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“Let me know if you remain in the hospital or come back here—” Nakor began.
“We will not be returning,” Damian growled. “But I will call you. And thank you.”
“That’s what brothers do.”
Nakor briefly clasped Damian’s shoulder, then took off.
“Thank you too,” Damian added to the sheriff. “If you hadn’t realized she was still in the house…”
He shuddered, his arms tightening almost painfully around her.
“All part of the job.” A surprisingly attractive grin flashed across the intimidating face. “I’ll follow you to the hospital and take the report.”
“Do you really think anyone will believe I was pushed into the cellar by a ghost?” she asked, and both males turned to look at her.
“Pushed?” Damian growled.
“By a ghost?” the sheriff asked doubtfully.
“That’s what it felt like—a small cold hand right between my shoulder blades.”
The two exchanged another glance.
“I assumed you’d accidentally discovered it and been trapped by mistake,” Damian said.
“I’m not stupid enough to have gone down there on purpose. I was pushed.”
“We should really get going,” the paramedic interjected.
The sheriff nodded and stepped back, the doors were closed, and the ambulance pulled away. She could feel the tension inDamian’s body but he didn’t say anything, and she decided to wait until he was ready. She nestled against him, taking comfort in his familiar scent, and was half-asleep when he finally spoke.
“I think you should leave town.”
CHAPTER 20
Once again Wendy found herself prowling around a room, but this time it was her old room at the inn. Damian had relented about making her leave town, probably because he couldn’t stand to let her out of his sight, but he’d categorically refused to let her return to Midnight Manor. It was closed for business until further notice.
“You know this is ridiculous,” she told him.
He didn’t respond, watching her with the same brooding stare that had been on his face ever since the incident two days ago. She had tried to get him to talk to her, but he seemed to be locked inside his own head. He never voluntarily touched her either, although she woke every morning to find him wrapped around her like a steel coil.
She sighed and went over to sit on his lap. He didn’t try to prevent her but neither did he respond, his hands clenching on the arms of his chair instead.
“Won’t you talk to me?” she whispered, deliberately brushing her lips against his ear.
His whole body shuddered, but at least that was progress. Usually he felt more like a statue than a living person.
“Please.”
She flicked her tongue very delicately along the shell of his ear. Then she was back on her feet and he was staring out the window, his breath coming in harsh pants.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!”
He whirled around at once, the red sparks flaring in his eyes, and she hoped that was another sign of progress. Anything was better than that awful dead blackness.
“Then you are going to have to talk to me.”
