Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chpt 25 Stuck on You

SPOV

I had always assumed that not being able to read vampire minds was a good thing. For a start, the relief of being around them without even trying not to hear their thoughts was amazing. As to their reaction if I could I was never sure, would they see me as more useful to them, or would the idea of a lowly human being privy to their secrets be deemed too risky? Bill always alluded to the latter being the case.

Still, despite the fact that I genuinely can't read their minds it looks like I am about to get an answer to that question. Ironic really. It's happened all of three times, every one of them Eric.

He really is very tall I find myself thinking as he towers over my bed. I can see up his nose again, it is clean, for the record.

Silent, immobile, no fang.

"You can read my mind." He says eventually.

"No, not really . . . ."

He swells like a bullfrog . . . .

"Three times." The words spill out in a rush. "It's happened three times, by accident, I just catch a snippet of something . . . ."

"Who?" He demands.

I sigh in defeat, there are worse secrets he could uncover.

"You. It's always you."

His eyes narrow to glittering slits.

"The first time, I caught a bit of what you were thinking when Long Shadow attacked me."

He's silent for a moment, probably trying to recall what it was. I can remember it easily because all he was thinking was 'no'.

"And?"

"The second time was in your office, before we bonded, you, um, didn't want to do it."

He growls deep in his chest but then abruptly drops back into the chair which groans in protest.

"And you just heard me wondering what you are." It's a statement, not a question but I nod anyway.

"It is a perfectly valid question." He observes reasonably. "Perhaps you would care to answer it?"

"I'm just a waitress with a disability Eric. Exactly what you see."

"You have no idea what I see Ms Stackhouse."

If he's expecting a response to that I don't have one.

"I see a woman with the non-human gift of being able to read minds. One who my Queen was interested enough in to send a specialist to seduce, hoping to gain her loyalty rather than just her servitude.

I see a woman who was allegedly able to make a perfectly sensible vampire fall in love with her.

I see a woman who cannot be glamoured.

I see my twice bonded 'human', yet I cannot access her emotions nor influence her in any way.

I see a liar who can read my mind."

"I can't . . . ."

He talks over my objection as if I hadn't attempted it.

"I see a woman for whom I have been threatened with the true death.

I see a woman who almost prevented the hotel bombing which maimed and weakened my Queen and will now result in her final death and the potentially lethal takeover of my state.

I do not see a waitress Ms Stackhouse and certainly not a disabled one. I see a beautiful woman with dangerous secrets, concealed abilities and unknown associations. I see wiles."

But I'm just me. The diluted blood in my veins doesn't change who I am yet I can suddenly see how the secret of it is shaping his reactions to me. My throat works but there are no words to come out of it.

"I too experienced a painful and unprecedented reaction after each time we exchanged blood, I know you are more than you claim to be."

"Eric . . . ."

"The Queen was severely injured in the bombing." He observes flatly, abruptly changing direction. "It will take her many months to heal. In the meantime Andre will rule in her stead. The King of Arkansas met his true death and now neither of our states has an effective leader.

Nature and vampire abhor a vacuum Ms Stackhouse. We will be attacked and taken over by another monarch. Many could lose their lives, even me."

I suck in a breath.

"You are intelligent. Surely you can work out why I consider you a threat to me and those who owe me fealty? Why I can no longer countenance your withholding information from me? Why I do not trust you?"

"Eric, I'm not . . . ."

His palm is up in an instant.

"No more lies Ms Stackhouse. Have you heard of the expression 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'?"

"Yes."

"Excellent." He drawls in a passable impression of Monty Burns, tented fingers and all. "Then what is about to happen will not come as too much of a shock to you."

…..

I have to hand it to him. For a kidnapper he's big on explanations. And remarkably gentle.

Not that he needed to apply much force. Giant Viking. Tiny woman.

If I hadn't been so furious I might have laughed at the mental image of him finally losing patience with my objections and lugging me down my own driveway, thrown over his shoulder in a now familiar way, his free hand carrying my suitcase. I guess it must have looked kind of funny and I should forgive Thalia for laughing so hard the weight of her enormous sword nearly toppled her on her face.

My ire cooled quickly once he had me ensconced in his Corvette, it's always difficult to fault Eric's logic, especially when he's not obliged to supply it. I've always appreciated that about him, he's a powerful vampire and often behaves like one, but unlike Bill he doesn't treat me like I'm too stupid or too unimportant to know at least something about what's going on.

In fact by the time we reached Fangtasia I was starting to wonder if he could control me after all, so reasonable did everything he said sound the second time around.

I can, unfortunately, completely see why he doesn't trust me. I can understand why the situation with the Queen is so dire and how we are all in a great deal of danger. Or more danger, I haven't forgotten Bill's words. This doesn't make the fact the he isn't going to let me out of his sight until he gets the truth any more palatable, it just makes staying mad at him for it slightly harder. Not that I won't give it a good go, as a matter of principle.

I will be staying with him in his safe houses, he has many, though I won't be allowed to know where they are. The depth of his distrust is boundless, I will not be allowed out during the day. I balked at that until he explained that under the circumstances expecting Alcide to be able to protect me when a takeover was underway was tantamount to pulling the trigger myself, and running about on my own just rank stupidity. Once he rises either he or someone he does trust implicitly will be with me at all times. That list contains only Pam and Thalia, which is kinda sad. He is going to be busy. I am a burden. One that could turn on him at any moment yet make it all go away by telling him what I am and who I am in league with.

Its lunacy and he's seriously paranoid. But somehow I understand his current actions, admire him for his concern about the wellbeing of his people and maybe, feel a little sorry for him and inclined to do something if I can to help. Perhaps, if I go along with this, at least for now, I can persuade him that I'm no threat to him without revealing my heritage. It's the pronounced 'v' between his eyebrows, it's wrong on him, and I'm such a soft touch I should probably have a protective cover, like Sam's iPhone.

To my disappointment Eric opts to use the front door of the club and I am forced to endure the thoughts of the Fangbangers until I can get control of my shields.

. . . . she can't be his girlfriend, she doesn't even have any fang marks . . . . .

. . . . here he comes, sex on a stick . . . .

. . . . she wouldn't look so smug is she knew what he did to me last week . . . .

Ick. That's disgusting. I do not need to see Eric's 'cum face' while some slut gives him a mediocre blow job.

"What have you heard?" He demands, aware of my steps faltering beside him.

"Have you actually got any customers you haven't slept with?" I huff in annoyance.

"A few." He smirks. "Do their memories of my prowess cause you issues with your frigidity?"

Rolling my eyes I stomp ahead of him.

"Good evening Sookie." Pam greets me cordially at the door. "What a fetching jacket, did you mug a homeless person?"

"Why yes I did Pam, thanks for noticing."

"Master." She bows slightly to Eric. "I have tended to our guest as instructed."

"Thank you Pam."

She nods, winking at me and turning to the next customer.

"Oh look." I hear her drawl as Eric guides me away. "Black leather and cleavage, what a wicked and unusual imagination you have."

The club is packed with people drinking, dancing and generally having a great time but as usual Eric's presence draws everyone's attention and I pull my shields tighter in self defence against the mental uproar.

Eric gestures to Ginger, the head waitress, who throws me a megawatt smile and zooms off to get me a gin and tonic to go with Eric's customary bottled blood, bringing it over to the booth in the back that is always kept free for his use.

I sip my drink gratefully, using it as a distraction so I can think in peace about what all this actually means, avoiding his speculative glances as his 'people' queue up to pay their respects and exchange chit chat on what happened in Rhodes.

He's confused me tonight, I'll be honest.

I should be screaming for help at the top of my lungs yet I can't exactly say I'm here against my will. Do I want to be here? Where else would I be, at home painting my toenails? Fretting? Ignorant? I could be chained up in the dungeon I'm sure he has. Hell, I could be chained up in someone else's dungeon. I could be dead. Or sold. I'm really not right in the head . . . .

I don't understand it and I can't explain it, but I still, despite everything, feel safe with Eric.

I thank Ginger when she places another gin based distraction in front of me, stirring the ice idly, desperately trying to get all my thoughts in order, glancing covertly at the conundrum that is Eric from time to time. The 'v' is gone and he looks as relaxed and in control as he ever does.

Or does he?

Maybe I'm drunk but his eyes look tight, his body language too controlled, I remember the way he lounged against the bar in Rhodes, drinking synthetic blood like beer, bantering with his colleague . . . .

I push my drink away. There is something seriously wrong with me. I remember the feel of his body wrapped around mine. I remember the feel of his mouth on mine. It warms and repulses me. I'm a kidnap victim for Christ's sake, this isn't a trashy romance novel, and it's way too early to get Stockholm Syndrome . . . . Poor Eric my ass . . . . I need to channel my inner Stackhouse . . . . I need to seriously think about telling him what I am . . . . Niall said I shouldn't but he's not vampires, he's Eric . . . . and Niall did say I should use my head . . . .

"There is someone here I would like you to meet."

His voice startles me out of my revere.

"There is?" I respond stupidly, realising that the club is almost empty and my eyes are almost closed.

"If you can stay awake?" He asks with apparent amusement.

"How is it that my human proclivity to get tired and fall asleep amuses you, yet you still suspect me of all manner of crimes, including not being human?" I growl, hauling myself upright and rubbing my dry scratchy eyes.

"Humph." Is his only response as he stands and offers me his hand.

Ignoring it I scramble to my feet and sway slightly on the spot, just to amuse him some more.

Pam joins us.

"We are going to talk to our guest." Eric informs her.

Her eyebrows shoot up for a moment before she schools her features again.

"Very well Eric. Will you require my assistance?"

"No Pam, please close up and then enjoy the rest of your night. I will see to securing the building when we are done."

Like a blur she whirls away, chivvying humans and vampires toward the door.

"This way." Eric orders, striding toward the back of the bar.

My brain's still too woolly to really wonder what this is all about so I trot after him like an obedient little lamb, following him through the door behind the bar and into a dimly lit corridor that I would have assumed was a storeroom if he hadn't palmed something on the back wall, making it swing open with a movie quality hiss.

Still not thinking I follow him down the concrete steps into the darkness, stumbling and falling forward, throwing my palm up onto this broad back to save myself. He leaps ahead like a scalded cat and I almost fall flat on my face but manage to find the cold clammy concrete wall to save myself instead.

Ha! I'm your human, you shouldn't jump when I touch you.

The dark stairs curve and then there's just enough light to see where I am.

Oh shit, I am naïve, he really does have a dungeon, and I've just walked right into it . . . .