Thomas slumped, shutting his eyes. “Thank you –”
“But only because I havenowhereelse to go,” Scott said, needing to get a barb into Thomas somehow.
It was weak, pathetic even, but he needed to throw up some kind of defence. He needed his eyes to stop watering, and his bottom lip to stop quivering, and his voice to come out catty and normal, but he made do with the barb until he had his composure back to draw claws.
Chapter twenty
Thomasmadehimselfscarceas promised, and Scott stayed in the mansion.
Although telling Thomas he had nowhere else to go had been said to hurt him, it rang true.
Scott wondered how Thomas could avoid him so well before remembering the cameras.
One covered the corridor and would pick up whenever Scott left his bedroom. He found himself glaring at each one he passed, hoping Thomas was watching.
His vulnerability the day before had gone. He’d showered, moisturised, brushed his hair, and perfected his pout in the mirror. Gone were his casual clothes; he wore tight jeans that looked sprayed on and an oversized white shirt, tucked in at the front, but not the back. The sheer fabric tickled his skin, and he kept the top three buttons undone, where he’d sprayed Black Opium onto his exposed skin.
For the first time since Thomas had bought them, Scott didn’t wear the pearls. He kept reaching for them, though, only to curse at the lack of them to fiddle with.
His claws were primed to rip into Thomas as soon as they were reunited, and he stalked the mansion, waiting for their confrontation.
It didn’t come.
At one point, Scott hovered outside Thomas’s door, ready to knock and bring things to a head, but he slumped and carried on down the corridor.
When Scott stepped outside, he winced at the brightness after shrouding himself in darkness all morning. Nothing said he was pissed better than refusing to open the curtains or blinds, and he hadn’t even realised it was a cloudless sky before being blinded by the sun. The black jeans had been a bad call with the fabric baking his thighs beneath within seconds.
“Going somewhere nice?” Tim called out.
Scott looked down at his over-dressed self. “No.”
“Right…”
Tim took off his flat cap and stroked his fingers through his sweaty white hair. He wore thick gardening gloves and had what looked like half a bramble bush wrapped around his left leg.
“Looks like you lost the fight,” Scott said, gesturing to Tim’s spiky decoration.
“Damn thing.” Tim sighed, pulling it off.
“I can think of a good place to put it.”
Tim scrunched his brow. “Where’s that?”
“Thomas’s bed…”
“Ah, but if you do that, you’ll end up with Lucy in yours.”
It took a while for Scott to remember the identity of Lucy, the highly venomous snake, then he shuddered.
“Want to do the ponds for me?” Tim asked.
“Not really.”
Tim nodded, slapping his hat back on his head. He adjusted it with a wriggle. “I think you should anyway…”
Scott glared at the camera pointed at them. Thomas probably had better things to do than watch his every move, but he broadcasted his anger by flaring his nostrils and refusing to blink in case. Tim followed his line of sight, then sighed. “Of course.”
“What?”
