Page 65 of The Tenor's Shadow

That was a subway train. He was sure of it. He was underground. Perhaps he wasn’t that far from the opera house, but there was no way to tell.

Freddie didn’t have a way to trace him here. Anthony would be used as a pawn in a vampire war he knew almost nothing about, and then he would die. And it was his fault. Freddie had supported him when his uncle and Oliver were against him coming to New York. Freddie had stood by him.

But when push came to shove, and Freddie’s alarm bells were going off, Anthony hadn’t trusted his boyfriend’s instincts. Anthony had pushed him away, putting his career above his own safety.

Freddie was also at risk. Guilt bubbled up in his gut at the thought. If Anthony died, Freddie would follow. When he’d first heard that, it had seemed like a burden, an enormous price to pay.

Now it was Anthony’s greatest concern that his own death might take down the vampire who loved him so much. The vampire who Anthony loved, even if he hadn’t said the words out loud. He knew that.

Before meeting Freddie, Anthony believed in himself and only himself. His uncle, the only support system he had left, had moved to London, and Anthony had been truly and completely alone. He was his only advocate. Until Freddie.

Freddie wanted him to have all the success he wished for. He stood up for Anthony, and when it came down to it, Anthony had ignored his feelings. But Freddie hadn’t run. He’d been unhappy, angry even. But he’d continued to love Anthony and stand by him.

He was Anthony’s mate, a word that had meanings Anthony was only now learning. He’d proved himself worthy of Anthony’s trust and his love.

Closing his eyes, he sent a thought towards Freddie. Perhaps there was some kind of mate magic he wasn’t aware of that would allow him to communicate, that would let Freddie hear him.

I’m underground, in a room. There was a train. I’m not sure if I’m at a station or not.

He waited for a response, but there was nothing. Maybe a slight twinge in his chest, but that was probably anxiety. He opened his eyes.

“What happens now?” His voice shook as he asked the question. He hated how weak he sounded.

“Now, little lanternfly, we wait for Oliver Hughes to respond to our summons.” Charles winked at him. “Then we negotiate.”

Anthony wriggled again, stretching the knots of the restraints.

“Freddie will come for me.”

“We are not novices, maggot-food. The Azarian coven has had control of the abandoned stations in Manhattan for almost a decade now. No one will find you.”

We’re in an abandoned subway station. Please come for me, Freddie. I…I love you.

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