Page 22 of To Love a Vampire
A fae in his early twenties, short blonde hair combed neatly back, his shirt tucked perfectly into pressed white slacks walks toward us. He places a heaping plate of green beans down in the center of the table, leaning closely over Kaino’s side, making the warrior fidget in his seat from the fae’s nearness. The wolf’s muscly arms shift at an odd angle to dodge the fae’s thigh that brushes against Kaino’s chair.
Other caterers join us, placing food on the table like decorations. The warm smell greets me, reminding me of how hungry I really am, distracting me for just a moment from the guests seated across from me.
“Please, eat,” Raske says to us all with an excited smile.
Everyone begins filling their plates as instructed, minimal words are exchanged, a feeling of uneasiness begins to thrum through the silence. The president appears to look over the mounds of appetizing food piled around the table but doesn’t make a single move to touch any of it. Pale hands are clasped before her as she sits with immaculate posture.
Luca passes me a look, her elbow leaning heavily on the tabletop, her lips quirking in a smile like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
“How have you been?” Ayden asks, his plate void of any food as he watches me shovel in a heaping spoon full of mashed potatoes.
“I’ve been really good. It’s amazing here. Freeing.” I clamp my mouth shut on the last word.Should I have said that?
I glance to Raske and the president but they’re speaking quietly among themselves, ignoring me entirely.
I relax and give Ayden a small smile.
“How’s Congress? You seem to be doing so well,” I say and my stomach dips as I realize how formal my tone sounds. Not spoken with a lifetime of friendship but with… polite unattached words. Ayden and I are barely friends at all now.
I don’t really know the man seated across from me at all…
I take a sip from my glass and my throat constricts as the ice water tilts from the cup. I lower the drink as I cough, fumeless and pure water is all that I taste. Just water. Glancing into Luca’s drink I confirm that she, too, isn’t drinking alcohol. No alcohol tonight? The one night that I need it, the Wanderers are suddenly a sober community.
Great.
Luca quirks a delicate brow at me as she takes a bite of her steamed broccoli. I shake my head at her and draw my attention back to Ayden.
“It’s good. It’s really good,” he says, but his look doesn’t reflect this. Sadness touches his russet eyes, a frown threatening the smile that’s tilting his lips.
I stare at him for a few moments, the sweet, gangly boy I grew up with is no longer present. We’re both older now, aged by society in different ways. He’s as happy as he always knew he would be; miserable is an understatement.
“I missed you,” I finally say, the words nothing more than a whispered revelation.
The smile that’s in place against his lips pulls a little higher, almost genuine. “I—" He pauses, glancing to Michael who looks quickly away from us, pretending to be enthralled with the baked chicken on his plate. “I missed you, too,” Ayden says, his solemn eyes drifting away from mine, staring at his hands that are neatly folded in his lap.
My brows lower as my stomach sinks.
We’re not at all the friends we once were.
“Tell me, do you work with your mentor, Ayden?” Raske asks, raising his head high to look down the table at the man seated across from me.
Ayden glances to Michael as if the man might guide him in his response. Michael shifts in his chair, his eyes not meeting anyone else’s, like his personality is shrinking away from us by the second with uncouth movements.
“No, I didn’t have a mentor.”
“You didn’t have a mentor?” I repeat, bringing my attention back to him, my spoon held at mouth level, but forgotten.
How did I not know this about my friend?
“No, you were the only person I knew that had a mentor,” Ayden says before taking a big drink of water and busying himself by filling his plate finally.
Lord Raske’s dark button-like eyes shift from Ayden to Michael a few times before he lowers his attention back to the dune of hot food in front of him.
I study Michael for a few moments, the sweat that adorns his creased brow, his thin lips that he licks repeatedly between messy bites. The overall nervous energy that’s pouring off of him. The wolf seated across from him assesses these details, as well.
Kaino’s slow traveling eyes seemingly catch every minor thing Michael does, almost as if he’s storing the actions away in a large file within his mind. Kaino holds his hands in front of him, braced on his elbows against the table. Massive hands are clasped in front of him, one fist is held in the other while he sits quietly watching the representative eat.
When did Michael become someone to be monitored? He was my friend all my life. Or was he?
