Hideaway Strath Oh, I just want to take him home

As the scent of Lotte and Hemlock entwined tickles his nostrils Arturo is struck with a strange sense of jealousy. Strange if only because under normal circumstances he is far from bothered by Lotte and Hemlock’s affections for one another. Why would he be? He, himself, harbors a growing affection for the flame kissed woman and has even considered inviting her into their wedlock. Lotturo becoming Hemlotturo — but has yet to do so lest he give Lotte an coronary from dropping too many bombs on her right after the other. Ceannsach knows where this smarting jealousy comes from. Hemlock has been in heat for some time and he is agitated that she has not come to him first; and while this is hardly the first time he’s been near a woman in heat and usually he can apply a sense of rationality and logic to it (control his primal urges) it is different as it was with Lotte. Because he has no reason to temper primal urges; and sometimes the gangster grows tired of being a stoic all of the time.

Especially when Hemlock’s hormones call to every carnal desire the gangster harbors, hotly and much like a siren’s song.

“Hemlock.” Is her name a demand or a plea as it falls from his lips like a strangled, rasp of inhaled smoke as he fixates upon her? He does not know and casts a fleeting glance at Lotte for a moment before twin sun irises burn towards Hemlock. If he were not burning as if he were caught in a inferno he might have considered that he has never seen a sight so lovely as the two women he loves together but Ceannasach is in no mood for such poetic thoughts. He moves towards her with purpose, much more go a mobster than the guise of gentleman he wears.