Page 49 of The Baritone's Rival

“Fine.” Trent closed his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone that we are mates.”

“I…I had to report to my coven master. I can’t hide things from Freddie when we speak mind-to-mind.”

“Dammit!” Trent kicked at the wooden coffee table, sending it flying off its three remaining legs with a crack. He sat up, glaring at Oscar.

“I won’t repeat the mistakes my mother made,” Trent continued. “I won’t give up my independence to find myself at the mercy of a coven full of vampires. It doesn’t matter if I’m attracted to you, it doesn’t matter how hot the sex is. I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what the manipulation and blood lust do to a person. My mother is dead because of it. And she lost her sanity long before that.”

Oscar didn’t respond. Trent was being vague, but he didn’t owe Oscar an explanation. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. His life was his own.

When Oscar finally spoke, his voice was small and tentative. “I didn’t expect us to be together. I didn’t plan to make it happen. I knew how you felt.”

Fuck. Oscar was hurt, and Trent had lost the ability to be dispassionate. He cared about Oscar, and if they stayed in this moment for any longer, his resolve would soften.

“Let’s look in Justin’s room.”

Trent walked away without waiting for a response. He needed a distraction from the conversation and from his thoughts. The power Oscar had over him, the pull he felt. Was it real, or due to some kind of bullshit destiny thing? Was he actually bisexual? Or was he being forced to feel that way by vampire magic?

Whatever it was, he couldn’t be seduced by it. He couldn’t afford to be tempted by an easy salve to his loneliness. He knew his mind, and he knew that what mattered was his career and his future, and not being caught in the trap his mother had found herself in.

He threw open the door to Justin’s room, grabbing at the door frame for support for his slowly strengthening body. What he saw didn’t make any sense.

“He didn’t leave anything behind,” Oscar whispered. He was right. It looked as if Justin had cleaned from top to bottom. Everything was spotless, the twin bed made, a colorful old-fashioned quilt spread over the sheets.

“There,” Trent answered. He gestured to the small wooden desk in the far corner. On it sat a scrap of paper, torn from a notebook and lightly lined. He walked over and bent down to read what was written there.

Just one word.

“It says ‘sorry.’” Trent forced the words out from behind his clenched teeth. “That’s it.”

Oscar collapsed down onto the bed, burying his head in his hands. He was distraught, but Justin’s betrayal only strengthened Trent’s determination. He couldn’t go back to coven life.

“This is why I can’t have a mate,” Trent said. “Why I can’t be around vampires. At the core, a vampire is a bloodthirsty, selfish being. Look at Justin. You thought he was trustworthy.”

Oscar looked up at Trent, his eyes lined with exhaustion and worry.

“I don’t understand why he would betray us. He sold out his own coven.”

“Because that is what it means to be what you are.” Trent crossed to the dresser, opening drawers, searching for anything else left behind, but each was bare of Justin’s belongings. “A creature that drinks blood for a living cannot be trusted.”

“You think you can’t trust me?” Oscar asked. There was desperation in his voice, but Trent didn’t turn to look. He couldn’t stay strong in the face of Oscar’s sadness. He opened the door to the narrow closet, tugging on the wrought iron handle and peering into the dark. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but he needed something to focus on so he wouldn’t give in.

“No. I don’t. I don’t trust vampires. And when we get back to New York, we should keep our distance.”

The bed squeaked as Oscar stood. His footsteps were gentle thumps as he left Justin’s bedroom. Trent was alone.

His gut churned with guilt. Maybe Oscar didn’t deserve that. Oscar hadn’t betrayed him. Perhaps he never would. But that’s not what history had shown him. Trent had learned the lessons of the past. Trust no one, but especially not vampires. Today’s events only reinforced what life had taught him.

A crash of wood broke Trent out of his reverie. What was going on? He strode into the main room of the cabin to see Oscar breaking one of the rustic kitchen chairs in two, adding it to a new pile of debris behind the door. Off to the side was Rhonda’s body. Oscar must have dragged her over and covered her with a quilt.

“What are you doing?” Trent crossed his arms as he stared out at the mess that Oscar was creating.

“It takes ten hours to travel here from Manhattan. I might have wounded Elliott, but there’s always a chance he’ll return before Freddie arrives. We have to make the cabin defensible.”

Trent surveyed the interior of the house. The bedrooms had windows, but the doors to those rooms could be shut and barricaded. On the other hand, the two large bay windows that looked out onto the porch from the main room would be hard to defend.

“What about the windows?” Trent asked.

“Tilt the couch on its side and cover one of them. We’ll need to be able to see out of the other. They won’t take us if they come.”

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