Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 by Laurell K. Hamilton Page A

probably wasn’t a good sign for the longevity of the relationship. That last thought made my chest tight, but what was I supposed to do? Go into the other room and apologize? Tell him he was right when he wasn’t? Tell him it was okay to get himself killed and take the rest of us down with him? It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t even close to okay. I hugged Sigmund until he was nearly squeezed in two. I refused to cry. Question: Why was I more worried about losing Richard than about the assassins? Answer: Killing didn’t bother me; losing Richard did. I fell asleep holding my penguin and wondering if Richard and I were still dating. Who would keep him alive if I wasn’t around?
    Something woke me. I blinked up into the dark and reached under my pillow for the Firestar. When it was secure in my hand, I listened. A knock, someone was knocking at the locked bedroom door. Soft, hesitant. Was it Richard come to apologize? That would be too convenient.
    I threw back the covers, spilling Sigmund to the floor. I put him back in the suitcase, lowering the lid without closing it, and padded barefoot to the door. I stood to one side of it, and said, “Who is it?”
    “It’s Stephen.”
    I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. I crossed to the other side of the door, gun still ready, and unlocked the door. I opened it slowly, looking, listening, trying to make sure it was just Stephen.
    He stood outside the door wearing a pair of Richard’s cutoff sweat pants. The shorts hung nearly to his ankles. A borrowed T-shirt covered his knees. His long yellow hair was tousled, like he’d been asleep.
    “What’s wrong?” I lowered the gun to my side, and he watched me do it.
    “Richard went out, and I’m afraid to be alone.” His eyeswouldn’t quite meet mine when he said the last, flinching like he was afraid of what he’d see on my face.
    “What do you mean he went out? Where to?”
    “The woods. He said he’d keep watch for assassins. Does he mean Raina?” He did look up then, amazing blue eyes wide, the beginnings of panic sliding across his face.
    I touched his arm, not sure it was the right thing to do. Some people don’t want to be touched after a sexual molestation. It seemed to comfort Stephen. But he glanced behind him at the empty living room, rubbing his hands along his bare arms.
    “Richard told me to stay in the house. He said I needed to rest.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes again. “I’m afraid to be alone, Anita. I . . .” He hung his head, long yellow hair spilling like a curtain to hide his face. “I can’t get to sleep. I keep hearing noises.”
    I put a finger under his chin and lifted his face gently. “Are you asking to sleep in here with me?”
    His eyes stared at me, wide and pain-filled. “Richard said I could.”
    “Run that by me again,” I said.
    “I told him I couldn’t stand to be alone. He said, Anita’s here, she’ll protect you. Go sleep with her.” He looked at me, his face awkward. Something must have shown on my face. “You’re mad now. I don’t blame you. I’m sorry . . . I’ll . . .” He started to turn away, and I caught his arm.
    “It’s okay, Stephen. I’m not mad at you. Richard and I had a . . . disagreement, that’s all.” I didn’t want him to sleep in here with me. The bed was too small for two people, and if I was going to share it with anyone, I’d have preferred Richard, but that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe not ever at the rate we were going.
    “You can stay in here.” I didn’t add, keep your hands to yourself. His face was raw with a need that had nothing to do with sex. He needed to be held, to be told the monster under the bed wasn’t really there. I couldn’t help him on the last. The monsters were real. But the first, I might manage that. Cold-blooded killer that I am, maybe I could share my toy penguin with him.
    “Could you get an extra pillow from Richard’s room?” I asked.
    He nodded and fetched it. He clutched