Grey didn't answer.
He shifted slightly, turning farther into the bed, pulling the covers up around himself as though the fabric could block out more than just the cold air.
He heard movement at the window, and without needing to look, he knew that Lord Jethro was gone.
He didn't know how he had left with guards posted outside, even right at the broken window, it shouldn't have been possible.
But maybe it was, maybe lord Jethro had a way that didn't involve force. Maybe it was as simple as influence... pheromones.
Grey didn't dwell on it, thinking about how Jethro left only kept him thinking about the fact that he had been there at all.
He turned and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Lord Jethro's presence had done nothing but pull him backward.
Every step he had forced himself to take, every effort to detach, to push things into the past, felt undone in a matter of minutes.
