There was no crunch of gravel, no footfalls outside the house. Gable was simply not there one minute, and crouched on the sill of his open window the next. “Get out,” Kylar mumbled from the chair in the corner of the bedroom, the place where he’d collapsed when Gable and Varek had left. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. Maybe hours. All he knew is that the pain wasn’t getting any better. If anything, it hurt more now to look into Gable’s soft brown eyes than it did before. How could he still be so breathtaking? Even now that Kylar knew for a fact that all that innocent goodness he’d thought he saw inside Gable was only an act? “No. You’re going to listen to me first.” Gable jumped lightly from the windowsill. He was in his bare feet, but still…he should have made some sound. But he didn’t. He was silent as a ghost, a phantom. That’s all he was to Kylar now, something terrible come to haunt him. “I don’t listen to dead people,” he said, his voice smooth and even.
