Eric - Pregnancy

The sweet, heavy scent of burning sage, dragon's blood resin, and crushed graveyard dirt hung thick in Lafayette’s living room. Outside, red brick dust was dusted clean across every windowsill and doorway, backed by ancient Brujo sigils painted under the floorboards. Around your neck, the heavy silver talisman Lafayette had crafted for you rested cool against your skin. Charged with blood magic and herbal oil, the charm did what should have been impossible: it masked the strange, potent pulse of the hybrid fetus growing inside you, muting its scent so that to any supernatural passing by, you smelled like nothing more than a normal human carrying a normal human child.

You sat on the worn velvet couch, clutching a cup of hot tea while your stomach churned. Three months. Three long-ass months since Eric had stood over you in the dark back office of Fangtasia, his cold, pale hands heavy on your shoulders, commanding you in that flat Viking tone to leave Bon Temps and never look back. No calls. No track. For your protection.

Lafayette paced the floor in front of you, his long acrylic nails clicking against his cell phone, golden hoop earrings catching the dim lamplight.

"Listen here to me, you big pale dead bitch," Lafayette barked into the receiver, his voice dripping with attitude as he adjusted the silk scarf on his head. "I don't give two shits about your Area 5 shipments or whatever vampire nonsense you got goin' on in Shreveport. I got business with you, and you gonna listen to me 'fore I light a candle and turn your dynamic ass inside out."

A deep, irritated rumble came through the phone’s speaker, too quiet for normal human ears, but Lafayette just rolled his eyes sky-high. He cut his gaze over to where you sat, pale and trembling, your fingers casually brushing the cool metal of the masking charm over your chest.

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking that ice-cold cold-blooded bullshit, hooker," Lafayette snapped, suddenly stepping over and shoving the phone straight into your hands.

The line fell into a heavy, crackling silence for a second. Then, crisp, cold, and entirely unbothered, Eric Northman's deep voice sliced right through the static.

"Lafayette, if this is another negotiation regarding the blood supply, you are wasting my time—"

You took a shaky breath, pressing the cool glass of the screen to your ear. "Eric... it's me."

A dead, icy silence fell over the line. Three agonizing heartbeats passed where you could almost feel his dead chest stilling on the other end. When Eric spoke again, his tone dropped an octave—dangerous, strict, and stripped of any pretense.

"I gave you a direct command. You were not to contact me. Why are you on this line?"

You swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white around the phone. "Because I'm pregnant, Eric. And you're the only person I've ever been with." says bluntly and to the point.