Sam got out his truck and slammed the door. This day had been a nightmare from the very beginning. First, he received a call from a tenant at one of the duplexes he owned, asking if he could fix a leaky faucet. What should have been a ten minute repair turned out to take more than two hours, not to mention having to shell out $260 for replacement parts. Then he got a call on his cell from Arlene telling him she wasn't going to make her evening shift because she had some kind of stomach flu. Before Sam could utter a word of complaint, Arlene started gagging and hung up the phone. This was her third time calling in sick this week. Now he was going to be short-handed two waitresses and a bartender.

It was after seven when he finally walked into the bar. Merlotte's was moderately packed with customers mostly left over from the dinner rush or coming in to unwind after work. Sam waved to a few of the regulars then stopped cold when he saw Tara working behind the bar. She was busy refilling a pitcher of beer for his new waitress, Rachelle. She didn't even bother to look up when the waitress turned and said his name with a frantic look of relief on her face.

Normally, Sam would've been happy to see Tara at the bar, but tonight her presence only irritated him more. He was her boss for godsakes, even if he was head-over-heels, crazy in love with her. Her being here was a direct challenge to his authority. He couldn't just let her act as if nothing had happened between them yesterday.

As he approached, Rachelle grabbed him by the arm. "Thank God you're here, Sam," she said.

Tara continued working, as if he wasn't standing there. It occurred to him that her actions were deliberate. That pissed him off even more.

"Arlene called and said she was sick again," Rachelle continued, oblivious to the tension Sam felt building inside. There was something else bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Tara looked different somehow.

He noticed that her braids hung unbound around her shoulders instead of pinned back from her face in her usual style. She was wearing a satiny white, short-sleeved, collared blouse that buttoned down the front, with a pair of black slacks that complimented her slender figure. She was bit over dressed for work at Merlotte's, but Sam had to admit she looked exceptionally pretty.

He tore his eyes away from her bent head, long enough to spare Rachelle a cursory glance.

"I know," he said. "She called me while I was on the way over."

"Sam, I'm not sure I can handle a big crowd like this."

"It's not that big. You'll do fine.

"I don't think so. Arlene always handles section 3 because there are more tables. She said it would be too much for me since I'm new and all."

And Arlene can get more tips, Sam thought.

"Sookie takes care of section 4 because that's where Mrs. Fortenberry sits who doesn't seem to like me much and—."

"Hallie's still here. I'll see if she'll work a double shift."

"But what if she can't? I'll be stuck here doing all this by myself," she said, her voice on the verge of hysteria. "This isn't what I signed up for, Sam. I might forget someone's order or get the tables mixed up. I can't handle this type of stress. I'll-."

"Jesus, Rachelle, just do your fucking job, okay?" he snapped, losing his last bit of patience.

Rachelle's big brown eyes widened then glistened with tears. She quickly grabbed the pitcher of beer from Tara then scurried away.

"You wanna tell me what that was about? You practically bit that poor girl's head off."

Sam whipped around to glare at Tara. "You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing here?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She turned away to take money from a customer. "I'm working."

Sam followed her to the register. "I told you to take time off."

"And I told you I didn't want to."

"I wasn't giving you a choice, Tara."

"Look," she said, spinning around to face him. "I need to work, and you obviously need the help, so unless you plan on firing me right now I'm staying."

She brushed past him and Sam got a whiff of her perfume, along with something else. The faint smell was foreign, but strangely familiar. It reminded him of someone. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. She continued to the other end of the bar where Hoyt was waiting to give his drink order. When she bent forward to hand him a beer, she brushed her braids away from her face and over her shoulder. For a brief second, Sam saw the bandage on her neck. It was partly hidden by her collar. It dawned on him suddenly that the smell was similar to Bill's, yet different. It was the smell of another vampire.

A fucking vampire!

Sam's hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened. He could feel the heat rising in his face. He wanted to explode and hit something.

"Tara, in my office, NOW!"

Everyone turned to stare at Sam in shocked silence, including Tara. For a moment, she looked frightened then there was a lift in her chin and a flash of resignation in her eyes. She turned and headed to his office. Sam was dead on her heels. He slammed and locked the door behind them.

"I'll just get my stuff-," she began.

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "How could you do it, you of all people?"

"Sam, what the hell-."

"Did you fuck him?"

Her eyes widened. "W-What?"

Sam spit the words out slowly. "I said did…you…fuck…him?"

"Who?"

Sam yanked down the edge her collar revealing the bandage on her neck.

"The fucking vampire who bit you!"

Her hand immediately went up to cover the bandage. She shook her head, attempting to deny his accusation.

"I bumped into a cabinet door this morning."

"Don't lie to me, Tara. I can smell that dead bastard's stink all over you."

"What the…you sniffing me now? How the hell could you possibly..."

Scared of what he might do next, he walked away from her and banged his fist against the bookshelf beside his desk. His knuckles ached, but it was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his heart. He stared back at her, trying to reign in his emotions.

"Why, Tara? Why would you do something like that? You know how dangerous they are."

"What I do is none of your business, Sam. You're just my boss; correction… my former boss."

She might as well have kicked him in the gut. Sam pressed his lips together in a hard line. He was so sick of this game between them. Tired of chasing after a dream that always seemed out of reach, first with Sookie, then Daphne and now Tara. They stared at each other for long time.

He straightened his spine and walked towards her. She took a step back when he got within an arm's length. Sam closed the gap, placing his hand on the wall behind her head. He could sense the tension in her body as he leaned closer.

"You're right," he said. "It's none of my business. I'm just the guy you used to fuck, right? Nothing more."

She blinked. Tears shined in her eyes. "You can't understand, Sam." Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it. "I couldn't control it. He did things to me, I…"

Sam closed his eyes, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest.

"You wanted him to?"

"No."

"Did he glamour you?"

She lowered her head, hiding behind her long braids. "I-I don't know. Maybe."

"Either he did or he didn't."

"I said I don't fucking know."

Sam's temper flared again. "Who the hell was it, Tara? If he forced you against your will, I can hunt the bastard down. I swear I'll-."

"It only happened once. I'll probably never see him again."

Sam couldn't believe how naïve she was behaving. This wasn't like Tara at all. Was she trying to protect the vamp's identity? Had this bloodsucker gotten his hooks into Tara the same way Bill had with Sookie?

"I knew Sookie was naïve, but not you. A vampire is like a stray, a vicious one. Once you feed him, he'll just keep coming back for more until he finally turns on you. Is that what you want? Are you so fucked up in the head over Eggs, that you're willing to do anything to join him?"

Her face screwed up with anger. "I'm not Sookie, and you have no fucking idea what I'm going through. I had to do it. It was the only way…" She bit her lower lip, realizing she said too much.

Sam peered down at her, wishing for once he had Sookie's mind reading ability. "It was the only way to do what?" he asked. "Talk to me, Tara."

"No." She pushed her hands against his chest, but he refused to budge.

"Talk to me," he repeated.

She shook her head, leaning back against the wall.

Sam cradled her face between his palms, wiping away an escaped tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Stop shutting me out and talk to me."

She attempted to pull away from his grasp, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Please," he whispered, inching closer. "For once, let me in, cher."

She stared up at him with those big doe eyes, and Sam felt his heart pause then restart itself. All the feelings he'd been suppressing came flooding to the surface. Before he could stop himself, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. She hesitated before sliding her hands around his shoulders. When the tip of her tongue made contact with his, it was like she lit a match inside him. Passion consumed him. It had been too long since he tasted her and felt the softness of her body. He missed her touch, her smell, and even her hot-blooded temper. He meant for the kiss to be gentle, comforting, but his desire turned it into something that was primal and wrought by aggression. He wrapped his arms possessively around her waist, pulling her tightly against him so that their bodies were perfectly aligned.

A low growl rumbled from his throat. He had never desired a woman so intensely. If he could, he would have breathed her into his lungs and held her there. His hands stroked and caressed her back. He was desperate to feel her beneath him, to suffuse his heart and soul within her heat. Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up by the waist and took her back to his desk, placing her on the edge. Tara's eager hands lowered to the waistband of his jeans and pulled out his shirt. She then slid the strap of leather from his belt buckle.

At the same time, Sam was working on the buttons on her blouse. "God, I want you so much." he panted. It took everything within him not to rip the satin garment from her body. In a heated frenzy, he slid the top from her shoulders. Her bra followed soon after. He bent his head, kissing the soft swell of her breasts. She moaned as he took one chocolate nipple into his mouth and suckled.

"Oooh, Sam, that feels good."

He ran his fingers over the beaded tip of her other breast and squeezed gently.

Tara closed her eyes and moaned again.

"Hurry the fuck up and take my pants off," she demanded.

Sam quickly dropped to his knees in front of her while she kicked off her sandals and unbuttoned her slacks. He slid them slowly down her legs as his eyes traveled upward. She leaned against his desk, staring down at him with that glazed look of desire in her opal eyes. She was exposed in nothing but skimpy, white bikini briefs which contrasted nicely with her mocha skin.

Sam had never been so turned on in his life. Just the thought of making love to her in his office had him hard as a rock. He remembered the pleasure point that always got her going and leaned forward to plant a kiss on the faint scar right above her knee.

He heard a hitch in her voice as she said his name. It was like music to his ears.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, strumming his fingers over her knee cap.

Slowly, he trailed kisses up to the curve of her thigh. He could smell her arousal. It was almost enough to do him in. He pulled down the lacey white panties, letting them fall around her ankles. She lifted her leg and twined her fingers in his hair, biting her lip with anticipation.

Sam licked his lips and bent his head towards the center of her pleasure.

"Fuck! Yes…yes… just like that," she cried.

Sam stared up at her, marveling at the ebony beauty that towered above him. She was so sensuous. He wondered how he could have desired any other woman but her?

"Fuck me, Sam. Please," she begged.

Sam wanted to drag this out, using his tongue to make her come several times before seeking his own release, but the urgency in her voice had him scrambling to his feet. She helped him push his jeans and boxers past his thighs then took hold of his erection, stroking him up and down.

"Jesus!" he said, squeezing his eyes shut. "If you keep doing that I'll come before I can even get it in."

She spread her legs invitingly. "We sure don't want that." She gave him a hint of a smile.

He pulled her closer to the edge the desk and wedged his hips between her legs. When he leaned her back, she cried out, but it sounded more from pain than pleasure.

"Shit!"

"W-What's wrong," he asked, worried that in his haste he'd somehow injured her.

"Damn stapler's in the way," she said, grimacing.

He chuckled then pushed it and several other items off his desk onto the floor.

Tara grinned. "That's better."

Sam kissed her like a starving man presented with a bountiful feast.

"God, you feel so good," he said, trailing kisses down the uninjured side of her neck.

"I know I do." It was the same words she said to him the first night they were intimate. Even then, he felt what they shared was more than just casual sex. He gripped her hips and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her hot cunt. A low moan tore from his lips. It was like submerging himself in a languid pool after a long drought in the desert. Her love rejuvenated him, filled him with vigor.

"I missed you," he whispered in her ear then proceeded to show her just how much.

"Harder…harder," she demanded.

He did as he was told, biting his lip to keep from groaning too loudly. Usually, his stamina was something to brag about, but right now he was starting to doubt his ability to keep up. His lungs felt on fire. Sweat dripped from his forehead, landing in tiny droplets against her bare breasts. He leaned forward, licking the salty beads of sweat from her skin.

"Almost there…almost… there," she said, rocking her hips upward as he stroked in and out.

"Oh, God!" he said, gritting his teeth. He bent his head down between the crook of her neck and shoulder. "I can't hold off much longer."

This time when she began to grunt in that feral, almost animalistic way, it was the most erotic sound he'd ever heard. He pumped into her once, twice, before feeling her muscles contract around him like a fist.

"I'm coming…coming," she said, throwing her head back.

"Tara!" Within seconds, Sam followed her over the abyss into ecstasy.

Sam stared down at her, his breathing still ragged. Wiping a braid from her face, he said, "I love you."

She stared back at him for long time but said nothing.

"Did you hear me, Tara? I said I love you."

She rose to a sitting position, forcing him to step back. "I heard you, Sam. I just wished you hadn't said it."

Sam frowned, pulling up his jeans and boxers. "Why not? It's how I feel. I want to be with you."

Tara reached down and grabbed her clothes off the floor. She began hooking her bra in place. "This ain't no damn romance novel. You best save that kind of talk for girls like Sookie."

"Tara, you're the only one I want. The only one who gets me."

"Problem is you don't get me, Sam."

"What don't I get?"

She stopped buttoning her blouse to stare at him with sad eyes. "That fake voodoo woman, the one who was supposed to do exorcisms on me and my mama, was right about one thing. There is something evil living inside me, a darkness I can't control. Every day it eats away at my soul. Pretty soon there'll be nothing left. If I'm headed to hell, I ain't dragging you down with me."

"That's ridiculous, Tara."

"Is it? It feels like I'm cursed. Everything I touch turns to shit."

"Not everything." He moved towards her, closing the small space between them. Gently, he caressed her cheek. "Not us. I never stopped wanting you, Tara. I can make you happy if you'll give me the chance."

For a moment, she closed her eyes and smiled. When she opened them again, they were liquid with unshed tears. "What happened here between us was special and you're a good man, Sam. I don't want to ruin you with my crazy fucked up shit. Save your love for someone who really deserves it."

There was a frantic knock on the door. "Yo, Sam, I think your new waitress is out here 'bout to have a nervous breakdown," Lafayette yelled from the other side of the door.

Tara quickly ran her fingers through her braids while Sam finished tucking the tail of his shirt back into his jeans.

"Be out in a second, Lafayette," Sam hollered back.

Tara reached for the knob. Sam stopped her by placing his hand over hers.

"You still have a job here if you want it," he said. "And I won't force you to take time off."

"Thanks."

He stood back while she opened the door. Lafayette stood in the doorway, attempting to peer over their shoulders. "What the hell was y'all doing up in here all this time? Sounded like World War III." He looked down at Tara. "You still working here, girl?"

Tara shifted her gaze to Sam then back to Lafayette. "Yeah, I'm still working here." She walked past him out to the bar.

Lafayette raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Sam. Sam was trying his hardest not to feel like he'd been caught stealing from the tip jar.

Lafayette scoffed. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, brother. "

Sam was wondering the same thing. He was convinced Tara was the one for him. He just had to make her see it too.

Later that night, Tara was awakened by a knock on Sookie's front door. She grabbed her red, satin robe and hurried into the living room. She smiled to herself. Maybe her speech hadn't scared Sam off after all. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before opening the door. Her heart sank when she saw that her visitor wasn't Sam, but Franklin Mott.

"Shit!" she muttered.

"Hello to you too, my sweet," he said with an appreciative smile. "Aren't you a sight."

He sniffed the air in front of her. "Have you been having a bit of fun without me?"

Tara wrapped the robe more tightly around her body. From his lusty gaze, she realized the garment was too thin and too short.

"May I come in?" He was peeking around her shoulder, looking for what she assumed was another male in the house.

"No. You're supposed to call my cell so we can meet, not show up at my doorstep."

"Cell phones are so impersonal, don't you think?" He leaned against the door frame and smiled, his fangs partly showing. "I'd much rather reach out and touch somebody instead."

"You come here to tell me something or just quote old TV commercials?"

"Actually, I brought you a present." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a 44 caliber handgun partly wrapped in a white cloth. "You like?"

Tara just stared. She had never even held a handgun before.

"Go on. Take it, love."

She did, holding it like a fragile newborn. It was much heavier than it looked.

"I just love seeing beautiful women with guns. It must be a guy thing, though you may want to get rid of it later," he said with a wink.

She looked him directly in the eye. "So we really gonna do this?"

"You remember our deal?"

She reluctantly nodded.

His lips curved into that same creepy smile she had seen him wear at Fangtasia.

"Go get dressed, love. You and I have work to do."

TO BE CONTINUED…