Desmond barked as he slammed his cell phone down onto his desk. He ran his hands through his thick, black hair and sighed tiredly. “Desmond,” Abby asked, standing in the doorway - her brow creased with worry. “Are you ever going to tell me what has been bothering you?” “My, love,” he said, standing and walking over to her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. He knew that is was time to tell her everything – but his heart still hesitated. He never wanted her to have to worry – and this was killing him. “I’m afraid we have a problem,” he murmured. “What kind of problem?” She asked, leaning back slightly and eyeing him suspiciously. She had felt her mate’s unease for the past several days, and although she knew that something was eating away at him – she didn’t know what it was exactly – only that he was worried. And he was not being very forthcoming with any information – which was slowly driving her mad.
