Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Melty.
There was no other word to describe the sensation. Melty, warm and a little weird. As if someone had set a low-burning fire to Cameron’s insides. At first, the fire warped and twisted itself around—but then the intensity of the flame shot up like a rocket, straight to his eyeballs.
Overall, it was… good. New and strange. The burning-irises situation was wholly unpleasant, though, to be sure.
“Have your eyes ever alighted before?” Thomas asked, slowly sinking down to kneel in front of Cameron once more. His eyes were alighted and burning blueish-silver. Arresting, like lightning striking across a midnight sky. Pretty.
Cameron brought the heels of his palms to his eye sockets and gently pressed them there, willing them to stop. “No. It’s quite uncomfortable.”
“The first time is painful because it’s a new experience,” Thomas said from beneath him. “You grow accustomed to it with subsequent occurrences.”
This was going to happen again? Why was it even happening at all?
He dropped his palms and exhaled another breath.
His insides still felt warm and gooey from the things Thomas had conveyed while he fed.
Very thoughtful and pleasant things, like he’d promised.
That part… that was Cameron’s favorite part.
He looked down at Thomas. Both of their eyes were still burning. “It isn’t painful for you?” Cameron asked, curious. “Have yours alighted before?”
Thomas’s smile was gentle. Patient. “It is not painful for me. And yes, they have.”
“With Dawn?”
He took a noticeable breath. “Yes.”
Cameron gazed toward the fire, his emotions and nature swirling in a way he was wholly unfamiliar with.
What was the social protocol for this? Was he supposed to say or do something after another vampire fed from him?
Give them a printed receipt and thank them for their patronage?
“Was it okay for you? My blood, I mean. The feeding.” He glanced down to find Thomas still staring at his face.
“You taste wonderful and your eyes are beautiful. Thank you for giving of yourself. I really… I needed that, badly, I think.”
Self-conscious and with his cheeks aflame, Cameron nodded. “You are welcome.”
“And you are my source, Cameron. Your blood is in fact the same as what I receive in my bags from the boutique. I am absolutely certain of it.” Thomas said this with his intensely glowing irises unblinking. Daring Cameron to refute it.
He wasn’t going to argue. “How uncanny. What are the odds?”
“Mm.”
Cameron inhaled deeply and blew it out. Gradually, he felt the heat behind his eyes dissolve and cool. When they felt normal again, he blinked in relief. “Ugh, thank God.”
Thomas’s grin broadened, his own irises returning to their very pale gray. “It gets better each time.”
“Bloody hell.”
Cameron jumped slightly when Thomas laughed outright. It was a hearty, raspy and unwieldy sound he’d never heard from him. The light from the fire sparkled in his gaze and a low pressure radiated from his being. Churning and pulsing in a way it never had.
It was subtle but remarkable.
Thomas took a healthy breath and rolled his shoulders when his laughter subsided. Only then did he notice Cameron’s somewhat alarmed facial expression.
“Have I frightened you?”
“No,” Cameron said honestly. “You seem a little different, somehow.”
“I think I’m relieved,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. “That was unexpected and lovely. Shall we head to the banquet room for dinner?”
“Yes, sure.” Cameron stood, then instinctively offered his hand. Thomas paused for the briefest moment, then slipped his palm into Cameron’s. His skin was cool and dry to the touch, his fingertips soft in Cameron’s larger, warmer grip.
Once Thomas was on his feet, Cameron moved to release his hand, but Thomas held on to him.
“Does this bother you?” Thomas lifted their hands slightly to clarify. “Does my hand touching yours make you uncomfortable?”
Cameron huffed. “Well, it didn’t until you pointed it out.”
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, gently releasing their hands.
“No, I… That was a jest,” Cameron reassured him. “I don’t mind, Thomas. I’m not—I don’t think I’m so uptight. I used to hug Devon sometimes… the knobhead.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Whenever he came to the house, as soon as he saw me, he’d fling his arms wide open. It would have been unbearably awkward for both of us if I just stood there like a stubborn lump and refused to embrace him.”
“Ah, so he forced it on you,” Thomas said. He started walking toward the door and Cameron followed.
“Not forced. I hugged him of my own will. I didn’t do it out of ‘responsibility,’ Thomas.”
Thomas smirked, understanding Cameron’s reference. “That may be, but he still put pressure on you to do it.” In the hallway, they walked side by side. As the dining room drew nearer, Thomas lowered his voice. “Did you feel pressured by my illness? Is that why you consented to my feeding from you?”
Cameron stopped dead. “No—no, it wasn’t that way at all.
” He lifted a palm to the back of his neck, rubbing.
“Yes, I had been thinking about what I could do for you, because it’s obvious that you’re struggling with something.
But I’ve also been curious about the experience.
I wanted it of my own accord, Thomas. Please don’t think otherwise… or scold me.”
“I did not—”
“You did.”
Thomas sighed. “I apologize if I spoke strongly. But I wanted to be certain of your intentions. I’m not your ward, Cameron. I hope that someday, we might even be in each other’s care? If you would trust me to do so. In time.”
Cameron watched him, perplexed. Did Thomas want to help him with the accounting and his other administrative responsibilities? The upkeep with the estate and grounds? Thomas was unquestionably intelligent and clever, so Cameron had no doubts about his capabilities.
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “In time.”
In the banquet room, they sat themselves at the table, and within moments, the kitchen staff began serving dinner.
They didn’t speak. Not because the air between them was awkward or Cameron felt strange after the feeding.
They were silent because Thomas proceeded to eat his meal.
Cautiously, slowly, but steadily. Cameron tried hard not to stare as the man across from him cleaned his entire plate, the side bowl of tomato soup and the accompanying buttered bread roll.
When he was finished, Thomas sat back and exhaled a weighted, satisfied sigh. “That was exquisite. Would it be alright if I spoke to Sulee, the head chef?”
“Of course,” Cameron said, finishing his last bite of bread roll and wiping his mouth with his napkin. “We could pop into the kitchen after dessert is served.”
Dessert was a classic bread pudding served warm with a drizzle of vanilla sauce. One of Cameron’s favorite wintertime treats. It was sweet—but not overly sugary—buttery, comforting and cozy. Thomas devoured this, too, leaving no trace of it behind in his shallow bowl.
Seeing him contentedly eating his meal made a small pearl of tension inside of Cameron relax. It made the evening just a little homier and more peaceful.
When they both finished and the plates were cleared, they turned down the offer of wine as a night cap and went to the kitchen.
Sulee was at the large island chopping vegetables, likely prepping for tomorrow’s meals.
Mira was sat on a stool across the island from her with a mug cradled in her hands, smiling and looking comfortable within the space.
The two women paused in their conversation when Cameron and Thomas stepped into the kitchen. Mira perked up, setting her mug on the wooden counter. “Sir Thomas, Lord Ashford! It’s a surprise to see you here. What can I help you with?”
Cameron held up a palm. “Nothing, Mira. Thank you, but Thomas wanted to speak with Chef Sulee.”
Sulee stopped chopping and laid her knife down. Wiped her hands on her apron. “Is everything alright, my lord? Was there a problem with tonight’s dinner?” Sulee had olive-brown skin and a round face. Her dark curly hair was cut close to her head and her eyes were like warm pools of honey.
“Not at all,” Thomas said, stepping closer to the island. “Quite the contrary—everything was delicious and obviously crafted with well-trained hands. Where did you learn such exceptional culinary skills?”
Sulee smiled and stole a sideways glance at Mira. “My father, your grace. He was the head chef here at the Ashford estate until his passing ten years ago. He taught me everything he knew.”
“Sulee grew up here,” Cameron supplied. “She’s been a resident of this estate longer than I have.”
The chef waved a hand. “Only by ten years. And Lord Ashford has been incredible with running things. The estate and the atmosphere here are unrecognizable compared to when I was a child. Thank goodness for that.”
Cameron grinned, his cheeks warming. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Well, I would love to hear more about the history of Ashford House going forward,” Thomas said affably. “And I’m very glad to experience the legacy of your father’s talents—undoubtedly fused with your own, of course.”
Sulee grinned and dipped her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I do apologize for my, hm… lackluster appetite up until now. Please take no offense. It bore no reflection on your cuisine.”
“I understand, my lord. I was surprised and pleased to see your plates come back to the kitchen clean tonight. If there’s anything in particular that you enjoy, do not hesitate to let me know.”
They said their goodbyes and left the women to enjoy each other’s company. Perhaps it was too soon to hope, and gods knew Cameron didn’t want to jinx it, but tonight felt as if they were finally beginning to settle into this unorthodox arrangement.
He knew from the feeding that Thomas was pleased with him.
More than pleased, perhaps. Thomas’s intention had poured into him like warm, sweetened milk.
Like the complex vanilla sauce drizzled over the bread pudding, except it was all conjectural and magical and drizzled over his insides.
It was odd and emotional but… good. Very good.
Maybe this could be their life together? Eating delicious dinners and running the estate. Clearing out his father’s old files and being mercilessly beaten at chess. It sounded simple and tidy and even better than anything Cameron had imagined.
The start of it was rough, but maybe things were smoothing out?
They reached the curving staircase that led to the upper level.
Cameron’s room was on the first floor, past the stairs and down another hallway.
He turned to Thomas. “I’m glad that you enjoyed dinner—and thank you for expressing such kind words to Sulee.
Has something changed that I am unaware of regarding your appetite? ”
Before, Thomas had spoken of his lack of “zeal” for life. Had it returned?
“Maybe,” Thomas said quietly, considering. He met Cameron’s eyes. “May I?” He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against Cameron’s hand.
“Yes?”
Thomas gently took Cameron’s left hand in both of his, holding them low and within the space between them. “Thank you for trusting me and giving me consent earlier this evening.”
“You’ve already expressed your gratitude, in… in many ways. You don’t need to say it again.”
“I do, because I understand that you don’t prefer this kind of intimacy.” Thomas lowered his head to stare at their hands. “Feeding from the bags was making me feel increasingly ill. Maybe I don’t have a high tolerance for it like other vampires?”
“That could be the case. It doesn’t bother me, but everyone is different.”
Thomas nodded. “Right, very true. I know it’s a common practice under various circumstances, and I tried to wrap my mind around feeding that way, but I just couldn’t—”
“Thomas.”
He took a breath and raised his heather gaze. Cameron lifted his right hand to hold Thomas’s, making an awkward mass of fingers and clasped palms between them. “You’re alright,” Cameron said, squeezing. “We’re alright.”
Having a better sense of these things, Thomas unraveled their clumped palms, then neatly took one of Cameron’s hands in each of his own. “You mentioned that you didn’t like the feeling of your eyes burning.”
“Horrendous,” Cameron confirmed.
Thomas breathed a clipped laugh. “Fair. But how did the feeding feel? Was it good for you? Was it pleasing?”
The unexpected heat he’d felt within himself returned from the memory of Thomas’s tender and considerate thoughts. Something low at his spine writhed and moved. “It was, yes. Thank you for that.”
“I’m glad. And you’re welcome.” Thomas chuckled again. “I asked you to play chess with me, and we didn’t even play!”
“If you ever need to not play chess again, let me know?”
Thomas smiled, and it reached his eyes. “Alright, I will. Good night, Cameron.”
“Good night.” He gave Cameron’s palms another warm squeeze, then made his way upstairs.
Cameron continued down the hall toward his bedroom, his insides still warm and wriggling around like a cat wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. As if the ancient and mythical entity inside of him knew something that he most certainly did not.