought physical pleasure to him at one point in his life, but he’d made no promises to her; if anything, he’d been more truthful than usual and more generous.
But Yvetta had obviously become obsessed with him, living with the delusion that he would want to “keep” her. She’d worked with the witch, Hallow. She was now obviously in league with Russell. And, most damning of all, she had tried to make his body betray his beloved.
She was indeed a bad fucking penny, and he needed to start getting rid of bad pennies at the first fucking opportunity. And that was now.
Like an old typewriter key tapping away at the same point in a piece of paper, he used his blood to tap at the small flaw in her heart. Over and over again.
Tap, tap, tap.
Her high helped to spur the damage as her own blood flowed along more quickly than usual. Yvetta was dancing next to the table he was strapped to. Inside of her own V-addled world and ignoring Eric completely, she was moving seductively. She was still beautiful, still beguiling—but now not even slightly tempting to Eric anymore. He wasn’t even looking at her.
He was too busy with his task.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Eric’s blood hit the flaw in her heart relentlessly. And suddenly, the slightly weak artery―that would have probably killed the Estonian when she was in her old age―burst into shreds, and Yvetta dropped to the ground dead, never to dance again.
A/N: Okay—I know that was a rough chapter to read. It was rough for me to write too—many tears fell. I want to tell you a little bit of why I decided to include this chapter. First, I want to answer the question of why I brought back Yvetta. Given the bitterness with which she left in S3, I always classified her as a “bad penny.” Plus, Eric’s past of using women without thought is catching up to him. He’s changed and grown in so many ways—and I’m not saying that he needs to be punished for his “vampire nature,” but this is “real”; what we do—how we treat people—can come back to haunt us. This is an illustration of that. Why the almost rape here? Well—in addition to showing that Eric is literally all Sookie’s now—so much so that his body will not respond—this chapter is actually honoring Jason. A few chapters ago, I brought up a quick reminder of what happened to Jason in Hotshot—a story that has been shamefully brushed aside in TB. This scene echoes that one because I want to bring attention to the fact that Jason was violated. The male anatomy may function against its own will (just as the female anatomy may, by the way), and all acts perpetrated against a person’s wishes are deplorable. The case of the Penn State coach who molested the boys comes to my mind. How horrible must it be to lose control not only to the point of being raped but also to the point when one’s own body reacts to what is happening in a way that one’s mind rejects? The repercussions of this should have been brought to light in Jason’s situation, but after one conversation with Hoyt in the show, they are swept under the carpet, and Jason becomes more worried about being a Werepanther than about facing what happened to him. And I call foul. Eric—here—is not raped by Yvetta because the fairy bond helps him, but this is still a violation of the male body, and Yvetta is still a rapist in my mind.
I want you to know that I recognize that your reading my work means that you “trust” me in a certain way, and I don’t want to let you down. I wanted you to understand the impetus for this chapter. I do not believe in gratuitous violence—or violence for its own sake. We have entered a dark time for Eric, and I need you to trust me. I hope you do.