Thomas was like a bad rash that wouldn't go away. If I wanted to get out of this without regrets, I would have to use skill and the proper application of leverage.
That meant not allowing my emotions to run away with me.
"Calm. You got this," I told myself.
Don't let him get under your skin—and at least try to resist the urge to kill him.
Three deep breaths later, I rallied the effort needed to rise and get dressed, throwing on a simple pair of jeans and a light sweater in a nod toward the cold weather.
Seconds later, I opened the door only to find Connor's back blocking me.
"What are you doing?" I asked as he shifted to let me out.
"Waiting for you."
The question of why hovered on my lips until I remembered there were more important things to consider—like my sire wandering around my living room, his gaze curious as he studied my belongings.
Connor followed as I entered the main living area of the apartment, stopping beside the kitchen island to watch Thomas study my things.
My home wasn't fancy, but it was mine. Ninety percent of the furniture was second hand, gifts from friends and family or items I'd picked up at thrift stores or online. Despite that, it was cozy and comfortable. The fuzzy throw on the back of the couch invited you to sit and read awhile. Bright photographs I'd taken from the places I'd been when I was still human, coupled with the few pieces of artwork I'd picked up at local festivals, decorated the walls.
Thomas with his effortless elegance was out of place here.
I tried to look at the room through his eyes, but found I couldn't. I was proud of the home I'd created. Even the beautifully furnished room he'd given me in the Gargoyle couldn't have tempted me to leave it. This place was mine. Each belonging something I'd chosen for myself.
The only exception was the bathroom attached to the room he'd given me. I'd trade my current bathroom for that one in a heartbeat. That thing was next level awesome.
Thomas continued to peruse my belongings, despite being perfectly aware of my presence. He planned to make me wait. That came as no real surprise. Everything was a mind game with vampires.
I leaned against the counter, folding my arms and studying Thomas.
My sire was unexpectedly charismatic. Not handsome in the same way Liam was, but he had something about him that drew the eye. His strong jaw always contained a hint of stubble and his eyes were a piercing gray. Today, his hair had been slicked back away from his face, exposing his refined features.
He lingered in front of a photo of a castle framed by a calm sea, the clouds turbulent above it. It was a moody piece that had taken well over a dozen photos to properly capture. It was a favorite—one of the reasons it was in the living room as opposed to the bedroom.
Not looking away from the photo, Thomas asked, "Would you like to tell me why you spent several hours in a police station two nights ago?"
I stilled, not moving or blinking as the words repeated themselves in my brain.
Right now, my sire appeared calm and reasonable, but I knew better.
Power filled the room, and at its center was Thomas. It was a storm that threatened to break. When it did, it would sweep away all that stood before its fury.
Finally, he looked at me, his gaze piercing. He was a predator debating the merits of ripping out my throat.
The worse part was that as my sire he'd be within his right.
It was hard to build a relationship with someone when you knew you'd always be on two very different playing fields.
The threat was a reminder of my place on the food chain—near the bottom, only a rung or two above a human.
I swallowed my fear as I glanced at Connor. "You told him."
Connor didn't answer, his body still and silent as if he'd been replaced by a statue while I wasn't looking. It was like someone had freeze framed him between one inhalation and the next, leaving behind a pretty picture—emotionless and blank.
"Don't blame him for your faults. It was your responsibility to inform me," Thomas said.
I ignored my sire, not taking my eyes off Connor.
