Page 33 of Thomas
“You might be demisexual as well—or perhaps even graysexual?”
Cameron paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at the uncharacteristically chirpy vampire across the table from him. “Thomas, I beg your pardon, but why are we still talking about this?”
He casually ran a pale hand through his dark hair to push it off his forehead. “I find it fascinating. Don’t you? Sometimes we think in terms of all or nothing, but there’s a spectrum and conditions under which experiences could be more appealing or unappealing.”
“I suppose,” Cameron agreed.
“Think of it this way—I love a rainy day when I am safely tucked indoors, wrapped in my robe, wearing fuzzy slippers and with a hot mug of tea in my hands. But if you strand me in the moors without a jacket or umbrella on that same rainy day, I’ll be miserable and hate it.”
Cameron contemplated that as he took a bite and chewed. There was merit to his point, of course. Thomas had a unique habit of making excellent points full of merit. Unlike Thomas, though, Cameron had never been in love. He’d neverexperienced the slow, cautious tenderness that Thomas had wistfully spoken of. He had no clue what that was like.
Cameron’s own experience had felt more like a crash course in sex and intimacy. He’d been accosted by a few interested parties—some his own age at the time, some much older—and he’d simply gone with the flow of whatever was expected of him. It hadnotbeen wonderful. It had been messy, awkward and embarrassing, if he was honest. He disliked the notion of giving his naked body over to some near stranger to do vulgar and unspeakable things with.
“You’re quiet,” Thomas said, lifting his palms. “I’ll stop. I’m probably verging on being chatty and exhausting.”
“No, I was thinking about what you said. Logically speaking, I know that you are right, but I haven’t?—”
“Forgive me for the interruption, Lord Ashford, Sir Thomas.” Lennon entered the room and gave a quick nod. “Lord Devon Gates is in the foyer. As usual, we were not expecting his arrival… in the middle of lunch service.”
“Ah, that’s alright—now is as good of a time as any.” Cameron quickly wiped his mouth with his napkin, set it aside and stood. “Thomas, please come and meet my friend—he’s the one I mentioned before who helps me obtain rare books.”
Thomas stood as well. “Oh yes, of course. I’d love to meet him, but may I—Let me go and make myself more presentable. I’ll be along shortly?”
“Sure,” Cameron said, striding toward the door. “Meet us in my office?”
“Will do.”
As Cameron passed his manservant, he patted him fondly on the shoulder as if to say, “There, there.” Lennon scowled. He did not hide the fact that he wasn’t keen on Devon’s habit of spontaneously showing up at the estate. Cameron had asked hisfriend many times to call in advance, but Devon sternly insisted that he wanted his appearance to be a surprise.
Devon always visited with something interesting in tow, so Cameron didn’t mind.
When Cameron turned the corner into the foyer, Devon was there in his trench coat and spiffy pageboy cap. A book wrapped in brown paper was clutched within his left hand. He had a warm vanilla complexion and sandy-brown hair. His maroon eyes widened and sparkled when they fell upon Cameron.
“Cameron—mate! There you are, I’ve been waiting for an eternity.” He spread his arms wide, and Cameron dutifully walked into his embrace and hugged him, receiving two hearty slaps on the back like always.
“You’ve been waiting two minutes, you git,” Cameron teased, quickly pulling away. “Didn’t we tell you to call in advance when you decide to visit? Lennon is very sour with you.”
“Lennon needs to take that stick out of his arse. It’s been too long since I last set eyes on you. You’re looking fit as ever.” Devon laid a heavy palm on Cameron’s shoulder and let it linger there while taking him in.
Cameron huffed. “Thanks. Shall we go to my office? I don’t think I’ve ordered anything as of late.” He turned, breaking away from Devon’s hold and moving down the corridor.
“This one is a special little treat, my dear friend,” Devon said, trailing behind. “From me to you.”
As soon as they were inside his office, Cameron recognized the error in his decision to have Thomas meet them here. The seating arrangement wasn’t appropriate for the three of them to talk comfortably, but this was where he and Devon always met. Coming here with him was a force of habit.
He was about to say as much when Devon interjected. “I’m excited to tell you about this rare find.” Devon lifted thewrapped book in his hand. “I came across it during an auction in Amsterdam last week, and I simply couldn’t wait to show you.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing about it,” Cameron said. “But I think we’ll need to move to the sitting room so that Thomas can join us.”
Devon tilted his head in confusion. “Thomas? Who’s Thomas? I sensed another purebred presence here, but I assumed one of your local vendors might be making a delivery to the estate.”
Cameron raised an eyebrow because that was a strange thing to assume. “No, no. Thomas is my—Ah, here he is now.” There was a soft knock, and Cameron beckoned Thomas inside. He stepped through the gap in the door and his eyes met Cameron’s briefly before shifting to take in Devon. Thomas had used some product to sweep his hair back and off of his forehead, and he wore a sweater that was a little less shabby than the one he’d been wearing at lunch.
“This is Sir Thomas Antony Blakeley of the southwestern realm,” Cameron announced as Thomas drew nearer. “He is my bonding partner. Thomas, this is Lord Devon Gates.”
Thomas nodded politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gates. Cameron told me about your rare bookshop in Calais. What a fascinating existence you must lead? Uncovering exceptional literary gems as a profession. I do envy you.”
Both Thomas and Cameron looked to Devon because, although Cameron was not the best at social decorum, he knew that this was definitely the part where Devon should say something kind in return. Especially when Thomas had offered him such a thoughtful buy-in to a meaningful conversation.
