Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Snow…
A week later, Thomas rolled out of bed to find the outside world beyond his window dressed in white. The lawn was completely blanketed and the tree branches were outlined with a heavy dusting of powder. A thrill of wonder shot through him as he blinked, taking it all in.
“It snowed overnight!” Thomas made the declaration as he entered the upper library. He’d showered, dressed, drunk half of his coffee and only eaten his muffin before hurrying over to find Cameron.
The older library was so bright from the glaring white outside that he almost needed sunglasses. The air smelled of warm ginger and sugar. It was welcoming and lovely and made his skin and fangs tingle.
Cameron sat on the floor with his back against the couch, sorting files as usual. He paused to look up. “It did indeed.”
“We don’t get snow in the winter in the southwestern realm.” Thomas made his way across the floor to the cathedral-style circular window, eager to inspect this new vantage point of the property. “Only dreary rain. I hear it snows in Central sometimes, though.”
“We’re at a higher altitude here, hence the ‘upper’ in Upper Avalon.”
“Right, of course.” Thomas leaned, watching as the snow flitted and danced lightly through the air. From this angle, he could see the placid lake, not frozen over but steely and dark as it reflected the overcast sky like liquid mercury.
Feeding from Cameron had revived something fundamental within Thomas. A tiny ember of tenacity or perseverance that had grown and bloomed over the past week. As he stared out the window at the falling snowdrifts, the feeling pulsed quietly within his whole being.
Wonder and curiosity. Timidly, hope and yearning.
Amidst these glowing sensations, there was a small nugget of guilt—a lump of coal fixed deep within his chest. Not even a year ago, he’d been in love with Dawn.
His eyes had alighted for her alone. And yet, he’d enjoyed Cameron’s blood, profoundly.
His home and very presence were healing to Thomas in a way he desperately needed.
Thomas wanted to embrace and welcome this unexpected goodness. Was it wrong to do so? Should he feel ashamed? And at the same time, how could he possibly deny himself and what his nature was telling him?
“Have you never seen snow before?” Cameron asked, interrupting Thomas’s tumultuous deliberations.
“This is the first time.”
“Oh, do you want to go outside? We could walk the garden path if you wish. An outdoor adventure to start our day?”
Sighing, Thomas turned from the window. “I don’t know if my coat is heavy enough for such weather conditions.
Or if I have appropriate footwear.” Thomas’s trench coat was at least four years old now and damn near too small.
When he’d last slipped it on to come here, he’d been unbearably self-conscious of the lint fuzz lining the dark fabric and the way his pale wrists were a little too exposed.
“About that—I try not to impose, but… how do you feel about acquiring some new items for your wardrobe? I’m not sure how much of a stipend your family provides—”
“Ha.”
Silence.
Cameron blinked. “Do they not provide a stipend for you?”
“They did when I was under their care. Now that they’ve married me off, no sir.”
“That is not proper etiquette within the first year of a marriage when you’re still getting settled,” Cameron reasoned. “And it’s… generally unkind.”
Thomas smirked. “You have only touched the surface of how unkind my fathers can be.”
He let the statement hang between them, because even though he’d said it, he still wasn’t ready to follow it up with a confession. With the tangible truth and evidence of their cruelty.
Cameron’s shoulders rose in a breath. He was wearing his mustard cardigan today, and it made him feel and look like the sun. “I am happy, Thomas, to provide a stipend and new clothing for you—”
“No, you don’t have to—”
“I know that I do not have to, but I want to. So, I will. Let’s talk to Lennon about sitting with you and getting some things ordered. He’s an excellent tailor as well. He’ll be thrilled to take this on with you.”
Despite himself, Thomas’s heart warmed. It would be grand to not feel utterly threadbare, at least sometimes.
Especially since their engagement party, or rather, Rachelle’s birthday celebration, was just around the corner.
Gods knew Thomas did not want to show up in “shabby chic” attire for that affair.
Thomas could turn this offer down. He could forcibly reject these accompanying feelings and make himself suffer more for suffering’s sake.
But… if Dawn were in this same situation, Thomas wouldn’t want that for her.
If she’d managed to survive the same horrific events that Thomas had, he would want her to take whatever goodness she could get. Without question or hesitation.
“Does Lennon tailor your clothes?” Thomas asked to distract himself. Perhaps the guilt would always be there? At least until he could confirm that Dawn was alive and well. He needed to know, somehow.
“He does,” Cameron said. “He has to because I’m a bit, um…”
“Broad?” Thomas offered, smiling.
“Oversized.”
“Sturdy,” Thomas corrected. He scrunched his nose. “Strapping. Fetching.”
Cameron shook his head. “This vampire likes his adjectives.”
“I like precise adjectives that describe a man in such a way that he deserves.”
Cameron pushed himself up from the floor. “Thomas, the Pursuant of Precision.”
Thomas laughed outright at that. The joyful tremor of it rang from the top of his head and down to his toes. He embraced it, grateful.
“Let’s get you one of my coats for now, anyway,” Cameron went on. “It’ll be like swimming in a sea of material, but you’ll be warmer for it, at least.”
The coat Thomas borrowed made him feel as if he were a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothing. The key difference being the subtle scent the frock held, which was doing funny things to Thomas’s nature and hunger.
Miraculously, while he’d already noticed that he and Cameron were the same height, they also wore the same shoe size. Cameron’s feet were wider than Thomas’s, but mostly, the borrowed boots fit him well.
Or at least he’d thought so. When he stepped out and onto the paved-stone walkway of the gardens, he immediately slipped. He made a humiliating whoop sound just as Cameron stopped him from falling flat on his back by catching him firmly by the shoulders.
“Merciful gods!” Thomas heaved as Cameron helped to set him upright.
“Sir Thomas Antony, if you cannot manage to stay erect at the outset, then perhaps we should call this whole adventure off.”
Thomas glanced over at him slyly from the corners of his eyes. “Under normal circumstances, I assure you, I have no problems staying erect, sir.”
Cameron donned his gloves, then paused from the sudden silence. He regarded Thomas with one eyebrow lifted. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing.” Thomas chuckled. “I’m showing my age. Please, lead the way.”
Staying close (in case Thomas failed in his vertical erection, he supposed), Cameron guided him along the snow-laden path and past several rows of encased hedges.
The greater forest loomed far along the edges of the open lawn, but a hearty grove of trees was planted just beyond the manicured garden space.
“Are these fruit trees?” Thomas asked, his breath puffing in a cloud as it passed between his lips.
“Yes, pear. They bloom in early summer. Sulee makes all kinds of delicious cuisines from their harvest. Pear jams for charcuterie and baked turnovers for dessert. She did a lovely pear sherbet last year that I still think about at least twice a week.”
“Mm, it sounds divine.” Aside from the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet, the landscape was eerily silent.
Thomas paused and stood motionless to take everything in.
The crisp coldness of the air on his face and in his lungs felt refreshing.
A palate cleanser for the soul. The sky was overcast with clouds billowing in every shade of gray—silver, pewter, charcoal and ash.
A damp drop hit the tip of Thomas’s nose and he raised his chin. Large, wet snowflakes began descending upon the world. Abundant, silent and serene. He was enraptured by it, as if time were standing still.
Soft chirping drew his attention toward one of the skeletal pear trees outlined in a layer of snow. Two bluebirds were nestled and coupled on a branch—a surprise splash of life and color amidst this nearly monochromatic scene.
They took a turn around the side of the estate and to the front so that Thomas could see the lake once more.
The snow was falling even heavier by that time, so Cameron suggested they go back inside.
Once they were out of their heavy coats and boots, they returned to the upper library, where it was warm and dry.
Lennon promised to have two cappuccinos delivered forthwith.
“Now I’m looking forward to pear jam and sherbet in the summer,” Thomas said as Cameron sat himself in the same place on the floor.
Thomas stood at the edge of the carpet, hesitating.
“Hearing you talk about it makes me hungry.” Which was a refreshing change of pace, honestly.
Being hungry. Looking forward to things.
It had been a week since Thomas first fed from Cameron.
The moment he had fresh blood in his system, something in Thomas’s mental and physical facilities had shifted.
Alleviated? The artificial method of feeding had been impeding him internally like a shackle around his psyche.
It had clouded his perspective and made everything feel heavy, dark and hopeless.
With his generous offer, Cameron had helped to set Thomas just a little bit free from his mental anguish.