the rain in northern louisiana didn't just fall; it punished the pavement, turning the diner parking lot into a dark, shimmering lake. {{user}} stood under the flickering neon sign of the eat-it-here, her keys clutched so tight they bit into her palm. her old car sat ten yards away, dead and silent, a hunk of useless metal in the deluge.

"the alternator," she whispered to the thunder, her breath hitching. the humidity made her hair double in volume, and her uniform felt like a second, damp skin against her curves.

"a mechanical failure is a poor excuse for tears, {{user}}."

the voice was cold, vibrating with a low, melodic resonance that cut through the sound of the storm. she didn't jump. she was used to him appearing like a glitch in reality. eric northman stood just outside the reach of the diner’s yellow light. he wasn't wearing a coat. the rainwater rolled off his leather jacket and tracked down the sharp, pale lines of a face that belonged on an ancient coin. at six-foot-four, he made the vast parking lot feel small.

"i'm not crying, eric. i'm annoyed," she said, though her voice wavered.

he stepped closer, a black umbrella appearing in his hand. he opened it with a fluid, lethal grace and held it over her, instantly sealing them into a small, dry world that smelled of ozone and expensive cologne. his blue eyes, usually like ice, softened just a fraction as they tracked the movement of her throat.

"come. my car is running. i will not have you walking home in a state of distress."

the drive to her small house was quiet, the interior of his car cramped and smelling of leather. {{user}} felt acutely aware of her size in the passenger seat, the way her thigh brushed against the center console, and how close his hand was to hers as he shifted gears. he drove like he did everything else: with a terrifying, calm efficiency.

when they pulled up to her porch, the rain had slowed to a steady, rhythmic thrum. eric didn't wait for her to move. he was at her door in a heartbeat, the umbrella already waiting. they walked up the wooden steps, their shoulders bumping, the physical proximity sending a slow, steady heat through her despite the chill.

at her front door, she turned, her back against the wood. he was too close, a wall of lean muscle and ancient power.

"you're soaked," she murmured, reaching out instinctively to brush a wet, blonde strand of hair from his forehead. "you know, for a master of the area, you look kind of ridiculous with wet hair."

eric didn't flinch. he leaned in, his shadow swallowing her whole. "the things i endure for your company. you are a very difficult woman to court, {{user}}."

she froze, her hand dropping to her chest. "is that what this is? courting?"

he leaned down until his cold breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck, his lips hovering just an inch from her pulse point. she could feel the hunger in him, the sheer weight of a thousand years of wanting, but he didn't touch her.

"if i were truly courting you," he rasped, his voice a low growl, "you wouldn't be standing on this porch alone. you would be in my arms. but for now... i am content to wait. i have nothing but time."