8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Liam

B oth Rhys and I seemed reluctant to let the other go.

Once we parted ways the magic of our time together would come to an end.

And then what?

We would go back to our lives, and the day-to-day monotony would eventually gloss over what we could have been. Maybe, occasionally, when it snowed, or when he had a Bee’s Knees, he would think back to our weekend. Perhaps we would run into each other next year, both embarrassed in the wake of the memories we shared.

I don’t want that. But what if he wasn’t alone? What if he found someone else who made him glow like he did in this moment, with his dark blue beanie and the matching, elegant scarf, and the few snowflakes that dotted the expensive wool fabric.They framed his face and made his eyes sparkle like pools of water.

He’s beautiful.

And what if we stayed? Or kept in touch? I couldn’t imagine Rhys in my house. I couldn’t see him relaxing on the couch with Fergus in a kilt I had made for him. He would look even more gorgeous wearing one.

“I suppose you have to go back to Kirkmuir soon,” I muttered when it started snowing harder.

“Yes, I think I should.” He sneaked his ice cold hand into my pocket. “You’re so warm.”

For a moment I contemplated asking him to stay another night. We could get a room at a hotel and fuck each other’s brains out some more.

But the moment passed, and we arrived back at his car.

“Drive safely, pup. And thank you for the weekend. This was the best Scotland Fabric I ever had.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Rhys’ hand dropped to my ass, squeezing my cheek for a fleeting moment. “It was wonderful.”

With one last lingering kiss, he got into his car, backed out of his parking spot, and drove away.

Fuck. My. Life.

I buried myself in my work over the next weeks, but way too often my thoughts strayed to Rhys, to our days together, the sex, and all the moments we had shared.

Fergus spent most of his time plastered to me. He knew what was off; I had confided in him on our drive back to Kincardie after I had picked him up from my mum’s place.

He couldn’t speak with me, but he understood me. We shared a deep bond through which we felt each other’s emotions. After I found him hurt in a ditch and nursed him back to health, he had offered me a heart bond—one of the deepest connections into which demons like him could enter.

I hadn’t regretted it for a single day. Especially now that he comforted me. I was grateful for his presence.

“I know. I should get in touch with him. But what if he doesn’t want to hear from me? It might have just been a three-night-stand for him.”

Followed by one of the most romantic days of my life together in Inverness.

Fergus huffed and rested his head on my thigh, his warmth seeping into my skin.

“You are right. I can’t stay alone forever, but I don’t think I could deal with his rejection. What would a gorgeous man like him want with me?”

My hound sighed.

“I know you think I am beautiful, bud, but compared to him? You remember Rhys, right?”

He raised his head and cocked an ear at me.

“He’s fucking gorgeous, Fergus! Stop looking at me like that. I’m way out of his league. And not in a good way.”

By Hestia, did I miss his body, though. And his cockiness.

I slumped back to the couch and took a swig of the Mountain Red I’d bought over at Lone Fox.

It seared my throat and warmed my stomach. I needed it.

My hound snuggled up to my leg, closing the door to his heart. His breathing slowed down, and he fell asleep with my hand resting on his shoulder.

Perhaps I would wish him a happy Christmas. That was an inconspicuous enough thing to do. Just a friend thinking of him on Christmas Eve.

I didn’t want to be friends with him, true, but perhaps I could just try and see how he spent the holidays. With his family or…with someone else. Then at least I would know pursuing him was pointless.