““He looked less restless than he did when awake, but his brow was still furrowed, as if he were still plagued with the weight of his burdens in his dreams. I lightly stroked my fingers over that creased area between his eyebrows, and they eased, all but disappearing. “Damn you, Sully Fletcher,” I whispered. “Damn you all to hell.” Quickly I got up and got dressed, trying not to disturb him. I was fully clothed about to tiptoe my way down the spiral staircase when his voice stopped me. “Lang, wait.” Crap. I turned, and Sully was sitting up in the confusion of sheets, chest bare, light shining down on him through the huge windows overhead. He had a frown on his face, but his eyes were soft. Not angry. Just slightly disappointed, perhaps. “This isn’t going to work for me,” he said. “What isn’t?” “You sneaking off in the early hours of the morning, fully intending not to come back. Right?” I looked down at my feet.””
