Free Drawing Blood by Mary Lou George Page A

or not. Now the only way to keep her safe was to work with her. If she resisted his interference he’d have to insist. A part of him almost felt sorry for her. Of course as his bloodmate, she had no choice, but at least Stryker knew the rules. Poor Holly had no idea what she was getting into. Her life would be turned upside down. Her fate had been sealed the moment he’d caught his first whiff of her.

    * * * *

    The next morning, Holly woke feeling refreshed. She looked around to see if she’d drawn anything in the night and was relieved to see that she hadn’t. She couldn’t remember a single one of her dreams. That was probably a good thing.
    In all the excitement, Holly and Avery hadn’t had the chance to really talk about Holly’s book idea about the civilization under the lake. She’d mentioned it to Avery who seemed intrigued by the idea, but lately they’d had other things to talk about. Things like precognitive drawings, bloody murder and Stryker Cain.
    Just the thought of the man had Holly blushing. She wasn’t a complete innocent when it came to men. In the past, with Avery’s help she’d managed to slip away from her father’s watchful eye a few times. In fact, she considered herself one of the lucky ones. Her romantic relationships hadn’t left her with any baggage. But not a single man in her past had made her feel what Stryker made her feel with a single glance. It was a strange almost primal thing. The yearning didn’t originate in her mind or even her heart. It seemed to come from her life force…her flesh, her bones, her blood. It was part of her and she was just beginning to get acquainted with it. It scared and thrilled her all at the same time.
    Today she was going to the source. She’d be treading on Stryker Cain’s turf. Would it make a difference? Would her feelings intensify when surrounded by his things? Holly had no idea how to answer her own questions, but one thing was certain, she was in for a rough morning if she didn’t stop dwelling on the man.
    She drank a cup of black coffee and ate a muffin. Her father’s new cook was a wonderful baker. Holly licked the tip of a finger and used it to gather up every last crumb from her plate. She considered having another one, but ignored the impulse.
    Next Holly did what she always did. She picked up a pencil and started to sketch. This time her drawing wasn’t automatic, but she felt that in a way her hand wasn’t her own as it flowed over the paper with a mind of its own. She drew a likeness of Stryker leaning against the counter in Irene’s kitchen. That’s how they’d found him last night, or rather how he’d surprised them last night.
    She knew she could draw. Her technique was flawless, but that confidence wasn’t enough to make her an artist, to make her a success. Any artist needed that special something, that gift. Her drawings for Avery’s stories had more than just technique. They had heart. And so did this quick drawing of Stryker. She’d captured him beyond his physical likeness. She’d captured his indulgent humor, his unshakable confidence and a little of the danger he represented.
    “That’s good,” Avery said, looking over her shoulder and smelling of clean laundry.
    Holly had heard her come in and knew she’d find her way to where Holly sat examining the sketch.
    Avery took a seat, sipped her coffee and said, “You’ve nailed him.” She giggled. “That pun was entirely intentional by the way.”
    Holly smiled. “I thought you were swimming with the kids all day today.”
    “Stephen’s just fixing them breakfast. So I slipped out to check on you. A phone call wouldn’t have been enough. Even you can fudge over the phone. I had to see your face.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not thinking of backing out of going to his place today, are you?”
    Holly rested her head in the palm of her hand and propped it up with her elbow. “No. I’m definitely going. I’m just trying not to waste my whole