Grayson drew himself up to his full, imposing height. He squared his broad shoulders, adjusted his grey sweater with royal dignity, and looked down at Dr. Soren with absolute, unyielding authority.
"Two hours a day?" Grayson repeated, his deep voice smooth as polished stone. "That is a trivial requirement. I do not sleep, Soren. I do not tire, nor do I require rest. If consistency is the benchmark of her recovery, I am capable of providing twenty-four continuous hours of physical guidance every single day without interruption."
Dr. Soren let out a long, weary sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at Grayson with the calm, patient eyes of a doctor who had dealt with ancient, dramatic entities far too many times.
"Grayson," Soren said softly, leaning his hip against the edge of the wooden table. "You suppressed your demon senses tonight, didn't you?"
