|Paint your soul|
Ryan fused in his sleep and draped his ears with a comforter at the nasty ringing of the alarm. The whole night he disbursed in the inquiry of how to get in touch with Tayson and miserably fail. So he just slept on the couch.
"For the f**k sake, who is dying?" he muttered and grabbed his phone, ruffling his black tresses.
His eyes popped out of the sockets when over two hundred missed calls clouded the illuminating screen. The man was on his feet, the apprehension writhing under his skin as he called Ronald's assistant.
His troubled feet pace and forth in the dull living room, and his eyes flitted to the sealed bedroom door where the beautiful witch was still sleeping.
"Hello, Blake! What's happening? My phone blew up just now," he said, battling to keep his voice
