Chapter 12 #2
“I could have if you’d asked! I don’t care about that stupid shop, Cameron.
I don’t even read these antiquated and tedious manuscripts.
I’m not fond of this bookish world the same way you are.
I do this because it was thrust upon me, like the estate and Upper Avalon were entrusted to you.
I bring these books here because you like it, and I like you.
” Devon looked directly at him then, his gaze intense.
Instinctively, Cameron took a step back. “We… we are friends.”
“You’re a goddamn tease.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You sit in your perfectly beautiful manor home, perfectly dressed with your gorgeous eyes and strapping, fuckable body, and you lead me on for years—”
“I have not!” Cameron protested, fuming and mortified. His neck and face felt as if they were on fire. “I have done no such thing!”
“And then you secretly arrange a hasty bonding contract with some pale, stony-faced and emaciated Eden purebred because, what? He has a proper inheritance and not a hoard of dusty old books? He’ll do whatever you say and abide by your uptight rules? You—you control freak.”
Cameron gasped as if he’d been physically slapped across the face. It felt as if reality was shifting all around him. Morphing into something strange and unrecognizable—overlaid with the wrong colors, patterns and sounds.
Who was this man standing across from him? They’d been friends, he’d thought, for the past fifteen years. Devon would deliver his books (always unannounced) and they’d have cappuccinos in his study and talk about the book business. It was amicable, interesting and harmless.
Who was this embittered, name-calling vampire? Cameron had no idea, but he’d had enough of him. “You may leave, sir.”
A profound silence fell between them as the words hung in the air like a glob of wet tissue.
Devon straightened and lifted his chin. “Congratulations on your arrangement.”
“I don’t think you mean that.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever.” Devon turned and stalked toward the door. He lifted the book in the air as he moved. “This was supposed to be a gift, but I think I’ll cut my losses and find a buyer for it instead. I won’t be arranging deals for you going forward.”
“That’s petty,” Cameron said. “This is—You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re a bloody cock tease,” Devon returned. He flung the door open, then disappeared around the corner.
Cameron put his palm over his heart, closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths. What the hell had just happened? Emotionally, it was as if Devon had come to Cameron’s home, detonated a bomb and then fled in the wake of his destruction.
After taking a moment to gather himself, Cameron went to the lower library. Thomas was there, a book in his hands, reading with one long leg crossed over the other. The fireplace was lit and the air was warm.
“I sincerely apologize for Devon’s unacceptable behavior,” Cameron began, walking over to him. “I could not have predicted such an obscene reaction from him. He’s never behaved that way in the past.”
Thomas closed the book and lifted his chin.
Devon had rudely called Thomas “emaciated.” Cameron thought that was unfair, without question.
Although… he did seem gaunter today, as if his condition was worsening.
But when Cameron had inquired, Thomas had said he was perfectly fine.
What choice did Cameron have but to believe him?
“He has strong romantic feelings for you,” Thomas observed simply. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I… Wait. How did you know?”
“His intense reaction toward me made it fairly plain. The man practically lost his marbles when you disclosed that I was your bonding partner.”
“I had no idea!” Cameron said. “I thought we were friends. He’s never expressed any romantic inclination toward me. Only once, when we were much younger, he asked how I felt about bonding. That’s it.”
Thomas nodded. “You expressed your feelings about bonding—did you also disclose your social anxiety?”
“I did.”
“Hm. If you don’t mind my saying so, his showing up here unannounced and according to his own whimsies is quite inconsiderate of you and the boundaries you’ve set. Lennon is right to be cross.”
Cameron exhaled a weighted sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Lennon has expressed the same sentiments—but I thought, ‘This is just Devon.’ Spontaneous and impulsive. I never felt there was any malice behind it.”
“You go to great lengths to protect your mental and emotional health and keep your environment comfortable. It’s obvious to me, even after being here just under a month, that you like to exert a certain control over your physical space and body.”
Control freak. Devon’s antagonism rushed back to the surface like another slap across the face. “I promise that I am not a control freak. I simply—”
Thomas held up his palms. “No, no—I didn’t mean anything of the sort.
When I say ‘control,’ I mean more along the lines of stability and consistency.
Safety? You were left to fend for yourself and your household at a fairly young age.
Most vampires at nineteen are courting, exploring themselves and making regretful choices.
At least, I was? Along with my peers. But I imagine for you, your world was shaken, and you were suddenly tasked with very serious responsibilities, least of all raising and looking after your baby sister. ”
Cameron took a breath as the tension in his chest eased. “I was, that’s true. Lennon helped a lot, but I… I’ve never had anyone neatly summarize my circumstance. I appreciate that you understand me. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Thomas smiled. It was just a small upturn of his mouth at the corners—no teeth—but the simple gesture reached his eyes and warmed his countenance. “I think you’re capable of finding friends who respect your boundaries instead of trying to make you bend to their own will.”
“Perhaps,” Cameron said, dropping his shoulders and his palm. “Ugh, what a disaster. Now I am minus a friend and a book dealer. What a shit day this is turning out to be.”
Thomas folded his palms in his lap. “Shall we try to turn it around? If your schedule is free for the rest of the afternoon, we could have our chess game? Maybe some accompanying muffins and tea?”
Cameron smiled, grateful for the distraction. “I would love that. However, Lennon is none too happy that we abandoned our lunch. Plus, I need to open and sort some mail. Is it alright if we eat first, then I can meet you back here once my admin duties are completed?”
“Perfectly alright. I’ll look forward to it.”
Much to Cameron’s dismay, the day did not get better. It continued in its shitty nature, unrelenting.
He lost the chess game to Thomas.
Correction, two chess games. Which was unfathomable.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Thomas asked.
Cameron was bent with his elbows on his knees, a palm over his mouth as he scrutinized the chess board. The firelight from the hearth gleamed warmly across the smooth surfaces of the marble pieces. He looked up at Thomas and noted the barely suppressed smile.
“No,” Cameron said, sitting upright and resetting the white pieces in their starting positions. “Again.”
Thomas nodded and arranged his side as well.
Within ten minutes, Cameron had lost a third time. “This is incomprehensible. How humiliating.”
“We can talk about it.”
“What is there to discuss?” Cameron said, bitterness vexing his ego like a snake coiling around its prey. “You must think me an oversized simpleton—”
“I do not,” Thomas said firmly. “Nothing of the sort. You have a pattern. After we move our respective pieces into position, I make a fairly provocative move—”
“The bishop to G-5 move in the last game.”
“Correct. Then you attacked it twice, which made your king vulnerable.”
“Ah.” Cameron could see it now that it was being drawn out for him. He flattened a palm to his forehead. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Then I am able to exploit that vulnerability. You become distracted by and henceforth focused on my showy offensive tactic every time. When I unexpectedly bring my queen into play, that really sends you into a silent panic. It is openly discernible, in that your moves become increasingly… rushed and careless.”
Cameron shook his head, both embarrassed and wildly impressed. “Once my mother taught me to play the game, I was unstoppable. No one in the house could beat me. And here, you’ve beaten me three times in less than an hour—and exposed the apparent flaw of my gameplay with razor-sharp precision!”
“‘In the house’ is the operative phrase there,” Thomas said, resetting his pieces. “Take no offense to this, but you need to get out more.”
In the firelight, Thomas’s skin had an almost ghostly glow. The hollowed shadows along his cheekbones and beneath his eyes were more pronounced in the dimly lit ambiance. A spike of worry flitted across Cameron’s chest.
“Thomas, is there…” He paused, wanting to find the right words. “Are you sure that you’re feeling alright?”
The man paused in his movement. “I’m okay.”
“If there’s anything you need—anything at all—please tell us? You should not hesitate.”
Unexpectedly, Thomas breathed a weak laugh as he resumed his organizing. “Oh, I think I should.”
Cameron tilted his head. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I need to overcome whatever self-imposed mental hell I’m putting myself through. It’s not your concern, please don’t worry.”
His warning was futile. Cameron was already worried, and this explanation had done nothing to put him at ease.
“Another game?” Thomas offered once all the pieces on his side were arranged in their starting positions.
“Gods no. I think I’ve been mercilessly beaten enough for one day.”
Thomas chuckled weakly. “Would his lordship prefer it if I let him win?”
“Never.”
“Good man.” Thomas stood, then gingerly stretched his arms up. “I am tired. I think I’ll nap in my rooms for a bit before dinner.”
“Please, take your time.”
They parted ways with Cameron feeling a mix of unease and amused incredulity. Thomas had beaten him like it was nothing. The entire time he’d worn that stony, unreadable expression, and Cameron had been confounded from the intensity of his heather-gray gaze.
Chess was not only a tactical game but a mentally emotional one. Thomas, clever man that he was, had baited his theoretical hook with some provoking distraction on the board, and Cameron had fallen for it every single time.
He wanted to talk more about the games during dinner, but he didn’t have the chance. Thomas kept to his rooms for the remainder of the evening with Mira reporting that he’d fallen into a heavy and deep sleep.
That night, Cameron had the opposite experience, tossing and turning in his bed. His mind was a tumultuous storm of thoughts, twisting and flipping this way and that.
The shock of Devon’s secret attraction and subsequent rude behavior.
Thomas’s looking increasingly frail and his absence from dinner.
The conversation Cameron previously had with Mira replayed in a loop as well—how the blood bags had been “required” of Thomas, whatever that meant, and that they might be contributing to his distress.
Cameron thought about Thomas’s being in love with a vampire named Dawn and the tenderness and wistfulness with which he’d spoken of her. And then, how her whereabouts were presently unknown to Thomas. How that must quietly eat away at him as someone that he cared for, deeply.
It was no wonder Thomas hadn’t remembered Cameron at all. He’d been a ridiculous fool to assume otherwise. That this arrangement had been inherently mutual—that Thomas had actively said yes to Cameron’s proposal because of a fleeting moment between them several years ago.
Rachelle had told Cameron that there was a process to these things. He’d ignored that process because of his social apprehensions, and look at where it had gotten him.
Cameron stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, his chest rising and falling from concentrated breaths. If Mira was right about Thomas’s aversion to blood bags, should Cameron find someone for Thomas to feed from? Should… he offer himself? Would Thomas even want that?
He had no experience in this and had never once been inclined to give someone consent. Casually, maybe on one or two occasions, he’d wondered about it, though. What it might be like to be bitten by another vampire.
Cameron wasn’t longing for it and he never felt as if he was missing out on something. It was more so curiosity. Like swimming in the ocean or taking a ride on an airplane. An act that one should just do at some point for the sake of living and experiencing.
Flipping onto his side, Cameron twisted himself up in the bedsheets and groaned from frustration.
Even if he deigned to offer himself to Thomas, there was no reason for the man to accept.
He’d told Cameron that he preferred a certain level of emotional intimacy before being closer to another vampire.
Thomas had loved Dawn. He didn’t even remember Cameron.
Enough—just stop it. Willing his mind to relent and give him peace, Cameron shut his eyes tightly. It didn’t work.
When all the complex nuances were stripped away, Cameron knew that he wanted to help Thomas. Cameron alone had made the decision to bring him here, and as such, it was his responsibility to ensure Thomas’s good health and contentment as best he could. That, Cameron decided, was the bottom line.
Eventually, he got up and paced around his rooms. He did so until the early light of morning, because only then did his brain finally run out of steam and allow him to collapse back into the bed and rest.