Chapter 17 #2
When he stepped up beside Cameron, Thomas slipped his palm into his. Cameron gripped him back, openly staring. “You look wonderful,” he said.
It was jarring, because he looked like the man Cameron had seen five years ago.
The one sitting in the velvet green and damask room lit by firelight, surrounded by dark wooden bookshelves and speaking confidently with his peers.
The one with a sharp intellect and carefree laugh that had left Cameron feeling intrigued and somewhat bewildered.
“Thank you,” Thomas said quietly, his gaze radiant and piercing. “It’s a relief to know that I can still clean up nicely, at least. You look handsome and debonair as always, my gracious lord. Are you anxious?”
“Absolutely.”
Thomas adjusted so that Cameron’s arm was formally hooked within his own. He urged them toward the double doors. “You’re not alone, Lord Ashford. I’ll assist you as best I can.”
The snow-covered hills of Upper Avalon softly illuminated the otherwise dark night as they made their way to the west side of the realm where Rachelle and her mate, Henry, resided. Snow was still falling from the starry, partly cloudy sky, steadily but lightly in an ethereal dance.
Rachelle had instructed them to arrive at least thirty minutes after the party invitation’s scheduled start time, which had unnerved Cameron and only added to his stress.
As they finally passed through the private winding, tree-lined road and into the open grove where the estate was situated, it was obvious that the event was already in full swing.
Warm yellow light lit almost every window of the stately brick manor, and there were many windows. Vampires dressed in their finest attire were flittering around the circular driveway and main entrance—a fluster of movement, activity and pulsating energies.
Groaning internally, Cameron slouched lower against the seat, lifted his left hand to the back of his neck and closed his eyes.
He loved his sister, truly. He and Lennon had raised her and she was not a bad vampire by any means.
But in this moment, intensely, he hated her.
He hated her with every fiber of his being.
Thomas’s cool fingertips found Cameron’s free hand once more. Cameron opened his palm to him and took a deep breath. He expected Thomas to say something canned and banal like, “You’ll be fine.” Or ask some prosaic question that would only add to his stress.
And yet, he didn’t. Thomas did not say a word.
Silently, he held Cameron’s hand all the way up the drive.
He only let go when it was time for them to get out of the car.
Even then, once they were standing in the brisk air and facing the bright lights and loud sounds floating beyond the double doors, Thomas hooked their arms together and led him inside.
To Cameron’s ever-loving relief, no grandiose announcement was made as they stepped into the main foyer. No one stopped and lifted their glass, and there was no round of applause like he’d witnessed with other couples in similar circumstances.
There were many smiles and nods. A few subtle “congratulations” as they walked toward the main ballroom, but no one stopped them for a lengthy and drawn-out conversation about their intimate affairs—when had they decided to initiate the contract, where had they met and how long had it been. And on and on.
Rachelle appeared within their line of sight.
Thomas guided them straight toward her, like an arrow shooting through a narrow gap between the trees.
Her satin gown was like liquid gold against the warmth of her brown skin, and her braids were elegantly twisted and knotted to the side to show off her pink-diamond studs.
“You’re here,” she said contentedly, “you made it.” She hugged Cameron tightly first, then went for Thomas. She held his shoulders and swept kisses on either side of his cheeks. With her palms still bracing him, she looked him over. “You’re looking remarkably well, Sir Thomas.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said, gently holding her waist. “I feel much better than when last we met.”
“It seems my big brother has been taking excellent care of you? That’s his natural inclination, you know. Taking very good care of others.”
“Yes, I am a living, breathing example of this.”
Rachelle smiled. “You and me both. I told everyone in their invitation not to make a fuss over the two of you,” she said, releasing Thomas’s shoulders. He dropped his palms from her waist in turn. “We all know how you are, Cam, so hopefully everyone will behave themselves.”
Cameron groaned. Wonderful, so everyone was tiptoeing around his delicate, introverted sensibilities? He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
Playfully, she pointed to Thomas. “Don’t let him sneak out after only an hour. Let’s shoot for two, at least, please? It would be best if you stayed until all the guests left, but that’s probably asking for too much. Come, Thomas, meet my Henry.”
They made introductions and had a relaxed conversation with Rachelle and her mate, then Cameron and Thomas were swept into a series of congratulatory conversations. Most of which, surprisingly, gratefully, Thomas did the heavy lifting for.
He was amiable and charming as he held on to Cameron’s arm. Thomas offered a skillful, efficient cadence to the flow of each conversation. He knew how to answer questions truthfully but without oversharing. How to gently guide a less pleasant interaction to its end without seeming boorish.
“It’s just so surprising for our young lord to have suddenly taken on a mate, and without preamble! No formal announcements—no bonding ceremony nor parade!” The older purebred in front of them was one such unpleasant interaction. “If his parents were here, they never would have allowed for this.”
Cameron was at his wits’ end. There were too many bodies pressing too closely into his own, and the space was over warm. The chandelier light was bright, sparkly, and the music and chatter clambered over one another in a cacophony of sounds.
If his parents had sincerely cared about anything, they wouldn’t have abandoned him when he turned nineteen. But older purebreds were almost always like this. Perpetually reveling in their incredulity for all things contemporary.
“Our arrangement was private and certainly a reflection of our distinct temperaments,” Thomas said, unaffected and smiling sweetly.
“Getting to know Lord Ashford in the privacy of our home—and quietly experiencing the normalcy of daily life together—has been wonderful. I find that much more valuable than a parade, don’t you?
And we’re here, now, after all. At this delightful party that Rachelle has so kindly orchestrated. ”
The charm and logic practically oozed from Thomas’s pores. The older purebred couldn’t help but nod. “Yes, yes, that is lovely… I do love a community parade, though.”
Thomas lifted his champagne glass, which he was holding in his free hand. “To parades—and to a lovely evening.”
Both Cameron and the purebred lifted their glasses. As the older vampire took a sip, Thomas gently pulled Cameron away. When they were no longer within earshot, Thomas muttered, “I sense we need a short reprieve?”
“Please, good sir, yes.”
They kept moving, Thomas’s eyes scanning. “Hm, how about we go—”
“Anton! There you are, you sneaky man.”
Thomas froze mid-step, his heather eyes widening as he cast his gaze wildly around. It reminded Cameron of the day he’d opened the door to the secret staircase in the libraries, but not quite as intense.
Even still, it was immediately obvious that this encounter was going to be much unlike the others they’d breezed through tonight.