The Baritone’s Rival (The Vampire Impresario #2)

10. Oscar

Chapter 10

Oscar

O scar shouldn’t have done that. Trent had been unusually vulnerable. Or at least, vulnerable for someone who preferred to reveal absolutely nothing about themselves. He’d sounded so lost. It made Oscar wonder if underneath the aloof posture and career ambition, there was a man desperate for connection.

Except he had explicitly said that being a vampire’s mate had destroyed his mother’s life. He had doubled down on the fact that he thought the whole thing was a fallacy. So any move that Oscar made in that direction was foolish. It would only lead to getting his heart broken.

His heart had barely healed from Elliott. He had loved the vampire, no matter how misplaced that love had been. That’s why it had taken him so long to realize how poorly he was being treated. The connection between Oscar and Trent had the underpinning of fate. It would be doubly hard to walk away if Oscar allowed himself to cultivate it.

When he’d first touched Trent’s thigh, the thick muscles had tensed under his hand. Trent’s legs were so strong. He loved that strength in a boyfriend. In a mate.

This trip was so ill-advised. Spending a week or more with this man, this human who would deny their bond and destroy his heart in the process. Oscar’s decision not to pursue Trent had been the right choice.

For god’s sake, in all likelihood Trent was heterosexual.

Did fate have the power to change someone’s orientation? Or was it tapping into something deeper, activating and energizing a latent desire? Oscar hoped it was the latter. He hated the idea that fate would force someone to go against such a fundamental piece of who they were. When he was next to Trent, he could feel the tension, both emotional and sexual. He had to believe fate had freed an attraction that was already there, already building.

Because the pull between them was powerful and magnetic. And Trent had relaxed under his touch, the warmth of Trent’s skin through the leg of his pants leaching into Oscar’s cold vampire hand.

They sat that way for who knows how long, five minutes, more? Neither of them moved. They let the sweet sounds of the jazz music wash over them as they traveled north. The plaintive clarinet playing a yearning melody in the slow ballad. The texture of the piano and drums underneath. The low grounding of the double bass.

Oscar dared to turn his head to Trent, who was staring out, his eyes unfocused. Oscar breathed in to break the silence, to complete the bridge between them that the physical connection had begun, and?—

“How much longer?” Justin’s sleepy whine pierced the thick air of the old car, and Oscar snatched his hand away.

Trent let out a sound, so soft as to be almost imperceptible. Was it a whimper? Sadness that Oscar’s hand was gone? Trent blinked as if to clear a fog from his vision.

“Are we almost there?” Justin’s voice was still groggy from his nap.

“No,” Oscar replied. “Eight more hours.”

“Oh god.” Justin pressed his forehead to the window to his right, peering out at the passing houses. “I’m so bored.”

“Read a book. Go back to sleep. Don’t be a child.” Oscar glanced over at Trent, who was still staring straight ahead. Oscar cleared his throat. Trent turned to him, his face unreadable.

Oscar attempted a small smile. Perhaps Trent could not snipe at him all the time. Perhaps they could become friends. Oscar knew that his mate would never be interested in a relationship, but Oscar could already tell from the last few days that he liked Trent. He liked his solidity, his clear-mindedness. Maybe they would get along, now that Trent wasn’t keeping himself so distant.

Trent’s response to his smile was a strange one. His deep blue eyes went wide with an emotion that Oscar was pretty sure was fear.

Why would Trent be afraid of him?

Then, without warning, a blush came to Trent’s pale cheeks, the red skin a contrast to his blonde hair. Trent quickly turned away.

If Oscar didn’t know better, he’d say that was the reaction of a man who was fighting his attraction. Was Trent not straight? Oscar had really been teasing before, although Trent’s sexuality had been a topic of discussion amongst the M.F.A. students. A hot-as-fuck man with floppy blonde hair who was aloof and kind of mean? That shit was catnip to the other the other gays.

Oscar squelched the shimmer of hope that had rekindled in his chest. Even if Trent ended up being bi or something, it didn’t matter. He’d never want a vampire mate.

It had been dark for hours when they finally pulled into the driveway of the old cabin. They’d been driving through dense forest for some time, with only the faint light of the crescent moon illuminating the surrounding area. Oscar had never been this far outside of the city, and the dense night brought out an uncharacteristic melancholy in him.

They’d passed the last town an hour ago, and since then had been traveling through unincorporated Maine territory. The dirt drive on the property was long, winding through the trees from the dilapidated road to their final destination. The car shook as it crawled over the bumpy terrain. Trent glanced around the area with trepidation in his eyes.

“It’s secluded, that’s for sure,” Trent said. “But there’s also nowhere to go for help if they come for us here.”

“Freddie personally vouched that we made it out of the city undetected,” Oscar replied. “I trust him with my life. If he said we weren’t followed, we weren’t followed. They won’t find us.”

Trent didn’t reply, but the silence was filled with his doubt.

The headlights of the car hit the side of the cabin like two setting suns against the wood siding. The place was modest, but not in disrepair. A simple structure with only one floor, the outside was painted a warm red, deepening the New England feel. The front door was a large wooden slab adorned with a carved inset design of a bird in flight. Oscar found it beautiful, just the right amount of rustic.

“It’s…nice,” Trent said, clearly not finding it as enchanting as Oscar did.

“There’s nothing to do here,” Justin retorted. “Is there even electricity?”

“Uh, no.” Oscar unclasped his seatbelt and opened the driver’s side door. “Anthony traveled here last summer and performed essential repairs, so it’s in decent shape. There’s a propane water heater and a wood stove, so he didn’t acquire a generator. The tree cover’s too thick for solar.”

Oscar stepped out of the car.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Justin called out as he opened his door.

Oscar shrugged, reaching into his pocket and digging out the key to the cabin. Trent’s door squeaked as it opened.

“Justin, grab the cooler from the trunk,” Oscar called as he walked away.

Justin grunted as he lifted the container. “I still don’t know why we have to bring so much food.”

“Because Trent has to eat. He can’t survive for a week on a single blood bag like we can.”

“Can’t he just not for a few days?” Justin grumbled under his breath.

Oscar slipped the key into the lock. Behind him, the aged wooden planks of the porch creaked with footsteps. It was Trent. An image flashed in Oscar’s mind: a domestic one. He and Trent returning to their shared home together. Oscar unlocking the door for his mate. The two of them settling in for the night. It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

Oscar shoved away the impossible fantasy and pushed the door open. He turned back to Trent, gesturing inside. “It looks pretty good, right?”

“I have no idea,” Trent replied. “I don’t have vampire sight. I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Oh, right.” Oscar stepped into the immaculate if spare main room of the cabin, reaching for a nearby lantern and matches. He struck one on a large wooden table and inserted it into the lamp, opening the propane valve. The glass came to life with a vibrant orange glow, casting deep shadows all around him.

Trent strode over the threshold. His eyes went to the large leather couch, then to the small wood stove with a blackened coffee pot sitting atop it, then finally to the open door of a tiny bathroom. It was only big enough to house a toilet and a postage stamp of a standing shower.

“It’ll work,” he grunted. “Where are the bedrooms?”

Oscar gestured to two doors in the far back corner, but before he could say anything, Justin swept past him.

“This one’s mine!” he called out with a grin, running into the smaller of the two. In the lamplight, a small twin bed was just visible, covered by a homey-looking quilt with blue and white flowers. Or it was visible, until Justin slammed the rustic wooden door shut with a thud.

“Great,” Oscar said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “Trent, you can have the other one. I’ll set up my accommodations on the couch. Unlike that one,” he said, pointing to Justin, “I don’t need much sleep.”

Trent cocked his head at Oscar, his face indecipherable. “Are you sure? I can stay out here.”

Oscar bent over and picked up the old red cooler that Justin had dragged in, taking it over to the nearby propane refrigerator, a nostalgic-looking turquoise model. “I’m certain of it.”

Trent opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but ultimately just nodded. He carried his small bag over his shoulder into the remaining bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Oscar stood in silence, loading eggs and butter into the fridge.

This was already awkward and strange. He was certain it would only get worse.