Page 24 of Thomas
Lord Ashford took hold of his shoulders, then gently turned and guided him away from the door. “Please, stop apologizing. Let’s sit for a minute?”
Thomas was still coming to his senses when he plopped back down onto the couch. The emotions had swept over him with the force of a tornado. It was terrifying and humiliating.
He only looked up when several tissues were thrust toward him. Blinking, he took them and wiped his face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Thomas closed his eyes and breathed deeply. After a long moment of silence, he clenched the tissues in his fist and opened his eyes to find Lord Ashford staring directly at him. Thomas swallowed. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re afraid that I’m going to fall to pieces and you’ll have to figure out how to glue me back together.”
Cameron didn’t respond. He simply shifted his body forward and looked out into the open space of the dusty library. “Are you alright?”
“I am now, I think. That was… unexpected.”
“Mm.”
Another beat of silence. Thomas inhaled, then blew it out slowly. His pulse was beginning to feel normal. “I think… I should explain… I should disclose to you what has happened to me. Why I am like this. But not today.”
“You don’t need to tell me at all, if you aren’t comfortable doing so,” Cameron said, staring straight ahead. “If it’s too difficult.”
“Yes, but…” Thomas looked down as he twisted and squeezed the crumpled tissues in his pale, bony fingers. “You’ve been candid with me about your life and unique characteristics. I would like to return the favor, at some point.”
Cameron shifted his head, venturing a glance. “I would welcome that. However… the scales are imbalanced. My life is not so heavy. I’m just strange.”
The declaration made Thomas chuckle. He smiled, feeling the crust of dried tears plaguing the corners of his eyes. He dabbed his face with the tissues. “You are not.”
“I certainly am,” Cameron said emphatically. “That’s not so difficult to disclose. More like a fair and just warning.”
Relaxing his hands, Thomas laid his head back against the sofa. He stared at the intricate, swirling moldings in the lowceiling. “Perhaps I should start with something smaller, then? A confession that isn’t so weighted with trauma.”
“You could, if you like,” Cameron said. “Did you have something in mind?”
Thomas tilted his head to the side and exhaled a deep breath. He met Cameron’s eyes. “Yes. I think I’m feeding from you.”
Chapter Nine
The warm air was stagnant as Cameron stared at the lanky and pale vampire casually sprawled on his father’s old, battered couch.
“I think you’re my source,” Thomas said, interrupting the silence.
“I… am not,” Cameron protested. It was impossible because Cameron had never fed anyone. Not once. He’d never been bitten by another vampire. If something like that had happened, he’d remember it.
Thomas lifted a palm and rubbed his forehead. “Lord Ashford, do you donate blood bags to your local boutique?”
“I do, but the bags are distributed through a network to other villages and realms,” Cameron explained. “The intention is to prevent vampires from personally identifying a local donor. It could be an issue if someone in my realm was drinking my blood.”
“Yes, I know how the donation system works.” Thomas dropped his hand and eyed him with a flat expression. “I’m not local, I’m not from your realm, so it stands to reason that I might end up with your contributions?”
“The chances of that happening are nearly impossible,” Cameron said, waving a hand. “Hundreds of vampires donate blood and have it distributed through the boutique networks. There is no way to find out if your personal supply isme. Once the donation is made, the allocation is completely anonymous.”
“Oh, without question, there is one sure way to find out.”
The statement hung between them like a dare. Thomas’s slate gaze was intense and unwavering, hooded by his dark brows and thick lashes. It made something inside Cameron’s nature squirm, and the reaction was truly bizarre.
Awkwardly, Cameron slid off the couch and onto his knees, then leaned and hooked the edge of a box with his fingertips. He dragged it across the rug and closer to his position. “Why do you think your blood bags are me?” he asked, pulling yet another godforsaken file from the box and flipping it open. Ignoring the weird sensation and Thomas’s gaze.
