Page 66 of The Shadow of the Count
“It will.” Clark held his gaze. “And then we can go home and heal.”
“Please.” He just wanted to go somewhere and lick his wounds.He was so tired. Saving the world was hard work.
“You should come to my place outside Boston,” Clark said. “You’d like it there.”
“Peter?” He’d go where Peter was, but his lover nodded, offered him a smile. He almost agreed, then remembered Douglas in London. He’d never be able to leave his brother.
“When Douglas is well,” Clark said, patting his arm. “I know you have to be with him.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “I can’t believe he’s hurt so badly. I keep forgetting.”
Clark nodded gravely. “I get it, but you’ll have a place when he’s walking again.”
“Thank you.” He let Peter take him to the bed and push him down. “Good night, Clark.”
“Good night, Donnie.”
Peter kissed his cheek before snuggling down beside him with a sigh. He felt Peter’s lips move, knowing it wasI love you.
“I love you too. So much.” He wanted to rest. Just rest with Peter and not have to keep up this fight, but they wouldn’t be free of it if they didn’t. So tomorrow he would stand up and do what he must.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow this horror would be over.
Twenty-Three
Peter rose with a chill sliding down his spine. He wasn’t sure what he’d heard, but he knew something was most desperately wrong.The air was too cold, and a shadow seemed to have shut down the fire.
He sat up, trying not to wake Donnie, knowing they didn’t have much time to rest. They needed to get on the road during daylight and ride fast. The count and his women were much stronger in the darkness.
The sound came again, a scratching and scraping at the barred windows. He grabbed a lantern turning the flame up, horrified to see Donald at the shutters, reaching for the latch.
No!His scream was not even a whisper.
He lunged, grabbing the back of Donnie’s trousers, which he’d slept in, trying to hold them back.No, don’t let them in.
Peter dragged Donnie to the floor, huffing out a silent scream as he fell on his bad arm.
Donnie jerked awake, eyes wide. “Peter? What is it? Did you fall?”
He stared at Donald, then yanked him across the floor toward the door, in a sheer panic. They wanted in. They needed in.
“What is it? Is someone out there? Do they need help?” Donnie tried to rise again, his expression alarmed.
He shook his head violently. No. No one out there needed to come in.
He began to kick the bedroom door, over and over, warning the others as that terrible scratching started again.
The door opened, Jeb there in shirt and suspenders. “What the hell?”
“The sisters!” Yvgeny’s voice was loud and scared. Yes. The wives of the count were trying to gain entry.
He collapsed in relief, holding Donnie tight as the scrabbling grew wilder.
“Open the damn window, Yvgeny. I have my gun.”
“No. No, we must wait out the morning, my friend. A bullet will not kill them. Only what we did for Lyle will free us of them.”
