You weren’t sure what was worse — being broke, or having Ginger as your reference.
“Eric!” she squealed as she dragged you across the floor of Fangtasia, heels clicking. “This is my sister! Isn’t she so pretty?”
You wanted to melt into the sticky floor. But there he was: Eric Northman, six-foot-whatever of pure Viking menace, sprawled on that ridiculous throne like he owned the world. Which, in this bar, he basically did.
His eyes slid over you lazily. “Ginger’s sister.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge that made your stomach flip. “You’re applying for the bartending position.”
“Yes,” you said, a little too quickly. Your palms were already clammy. Great start.
Eric leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand. “Why Fangtasia? Surely you could find work somewhere less… dangerous.”
Your mouth went dry. “I needed a job. And I’m good at keeping my head when things get… rowdy.”
“Rowdy.” His mouth curved, slow and sharp. “That’s one word for it.”
Ginger giggled in the corner. You resisted the urge to kick her.
He stood suddenly and wow, he was even taller up close, towering over you like some predator. “You don’t scare easily.”
“I didn’t say that,” you muttered. “I just… don’t run.”
That seemed to amuse him. His grin widened, fangs flashing briefly. “Good. I don’t like employees who run.”
Your heart was doing somersaults, but you forced yourself to keep eye contact. Big mistake his gaze felt like it was stripping you bare.
Eric tilted his head. “You’ll start tomorrow. Behind the bar. Don’t disappoint me.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous. “And remember Fangtasia staff belong to me. That includes you now.”
Your brain short-circuited. “E-excuse me?”
“Your contract, of course,” he said smoothly, though that sly smile told you he was enjoying every ounce of your fluster. “Welcome to Fangtasia.”
————-
Happy official first day of Spooky season! Starting it off right with one of my favorite vampires
Lucine pulled her backpack over one shoulder. She grabbed her garment bag and locked her car. It was 6:45 PM, and the dark, twilight sky was fading to reveal the first evening stars.
She walked across the cracked pavement toward the employee entrance. A heavy static vibration bled through the brick wall and penetrated her senses. Pulling open the door, she followed the quiet corridor. It was a massive relief to find the dressing room completely empty upon walking inside. Claiming a stool at the corner vanity, she took comfort in the silence. She needed a moment to center herself before the other dancers arrived.
A warm glow framed the mirror. She plugged in her curling iron and began curling and pinning long, wavy strands of chestnut hair. Once finished, she blended a few drops of a satin foundation over her pale, flawless skin. She leaned a fraction closer to line her green eyes. The distinctive gold rings around her irises were emphasized by the warm light. She was dusting her face with powder when the silence was broken by the sound of laughter.
"—and he’s standing there trying to look tough in front of Eric," Roxie scoffed, pushing the door open. Her long acrylic nails tapped against the wood. "It was so fucking embarrassing, Rio. I couldn't even look at him."
Rio snorted, juggling a duffel bag and a pair of boots. "Please tell me Booker kicked his ass out."
"Definitely. He didn't even—"
Roxie stopped short. She stared at the corner vanity, sizing up her new competition. Dropping her bag at an empty station, her eyes fixed on Lucine. "Didn't know we were onboarding tonight."
"Excuse Roxie," Rio said, sliding onto the vanity stool next to Lucine. "She’s a fucking bitch who thinks she owns the place because she dances on Eric's private stage." He rolled his eyes, dropping his duffel bag onto the scuffed counter. "I'm Rio. What do we call you?"
"Eden," she answered, meeting his gaze in the reflection. "Nice to meet you."
Roxie let out a sharp, condescending laugh from across the room. "I dance on that stage because I pull the highest numbers in the room, Rio. Your locker ain't the only thing dusty in here." She unzipped her tote with a harsh tug.
Rio rolled his eyes instantly and leaned closer to Eden. "Don't let her play you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She ain't pullin' big tips because of her routine. Eric and Pam pass her around after hours. A regular Fuck n' Feed."
His eyes drifted down to the shimmering garment she held in her hands. "Damn, that is absolutely gorgeous. Is it chainmail?"
"Rhinestone mesh," Eden said, holding it up. The crystals shimmered under the warm vanity lighting.
She stood up to slip out of her street clothes, stepping into the liquid-like weight of the dress. It draped low across her chest and split high at the hip. From the hem, delicate rhinestone thigh-chains hung in glittering tiers. Behind her, Rio and Roxie started their makeup, settling into their usual routine. Eden reached behind her neck, her fingers blindly tracing the delicate metal. She fumbled, trying to hook the tiny clasp.
Rio set his makeup brush down, catching her movement in the reflection. He rose from his stool with a relaxed chuckle. "Let me help you with that. Those things are a nightmare to get on your own without breakin' a damn nail."
He stepped back with an appreciative whistle. "Perfect. Now get the heels on. Let’s see the full visual."
She sat back down to slip into six-inch heels. As she stood upright, the clear platforms glinted. They had an intimidating arch, but her natural grace kept her completely steady. She turned slightly to check her reflection.
From her vanity, Roxie scoffed under her breath. "Enjoy the bar stage, sweetie. It's a rough crowd."
Reaching up, Eden slid the bobby pins from her hair, letting the long chestnut curls drop down her back. Rio caught her gaze in the mirror and gave her a supportive wink before picking his brush back up. For the next hour, hissing hairspray and casual banter filled the dressing room. Through the walls, a faint, rhythmic thumping vibrated steadily.
At exactly 8:25 PM, the door cracked open. Ginger peeked her head inside, her messy, blonde ponytail askew. She cast a wide-eyed look around the dressing room. "Pam, incoming," she warned. "She's already on a rampage, so don't be late."
Ginger didn't even wait for an answer before disappearing back down the hall. At exactly eight-thirty, they lined up shoulder-to-shoulder near the bar area. Pam glided over. Her heels clicked sharply against the concrete floor.
She stopped first in front of Rio, her icy gaze traveling down his frame. "Nice," Pam murmured, running her finger over his tan skin to trace the edge of his sheer black crop top. "Your ass looks great in those shorts. Let’s hope they inspire some decent tips in VIP tonight. Try doin' more than just standin' there lookin' pretty. Shoulders back."
Pam drifted to the right, her eyes narrowing at Roxie. "Well, look at you," Pam drawled, reaching out to tug a strand of her bleach-blonde extensions. "Your hair actually looks halfway decent tonight. It almost makes up for that trashy pink leopard print corset you decided to wear. Almost. Keep your energy up on Eric's stage. You're only up there until somethin' more interestin' walks through the door."
Finally, Pam pivoted to face the new girl. "Eden," she said, her eyes sweeping down the glittering fabric. "Now this is an outfit. You’re on the bar stage tonight. Let's see if they eat you alive."
✦☽✦☾✦
By midnight, the club was in full swing. The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and overpriced drinks. Red neon cut through the shadows. The light washed over a pulsing crowd of thrill-seeking humans and predators. A dark bassline throbbed through the floor.
Lounging in his elevated throne, Eric watched the floor with a blasé expression. His gaze casually swept the room, his eyes shifting with subtle precision. Beside him, Pam stood statuesque, one arm draped over the top of his throne.
Up on the bar stage, Eden moved with mesmerizing fluidity. The rhinestones on her dress caught the club lights and fractured into a liquid shimmer as she moved. Her balance was entirely effortless. She commanded the room with a weightless poise that felt altogether otherworldly.
Near the platform, a drunk customer pushed past the barrier. His face was flushed. He lunged sloppily and gripped her ankle, trying to pull her towards the floor.
Eden flinched at the sudden contact. Bracing her right foot, she yanked her ankle back to tear free from his fumbling fingers. He stumbled forward, pressing his palm against the stage. Eden instantly drove her stiletto down, pinning his hand firmly.
"Fucking bitch!" he yelled sharply.
Holding steady pressure, she didn't look down at the man. Her eyes cut straight to Booker behind the bar. A dark blur crossed the floor and he was suddenly there. He hauled the guy off the stage by his collar, dragging him toward the back exit. The door slammed shut.
Eden stepped back into her performance, her body moving effortlessly again. She caught Eric's unreadable gaze from the main stage. Flawless start, Lucine, she thought sarcastically. You'll either be fired or drained.
✦☽✦☾✦
By 3:00 AM, the crowd was gone. The dancers sat at the bar in their regular clothes while Ginger and Booker closed up.
Rio slid a glass of dark red wine across the counter toward her. "A scrappy bitch on night one," he joked lovingly. "I like your style. You didn't take no shit from that asshole."
"Thank you," Eden said, taking a slow sip. The scent of the pressed grapes reminded her of home.
A few feet away, Roxie leaned back against the rail with a snarky smirk. "Well, it was nice knowing you," she chimed in. She was convinced her new competition was getting the boot for assaulting a customer. "First shifts are usually trial runs anyway."
"And how are you so sure Eric's violent ass didn't find that shit attractive?" Rio snapped back, cutting his eyes toward Roxie with a dry chuckle.
Eden ignored her, turning her head as Booker walked up behind the counter to wipe down the taps. She extended a hand toward him, polite and deliberate. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said. "I'm Eden. Thank you for your help out there."
Booker paused, his eyes shifting from her hand up to her face. He accepted the gesture with a brief, firm grip. "Booker," he replied. "Seemed like you had him under control. I just took out the trash."
Nearby, Ginger paused her sweeping. She placed a hand on her hip. "You're a badass. I probably would have just screamed," she remarked, shaking her head as she resumed.
Pam strode over from the office.
"Eden."
The room went quiet as she spoke.
"Eric wants to see you in his office. Now."
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you're enjoying getting to know these characters and exploring the backstage world of Fangtasia. Chapter Three is up next, and the stakes are about to get a lot higher. See you all in Eric's office!
Welcome to Bon Temps… but not the version you saw on TV. This collection sinks its fangs into the wild, wicked, and gloriously messy side of True Blood — where Tara gets the love, danger, and dark seduction she always deserved, and Eric Northman is exactly as unhinged, magnetic, and irresistible as you remember. These stories are: Cheeky, raunchy, and deliciously irreverent Unapologetically pro–Eric/Tara (because chemistry this explosive deserves its own universe) Not always kind to Sookie/Bill — and honestly, that’s half the fun Dripping with classic True Blood energy: violence implied, desire simmering, drama dialed to eleven Fast, fierce, and addictive, just like a night out at Fangtasia Expect sharp tongues, sharper fangs, and a whole lot of trouble. This is True Blood rewritten with attitude, heat, and a wicked sense of humor — the way it should’ve been all along.
Eric Northman is a Viking -and like a Viking, Eric takes what he wants. From the sticky floors of Merlotte's to the supernatural underworld,
