Page 69 of The Shadow of the Count
I love you.Peter mouthed it, and he knew Donnie saw it. I love you more than anything. I will fix this. I will make it right.
The urge to stand and throw himself out the window, attack the count, was huge, but he knew the evil beast drew his anger, his ire, making him want to do foolish things. No, he had to wait for the advantage of daylight. That was their time. They would strike at the heart of the foulness then.
If nothing else, Peter would pull the castle down with his own hands, brick by brick.
“The morning comes!” Yvgeny called, and he had no idea how Yvgeny knew dawn was coming, since the house was closed up so tightly, but the storm outside lessened, the pressure on the windows lighter.
Donald’s face was blistered and raw, and the corners of his lips were chapped. Peter held him, rocked his lover without worrying about the consequences.
What would have happened to his lover if the count had shared blood as he had with Lyle? That didn’t deserve thought, he supposed.They would never have survived this night, together or not.
“We need to load up, boys. We have no time.” Jeb opened the window and let the dawn in, and as he did, a shot rang out. Jeb spun and lifted his firearm, returning fire without thought.
A cry sounded out there, and Yvgeny pulled Richard down away from the line of fire. “The count’s men! He has human defenders as well.”
“Not for long.” The crack of Jeb’s revolver sounded again and again, the smell of gunpowder filling the air.
Yvgeny was at the door only moments later, rifle in hand. When the smoke cleared, they were all upright and no one was shooting at them from outside any longer.
“Is everyone all right?” Richard popped up off the floor, running to check Yvgeny for injury.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Jeb headed out with a growl. “We end this. Now.”
“Yes. Now.” Donnie struggled to his knees. “One way or the other.”
That sounded ominous to Peter, but he couldn’t disagree. They needed their lives back.
It was time to take the fight to the count.
Twenty-Four
Come to me, beloved.
Donald swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to warn them; he didn’t want to get his friends harmed; he didn’t want to do this.
Come. I’m waiting for you. I have missed you so.
The voice made him want to gag. It was so…oily. So rotten and dead. He wasn’t the one the count wanted. He wasn’t some reincarnated lover. He was Donnie Fitzhugh.
And he knew who loved him.
That was the brave librarian sitting beside him in the car Yvgeny had found for them, his father delivering it to the farm just after dawn.
Peter held his hand as if he was afraid to let go. Maybe he was. Donnie wasn’t in full control of his actions.
“I don’t love him. I’m not who he thinks I am, Peter.”
Peter patted his hand, trying to comfort him. God, he wanted to hear Peter’s voice, which the monster had also stolen from him.
“Stop having thoughts about him, hmm?” Yvgeny shot him a glance. “It makes it worse.”
“I can’t help it. It feels as if he’s calling to me.” Donnie leaned on Peter. “I’m putting you all in danger.”
Peter shook his head, holding his hand in a death grip. The message was clear. Peter wasn’t letting him go to the count without the rest of them. Not ever.
I crave your touch. I need you more than anyone ever has.
Leave me alone!he screamed, sending the thought shooting like an arrow.I hate you, you filthy demon!
