FIONA GLASS

EXCERPT

In which Avery cajoles Derek to let him take part in a race...

Too soon, Derek had withdrawn, and they were back to being two. Lying on the rug in front of the old-fashioned range, Avery rested his cheek on his mate’s chest and sighed. Mostly, it was contentment. He was so lucky—he had a comfortable home and a partner he loved, who loved him dearly in return. He had the freedom to come and go as he pleased now Derek let him shift whenever he felt the need. And yet...there was an element of sadness, too. If he was honest with himself, there were times when he was bored. Sitting around at home all day was all very well, but the short flights he allowed himself never quite satisfied his urge. He was a racing pigeon when all said and done, bred to fly vast distances in the shortest possible time. And now he never got the chance.

‟Derek...” He used his most cajoling voice, raising himself on one elbow and tickling his mate’s face with a stray feather that came to hand.

‟Um. Yeah? Whaddya want?” Derek obviously recognised the tone of old. ‟If it’s more of that I’m not sure I can.”

Avery paused, tugging at a twist of hair on Derek’s chest. Should he risk everything to ask for this? Would Derek even understand? Or would he just get angry and steal the feathers again? No, surely not—he’d promised never to do that, after all. And if he didn’t ask, he’d never know if he could have had his wish. Taking a deep breath, he blew some of it out against Derek’s cheek. ‟I want to fly in a race.”

Derek sat up so fast he banged his head against Avery’s nose. ‟You what? Oh, Christ, sorry. Are you all right? I wasn’t expecting that.”

Avery’s eyes were watering and a few spots of blood seeped out onto the hand he held to his damaged nose. It hurt, and he felt dizzy, so he let Derek fuss over him until the pain died down—and hoped his request might get forgotten in the panic. But even as he wiped his eyes one last time on the sleeve of Derek’s shirt, which he’d grabbed from the floor, he heard Derek grunt and say, ‟Did I just hear you right? You want to race? With other birds, you mean?”

He handed the shirt back. ‟Yes. I used to do it all the time before I met you. I still miss it sometimes—the challenge, the competitive spirit, striving to get home before anyone else. I don’t want to enter every race, but it would be fun to do one now and again.”

Derek took his shirt, grimacing at the wet patch on the sleeve. ‟I don’t know. There’s so much that could go wrong. What if you run into a hawk, or there’s a storm and you’re blown off course?”

His mate had that worried frown stitched across the top of his nose and Avery hastened to kiss it away. ‟I could run into a hawk at any time, even in your back garden,” he pointed out. ‟There’s no extra danger just because it’s a race. If anything, there’s safety in numbers, and hawks usually go for the weakest birds. And if the weather’s stormy I won’t go at all. But just once, Derek. Please?”

‟I’m not sure. When did you want to do this?”

‟Now. Well, not right this minute now. Just as soon as possible. My wings are itching. And I know you’re getting the birds ready for a race this weekend. Couldn’t I tag along?” It was asking a lot, but he didn’t think he asked for much else from his mate—just bed and board and a regular supply of chocolate digestives, not to mention fairly frequent sex. He hoped Derek appreciated that.

‟I don’t know.” Derek’s fingers fumbled as he fastened his shirt. ‟It’s a long race—I’ll be driving all the way to the north of Scotland to release the birds.”

“That’s okay.” He knew he was wheedling, but sensed his mate’s opposition weakening. Excitement thrilled through his veins. ‟Distance doesn’t really matter, you know. As long as I can feel magnetic north, I’ll always find my way back...”