Page 21 of Thomas
Unbeknownst to them at the time, they would never make that trip.
The feeling between them had been electric and thrilling—taking control of their destiny and fully submitting to their hearts and natures. They’d walked along the shore bathed in the silver light of the full moon. They’d laughed and discussed plans for their future. They’d made love and fallen into an easy, contented sleep.
Had that only been a few months ago? As Thomas lay in his bed in his new, alien environment, his body ached bone deep. He felt empty and broken inside, like the important pieces that made him who he was had been shattered into bits. A husk ofa vampire with the crumbs of a former creature rattling around inside.
He had felt love, once. Given it and received it in spades. He knew the pleasure of trusted intimacy and the satisfaction of a warm body lying next to his. The delicious goodness of romance, whispered, candid conversations and heartfelt laughter. Heady sex and unrepentant passion.
He missed feeding. Not from a fucking plastic medical bag or glass cup but from another living, breathing being. To sink his fangs into tight, hot skin and consume directly from the source. To pour his love and adoration into someone and offer them immense gratification, which profoundly satiated him in return.
As he lay against the pillow, blankly staring into the creeping light of dawn, he blinked, and another tear rolled along his nose.
’Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Was it? Living with this pain and emptiness, Thomas staunchly disagreed with Tennyson. If Thomas had never loved—never felt excitement, contentment nor hope—he wouldn’t feel so broken and despondent now.
A soft knock at the door briefly pulled his attention away from his sorrow. Mira had been checking on him since yesterday afternoon. He’d isolated himself here after lunch with Lord Ashford and had ignored her attempts to talk to him.
This time, though, he sensed another vampire by her side. Lennon. Thomas sighed and slowly pushed himself upright. Hastily, he wiped his face with his pajama sleeve. “Yes?” His voice was dry and quiet from misuse and grief, but the door creaked open.
Surprised, Thomas inhaled a breath. Lennon walked into the room with the biggest bouquet of white tulips he had ever seen. Powder-pink baby’s breath softly dotted the elegant arrangement, which was set in a curving glass vase as largeas Thomas’s head. Mira followed Lennon with a breakfast tray, smiling meekly.
“Good morning, gracious lord,” Lennon proclaimed. He grunted as he set the flowers on Thomas’s bedside table. “How are you feeling?”
Thomas swallowed, utterly taken aback by the sheer size and grandeur of the bouquet. “I’m okay… What is this for?”
“For you,” Lennon said brightly as he turned and took the tray from Mira. “An apology, from Lord Ashford. He is, well,verysorry that he upset you yesterday. There’s a card. And I’ve brought you breakfast since you skipped dinner last night. Your blood bags have arrived.”
Thomas sat still, gaping as Lennon set the tray at his side. There was a bowl of fresh and colorful fruit, orange juice, a muffin of some sort and a crystal goblet of blood that practically sparkled in the emergent sunlight streaming through the window.
Thomas marveled. Fancy.
“Please be patient with Lord Ashford,” Lennon said, folding his hands neatly behind his back. “He simply needs time to adjust. He is not a bad man by any means.”
“I don’t believe that he is. And I’m sure we both require a generous adjustment period, given the circumstances.” Thomas picked at the muffin. It was warm, sliced in half, and had a small glob of butter in the center. Blueberry. “I’m not upset with him. Will he be in his office today?”
“I believe he’s making a mess in the upper library this morning, your grace.”
Thomas paused. “Upper library?”
“Yes. The lower library used to be a single, high-ceilinged space with an iron staircase leading to the upper floor. Lord Ashford found it, hmm… ‘cavernous’ is the word he used, if I recall. He had the room renovated and split in half. The lowerfunctions as a pleasant sitting space for guests to read and enjoy, and the upper is where he… makes a mess.” Lennon waved his hand as if to help emphasize his meaning.
Something about this explanation not only amused Thomas but also pulled at his curiosity. He wanted to see this upper library and Cameron’s mess. The lord of the manor didn’t seem capable of such a state given his perpetually neat appearance and organized home.
“Interesting,” Thomas said. “Would Lord Ashford be very rattled if I went to see him in the upper library?”
Lennon grinned. “I don’t believe so. I think, more than anything, he’d be relieved to know you aren’t cursing him and his forefathers.”
Thomas returned his smile. “I am not. Thank you, Lennon. I’ll have my meal, shower and dress before I venture out.”
The manservant nodded, and Mira bowed from her waist behind him. “Of course, your grace. If you need anything at all, do let us know. Mira is also here at your beck and call, should you require assistance.”
Thomas nodded tightly at that, but said nothing. An awkward rest settled between them, just for a moment. Lennon turned and headed toward the door. Mira followed, looking slightly forlorn. Thomas didn’t care.
While the muffin was inviting, he figured he should satisfy his vampiric needs first. It had almost been a week since he last fed, and he was beginning to feel the familiar itchy sensation in the back of his throat. Which was trauma-inducing in and of itself.
Careful not to spill, he brought the ornamental glass to his lips, then paused. He sniffed the blood. “It’s the same,” he said quietly to himself. “It must be…” Thomas drank. As he did so, he closed his eyes, using his supernatural senses to home in on the essence of the blood.
