Page 5 of Loving Graystoke's Heir

Hold her.

Bring her home.

And he’d argue back.

She is home.

Yes, he’d agree all too easily. She is our home.

Just as the music built into a crash of chords and drums, he said the one thing guaranteed to shake Donal out of the metallic haze of the music.

She is coming.

Donal didn’t ask how he knew. There was a surety in his tone, and the animal that turned over and stretched inside of him had a voice that rang with truth.

She is coming to find you.

The hell she is!

Donal ripped the earbuds out by the cords and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

I’m not going to ask how you know, but how close… how close is she?

She’s over water. Like the moon in the sky. Coming to you.

No.

Donal picked up his wallet from the top of the dresser and dropped it into his pocket. He reached for his keys and took them in his hand even as he felt his skin ripple and tense.

Felt the other half of him push hard against his control.

No.

Donal closed the door of his home and locked it behind him as he dashed down the steps toward the driveway.

Stay.

He heard an odd tone to the voice in his head. A plea. A request that bordered on begging.

Stay.

Tell her.

Let her see.

Donal started the engine and pulled out of the driveway before he put his lights on, his head aching and his thoughts jumbled in an ever-tightening knot.

No. She’s safer away from me.

There was a long moment of silence. Donal’s shoulders relaxed, the tension in his neck eased, and his hands released their death grip on the steering wheel.

Lowering the windows, a hair, he let the near silence of the night into the car.

You can’t run forever.

Donal gripped the steering wheel so tight he heard the metal groaning from his strength.

Watch me.

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