Page 81 of Stone: The Precursor

“We’ve already had this conversation. Now get out,” I snarl, trying not to cry at the pain.

“No.”

The pain has become worse, and I hobble to my small pallet on the floor. I really should have bought a mattress by now, but I haven’t had the time. Lying down, I curl into a ball, happy that my towel keeps most of me covered. I shiver at the water on my skin.

“Countess, how bad?”

I keep my eyes closed, refusing to look at him, and mutter, “A ten.”

“This is your bed?”

His voice sounds angry, but very far away. The pain is taking over, making talking hard. “Fine,” I garble.

“Do you take painkillers?”

“Yes. Room.” Minutes later, he helps me up, and I lean on him, my lower half in so much pain I can’t concentrate.

“How many do you take?”

“Two. Or groggy. Dizzy.”

“Open your mouth, Countess.”

I open my mouth, and his fingers slide inside, and I can feel two pills on my tongue. A glass is next to my lips, and I open my mouth, taking in the cool water. Reflexively, I swallowdown the medication and pull away, turning into a ball until the pain subsides. When I feel myself go airborne, I open one eye. “What?” Stone’s face is above me, and there’s some recognition that I’m in his arms, with my head resting in his neck, and his arms under my knees. “Are you carrying me?”

He doesn’t answer me, and I close my eyes again, not caring anymore. The next time I open my eyes, I’m in a dark room that smells like him. It’s comforting. He places me on a soft surface, much softer than my bed. His smells reach my nose. Smoke and fruit. It’s relaxing. Extra warmth touches my belly, and it warms me from the inside out. I sink down into the softness and sigh when a thick blanket settles over me.

I feel something touch my cheek, and his gruff tone. “Get some sleep.”

Chapter 43

Watching her sleep, I lean down, hating that she’s sweaty and pale. Her hair is wet, and I wonder if I should try to dry it, but I don’t want to disturb her. Christ, she scared me when she curled into a ball and started to shiver uncontrollably.

When she pulled into the lot of the gallery and sat in her car, leaning her head on the steering wheel, I watched. At this point, I know every twitch and wince she makes. Her movements were not as graceful as they typically are. I worried the entire time I was following her, watching the careful, cautious way she drove, hating when a car got between us on the highway.

Even the moment Jace stopped me as I got on my bike didn’t deter me.

“Stone.” My name was a warning.

“I’m just going to make sure she gets home safely,” I snarled at him, wanting to tell him to mind his fucking business. That she is mine to worry about.

I left him standing there watching me, while I rode away, rushing to catch up to her, thankful that I had replaced the entire engine of her car months ago and added new tires. It’s safer forher to drive. It was one of the few times I regretted not having a car. I could have taken her home, let her rest while I drove.

I brush her hair back from her face. She mentioned that the medicine makes her groggy and dizzy. I pick up the bottle I swiped from her shitty apartment and use my phone flashlight to check the label. Opening my phone, I check the name of the medication. Ketoprofen is used for severe pain. Shit. It could be used for anything, according to the search. Whatever it’s for, her eyes were glazed enough that I knew she was awash in pain, barely coherent. She was almost boneless when I carted her to my bed. Seeing her on that damn pallet pissed me off. That was her bed? Camryn Park is a millionaire, but she was sleeping like a fucking pauper. Putting her in my bed was probably a mistake, but there was no way she was sleeping on the floor.

The last time I walked through her apartment, boxes of her things were still not unpacked, even though she’s been here for over a month. I would have expected her to have an apartment decked out. She still has no idea the level of obsession I have with her, the countless opportunities to watch her at my leisure. I can call it a method to my madness to keep her safe, but watching her fills me with a level of satisfaction I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. The moment I realized she was in pain, I couldn’t compartmentalize my feelings. I couldn’t dismiss the compulsion to take care of her. The caution tape around her burns to the damn ground.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I study her even breaths. Her chest rises and falls softly, and the sight of her in my bed, my sheets, under my care makes my cock hard. I take off my wet clothes. I know she won’t wake up. The medicine she’s taking is powerful. Narcotic level. I lift the sheets and crawl into the bed with her, pulling her naked body against mine, my cock nestled into her ass. It points straight up, and it’s already leaking cum on her back. I reach between us and squeeze the tip, smearing someon her back. I push my nose into her neck, breathing her in. Her skin is so soft and smells amazing. She fits perfectly in my arms.

When she stirs hours later,I help her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to empty my period disc.”

“Where is it?”

Her movements are slow and lethargic. She touches her belly tenderly and whispers hoarsely, her voice thick with sleep. “Inside.”

“How do you feel?” I cover her hands with my own.