Page 94 of Thomas
Thomas smiled and the group chuckled. Lord Ashford had turned to leave, but paused when Thomas spoke. Intrigued, the man drew closer toward the group. Thomas repressed the utterly insane urge to meet his gaze and openly welcome him.
“I enjoyedPoint Counter PointandBrave New World,” Maia responded, swirling the liquid in her glass. “The Islandfelt rather… preachy, for me. A bit too pretentious in its messaging about enlightenment. Plus, the ending was dismal.”
“Ah, I disagree,” Thomas said, acutely aware of Lord Ashford’s eyes on him. “The Islandis a story of a broken man slowly finding redemption. And it challenges the widespread, systemic acceptance of unanalyzed words—usually those derived from religious figures and philosophy. The book challenges you to question and think for yourself apart from ‘society at large,’ which is… generally not encouraged. Least of all in Eden?”
Everyone tittered in amusement as Thomas brought his glass to his lips. When he applied himself, he wasgoodat this—charming a crowd, making thoughtful conversation and reading the mood of a room. Of an individual vampire, too, if need be.
He didn’t know what he would do with this skill once he left university, but he felt confident that it would take him far. He might not have been blessed with pretty, angelic-like features the way that his younger father and, subsequently, little brother had been, but Thomas knew that he was smart. He could delight those around him with attentiveness and thoughtful conversation.
Lord Ashford’s attention was solely focused on Thomas now, unabashedly taking him in. The intensity of the man’s gaze sent tingles up Thomas’s spine, and it was difficult to play at modesty, as one should in these social situations. He didn’t know Lord Ashford and they’d never been formally introduced, so it would have been uncouth to blatantly stare back at him, even though Thomas wanted to. Badly.
Instead, as nonchalantly as he could, Thomas lifted his gaze to meet Lord Ashford’s. He not so innocently batted his lashes (he’d been told on more than one occasion that he had great lashes) and said, “What do you think, Lord Ashford? Have you read anything by Aldous Huxley?”
The man blinked, visibly taken aback. Or perhaps he hadn’t realized that he’d been staring at Thomas? Could Lord Ashford possibly feel the same pull that Thomas was experiencing?
It was subtle, but he gathered himself and took a breath. “I have,” he said, still focused on Thomas. His eyes were light hazel with flecks of something. Green, maybe? Beautiful. “The Islandwas my favorite.”
“Oh really? Do tell.”
Thomas listened intently, but marveled. How had he known? Was his nature truly capable of being this shrewd? He’d read many books lately and could have referenced any one of them. What entity within him knew to talk about this particular one? And what were the odds?
As he grew older, Thomas made it a point to lean more and more on his vampiric instincts. He found that often, his instincts were much smarter than he was, and he’d be remiss to ignore the ancient, enchanted entity within that offered to guide him.
“See?” Maia said, lifting a palm toward Lord Ashford. “Dismal.”
Something in Cameron’s disposition had faltered after he’d spoken. He’d even taken a step back from the group. Thomas countered with his own opinion, wanting to draw the lord back in. “But not untrue. This is an unpleasant but fundamental fact of life…”
When he’d finished, he locked eyes with Lord Ashford, not shying away anymore. Something was brewing between them, without question.
Thomas was deciding what to do or say next when he was gently knocked sideways. It caught him off guard and he almost spilled his drink.
“I’ll coatyouin sugar and roses,” Wyatt said, dripping with lewd flirtation.
Merciful gods, I need to end this shit, Thomas thought, suppressing an outright scowl of disgust. “You’re insufferable,” he said, then tipped his head back and finished off his cocktail. The group laughed as if he and Wyatt were a comedy duoperforming their nightly routine. When Thomas looked up again, his breath caught. Lord Ashford was gone.
“Where did he go?” Thomas asked without thinking.
“He who?” Wyatt said.
“Lord Ashford.”
Wyatt looked around, then shrugged. “Back out, I guess. Does it matter?”
Thomas sighed and slumped into the chair. His nature was flipping excitedly within his being, and he felt as if he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. “What a radiant man…”
Wyatt balked. “Excuseme?”
Thomas sprang up from his seat and set his empty glass on the bare table. It was a shame that the host hadn’t set out any coasters. “I’ll be back.” He stepped around Wyatt and headed for the door.
“Thomas!”
His long legs swiftly carried him through the Green Room, then into the ballroom with its glittering lights and raucous music. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint Lord Ashford’s scent when he freely allowed his vampiric sense to home in on him. His nature was designed for moments such as this, after all. As long as he trusted in it, it would guide him.
He found Lord Ashford in the next room over, along the opposite wall. Thomas didn’t approach, but headed toward the bar along the perimeter. Lord Ashford was standing with a woman who was similar in complexion and essence.His sister?Thomas stood at the bar and was immediately tended to. He ordered another whiskey cocktail, then cast his gaze back to where Lord Ashford and the woman were standing.
To his surprise, they were both watching him. Bright vampire eyes assessing him from across the room. The directness of it made him flush, and he casually turned his back to them.
He wanted to talk more with Lord Ashford, but he shouldn’t be too direct. Sometimes, Thomas was too direct. He chalked it up as a catalyst for being the eldest son.
