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The Virtue Of Sin	By : camp30 Category: S through Z > Southern Vampire Views: 9864 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not have any right to the Southern Vampire novels, nor doI do not have any right to the character created by Charliane Harris and I make absloutly no money from this fiction

Chapter List
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Eric Northman looked causally at his cards, he knew that his opponents were outdone.
He called and they laid down their cards with oaths under their breath. None of them were friends of his, save Tristan. And none of them particularly cared for the cold manner with which he conducted himself.
Eric leaned forward gathered up the silver coins, neatly depositing them into his satchel.
The silence was heavy with unsaid complaints. Finally Boris who hated Eric with a deep abiding passion blustered “This is why I refuse to play with him, he’s a bloody cheat.”
Eric lifted his eyes and gave the man a measuring predatory glance. Boris went white and gathered up his hat and cane.
Eric let his eyes wander to the other players “Anyone else feel that way?”
The men’s eyes were sullen, angry but they all shook their heads.
As Boris left Eric called out “If in the morning you should still feel wronged, feel free to call on me, we can arrange a duel.”
Boris’s shoulders tightened and he swung around “Don’t trifle with me Northman, everyone thinks you’re the fastest draw but I’m no slouch.” Eric wasn’t fooled by this show of bravado and he cast him a cutting smile.
He stood allowing himself to rise to his full towering height “Name the place and time,” he was calling his bluff as he had been all night.
Boris was in tough predicament he didn’t want to lose face but he didn’t want to die even more.
“I hardly have time for a duel, unlike you some of us must work for a living,” he paused looking around to catch the effect of his words on his friends “You are beneath me, I simply won’t waste my time.”
He turned to leave and Eric let out a soft laugh of derision. He decided that he would pay Boris a call on the morrow and dispatch him, he was tired of his insolence and the gossip that he spread about him.
Eric sat back down as the men slowly filtered out. Tristan regarded him a moment before reaching for a cigar. He clipped the end off, lighting it.
Smoke curled around his fine boned face “Boris isn’t in the minority you know, it’s been whispered for years that you cheat.”
Eric shrugged negligently “I can’t help it that I can count.”
Tristan smirked, toking. “No, but you could stand to lose once in a while.”
He leaned forward and placed a cigar in Eric’s hand, he took it.
Eric lit it, drawing on the expensive smoke. The two friends were quiet for a time.
“I’m going to Madam Bovier’s tonight, perhaps that will cool you off,” Tristan murmured.
Eric scowled “I’m tired of the ugly whores that frequent her establishment, I want someone unsullied.”
Tristan kicked out his legs, crossing them “They’re not all ugly” he protested.
He tapped ashes into the receptacle “If you want a virgin all you need to do is marry,” he went on.
Eric’s cruel face was obscured by thick smoke for a minute “Marriage is a fool’s game, done for convention and heirs, neither of which I give a damn about,” his tone was dismissive.
Eric crushed out the cigar and stood “Besides I can simply purchase a maiden for the right price,” he turned and walked out. Eric was dressed in black as usual which wasn’t fashionable but the color suited him, making his blond hair shine against the dark color.
He disdained the lace that most men wore at their cuffs and his style was spare and masculine, without the hint of a dandy.
Tristan watched his friend leave, deep in thought. He rolled a coin through his slender fingers. Eric was a strange hard man, with queer appetites in bed.
He knew Eric liked things that were only done in certain circles, dark entertainment to be sure.
Eric got into his carriage, and it began to roll into the dusk. He directed the driver to take him home.
The house or mansion rather rose from the mist like a vision of stone. It had five wings altogether built in the rambling gothic style and the hundreds of windows spoke of wealth. Glass was a new invention and though the house was old it had been refitted by his father before his death.
Eric had enough money to build himself a new dwelling but he was too lazy and uncaring to move.
He stepped down from the carriage, into the home.
The servants had lit oil lamps around the entrance and through the main rooms. Eric passed under elaborate frescos commissioned by his Grandfather. He took the stone stairs two by two up to his bedroom.
Eric pulled on a cord that hung near his bed.
Minutes later Barbra arrived “Yes Master?”
He barely glanced at her “I want a bath drawn, and food.”
She nodded and gave him a deep clumsy bow and vanished.
Eric sat before the fire in his chambers and watched the flames lick the logs. His groin tightened and he scowled. It had been a week since he was buried in a woman. Too long.
The door opened behind him and two servants dragged a large copper tub in. Finally after a half hour the tub was full.
With an imperious gesture Eric motioned them from the room. He took off his linen shirt and coat of fine cut, letting them drop to the floor.
Eric considered calling Amanda in to satisfy him, then disregarded the idea. He had had her so many times already and the wench was starting to expect their encounters.
He knew that a servant always lingered outside his door unless told not to. “Get in here, wash me,” he called quietly.
Amanda came in, her cheeks rosy with anticipation. She curtsied deeply and picked up the sponge and began to wash his back. After a long while “Perhaps his grace would like to take me tonight,” she said with barely leashed glee.
Eric pretended not to understand and drawled “Take you where exactly?”
Amanda flushed as she soaped his thick hair “You know what I mean my lord.”
Eric’s massive hand came up and he gripped her wrist tightly causing her to cry out “When I fuck you it will be on my terms, don’t beg for it, that will only make me limp,” his voice was cool and precise his blue eyes hard as he looked up at her.
Amanda gave him a hurt look, before her short sparse lashes covered her brown eyes “Yes Lord,” she whispered.
She finished washing him in silence and just as she was leaving he spoke “I am done using your ugly body, if you wish to remain in my employ confine yourself to the kitchens.”
Amanda gasped and burst into tears, she stood there staring at him “Get out,” he said dismissing her.
Eric stood and toweled himself off and sat with it wrapped around his lean waist as he ate his dinner.
It was roasted mutton with turnips in butter. There were many dishes beside the entrée which Eric didn’t touch.
Eric was deeply bored with his life he realized as he chewed the last bite. Whores had long ago lost their appeal to him and ladies were so plump now due to fashion that he felt sickened when he was forced to bed them. Eric preferred women to be fragile, dainty.
He stood and got dressed in fresh clothes. Eric grabbed his pistol from beside the bed, tucking it in his pocket.
He roused the driver from his dinner and departed. The carriage clopped onto the Roman paved roads and into the city.
London was filthy. The streets overrun with excrement and garbage. Soon Eric’s nose would again become accustomed to the stench. The driver knew from his long years of service where to take him. He had seen a dark brooding in his Master’s face and had known.
He stepped down from his perch and opened the door for Eric.
“Park the carriage and come inside.”
Fredrick nodded and did as he was ordered. He was deeply surprised that Eric had told him to come indoors. Never before had he done so. Perhaps his lord had taken into consideration how brisk the air had grown.
Eric walked into the parlor and the owner Mimi Standish came forward. She was an aging beauty, her face powdered heavily with rice and rouge. Mimi gave him a broad grin “My Lord!” she said with apparent pleasure.
Eric didn’t return her smile but his eyes were amiable “I want a virgin,” he said with no preamble.
Mimi put her hands into the air, batting a fan and peered over it at him “A virgin is rare indeed, I don’t have one at the moment I’m afraid.”
Eric frowned “When can you get one?”
She told him it may take a few weeks and offered him the use of any girl in her establishment. “I’ve had the ones I wanted already,” he replied leaving her standing there with her sagging breasts heaving in frustration.
Eric left with the driver beside him. He got in and went home.
The next night he remembered that he had to go to a dinner and ball affair. He dressed carefully in a crimson doublet, silk shirt and black breeches. He wore boots of soft leather that rode to the tops of his calves.
He stared at his reflection for a moment before giving it a smile.
Eric drove his own coach that evening, enjoying the feel of the riding crop in his capable hands.
When he arrived, he alighted from his perch and gave it over to livered valet. The house was grand, larger even than his own. The Earl of Winchester had invited Eric to cause a stir with his jaded guests. Eric Northman was a libertine and a rake of considerable wealth and position it didn’t hurt that he was also a Duke and cousin to the King.
When he entered the guest were already seated at the long table awaiting the first course. The Earl looked up and beamed at him, gesturing to a position of honor beside his wife.
His wife was of impeccable breeding with a thin face and elegant features. Her hair was done in elaborate curls that cascaded around her cheeks. She gave him an appraising look as he took his place.
The chatter died around him and they all watched as he sat. The Earl cleared his throat and looked around “Now where has she gotten off to?” he said turning to his wife.
The Lady Winchester arched an overly plucked brow “Who my dear?”
The Earl scowled “You know perfectly well who I mean, the Count’s daughter the one with those eyes, Sookie isn’t it?”
Eric felt collective breath being drawn around the table as someone entered behind him.
His heart stopped beating as he took in the girl. She was waifish, small boned and petite. Her face was delicate and heart shaped but it was her eyes that held him. They were gold with two rings of green with thick dark lashes and her mouth was almost too full for the structure of her face.
She handed her cloak to the livered man servant and sat in the only empty seat, across from Eric.
An elderly gentlemen had entered with her and sat back down where he’d been seated. He resembled the girl and Eric recognized him as the Count from Wales.
Her dark honey colored hair was loose down her back in waving curls and the ladies of the room sniffed in disapproval, it simply wasn’t proper for a Lady to wear her hair in such a wanton way.
She glanced around them giving them a shy furtive look, before bowing her head. Her father the Count cleared his throat “May I present my daughter Sookie,” he said with clear pride.
All this time Eric had been unable to look away from her, he knew that he had to possess her. But it was crucial that he not show his hand, so he leaned back and turned to his side and began making conversation with the Earl’s wife.
The Earl’s face was flushed from too much wine “And where has Sookie been all these years?” he asked with polite interest.
The Count tapped his hands on the table “I have had her raised and educated by nuns in the south of Wales since she was quite young, and now it’s time for her debut into society.”
Eric pretended disinterest when the Count turned his green eyes to his daughter and then looked to the Duke “May I introduce you to the Duke of Ravenheart, Eric Northman?”
Sookie looked up and gave him a faint smile, that caused a dimple to appear by her mouth. “How do you do?” she inquired politely.
Eric gave her a shuttered look “I do fine, what sort of name is Sookie?”
She flushed and it was her father who answered “It’s an old welsh name, once every two hundred years a female in our line will be named that.”
After all the courses had been cleared away the men retired to smoke and talk of politics and business. Eric bowed to Sookie before taking his leave, ignoring the rest of the women who watched him hungrily.
He was feared and desired by them. His height and the perfection of his cold face and massive body made them nearly swoon.
Eric entered the men’s parlor and immediately went to the Count’s side. He turned to the Duke with a polite smile. Eric took a cigar from a passing tray and the count lit it.
“I will pay you two million dollars to have your daughter as my mistress, and when I am done with her I will amply supply her dowry,” he said with no preamble as he flicked his cigar’s ashes to the floor.
The count’s face grew red with rage, his mouth opened “How dare you! My daughter is not a whore and she can’t be bought,” his voice was loud and it carried to the men around them.
Eric scowled and took his arm leading him to a room adjoining the parlor. He closed the door behind them and stared at the count. The count was an exceedingly handsome man, his hair just starting to go gray at the temples, he drew his average length body to it’s full height and huffed out a breath.
“I will not stand for this, if you brought me in here in hopes of frightening me, it won’t work!”
Eric leaned against the closed door and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I will have your daughter one way or another, do you think it would take much for me to write to my cousin the king and have your lands and title stripped from you?”
The count Mayfair paled considerably and sat with a thump into the chair behind him.
“Why could you not marry her?” his voice was no longer combative it had taken on a desperate tone.
Eric smirked and crossed to the roaring fire, he replied finally turning to the father “Because I have no intention of marrying, why should I when I can have your daughter without the inconvenience of matrimony?”
“You would ruin her forever,” he whispered brokenly. “Without her maidenhead she will be nearly worthless,” the father’s hands went to his brown hair and he ran his fingers through it.
Eric bent down until their eyes met “I will personally see to it that she is married, and married well… after I am done with her, her dowry will be so considerable that all the improvised nobility will swarm for her hand.”
The count sat back as Eric rose to his full height “And if I refuse?”
Eric gave him an icy smile full of danger “Then you will lose everything you have and I will still take your daughter, but I won’t provide any compensation.”
The count bowed his head, tears blinding him “Then I have no choice.”
Eric nodded a look of triumph flashed across his face “Indeed and I will expect her to accompany me to my home this very evening, you may travel with her in your own carriage to keep down gossip.”
The count nodded and Eric noticed that the man looked as if he had aged a decade in minutes.
Eric went to the door and with his hand on the knob he said “Send along her belongings to my home, oh and you are to have no contact with her until I am done with her.”
The door shut behind him and for the rest of the night Eric only pretended to listen to the men and their pompous boring talk. When the evening was winding down he gave the count a meaningful nod and they followed him from a discrete distance.
Eric’s coach arrived and then the count’s. The Duke wrenched open the door and roughly pulled her down. She cried out in confusion and surprise “Papa?” she asked. Her father gave her a despairing look “I’m sorry Sookie, try to do as he asks and I will see you soon.”
Eric put his head through the open window “Remember what I said, no letters.”
The count gave a groan of rage as Eric slapped the horses leading his carriage and the count’s driver led the way back through the woods and into the city.
Eric turned to Sookie “Welcome to your new home,” he said sardonically. His big hand engulfed hers and he half dragged her inside.
Eric steered his new unwilling virgin up the stone stairs and flung open his bedroom door, hurling her inside.
“Sit,” he ordered. She did taking the only chair.
She was trembling and Eric could almost smell her fear “What do you want of me?” Her enormous eyes lifted to his.
He stood before the fireplace, leaning against the mantle “Everything,” he replied curtly. He studied her in the moonlight coming through the window; her face was illuminated by it and the lamp burning beside the bed. She was breathtaking, never had he seen a girl so beautiful. Her long hair fell to the floor, it was so long.
She blinked up at him before rising to her feet “Well you can’t have it, my papa would never allow that,” she cried.
Eric gave her a cool appraising “He already has I’m afraid,” he turned his back to her and warmed his hands near the fire. “You are now mine to do with as I see fit.” He said softly.
AN: I’m not sure if this is that good looking back on it but so many of you have asked me to post this so here is the first chapter. Since this story is already written I will be posting the chapter rapidly. For lucy82.
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The Virtue Of Sin