“Christmas…” Foxx said stiffly.
“Yeah… Christmas.”
The vampire nibbled his bottom lip, and slowly wound his fingers through his.
Harlow wrapped his fingers around that small hand. “Foxx, when the priests took you…it felt like the walls were closing in. With each second that passed by, you were slipping further and further away. So the more the time passed, the angrier I got.
“When I was torturing those priests…that was the first time I had the thought that you were mine. At least, it was the first time that I had the thought and didn’t instantly deny it being true. And the truth is…when we watched the recording, I didn’t like hearing myself. I even tuned it out as it played, because hearing it made me realize how desperate I was at that time.” He took a deep breath. “So yeah…I do care. I can’t… I can’t define it. I’m sorry that I can’t. I think… I mean, based on the shit that’s been going on in my head, I think it means that I like you, but I don’t want to lie to you when I’m not…sure…what I can actually feel.”
Foxx sniffled again, but there was a smile on his face now. Taking small steps closer, the vampire stretched up and pressed a kiss to Harlow’s lips.
“It’s okay. I-I’m…” Foxx cleared his throat. “I’m still a little scared…about all this. Relationships…just aren’t things that have worked out for me in the past. I mean…” He let out a sad laugh. “At the end of my first, I ended up locked up in a monastery. But…I think…I can be a bit braver knowing that I’m not alone in feeling something.”
“You aren’t alone. I promise.” Harlow released Foxx’s hand and cupped his face, pressing a hard kiss to his lips, before wrapping him in his arms and just holding him close. “Thank you for loving me, Foxx. As fucked in the head as I am, and emotionally inept, even I know how fucking lucky I am that your heart decided I was worth having.”
“You heard that part too?” Foxx groaned. “How much did that bastard record?!”
Harlow chuckled. “I'm not sure. It started with you saying that you think you love me, followed by you saying I have issues.”
Foxx whined. “He practically recorded the whole damn thing! How embarrassing!”
“I mean, you said you loved me more than once, so even if he had started recording later, I’d still have heard it.”
“Did I?” Foxx asked, his voice sounding as if he was frowning now. “To be honest, I’m not sure about any of what I said because I was crying so hard and the words just sort of spewed out.”
“It’s fine… I’m glad he sent it.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I…don’t want you to be scared.”
Foxx rubbed his face against his chest, and sniffled again. “How…do you feel about me loving you…beside feeling lucky?”
How did he feel…? Would it piss Foxx off if he said he felt…slightly smug and pleased about it? Because that’s what he felt.
Foxx was his, so…the man loving him was just beneficial to his obsession. It made him…happy? Happy was a good word. Much better than smug and pleased. “Happy,” he replied.
“Harlow…it took you way too long to come up with that one-word answer.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Harlow,” Foxx grumbled, pulling back to look up at him.
He sighed. “Fine…I feel pleased by it…and smug. Because your mine…and you loving me makes it easier for me to keep you.”
The vampire rolled his eyes. “Yep…that sounds more like you…you weirdo…”
Harlow chuckled and scooped Foxx up, moving towards the stairs. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”
“Yes…sleep…is definitely needed. Because tomorrow I need to start plotting my revenge on Alastair.”
He barked out a laugh. “You are such a petty fuck.”
“You know it!” Foxx chimed with a giggle.
* * *
Harlow was tired,and he should have been sleeping. But his mind just kept going around and around, the words Foxx had said were on repeat in his head. Lightly, he brushed his hand over Foxx’s curls. The vampire had fallen asleep quickly in his arms hours ago, and was now clinging to him, his face buried against his chest.
Harlow laid there for a few moments more before cursing softly and, doing his best to not jostle the vampire, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand. Flipping it open, he dialed Wes’ number.
The psychiatrist answered on what must have been the last ring before going to voicemail, sounding as tired as he felt. “Harlow?” Wes asked in a gravelly, sleep-filled voice.
