Page 84 of Thomas
Cameron huffed, but he smiled weakly. “You are so severely out of my league. I don’t know how I’ve managed this.”
“I am nothing of the sort.” Thomas lifted his hand and traced his fingertips along the curve of Cameron’s hip and to the edge of the sheet. He was doing a terrible job of resisting temptation. “Has anyone done that to you before?”
“Which part?”
“Sucked you.”
Cameron’s eyes batted in a brief pause. “No.”
“Thank you for allowing me the pleasure.”
A wry grin spread on Cameron’s face, almost skeptical as he shifted onto his back. Now, the sheet only just covered his cock, and he was gorgeous and tantalizing lying there. Sun-soaked in the pale sheets and divinely sculpted. “It’s odd for you to thank me for something like that.”
“Why?” Thomas asked.
“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”
“Not necessarily. You’ve allowed me to have access to your body—an invitation you do not casually extend. I want you to know I’m grateful, and honored. I hope that I was a good guest?”
Cameron chuckled. “You weremostexcellent.”
Thomas lifted his hand. He traced a circle around Cameron’s navel with his fingertips. “That is a relief. So… I might be invited again sometime?”
“Without doubt. I’ll have Lennon clear my schedule should you wish it. Only say the word.”
Thomas laughed and leaned over him, resting on his elbows. On this glorious morning when he’d unexpectedly bonded with another vampire, he felt satiated and excited. Safe, comfortable and most of all, he had hope for his future.
He had survived through the darkest depths of despair and pain, and here he was now… happy. It was absurd and wonderful. His heart and mind could barely fathom the contrast.
Thomas brushed his lips against Cameron’s lovely and full ones. “Cameron Dwight Ashford, I love you. I am in love with you completely. Exclusively.”
“I know.” Cameron smiled. “You haven’t been shy about pouring that into me when you feed.”
“Very fair,” Thomas said, then placed a swift kiss to his lips. “I am the determined sort.”
“Thank the gods for it.” Cameron raised his chin to catch his mouth once more. They kissed and explored, wrapped in the glittery heat of their newly fused energies. They only stoppedwhen Lennon knocked on the door and informed them that their breakfast had arrived.
Many, many years later…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The primary sitting room for guests in the Ashford estate was brimming with energetic conversation. The air smelled of a mix of vampiric auras overlaid with the jasmine green tea, banana muffins and lemon scones set elegantly upon the small table. The sky was clear this morning, so it made the room glow in a bright, buttery hue.
“I know a chap who saw him walking around the Hollywick market last month with a dark-haired first-gen man—and there are rumors that he spends much of his free time at the Álvarez winery.” Viscount Kenworth brought his tea to his mustached lips, clearly satisfied with himself for having provided this juicy tidbit of information.
“It’s very chic these days,” added Lady Fauxly, her half-eaten muffin on a plate set in her lap. “Purebreds mating with first-gen vampires. It’s happening more and more across international vampire communities. It suggests an air of, ‘Oh, who cares about ranks and bloodlines anymore. Don’t be so pompous and antiquated!’ I’m not at all surprised to see Prince Alexander following this trend.”
Thomas took a sip from his own teacup, listening intently. Within the past year, there had been much drama and noisesurrounding Prince Alexander and Oliver’s engagement—and then the unexpected dissolution of said engagement. It was strange for Thomas to hear about it all. Oliver was his younger brother by blood, and yet it felt as though they were talking about a complete stranger.
Thomas had been even more shocked when he’d received a letter from Oliver not only asking if he could visit him at the Ashford estate and stay for a few days, but if Sasha could join them as well. It was so absurd and random that Thomas had been disinclined to respond to the request.
Whatever for? He had spoken to Oliver briefly at the local fête celebrating his engagement, but before that, he hadn’t been in contact with anyone in his family for years.
Thomas’s younger father wrote him occasionally, but again, Thomas never responded. As time went on, he didn’t bother reading the letters. His life with Cameron at the Ashford estate was like another distinct turning point—a drastic change, not unlike the imprisonment, that had almost erased whatever had existed prior to the new circumstance.
Except very unlike the imprisonment, being here with Cameron had revived him from death and despair. Not only was he alive now, but he was thriving. He held quarterly meetings with Upper Avalon’s local business owners for good-will check-ins, like today. He helped Cameron with decisions about estate and grounds upkeep, and he was even dabbling in rare-book buying and selling. Thomas had just returned from an overnight solo trip to Rome to bid on a manuscript that both he and Cameron desired for their collection.
In many ways, Thomas wanted nothing to do with anything connected to his previous life. His current life was too full and layered. Why should he make any room for the past?
