Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“You might be demisexual as well—or perhaps even graysexual?”
Cameron paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at the uncharacteristically chirpy vampire across the table from him. “Thomas, I beg your pardon, but why are we still talking about this?”
He casually ran a pale hand through his dark hair to push it off his forehead. “I find it fascinating. Don’t you? Sometimes we think in terms of all or nothing, but there’s a spectrum and conditions under which experiences could be more appealing or unappealing.”
“I suppose,” Cameron agreed.
“Think of it this way—I love a rainy day when I am safely tucked indoors, wrapped in my robe, wearing fuzzy slippers and with a hot mug of tea in my hands. But if you strand me in the moors without a jacket or umbrella on that same rainy day, I’ll be miserable and hate it.”
Cameron contemplated that as he took a bite and chewed.
There was merit to his point, of course.
Thomas had a unique habit of making excellent points full of merit.
Unlike Thomas, though, Cameron had never been in love.
He’d never experienced the slow, cautious tenderness that Thomas had wistfully spoken of. He had no clue what that was like.
Cameron’s own experience had felt more like a crash course in sex and intimacy.
He’d been accosted by a few interested parties—some his own age at the time, some much older—and he’d simply gone with the flow of whatever was expected of him.
It had not been wonderful. It had been messy, awkward and embarrassing, if he was honest. He disliked the notion of giving his naked body over to some near stranger to do vulgar and unspeakable things with.
“You’re quiet,” Thomas said, lifting his palms. “I’ll stop. I’m probably verging on being chatty and exhausting.”
“No, I was thinking about what you said. Logically speaking, I know that you are right, but I haven’t—”
“Forgive me for the interruption, Lord Ashford, Sir Thomas.” Lennon entered the room and gave a quick nod. “Lord Devon Gates is in the foyer. As usual, we were not expecting his arrival… in the middle of lunch service.”
“Ah, that’s alright—now is as good of a time as any.” Cameron quickly wiped his mouth with his napkin, set it aside and stood. “Thomas, please come and meet my friend—he’s the one I mentioned before who helps me obtain rare books.”
Thomas stood as well. “Oh yes, of course. I’d love to meet him, but may I—Let me go and make myself more presentable. I’ll be along shortly?”
“Sure,” Cameron said, striding toward the door. “Meet us in my office?”
“Will do.”
As Cameron passed his manservant, he patted him fondly on the shoulder as if to say, “There, there.” Lennon scowled.
He did not hide the fact that he wasn’t keen on Devon’s habit of spontaneously showing up at the estate.
Cameron had asked his friend many times to call in advance, but Devon sternly insisted that he wanted his appearance to be a surprise.
Devon always visited with something interesting in tow, so Cameron didn’t mind.
When Cameron turned the corner into the foyer, Devon was there in his trench coat and spiffy pageboy cap. A book wrapped in brown paper was clutched within his left hand. He had a warm vanilla complexion and sandy-brown hair. His maroon eyes widened and sparkled when they fell upon Cameron.
“Cameron—mate! There you are, I’ve been waiting for an eternity.” He spread his arms wide, and Cameron dutifully walked into his embrace and hugged him, receiving two hearty slaps on the back like always.
“You’ve been waiting two minutes, you git,” Cameron teased, quickly pulling away. “Didn’t we tell you to call in advance when you decide to visit? Lennon is very sour with you.”
“Lennon needs to take that stick out of his arse. It’s been too long since I last set eyes on you. You’re looking fit as ever.” Devon laid a heavy palm on Cameron’s shoulder and let it linger there while taking him in.
Cameron huffed. “Thanks. Shall we go to my office? I don’t think I’ve ordered anything as of late.” He turned, breaking away from Devon’s hold and moving down the corridor.
“This one is a special little treat, my dear friend,” Devon said, trailing behind. “From me to you.”
As soon as they were inside his office, Cameron recognized the error in his decision to have Thomas meet them here. The seating arrangement wasn’t appropriate for the three of them to talk comfortably, but this was where he and Devon always met. Coming here with him was a force of habit.
He was about to say as much when Devon interjected. “I’m excited to tell you about this rare find.” Devon lifted the wrapped book in his hand. “I came across it during an auction in Amsterdam last week, and I simply couldn’t wait to show you.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing about it,” Cameron said. “But I think we’ll need to move to the sitting room so that Thomas can join us.”
Devon tilted his head in confusion. “Thomas? Who’s Thomas? I sensed another purebred presence here, but I assumed one of your local vendors might be making a delivery to the estate.”
Cameron raised an eyebrow because that was a strange thing to assume.
“No, no. Thomas is my—Ah, here he is now.” There was a soft knock, and Cameron beckoned Thomas inside.
He stepped through the gap in the door and his eyes met Cameron’s briefly before shifting to take in Devon.
Thomas had used some product to sweep his hair back and off of his forehead, and he wore a sweater that was a little less shabby than the one he’d been wearing at lunch.
“This is Sir Thomas Antony Blakeley of the southwestern realm,” Cameron announced as Thomas drew nearer. “He is my bonding partner. Thomas, this is Lord Devon Gates.”
Thomas nodded politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gates. Cameron told me about your rare bookshop in Calais. What a fascinating existence you must lead? Uncovering exceptional literary gems as a profession. I do envy you.”
Both Thomas and Cameron looked to Devon because, although Cameron was not the best at social decorum, he knew that this was definitely the part where Devon should say something kind in return. Especially when Thomas had offered him such a thoughtful buy-in to a meaningful conversation.
Devon stared with his jaw slackened, looking back and forth between them. Cameron cleared his throat. “Um, Devon?”
“Your bonding partner?” he said, his brow furrowed. “Did I… Have I misheard you?”
Cameron and Thomas exchanged a glance. The moment was truly awkward. “Ah, no,” Cameron said. “You did not.”
“Bonding as in mating?” Devon reiterated. “As in, you intend to mate with this man? How long have you—No. Have you already signed a contract?”
Cameron’s back and shoulders stiffened from Devon’s ostensible rudeness. “Yes, we have. Devon, what—”
“Cameron,” Devon exclaimed, rounding on him. “How have you suddenly—You told me that you never intended to bond or mate with anyone! What is this? Are you playing some sort of silly game? If so, I do not find it humorous—”
“Devon,” Cameron said sternly, taken aback by his friend’s appalling behavior, “what has gotten into you? You’re being discourteous—”
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was? Thomas?” Devon shifted his gaze toward Thomas, who stood watching the two of them, stony-faced.
“Correct,” he said.
“I know you’ve only just arrived, but may I please speak with Lord Ashford alone? Can we talk privately?” His beseeching gaze veered to Cameron. The latter sighed.
“We can, but first, please apologize to Thomas for your ill-mannered conduct.” Cameron stood with his back straight, waiting.
Devon’s jaw worked as he turned toward Thomas. He offered a shallow bow. “I do apologize. Congratulations on your arrangement.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said stiffly.
“If you don’t mind, Thomas, I’ll meet you in the lower library when Devon’s visit is done?” Cameron asked.
Thomas nodded, then turned and made his way back out the door. When it was shut, Cameron looked at his friend. “What in God’s name, Devon? Have you lost your mind?” Not only was Cameron irritated, but he was wholly and truly embarrassed by Devon’s behavior.
“I might ask you the same question,” Devon responded fiercely. “What is the meaning of this, Cameron? Out of the blue, you’re married to some… some—”
“Careful,” Cameron warned.
Devon took a breath. “Some random purebred that you’ve never once spoken of? You told me years ago that you had no interest in bonding or mating.”
“And that is the truth. That much has not changed.”
“Then why are you in a bonding contract now?” There was an odd frustration in Devon’s gaze. Hurt? Betrayal?
It couldn’t be…
“My family was pressuring me to find someone—No. Threatening me. So, I did. It’s a simple, transactional arrangement.
Thomas and I are mated on paper and it is enough for both of us.
Not that it’s any of your business, but we have no intention of sincerely mating.
There will be no formal celebrations or ritualistic ceremonies.
” Aside from the party that his sister was planning—but that was primarily for her birthday.
And considering Devon’s behavior just now in front of Thomas, Cameron had no intention of mentioning it.
Cameron found it maddening that he had to keep explaining his on-paper arrangement to other vampires. First Lennon, then Rachelle, now Devon. Who else? Why couldn’t everyone just mind their own business?
Devon paced the floor, still gripping the wrapped manuscript within his fingers. “But why didn’t you tell me? If you just needed someone on paper, why not… why not ask me?”
Cameron frowned. “Why would I ask you? You have a thriving shop in Calais and you’re always traveling. You cannot be here with me—”