Page 2 of Thomas
The vampires seated around the coffee table laughed. Cameron blinked. With a magnet-like force, his curiosity drew him closer to the group so he could hear their conversation more clearly.
“I enjoyedPoint Counter PointandBrave New World,” one purebred woman commented as she swirled the amber liquid in her cocktail glass. Her braids were long and dark as they trailed down her back, ending in a series of elegant curls. Her skin was the color of mocha. “The Islandfelt rather… preachy, for me. A bit too pretentious in its messaging about enlightenment. Plus, the ending was dismal.”
“Ah, I disagree,” said a man seated in the solo armchair nearest to the fire. Another man sat on the wide arm beside him, casually drinking, like the second rider of a horse but seated sidesaddle. “The Islandis a story of a broken man slowly finding redemption. It challenges the widespread, systemic acceptance of unanalyzed words—usually those derived from religious figures and philosophy. The book encourages one to questionand think for themselves apart from ‘society at large,’ which is… generally not encouraged. Least of all in Eden?”
This final statement, delivered from the man with a wry smirk of his thin lips before taking a sip from his glass, was met with genuine laughter from the group. As if to say, “Yes,dotell us about it.”
Cameron’s attention was suddenly drawn to the man, his focus intensifying like a narrow beam of light. The stranger was pale of both skin and eyes. The latter were gray, light in color, like an overcast sky. His hair was a very dark shade of brown and stylishly swept back. His features were inoffensive if not unremarkable—a straight nose and jawline with high cheekbones. He was well dressed, a chic light gray suit fitted to his lanky frame.
He wasn’t Cameron’s type. If Cameron had a type, anyway. Taking him in, he was reminded of a greyhound, stately and lean. Cold at first glance. But the wry smile added a disarming element to his visage. Looking upon him was like taking a bite of some new confection that seemed bland at first but then left you with a surprising kick of spice or citrus, just at the end.
Cameron noted how young everyone seated here was. He quickly estimated that they were all likely in their early twenties. University purebreds, brimming with energy and a boundless thirst for knowledge and discovery.
Vampire Socialites, these lot were often called. Dabbling in human literature and culture, dressing in the latest fashion trends and attending the most affluent parties of the season before their parents likely forced them into a loveless bond and all that verve and excitement died. Snuffed out from the weight and oppression of Eden purebred responsibility.
When the man with light eyes glanced up and caught Cameron’s gaze, the latter straightened stiffly. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.
“What do you think, Lord Ashford? Have you read anything by Aldous Huxley?”
Have we met before?Faltering, Cameron took a breath. This vampire knew his name, but he had no idea who he was, which… was fairly typical. His sister had once told him that he was, quote, “absolutely shit” at aristocracy politics and keeping up with who was whom. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered.
“I have,” Cameron said to the man and the group. “The Islandwas my favorite.”
The lanky vampire’s dark brows lifted in sincere interest. His eyelashes were absurdly thick. “Oh really? Do tell.”
“I found it provocative—particularly the use of drugs being permitted according to the needs and careful consent of each individual, and therefore for the betterment of society as a whole. I enjoyed the ending, as well,” Cameron said, politely glancing at the woman with braids before going on. “It was a reminder that no matter what measures you take to preserve something precious, there are always factors outside of your control. The forces of the world can always press in and destroy whatever you’ve painstakingly built.”
The Vampire Socialites sat staring at him, some open-mouthed.I should have kept walking.Cameron cringed internally. Did he sound boring and snobbish? He was terrible at this.
“See?” The woman with the braids lifted a palm toward Cameron as evidence. “Dismal.”
“But not untrue,” the greyhound man countered, lifting a finger. “This is an unpleasant but fundamental fact of life. These challenging truths should not be coated in sugar and roses. We’re not children anymore and should not go about the world viewing it as such.”
The sidesaddle man on the arm of the chair leaned in and flirtatiously bumped the greyhound. “I’ll coatyouin sugar and roses.”
Greyhound shook his head, scoffing as he lifted his drink to his lips. “You’re insufferable.”
The young Socialites tittered. Cameron took the opportunity to casually turn and slink away. He was too old to be around this group. Although, he appreciated their conversation being centered in something more interesting than the weather.
He checked his wristwatch as he moved.
Good, only twenty more minutes left.
Present Day…
Chapter One
The silver morning light streaming in from the large window burned Thomas’s flesh. Not enough for him to move or care, but it stung like a colony of fire ants was crawling and biting across his hands and wrists. His face, neck and scalp.
He didn’t mind, of course, because he had felt worse. Much, much worse.
“Your grace!”
Thomas didn’t turn his head, but his gray eyes shifted at the sound of Mira’s voice. She’d come into his room and he hadn’t heard her. He’d been submerged in the cold white space that occupied his head of late.
She set a silver breakfast tray down on the bistro table, carefully pushing aside the untouched plates and glasses from yesterday evening, then rushed over to him. Her pale blue skirt rustled around her ankles as she walked.
“Your grace, you shouldn’t sit there—look at your hands!” Flustered, she whirled around and went back toward the table as Thomas slowly glanced down. The tops of his hands were bleeding, the ugly scabs there having burned and split open because of the rays of overcast sunlight.
