Page 64 of The Shadow of the Count
He would have growled like a dog if he could have.
“He didn’t talk to me or Don. Just looked in on him. So don’t feel special.”
He rolled his eyes. Well, he supposed now he knew the man actually existed. Yvgeny was dozing in his chair by the door, and he was fairly quick to sound an alarm if something bad happened, so Peter let it go. He ducked past Jeb, and sure enough, Don was sleeping better. More deeply.
He toed off his shoes and shoved off his shirt. He would leave his trousers on, should Yvgeny or Jeb come in.
Then he crawled in with his lover, pulling the covers over them before taking Donnie into his arms.I’m here, love. Right here. I love you so.
He wanted his lover to know that he would never leave him in the lurch. Never again.
They were in this together.
Period.
Twenty-Two
Donnie dreamed of a beast with glowing red eyes and a huge ruff of fur, snarling and drooling over Peter’s dead body while Don himself was helpless to do anything but watch.
He opened his mouth to scream, but suddenly, he was as mute as Peter. He struggled, but he was tied to something, something heavy and hard, and he was going to tip off the top walk of the castle if he didn’t stop.
But at least that would distract the beast.
So he pushed and rocked and closed his eyes just as he started to fall.
The train jolted to a stop, and he gasped, his eyes flying open.
“End of the line, you two,” Jeb said, poking his head into their compartment. “We’re on a wagon from here to Yvgeny’s people’s place.”
He stared at Jeb, his dream still clinging to him like swamp moss.
“Hey. Hey, Don. You with us? You in there?” Jeb frowned, reaching to shake Peter awake, and Donnie made a low, raw sound, the noise hurting his throat.
Peter sat up, blinking, reaching for him, and Donnie tried to shake off the dream. He needed to be awake and aware.
Those dark eyes met his, Peter reaching out with his good arm, and Donnie nodded. “M’okay.”
“We might ought to get that doctor to look you over, buddy. You’re damn pale.”Jeb’s concern was sweet but unnecessary.
Still, Jeb’s words made him sigh. Seriously? Whenever Jeb saidmight, it ended up happening.
Peter nodded gravely, and he fought not to roll his eyes. “I had a bad dream. That’s all.”
“Mmm.” Jeb looked unconvinced. “Well, come on. I got y’all’s bags.”
They struggled out of the train, leaning on each other. Clark, Richard, and Yvgeny met them on the platform. “Well, what a dreary place you come from, Yvgeny,” Clark said cheerfully.
“Indeed, so we must light it from within.” Yvgeny searched the landscape, for their wagon, he assumed. “My family awaits us, will give us a place to spend the evening and ready ourselves. I am sorry there is no motor coach.”
“We’re used to it,” Clark murmured. “We’ll take what we can get.”
A large wagon pulled up, the covered back and four seats clearly meant for them, and Yvgeny greeted the driver with a back-pounding hug. “Come, my friends. It’s not far.”
They piled in, and Donnie shivered, the damp fog seeming to have a will of its own. That was an ominous thought, wasn’t it? He blamed Paris. That was where he’d learned what could lurk in dark, damp places. Though his dreams there had been surprisingly light and easy.
Peter had told him that M. Grant had visited him. Maybe that was why. For once, Grant seemed to have done him good and not harm.
He couldn’t believe he’d missed it after all these years. Douglas would be devastated. It figured that he’d sleep through a—a visitation.
