The urge to drink, to drain, to kill, was mounting inside Eric and not helping him calm down on several levels. The most obvious being that he was not satisfying that urge, and the less obvious that he did not want to lose so much control as to satisfy that urge.
He wished Asher was here.
Even TruBlood would be better than the sick feeling from the aftertaste of the alien blood, and a second later he was behind the bar, grabbing a bottle and shoving it in the microwave.