Page 54 of Thomas
“I’ve noticed that,” he said, turning to knock the ashes against the outer ledge of the window so that they fell outside. When he finished, he let the cigar dangle over the floor. The smoke coiled and gathered in a hazy cloud above their heads. “I appreciate that—more than you can ever know. But I do feel I owe you some explanations.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Cameron assured him, sitting up straighter. “I hope that you never feel like you have to… I don’t know, pay me back for anything I’ve?—”
“No, that isn’t what I mean. It’s more that I want to…” Thomas took a deep breath and his throat bobbed. He lifted his free hand to his forehead and pressed his palm there for a long moment. With his eyes closed, he said, “I don’t remember this winter solstice party—where we first met. The Havenwrath estate. I can’t remember it because a lot of things are fuzzy after the… after my fathers had me…”
“You don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” Cameron said softly, sensing the stress and panic rolling off his body.
“Iknow,” Thomas said, his distress not ebbing at all. “But I want to say it! I need to be able to say it and I want you to know so I can… Will you listen?”
“Of course.” Instinctively, Cameron reached and took hold of the cigar. As soon as Thomas’s hands were free, he lifted both palms to his face and took a deep breath.
“Thank you,” Thomas mumbled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry, you’re fine.” Cameron made quick work snuffing the cigar out along the outer brick ledge of the window. Thomas dropped his hands into his lap and stared out beyond the glass. The glow from the silver crescent moon alighted his profile.
Tentatively, Cameron reached over and grasped one of his hands. Thomas had offered him a similar kindness earlier, so Cameron wanted to reciprocate the sentiment.
Thomas gripped his palm in return, then took another breath. “I mentioned Dawn to you before, do you remember?”
“Yes, of course,” Cameron said. “You loved her.”
Thomas’s eyes scanned Cameron’s face as if searching. “I did… I asked my elder father for permission to wed her. He refused, and so she and I decided to elope in secret. We were saving up our allowances and planning to take the ferry to England. We wanted to make a life for ourselves, unattachedto the aristocracy. But we never made it because somehow, my elder father found out. When he did, he… he had me imprisoned.”
The words were so shocking and strange that Cameron felt he hadn’t heard them correctly. “Imprisoned?” he reiterated, wanting to make certain he understood. “How? Where?”
“Our estate is very old, and beneath it lies a horrifying channel of dungeons and torture chambers, likely from the time of the Clan Wars. He placed me within one of these dungeons and left me there for three months?—”
Cameron’s gasp was so sudden and loud that it made Thomas falter. “Three months?How—I cannot understand how…” Cameron shook his head, his heart racing.
“Yes. For three months, he left me in total darkness,” Thomas went on, much more calmly than Cameron felt. “He… he fed me subpar blood from bags that made me very ill. Eventually I rejected them in totality and stopped feeding. I thought I would die there. I thought that was his intent. To kill me.
“But when I had refused to feed for some weeks, they pulled me out of the dungeon and bathed me. I was thrust back into the light as if nothing had happened. They started providing higher-quality blood bags for me—yours, unbeknownst to all of us. I was expected to eat, attend parties and carry on until he found a mate that was willing to pay what they deemed I was worth. My fathers drained the money I had saved in my personal account while I was in the dungeon, so I was totally dependent upon them.”
Thomas took another breath before the tale of his nightmarish experience began flowing once more. “It was a lesson, for me and for everyone in my estate, I believe. An example of what would happen if anyone disobeyed his commands.”
Cameron sat staring into the dark room as he listened—a myriad of emotions racing through his heart, mind and body. He was deeply disturbed and disgusted. Enraged and aghast. He and Lennon had suspected that Thomas had likely suffered from an abusive environment within his home estate, but he could never have fathomed something like this. Something so sickening and barbaric.
Thomas squeezed Cameron’s palm, and it refocused his attention on the man. He turned his head in the silence, meeting Thomas’s glassy eyes.
“I wanted to tell you all of this because I think… perhaps the experience has done something to my memory?” Thomas went on, stressed and rubbing his free hand into his hair. “I can’t remember a lot of things prior to the dungeon—but it isn’t because you were unremarkable or unimportant, Cameron. It’s nothing like that! I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I am trying—and I can eat again, and gain weight, so that’s something, isn’t it? Progress, you might say?—”
“Thomas, please.” Cameron said the words softly. The tears were running down Thomas’s cheeks. Cameron reached for him. “May I?”
Thomas shifted his leg down, scooted closer and leaned into Cameron’s embrace. Cameron held him around his shoulders and Thomas wrapped his arms around his waist beneath his jacket. Thomas’s body trembled from his silent sobs and Cameron pulled him in tighter.
They stayed glued together in the windowsill, the heavy snow falling just beyond the glass. Cameron held Thomas, grateful for him in his arms. Grateful that he was here, now, and no longer in that dreadful castle. No longer bound to his sadistic, negligent and truly criminal fathers.
A quiet thought drifted across Cameron’s mind. He wondered if this was why Thomas might be drawn to him—because Cameron’s bags just so happened to be the first quality blood source that Thomas had received after his torture. Thomas’s affection for him could be rooted in the simple relief of no longer being abused.
That might very well be the case, and Cameron had no way of ever knowing otherwise. Regardless, in that quiet moment with Thomas wrapped in his embrace, Cameron vowed to himself that whatever he needed to do to ensure that Thomas had a good life from this day forward, he would do it. Thomas’s utmost safety and contentment would be Cameron’s priority.
Thomas sniffed. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “I’m sorry, Cameron. I had envisioned myself being able to keep it together much better than this when I finally told you. With some semblance of dignity, at least.”
“Please stop apologizing to me. You have nothing to apologize for.” Cameron pulled up to give him space, but Thomas’s palms lingered on his waist. “Thank you for telling me what you’ve been through. I… I’m grateful that you trust me with it.” Cameron reached inside of his jacket to pull a silk handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to Thomas, who took it without objection.
He dabbed his eyes and the crusted tears there. “I’m a wreck.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
