Page 19 of Fallen Star

"I'm sorry, Alex," she says, her voice the same one from memories, with the lilting British accent. Before I know what's happening, she pulls a mirror from her pocket and then she's gone, as if she was never there.

The small mirror falls to the ground, shattering into pieces.

Alex Stone

Dean's moans snap me from my temporary paralysis. I rush to him and offer support, but his body is dead weight as I practically drag him to the couch. He can't walk and can barely move. I'm fairly certain he's actually holding in his intestines, from the looks of that slash across his abdomen. It doesn't bode well.

All the guards are dead. We are in a remote part of the castle. I'm at a loss.

His breathing slows. I don't really know what kills vampires. Lore would say this isn't enough, but how accurate is that? I've got no clue. Can they really live with their guts spilling out of them?

So I have a choice…

Let him die.

Or feed him my blood.

I assume that part of lore is correct. My blood should help. And he did the same for me.

It's the right thing to do. I think.

Suddenly everything I thought I knew about the who's good and who's bad has been flipped on its head, and I feel as if I know nothing. As if my whole world has been a lie.

But I don't have time to second guess myself. Or rather, Dean doesn't have time for me to be indecisive. Whether this wound will kill him or not, he must be in agony.

I scramble across the room, knocking into bodies as I search for the knife I dropped earlier. I find it wedged between the dismembered head of a guard and a bookshelf. Lovely. Shaking like one of those chihuahuas who never seem to calm down, I make my way back to Dean and steady my hand as I slide the knife over the soft fleshy part of my forearm. The cut stings as blood begins to trickle out of the wound. I hold it over his mouth and will him better.

Blood spills onto his lips, casting crimson splatters onto his deathly pale skin. It takes a moment for him to respond. I lower my arm to his mouth and in a violent burst of life his lips seek my blood, his teeth elongating as they find purchase in my flesh, and he begin to drink deeply.

Heat burns through my arm and travels through my body. It's not unpleasant, but rather intoxicating. I begin to feel sleepy as he drinks more and more from me, until I cannot keep my eyes open any longer.

When darkness takes me, I go to it willingly.

* * *

I expected nightmares,but my sleep was a dreamless one. When I wake, I am dressed in a silk nightgown and laying under fur blankets with a fire warming the room.

And I'm surprised to discover I'm not alone in the bed. As I shift, I feel the body of a man, his skin cool, his muscles firm. He is naked from the waist up and when I open my eyes in the dimness of the room, he is propped on his side staring at me.

"Did you sleep well?" Dean asks.

I try to sit up, but my body feels made of led and so I stay where I'm at, enjoying the flames dancing on the walls and warmth of the bed. Even the prince's body next to mine offers a kind of comfort I didn't expect. "I'm still tired," I say, yawning.

"You lost a lot of blood, but you saved my life." He looks at me quizzically. "You're an enigma, Dr. Stone. You hate my kind, yet you risked your life to save me. Why?"

Our faces are inches apart, and as I awaken, so does my body. Need for him grows in me, as old prejudices are replaced by new truths. "You were right," I say. "I was judging an entire race based on one man's evil deeds. You've been kind when I wasn't. You saved my life and offered me your trust. If you weren't a vampire I wouldn't have held the same prejudice. I was nearly killed and left for dead by a human. I was saved by a vampire. My whole life feels like it's been turned upside down."

He lifts a hand and traces my face with the pad of his finger, and I sigh at the contact as my nerve endings come alive. Whatever my mind has thought of the sexy prince, my body has clearly had its own ideas and is ready to act on them.

"How did we end up in bed together?" I ask, my own nervous energy evident in my voice.

"Helda wanted to keep an eye on both of us," he says, his eyes locked on mine, his finger moving down my chin to my throat. "She found us after you passed out. She stayed with us until I woke and relieved her. It took some convincing, but she finally left about an hour ago."

"You've just been watching me sleep for an hour?" I ask, my voice catching in my throat.

"You look at peace when you sleep," he says. "I find it mesmerizing."

His face is inches from mine. I can feel his breath against my skin, his body pressed against mine, and I know my blood has healed him better and faster than I could have expected. His abs have returned to their normal, ripped selves. His body is responding to our proximity with a clear message of desire.