Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chpt 30 The Green Eyed Elephant in the Corner

SPOV

I've never met anyone who can terminate a conversation so abruptly. Clearly I have annoyed him again. How? Who knows. I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled that I seem to be getting used to being on the wrong end of his displeasure.

Jerk.

For once I am able to go in the shower and get ready for bed, I can barely remember the last time I slept in my pjs. It's not entirely normal, I'm guessing that dawn isn't far away, yet I am more than ready to slumber away the day.

There is so much I should be worrying about but my mind is draggy and sluggish, or is that Eric I'm feeling through the bond? Either way I don't have the energy to spare right now to fret about Niall, Andre, takeovers, sword and homily wielding Thalias, or Erics.

Instead I wrap myself tightly in the 'eau de Viking' comforter and drift away.

…..

"We are leaving for Fangtasia in twenty minutes."

I open my eyes to find Mr Frosty looming over me, thankfully fully clothed in his normal club attire of thigh hugging jeans, artfully 'barely there' t-shirt and leather jacket.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" I huff, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"You were tired."

"I'm still tired." I grumble, rubbing my eyes again for good measure.

"We do not have time for your human act. Get up. Get dressed."

And, he's gone.

I'd love another shower but there's getting used to Eric being pissed and pushing your luck. I haven't reached pushing my luck for cleanliness yet, not when I'm prepared to push it with coffee first. Gran would be horrified.

The coffee brews while I wash myself and get dressed and I'm just wrapping my lips around the rim of the mug when Mr Frosty re-appears.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

He rolls his eyes.

"I will take the coffee contraption to the car." He informs me, blurring in and out with my suitcase in tow too.

At least he didn't make a grab for the mug, I might have staked him. At least in my head.

When he returns I've drained most of my necessary fuel and can muster a fairly vocal objection when he flings me over his shoulder and runs me out to the car.

"You know." I mutter as I strap myself in. "The whole Viking thing has been over for quite a while."

"What do you know about real Vikings?" He snorts derisively.

"Nothing." I admit. "But the whole slinging a defenceless woman over your shoulder thing is very cliché."

"You think I am a cliché?"

He sounds vaguely offended and without thinking I open the bond to see what he's feeling.

Oh. Offended. Who knew Viking vampires could be so sensitive?

Don't laugh Stackhouse. Just don't.

"Didn't you also threaten to drag me about by my hair?"

"I was trying to impress upon you the importance of following my orders."

"Of course you were."

"It was extremely important, I could not and cannot protect you if you do not co-operate with me."

"Isn't there a difference between co-operation and following orders?"

"There is a distinction I was unsure you would grasp."

This time I do laugh. He actually has a point. If I'd been less scared I'd have been way more difficult and I guess that would have made him a good deal nastier. I'm not sure what I feel about the fact he knew that before I did.

"Nevertheless." He growls. "I meant what I said about the whole dragging you back by the hair thing. Though for the record that is more caveman than Viking. The instincts are similar but I am considerably less hairy."

I fix my attention on the passing scenery, laughter bubbling up at his indignation whether I want it to or not.

Right, smooth as a baby's bottom . . . .

My laugher is now almost hysterical as we pull into the Fangtasia lot.

"I amuse you?" He asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Sometimes Eric, sometimes." I manage to choke out as he helps me out of the car.

. . . . he's laughing . . . .

. . . . she's here again . . . .

. . . . fuck, they look so good together, I don't stand a chance . . . .

. . . . bitch . . . .

. . . . she's a fucking waitress . . . .

. . . . trailer trash . . . .

"What is the matter?" He asks as my steps falter once again.

"Your female admirers don't like me very much."

He snorts and his arm snakes around my waist.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, just about not managing to leap away from him.

"You are a woman and they are sluts. I am protecting you."

"By making me an even bigger target?" I ask as we reach the front of the line.

"No Sookie." Pam chuckles. "By showing them that he values you highly enough to touch you respectfully in front of them."

"You know." I huff. "For vampires I'd have thought you'd have a better grasp of human nature. The first time I take a comfort break tonight they're gonna be queuing up to rip my hair out."

"Sookie." Pam coos. "I would never allow it. Your hair is beautiful."

"Fine. I'll call you when I need to take a leak."

"And I will wipe you afterwards with all the care and attention I can muster." She drawls, winking.

"Pamela." Eric snaps. "Enough."

"Yes Master." She laughs. "But seriously Sookie. My Master is correct. Revel in your superiority. And I will protect you in your human endeavours without impuning your modesty."

"Um, thanks, I think."

She waves us inside and Eric chuckles as he places his hand in the small of my back, guiding me to his booth.

"You will read the humans for me?" He asks, moving aside so Ginger can slide my gin and tonic in front of me.

"Yes, of course."

"I will be in my office, you may summon me through the bond if you require me."

"Okay."

"Perhaps a little less force than you usually use?" He suggests, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Perhaps." I allow with a smile of my own.

Laughing quietly to himself he strides away.

Someone has very kindly laid out my pad and pen and in no time at all I find myself sketching Eric. I'm no great shakes as an artist but it's not half bad.

There's nothing of note going on in the minds here tonight so to alleviate the boredom I start playing around with my disability. I seem to have much better control these days. I can definitely hear minds further away and with practice it's becoming easier and easier to filter through the throng, homing in on some people in more detail and blocking out others almost completely. And then, because I'm tempted, however stupidly, to try it again, I decide to have another go at reading a vampire.

In the end I choose a small wiry woman I've seen at the club a few times, mainly because she's in my line of sight and I think she's quite young, only a decade or so old.

Nothing doing though, no matter how hard I concentrate my mind keeps bouncing off the big shiny void that is hers. Alright, think. You've heard Eric a couple of times, what were you doing each time you heard him? Oh right, let me see. Long Shadow, terrified and preparing to die. The night we bonded, terrified and hoping not to die. The last time? Terrified and not concentrating. Of course, it happens when I'm not concentrating, which I never usually am because I don't need to block out vampires. Brilliant, brain. Have you any idea how hard it is to deliberately not concentrate on something? Of course it does, people try to do it around me all the time. Some of them even manage it for a while, how do they do that?

. . . . . thirsty, need to feed properly . . . . .

Okay, it's not much of a skill if it only works on Eric. And, ironically, my concentration is shot now because I can feel his hunger, thirst, whatever, through the bond. It has me practically squirming in my seat in sympathy, I'm not a skinny woman and there are days when I could eat a scabby horse, but Eric's need is more than I could handle. I'd be face down in Lafayette's meagre dessert selection if I ever felt that hungry.

Still nothing going on in the human heads so I deliberately 'fail' to concentrate on the wiry vampire, Sally, I think her name is.

Now he's horny? I think so, his emotions are whipping too fast for me to follow properly.

The head of the young man next to Sally is not a great place to be but maybe it works like the old Magic Eye books, Gran got me one for my birthday once, I was pretty useless at it in fairness. Not because I couldn't work out what the pictures were, quite the opposite in fact, the authors might as well have drawn around them with a black marker for all the trouble I had picking them out . . . .

. . . . . he'll do, at least he doesn't smell . . . . .

Wow. That was her, I know it was, she's sliding her arm around his shoulders and leading him toward the back of the club. Like Newlin her thoughts were kind of cold and staccato. Maybe because they think quicker than we do? Though the snippets I get from Eric feel much more like my thoughts. Mind you, he is Eric. Is that why they feel like voids, because their thoughts jump around so quick like their emotions? Like trying to see your white sweater when the washing machine's at full spin?

Jason did that to me once. Snuck it in with a load of his football gear Gran was washing. I'd still have loved it if it had come out all pink but it was kind of streaky and abused looking. She made him peel the potatoes for a week for that . . . .

God, he really is hungry but his feelings of anticipation have gone through the roof, nearly taking me with them. And then I'm flooded with something even worse, my knees ramming together automatically. Oh shit, that's too much, he knows the bond is open, how fucking disrespectful can you be? I mentally show him my index finger and slam it closed before he can react.

Jerk!

And shit, if she isn't the world's loudest broadcaster. I'm cutting you off too lady, enjoy the face down view of Eric's desk you're currently getting, I hope that drawer handle leaves a fucking bruise.

Ick. Ew. That's just nasty . . . . Their memories are bad enough but that was like a violation in stereo . . . .

. . . . . I'd rather have the Sheriff's human . . . . .

What?

My eyes scan the club, looking for the source of what I suspect was a vampire thought, cold and quick . . . .

There? Over by the bar. A tall male with wavy brown hair is watching me covertly over the shoulder of the fangbanger rubbing herself up against him.

. . . . . she smells like sunshine . . . . .

Aw, that's actually quite flattering but then he thinks about what he'd like to do to me and I go off him rather rapidly.

Brilliant Stackhouse. Really, well done. Now there is no section of society you can relax with. You'd better start buying cats and saving up for a shack on the top of a mountain, because you are going to be lonely and single forever. Trouble is, now I've stumbled into a vampire mind or two, I don't know how to shut them out. They're actually surprisingly loud broadcasters, every damn one of them.

. . . . . so scared about this takeover . . . . .

. . . . . thirsty . . . . .

. . . . . be glad when this takeover is done and I can go back to my nest . . . . .

. . . . . think about the money . . . . .

Its like when I was younger and didn't really understand how to protect my mind. Random thoughts assaulting me from every direction with no ability to filter or concentrate on any one thing.

Argh!

I slam my shields down, reeling from the sudden quiet.

Thalia watches me with concern as I stumble away from the booth, heading for the restrooms and one of those comfort breaks that requires locking yourself in a cubicle and willing the rest of the world away for a while . . . .

Oh, big mistake. The mirror space is occupied by the owner of the mind I've been avoiding like the plague for the last few minutes. There are oozing fang marks on her neck that she is making no attempt to hide.

I can smell him on her. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be able to do that. And I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be making me want to slap her stupid face.

I keep my shields tight, especially as I can see the slow smile of recognition spreading on her face. I don't need to read her tiny mind to know what's coming next.

"Hi." She says, arranging her hair to ensure the fang marks can't be missed.

"Hello." I am nothing if not polite.

"I hope you don't mind?"

"Don't mind what?" I ask stupidly. That's great Stackhouse, walk right into it.

"What the Master and I just did."

I turn to the mirror, delving into my jeans pocket for my eyeliner and starting to apply it with deep concentration.

"Oh that. No, I don't mind."

"Really?" She asks, re-applying the lipstick I know she wiped off on his desk blotter, not his mouth.

"Of course not." I drawl airily, applying a little more eyeliner and blending it with my pinkie. "At least he looks me in the face when he fucks me."

She launches herself at me with a screech and I don't know which of us is more surprised when, in the blink of an eye, I have her suspended by the throat a good inch off the bathroom floor.

Time stands still for one, mutually, horrified moment. And then with a gasp I let go, and she crashes to the floor on her hands and knees, scrambling round me on all fours like an arthritic Labrador.

Too much vampire blood. Way too much . . . .

I turn to study myself in the mirror as she drags herself out the door. I'm literally glowing from within, like a pregnant woman or something. It must be Eric's blood and I really should have been paying more attention and noticed it sooner. But even as I stare at my reflection the flush fades from my skin and I just look like me again.

Alright. Dodgy overhead lights, vampire blood, random aggressive tendencies and soaring stress levels. Must be due for the monthly unmentionables. Won't that be mortifying while Eric's pursuing his 'enemies closer' policy. I'd say my life really sucks at this point but thanks to a life time of telepathy I know it doesn't, not by a long shot.

A heavy sigh escapes me as I fiddle pointlessly with my hair. And it is pointless. It's extremely thick and heavy and unless I use artificial aids and a ton of hairspray it falls exactly as it likes, usually in waves around my shoulders and down my back. It needs cutting, I can't remember the last time I had it done, I'm surprised there aren't more split ends.

I'd better go back, before Thalia or Pam comes to fetch me like a dog.

I nudge the door open, somehow unsurprised to find Eric waiting for me.

"What happened?" He asks, expression and emotions inscrutable.

"Nothing. Your 'dinner date' just had a bit more attitude than I usually like in my sluts."

He regards me in silence for a while and then he laughs. Actually laughs. Like this is in any way funny.

"I had to glamour her." He admits. "She thought you were going to kill her."

"Good. I hope you glamoured away the memory of your less than stellar performance in the office earlier too, no girl should have to live with that." Must be due on soon, the brain to mouth filter is absent without leave, as is, apparently, my sense of self preservation.

Head held high I flounce away, savouring the look on his face as his mouth dropped open. I'm sure I'll pay for it later, but it was probably worth it.

I ease myself back into the booth to find a fresh gin and tonic and Thalia, with what Jason would call a 'shit eating' grin on her face.

"The Master does not like to have his sexual supremacy questioned." She stage whispers.

"Then the Master should not be rubbing his lack thereof in my Fairy face." I snap with an annoyed shrug.

"Oh Princess." She laughs lightly. "I am fairly certain he will not be making that mistake again."