Free Staked by Sandra Edwards

to the bed. Ava watched as they
deposited Stone on top of the covers. When he was safely on the
bed, she kicked off her shoes and reached for the top button on her
blouse. “Both of you. Out.”
    Mickey moved first. “Come on,” he said,
nudging Skeet. “There’s no use trying to reason with her when she
gets like this.” He gave a quick laugh and moved through the gate
separating the two outdoor rooms. Skeet followed him and after a
few seconds Ava heard the slider open and close.
    She didn’t give their intentions more than a
passing thought. Instead, she concentrated on helping Stone. She
had no idea if undressing and crawling in to bed with him would
help; she was just following her instincts. And they told her the
blood she was feeding Stone needed to “communicate” with the blood
still coursing through her veins. To do that, she needed to touch
him, skin against skin, as much as possible. She stripped down to
her panties and bra, then worked him out of his boots and clothes
until he was wearing nothing but his briefs.
    Ava eased onto the bed beside Stone, draped
her leg over his and snuggled up to him. The heat of his skin gave
her a measure of peace. As long as he was hot, or even warm, then
he wasn’t in danger of dying. Immediately.
    She draped a Junovian sheet—ten times softer
than Egyptian cotton—over her backside, just in case one of the
guys walked in. With Skeet around—one hundred percent
uninformed—the likelihood was probable.
    The places on their near-bare bodies that
were touching, skin against skin, sizzled and tingled as if her
blood was actually communicating with his.
    Ava thought about covering the wound on
Stone’s chest with gauze or something but decided against it after
noticing the webbing and scabbing that was building as the seconds
flew by. Carefully, she put her hand on his chest and domed her
fingers over the injury, willing a bit of her life-force to travel
to her fingertips and into Stone’s wound.
    Laying her head near the crook of his neck,
Ava closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander into a world where
Stone was alive and well and flirting with her mercilessly.
    Why she felt so compelled to “save” him, she
didn’t understand. It must be the legend. There had to be some
truth to it. How else did she explain the fact that she was lying
in her own bed, here in a sanctuary where she’d never thought about
bringing anyone until she met Stone. And now, she was cuddling up
to the one person who could destroy her—and they were both
half-naked to boot.
    But he could destroy her. So why was she
trying to save him?
    The inquiry crawled up her back like a bitter
chill. Why? Why do that? Trying to save Stone, knowing what he
could do to her—now that was crazy.
    That silent prayer— please, God...don’t let
him die —rambled around inside her a head a full two minutes
before she realized it had reemerged.
    That was the thing, Ava couldn’t leave him
for dead, not when he’d at least made a pretense—not once, but
twice—of protecting her. First, when he’d stepped between Ava and
Lucien seconds before Lucien doused them with Tiki dust. And again,
when he’d insisted on entering the apartment before her when they’d
arrived at the building where Lucien had stashed Cole.
    For as much as she knew it was a mistake, her
conscience wouldn’t let her look the other way. How could saving a
life be a bad idea?
    Ava raised her head just enough to look at
Stone’s face. She half-expected his lips to curl into a mischievous
grin and one eye open slightly before he broke into fun-loving
laughter.
    But he didn’t. Stone didn’t move.
    Not a single twitch.
    Nothing.
    She lay her head back down and closed her
eyes. She was so tired. And, as far as she could tell, this was the
perfect time to get some sleep. The question was, would sleep come
instead of the dream?
    It wasn’t just any dream. This one was more
like a rerun, a replay of her thirteenth birthday. Her mother