Chapter 12: The Body

A.N.: I'm giving a warning since this is currently marked a Teen story. Mild smut below! If you want to skip it, go to the next text break.

Eric crawled on beside her and lifted Raven's head onto his lap. He bit into his wrist again and fed his blood to her pale lips. It was cold, thick, and metallic. As she drank it, the pain instantly melted away. She could no longer feel air running through the insides of her body. She could feel the bullets retracting away, leaving her and falling onto the floor. The splitting headache faded. Air filled her lungs instead of blood. The room no longer felt cold, sounds were no longer distant, darkness no longer swallowed her. Even though Eric was dead, his blood was like drinking life itself. She was whole again. Raven felt the air move against every hair on her skin. She could smell the jasmine flowers from her potted tree in the tea room next door, and the ageing books all the way from the study. She healed faster and better than any potion she had ever brewed. Raven felt her magic running strong from her spine to the tips of her fingers. The more she drank, the stronger she felt. In fact, this was the best she had ever felt. Much to her disappointment, Eric pulled his wrist away.

She sat up, her right hand almost slipped on the blood that covered the wooden floors. She looked at her body, she was still covered in blood but her wounds were healed completely, they didn't even scar. It was as if it never even happened. She looked up at his handsome face. Eric Northman was in her house and this was the hottest he ever looked.

His face was incredibly close to hers, leaning in and taking a deep breath. "You smell…so good," he whispered as his fangs descended.

"No biting," Raven warned. She was not in the mood for more holes in her body. That and... The thought of having her blood in veins, having a full blood bond with a vampire...

He smirked and slowly licked the blood from her chin, up to her lips. She lost herself in his kiss, wrapping her hands around his jaw. He deeply kissed her, and his lips travelled from her mouth down her neck. Between kisses, she could feel his tongue tracing her skin. Eric was tasting the blood on her body. It was done. She should have warned him not to, but having him so close to her felt so fucking good, she succumbed. He was eager, hungry for her. The more blood he tasted, the more he wanted her. Feeling his mouth on her filled Raven with pure lust. His cold hands travelled from her arms to the collar of her dress and he ripped it wide open, from her chest all the way down to the hem. He kissed each of her breasts, his sharp teeth grazed her nipples. His lips moved all the way down her stomach, kissing it with hunger. He gave her one last look before he went down on her. He had her blood smeared all around his mouth and jaw. He had the sexiest smile tugging at his lips and she smiled back.

He retracted his fangs and dove in between her legs, his tongue massaging her clit perfectly. A shock ran through her legs. Raven threw her head back and ran her fingers through Eric's soft dirty blonde hair. Both of his hands cupped her ass, drawing her in closer. He sucked on her clit and Raven could not help but moan. Her heart, which was barely beating minutes ago, was going to explode out of her chest. She was bursting with wanting. She wanted his body. To touch all of it, to kiss all of it, to feel him everywhere. And she wanted him to feel and kiss every inch of hers.

Eric came up for air laying her ass back down on the floor, and Raven shrugged her shoulders, letting the slip dress slide off her arms. He stared at her bare body wide-eyed, taking in her open legs, exposed beside his knees. He took his bullet torn jacket off, then his black low-cut muscle shirt, and unbuckled his belt.

Eric was hypnotized by the magical woman in front of him. Raven was finally his to take, and he did.

It was addictive - the feeling of being inside her. Raven Blackwood wasn't some tender soft, innocent doe-eyed sex kitten, melting like wax at his touch. Raven wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Feeling her hips sway and writhe against him, her body quiver with every orgasm, hearing her moan his name, the warmth and taste of her skin, all of it was nothing short of spectacular. Her body clung to his with so much wanting it was like a second skin. It was as if their bodies were made for each other. He had amazing sex before, sure. Eric had fucked dozens of women this year alone. But this kind of sheer fucking passion was hard to find. It was the kind of connection that made him feel alive, it transcended sex. Maybe the ancient tales of lustful witches were correct all along. Perhaps stories of Sirens, Nymphs and Succubi were all other names for witches.

Eric watched Raven's chest rise and fall while she slept with a peaceful expression on her face. He would gladly spend the rest of his nights on this earth fucking her passionately, but he knew she had been through a lot in the past 24 hours, so he just watched her rest. He could feel his blood run in her veins. Eric owned a witch - owned in a way Bill Compton did not. That stroke his ego and pride and he fucking loved it. And not only that, he did not just owned a witch, be he owned this witch. Raven was special. She could Read Eric like an open book, since the very first night they met. She also had a fire inside her, a kind of bravery that only people who had nothing to lose have - Eric admired that.

He studied her body, marvelling at this newest possession. She was almost as white as the sheets that hugged her satisfied body. She had beautiful full breasts, soft hips and strong thick thighs. Her skin was warm, warmer than regular humans. And she smelled as good as she tasted. Raven was so pale she looked like a vampire already. The blissful post-sex feeling, however, didn't last long. Flashbacks of this same body sprawled in the entryway covered in bullet holes and blood attacked his mind. Of him standing beside the golden veil, agreeing to die to for her. He remembered soulful dread of thinking of her being dead inside Moon Goddess Emporium. The fear of waiting for her outside Bill Compton's house, not knowing what he was going to do to her.

It was unlike him to care for other people, he knew that about himself. He was also lucky that he enjoyed, generally speaking, being a total fucking asshole. However Eric didn't keep an emotional distance because he was incapable of love, but because he when he loved someone he loved deeply. Irrevocably, fiercely, above all logic and reason. And all those he loved, he lost. And hell had already lost so much in the past thousand years. His entire family, his village, his maker. He lost countless lovers in the past thousands of years - due to war, sickness, other vampires, werewolves, hell even the Authority murdered the Sylvie in cold blood. Loving Pam was dangerous enough, and he was fine with having just that. He could not bear the thought of losing Raven, he never did. There was an inexplicable pull he felt for her, since the moment he first laid eyes on her, over a year ago. There was something about Raven that kept dragging him back to this house, over and over again. All the times he visited her in the middle of the night. All the nights he watched her from the woods. He couldn't even watch her get in a fucking cab.

Of all the bad things that have happened to women you liked, this is by far the worst, Pam's words echoed in his head. It was dangerous for Eric to love someone. He had hurt her already by selling her to Bill, by sending her to deal with Marnie alone, by letting Bill shoot through him. Guilt washed his insides like acid. Whatever this with Raven was, it had to stop. Not bearing to look at her anymore, his eyes wandered the room. He got up, careful to not wake her, and he looked around. It was a large bedroom, and all the furniture was mismatched. The bed was made of ancient, thick wood, with a tall canopy, hand-carved with flowers. She had an art deco vanity complete with a round mirror, and by the door was a wide armoire. He peeked inside and chuckled at the sight of her clothes hanging. They were all exclusively black satin strappy dresses. Some had black lace hems, others had flowers embroidered on them, some had different lengths. Eric picked up his pants off the floor and put them back on, then he had a delightful idea: it was time to explore all of the secrets this house kept.

He stepped out of the hallway and looked around him. The walls were covered in old crimson red wallpaper and victorian glass sconces dimly lit the hallway. He looked back at the bedroom behind him, taking in the size of the second floor. This house was was huge on the inside, much bigger than the outside. There had to be magic at work here. Eric opened the first closed door he could find out in the hallway. He instantly coughed up dust. No one had stepped foot in this room in at least a century. Judging by the style of furniture alone he guessed longer. The mattress looked soft and lumpy, made of feathers. The bed was unmade, sheets pulled to one side, covered in little moth holes. It had thick velvet draping off the canopy above. The walls were covered in old wallpaper, faded and peeling. There was a large five-foot-tall fireplace. It'd been centuries since he'd seen a fireplace so big inside a house. On top of the mantel, there were little portraits and some glass photographs. Raven was in one of them, but she looked younger, maybe twelve and dressed differently. She was wearing a much more modest dress, everything up to her neck was covered. In the photo with her was another woman, equally as stunning, with long light coloured hair and big round eyes. Something caught his eye. Another dusty, small portrait had the same unknown woman sitting beside a very familiar face who stared back at him. Eric picked it up and his jaw tightened as he examined the couple. He rushed back into Raven's bedroom, standing beside her sleeping body.

"Where did you get this?" He asked loudly, waking her up.

Raven woke up in a jump, he had probably scared her. Once she looked up at his face, she relaxed.

"Get what?" She rubbed her eyes.

He waved the photograph.

"You aren't supposed to go in there!" She snapped, getting out of bed.

She scowled at him, standing so close they were almost touching.

"Who is she?" He demanded showing her the picture. "Who is this woman?"

"That was Mabel, she was in my coven," Raven explained, her face relaxing. "She was executed for witchcraft in Boston two hundred years ago, along with all of my sisters." Raven's words lingered around the room. "Why?"

Eric paced around the room, staring at the photograph. Those boyish eyes staring back at him.

"The person in the photograph with her… Was Godric, my maker."

Raven's hand grazed his arm, and she gently squeezed his bicep. It sent chills up his spine. She gently took the frame from his hands to examine it closer.

"I remember him," she said, then chuckled. "Mabel and Godric dated for a while, seven or eight years maybe. Violet had to create a soundproof spell for Mabel's room. They were so loud in bed it was driving Catherine and Agatha crazy."

It was like a glass wall had been shattered. Godric had been in this house. His maker was romantically involved with a witch. Raven had known him. Things became a lot more interesting.

"Who are Violet, Catherine and Agatha?"

"I'll show you,"

Raven put the picture down carefully on her nightstand, slipped on one of her black dresses and led him downstairs. He found her lack of underwear habit to be sexily amusing. At the bottom of the stairs, a mop danced and twirled on the blood puddle in the middle of the entrance. Magic would never not be fascinating. Trying to not get distracted by the delicious scent of her blood, Eric followed her through the house. Unlike his home, hers was filled with crap. Books, vases, clay sculptures, candles, porcelain little animals, African tribe masks, plants, wall hangings, tapestries, more plants, paintings, trinkets of all varieties. When they passed the kitchen, he saw a vintage ringer washer in the corner, bloody rags squeezing themselves through the rollers. He hadn't laid eyes on a ringer washer since the second world war. If there was such a thing as a household museum, this house was it. It was one long trip down memory lane, with furnishings and decor from so many eras it was overwhelming. The house was also never-ending; it was room after room after room. How could one person live in such a large place all by herself? They finally ended up in a large formal dining room. The walls were covered with portraits of people. She stood in front of a large painting of six women - one was herself. He gathered this must have been painted in the early 1700s, judging by their clothes. The women were all beautiful. Four must have been in the 30s, Raven was the youngest one, and in the middle was an elderly lady with a serious look on her face.

"This was my coven," she pointed at the serious woman in the center. "Agatha was the eldest and our High Priestess, head of our coven. She raised me as my mother died in childbirth and my father was… Busy. She was one of the greatest master conjurers of her time. Even better than my father."

"What's a conjurer?"

"Conjurers can summon, control and banish demons and spirits. It's very dangerous work, but she was a total genius. I mean Agatha Beekman created seven of the twelve different summoning circles. Do you know how insane that is?" Uhm, no he didn't. She moved on to the next woman in the portrait, the one he recognized to be: "Mabel. She was a healer. She worked at the Boston Dispensary. Catherine was a potions master and work at an apothecary. Harriet was a medium and fortune teller and Violet was an enchantress. She was going to be my mentor, but I ended up teaching myself. Not that it matters anyway, without a proper mentor my capabilities aren't recognized in the Church of Night. I'm a dropout."

Eric looked at her shy smile. It veiled a lot of pain and sadness. He felt honored she would share her family with him, even if they were dead.

"And you all lived in this house?"

"Yes. It's all I have left of them."

Eric didn't understand how it wouldn't be incredibly painful to live among the ghosts of her family. She was living in the middle of her family's memorial. The whole place was basically a mausoleum. Every corner was a physical reminder of the women who no longer walked this earth. The memories of her sisters clearly still hurt her, judging by the locked and forgotten rooms upstairs. They were untouched time capsules as if they were waiting for their return. It felt incredibly personal, standing there watching her tell him about her family. Seeing her so emotionally vulnerable should have made him nine shades of uncomfortable, but yet - it didn't. He wanted to know more.

"Do you ever see them? Their spirits?" He asked.

"No," she answered shortly, looking away. "When bodies are burnt their spirit can no longer visit their realm. There's nothing to anchor them here."

"Antonia burnt at the stake in the 1600s, why is she still here?" Eric asked.

"She's a necromancer, they aren't allowed in the dead realm. Whatever forces govern there are too afraid of what they could do if they let them in. So since there's nowhere for them to go, they get stuck in this plane forever."

"So…Marnie is still here?"

"No, I banished her to purgatory when I burned her. Antonia too. It was the only place I could think of that their souls could go to."

"You said you were an enchantress, not a conjurer."

She laughed again, for real this time. It was that laugh he liked so much.

"Glad to see you're paying attention. Well, not much to do in this house by myself, so I read a lot. I read all the books in the study, plus whatever I could find hidden in their bedrooms."

Raven led him to the kitchen and much to his fascination the kitchen magically prepared food. They sat by the kitchen island while a pie and a block of cheese floated out of the vintage fridge, plate and cutlery flew out of the cupboards and they softly landed in front of Raven. She cut herself a generous slice of the apple pie and the yellow strong-smelling cheese. She was British alright. While she ate, they shared stories of the past. He told her how he met Pamela in San Francisco. His Viking life. Funnily enough, they found out they both lived in London at the same time, but Raven was just an infant. She was very curious about his life - something Sookie never was. She never once asked about himself. And he was equally intrigued by Raven.

"How come they burnt your sisters but not you?"

"They did arrest all of us. Witchcraft trials weren't as prevalent in the 18th century as the previous ones, so they had to add a lot of other bullshit to make it stick. Theft, because we had too many nice things in the house for being a bunch of unmarried women. Mabel got charged with murdering a newborn, even though it was just a stillbirth. Mabel was a healer, she wasn't capable of killing anyone, even if she tried. Harriet and Violet were charged with crimes against nature, for being in a same-sex relationship, which is absolutely ludicrous. That one got the court heated. But the big one was arson. Someone burnt 65 acres of wheat crops outside of town, and we got blamed for it."

"I asked my father for help," she continued. "I figured him being the Bishop in the Church of Night would be of some use, but there is a witch rule that supposedly tied his hands. Once caught, a witch must perish alone, in order to not further expose us. I still haven't forgiven him for that. How could he have done nothing when his only job was to protect us?" She took a big breath, shaking her head. "There was a bullshit trial, the prosecutor had a thing for me. Damien Williams, posing as a merciful man, suggested I should live because I was too young to die for my crimes and that my sisters made me do it and I could repent, or whatever. Their punishment was to be burnt alive, and mine was to watch. The town was alive with hatred on execution day, people surrounded us, yelling horrible things, throwing rotten food at us. But my sisters didn't scream or cry. They died quietly in the fire, holding hands - they were strong until the end."

Eric wanted to reach for her hand and squeeze it hard, but his nagging voice of reason told him it would be best not to. Still, he knew survivor's guilt better than anyone else. Everyone he ever loved was lost, usually because of senseless violence. Humans had been so cruel to witches in the past millennia. His mother always told him witchcraft was evil since he was a young boy. But it wasn't until Christianity took over Europe completely that fear and hatred spread. Eric watched it happen, but he always looked away. He thought he was above it all, being a vampire. It simply wasn't his problem. Plus, how could his beautiful and kind mother be wrong? Witchcraft was evil. Anyone who meddled with it had it coming and it was not his war to fight in. Only too late he had realized that it wasn't quite true. Witches were often kind. They were healers and midwives, made offerings to the Gods for better harvests and milder winters. Yet society still often shunned them. For centuries, women were made to obey their husbands. Birth heirs, be graceful, weak and quiet. Cook and clean. Being a rebel himself, that's why he loved Pam and Nora so much. They were defiant women, stuck in a world filled with lesser men, who were just powerful by being birthed male. As he watched her empty plate fly into the sink and disappear under soap bubbles, he realized why humanity hated witches: witches didn't bend the knee to societal expectations of them. Raven was an unmarried woman, her whole coven was. And she was not sad or upset by it in the slightest. He craved her taste again.

"You taste different," he told her.

"Like what?" she asked after she swallowed her food.

"Dry, like wine."

"I taste dry?" She scoffed, not taking the compliment.

"But rich and pure, like humans used to be before industrialization," his mouth was already watering. "You are absolutely delicious. If Tru Blood tasted like you, not a single vampire would bite a human ever again."

She laughed and scoffed again. "Well don't get used to it," he was taken aback. "Don't get me wrong, I love a chicken fried steak just like any other person, but I'm not gonna fuck a cow while I eat it."

"That's what you think of vampires?" he cocked an eyebrow. That was a bold statement for a semi-mortal to make.

"Do you or do you not, fuck your food?" She had a devilish smile on her face. "Anyway, now that you have my blood in you, I have to tell you something. It might-"

She was cut off by a sudden knock at the front, which door that sent Eric's mind spinning. Sure that it was Bill Compton trying to finish the job, he rushed to the front door before Raven could even react. He opened the door, fangs out, hissing in primal rage, ready to rip his head off. Bill Compton deserved to die and he didn't care about the consequences.

But instead, there was another man standing on Raven's porch. He was an elderly man in his 60s, with spiky grey hair and a pair of thick black eyebrows, almost covering his piercing blue eyes. He wore a three-piece black silk suit with a white neck-stock. His body stood tall, and stiff, hands grasped on a long and thing polished wooden cane. This didn't look like Bill Compton's staff. The man eyed him and looked unimpressed at Eric's shirtlessness. He had a deep raspy voice, with a faint British accent.

"I see my daughter took after Mabel Reid. How…depressing," he sighed.

Raven and Eric sat in the living room with Elijah for what felt like years. Raven and Eric sat together, and Elijah sat on the other velvet sofa across the room, slurping his boiling hot tea loudly. Elijah stared at Eric intensely, not breaking eye contact. Eric stared back with the chilling authority only a vampire Sheriff had. Raven's body still beamed with one hell of a post-orgasm glow, which was the cherry on top of this awkward sundae. She shifted her ass on the couch but failed to get comfortable, her hips still felt stiff. There truly couldn't be a worse time for her father to visit, really. To say this was the epitome of embarrassing was an understatement. Her heart was ringing in her ears and she felt her face get hot.

"So… Elijah… What brings you here?" Raven asked.

He slurped loudly on his tea some more. Eric looked at him intensely, it was hard to read him. Elijah reached for the kettle to pour himself more tea. Maybe it was best to send Eric away? There was really no need for a vampire to meet her father. Especially one she just had sex with.

"Oh, but where do I start?" He sat the kettle down on the coffee table aggressively. "Let me try. My only daughter joined a coven of inexperienced half-blood witches that serve her no purpose whatsoever."

"Serve me a purpose? I didn't want to join any coven -"

"And on top of that," he interrupted, raising his voice. "She chooses a coven in another Church of Night District,"

"So you came here because you're pissed that you can't control me anymore?" She asked defiantly.

"Control you? Raven, I can't protect you anymore!" He spoke even louder, the timbre of his voice sent her heart racing in anger. Her father - Bishop or not - was not going to barge in her house in the middle of the night, uninvited, and yell at her as if she were a misbehaved teenager. She was a fucking adult.

"Protect me?!" Raven yelled back, digging her fingernails right into her palms. "You've been shit at protecting me my whole fucking life, what could you possibly be protecting me from now?!"

"From the Authority." He said simply as if it were obvious.

"Whose authority?" She barked.

"The Vampire Authority, Raven," Eric explained, in a calm voice.

She looked at Eric, confused. Was she missing something? She was failing to connect the dots here. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Alexander Randall, Bishop of this Southwestern District has made a deal with the Vampire Authority to provide assistance in tracking a certain vampire. Randall delegated the task to the closest witch tracker to where the vampire in question was last seen."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"It's you. You are the tracker, Raven."

"That's ridiculous! I didn't pledge my coven to Randall's District nor it's written anywhere in the Witch Rule Book that a coven or witch has to kiss the Bishop's ring! He can't make me do shit!"

"But your contract with the Louisiana Vampire King can." Elijah spat the words with pain. Raven felt a lump in her throat. "The Authority it's on its way to pick you up, they'll be here shortly." Elijah's voice broke, he fidgeted in his seat. He looked frightened.

"Dad?" Raven asked, scared. Elijah had what it seemed to be tears in his eyes for a second. He blinked them away, looking at the fireplace. She had never seen fear on her father's face, and it terrified her to her core.

"I begged him to choose someone else. But there is no one else. Not a whole lot of witches left in Louisiana, Vampire capital of the world," he shot a dirty look at Eric before proceeding. "Randall traded your services for the safety of all wizards. Roman Zimojic agreed to put in a no-kill order on all wizards along with humans if you do this. The Authority rules all vampires worldwide. This is, of course, a political golden ticket for Randall. This certainly seals his chances for Papacy. Satan truly tests me with his irony, doesn't He? That my own daughter will be the one who-"

Raven's mind was spinning. Witches would no longer be hunted by vampires. Thousands of years of conflict would be over. Her coven, her father, Emilia, everyone she knew from the Church of the Night upstate; everyone would be safe.

"Who am I even looking for?" Raven interrupted her father's ramblings at the edge of her seat.

"Russell Edgington."

END BOOK 1

Thank you so much for joining Raven in this journey.

Blood Moon has gotten 4k views in 12 weeks which passed any and ALL of my expectations. I was 5 chapters in when I decided to post it here, completely on a whim because I swore no one would read my silly little story. Little did I know that over 100 people would religiously read every chapter the day it came out, week after week. I absolutely loved every follow, every favourite and EVERY SINGLE comment, thank you so much for taking the time to read Raven's story. If you haven't commented yet, please do so! Tell me what you'd like to see in part 2!

BOOK 2 IS OUT NOW! It's called BLACK MOON LILITH! It is rated M, will have a lot more magic, more blood, more sex, more darkness, more twists, and will be quite a bit longer. You will find out about Raven's dreams, Eric and Raven's new blood bond, Raven's coven sisters, Godric, her father and mother, and the Church of Night. The show's best villain is back! Will Eric and Raven's affection for each other be able to survive their differences?

muck love,

Laura (Spicehoney)

PS: if you are reading this, this chapter has been updated. And that's a wrap! This whole book has been revised. Next, will be Book 2 :) Again, no plot changes will be made, just adding some details, clarifications and improving grammar.