doorstep, his temper rising to boiling point. He held Lachlan's phone in his right hand, continually pressing the redial button with his thumb whenever the call rang off, while using his index finger to press the doorbell. His own mobile was in his left hand, which called the house phone continually with a quick press of redial, while he used his heel to pound on the door. He figured there was no way they could avoid him now.
But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that said he'd be a total asshole if Cormag opened the door and he found that Lachlan wasn't there. But he'd rather be an asshole than have to live with himself if he had been taken advantage of by a complete stranger.
When the door finally opened , Cormag was fully dressed, which surprised him. Albeit it was only loose joggers and a t-shirt, but it was more than he expected. Konnor was about to open his mouth with an onslaught of abuse when a hand grabbed his jacket lapel and dragged him into the house. His mind instantly ran through all the terrible possibilities.
Cormag was a big guy; nearly six feet tall, well built and obviously worked out. He could have been a serial killer, he might try to have sex with him now that he was finished with Lachlan, he might even be one of those slave traders his mother kept warning him about. Why did he never take anyone seriously until it was too late?
“Give me the phones,” he ordered sternly.
He wasn't about to question a serial killer, so Konnor handed over both mobile phones and felt his heart rate speed up as he watched Cormag cancel all calls and switch the phones off. His only line of communication with the outside world was gone.
“About fucking time.”
Konnor found his anger rising again when he heard that complaint. It was Lachlan and his voice was coming from down the hall. He pushed past Cormag and turned into the first room on the right, where he found Lachlan sitting up, in a strange bed, with a duvet bunched around his waist. He was holding a hand to his head and wincing. His anger faded to concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, ready to commit some homicide of his own if he found out that he'd been drugged or Cormag had got him drunk again to take advantage of him.
“No, I'm not all right. There's a marching band screaming at me in my head and some asshole was making it worse with incessant phone calls a nd pounding on the fucking door,” he shouted at him. Konnor had never seen him this way before. “I hate you. You, telephones, alcohol, my own damned head. I hate all of you. I want to kill all you,” he shouted, grasping his head while making zero amount of sense.
“And you were so bright and cheery a minute ago,” Cormag commented from behind him.
Konnor ground his teeth as he spotted the cheeky smile Lachlan gave the guy. He threw the covers and back and got out of bed wearing a pair of joggers that weren't his. They were too big for him, riding low on his hips, but at least he was wearing something as he walked to a door in the corner of the room and disappeared inside. The sound of a tap running let him guess at a bathroom. This was so wrong.
Lachlan was his best friend, but he was shy and nervous around other people, so how the hell did he end up in Cormag's bed if he wasn't shocked to find himself there? He had never shared a bed with him before, even in a friendly capacity, because his best bud was so stupidly insecure about himself that he refused to allow it. And they were best friends.
“I swear, if you tou ched him I'll have you arrested,” Konnor threatened Cormag openly as he marched across to the closed door of the bathroom and knocking. Lachlan opened it, while standing brushing his teeth in front of a mirror. “Here. I brought your stuff,” he explained, taking the rucksack off his shoulder and handing it through the gap in the door. Lachlan didn't say anything; he nodded to him and shut the door. He wasn't acting normal at all. It was
But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that said he'd be a total asshole if Cormag opened the door and he found that Lachlan wasn't there. But he'd rather be an asshole than have to live with himself if he had been taken advantage of by a complete stranger.
When the door finally opened , Cormag was fully dressed, which surprised him. Albeit it was only loose joggers and a t-shirt, but it was more than he expected. Konnor was about to open his mouth with an onslaught of abuse when a hand grabbed his jacket lapel and dragged him into the house. His mind instantly ran through all the terrible possibilities.
Cormag was a big guy; nearly six feet tall, well built and obviously worked out. He could have been a serial killer, he might try to have sex with him now that he was finished with Lachlan, he might even be one of those slave traders his mother kept warning him about. Why did he never take anyone seriously until it was too late?
“Give me the phones,” he ordered sternly.
He wasn't about to question a serial killer, so Konnor handed over both mobile phones and felt his heart rate speed up as he watched Cormag cancel all calls and switch the phones off. His only line of communication with the outside world was gone.
“About fucking time.”
Konnor found his anger rising again when he heard that complaint. It was Lachlan and his voice was coming from down the hall. He pushed past Cormag and turned into the first room on the right, where he found Lachlan sitting up, in a strange bed, with a duvet bunched around his waist. He was holding a hand to his head and wincing. His anger faded to concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, ready to commit some homicide of his own if he found out that he'd been drugged or Cormag had got him drunk again to take advantage of him.
“No, I'm not all right. There's a marching band screaming at me in my head and some asshole was making it worse with incessant phone calls a nd pounding on the fucking door,” he shouted at him. Konnor had never seen him this way before. “I hate you. You, telephones, alcohol, my own damned head. I hate all of you. I want to kill all you,” he shouted, grasping his head while making zero amount of sense.
“And you were so bright and cheery a minute ago,” Cormag commented from behind him.
Konnor ground his teeth as he spotted the cheeky smile Lachlan gave the guy. He threw the covers and back and got out of bed wearing a pair of joggers that weren't his. They were too big for him, riding low on his hips, but at least he was wearing something as he walked to a door in the corner of the room and disappeared inside. The sound of a tap running let him guess at a bathroom. This was so wrong.
Lachlan was his best friend, but he was shy and nervous around other people, so how the hell did he end up in Cormag's bed if he wasn't shocked to find himself there? He had never shared a bed with him before, even in a friendly capacity, because his best bud was so stupidly insecure about himself that he refused to allow it. And they were best friends.
“I swear, if you tou ched him I'll have you arrested,” Konnor threatened Cormag openly as he marched across to the closed door of the bathroom and knocking. Lachlan opened it, while standing brushing his teeth in front of a mirror. “Here. I brought your stuff,” he explained, taking the rucksack off his shoulder and handing it through the gap in the door. Lachlan didn't say anything; he nodded to him and shut the door. He wasn't acting normal at all. It was
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