Page 109 of Total Creative Control

Or maybe like he’d always wanted him: at his side, sharing the lows and the highs. As his friend, his ally, his constant companion.

His lover.

The man, Lewis realised with sudden, shocking clarity, that he loved. The man he couldn’t live without for another fucking day.

Snatching up his phone, Lewis grabbed his keys and bolted for the door.

* * *

“It’s a ticket-only event,” insisted the vampire manning the table next to the hotel entrance.

Lewis growled, repeating silently:don’t punch the fans, do not punch the fans.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll buy a ticket. I’ll buy ten fucking tickets. I just need to find Aaron Page. He’s—”

“We’re not selling tickets on the door.”

He was a hair’s breadth away fromDo you know who I am?when a young woman in aLeechest-shirt saved him the trouble.

“Oh my God, Greg,” she said, flushing scarlet as she rushed up behind the Nazi-vampire. “That’sLewis Hunter!”

Greg’s eyes widened comically. “No way.”

To the girl, Lewis said, “Hi. Can you take me to Aaron Page?”

“Uh, yeah!” She looked delighted. “Like,now?”

“Exactly like now, yes.”

With an air of self-conscious pride, the girl—Lauren, he found out—led him through the nondescript lobby of the nondescript hotel. Lewis kept his eyes peeled but saw no sign of Aaron. There were, however, numerous versions of Skye, Amy, and Faolán. And as he walked through the milling crowd, he heard a slow rise in whispers and felt the growing heat of attention.

Unlike Jay Warren, and every other actor he’d ever met, Lewis hated attention. He was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on him as he followed Lauren through a small conference room lined with stalls selling fan merchandise—t-shirts, mugs, posters, autographed photos of the actors. “This is the dealers’ room,” Lauren explained as they walked past the stalls.

At the far end, they reached a closed set of double doors, and Lauren stopped, peering through a glass panel before looking back at Lewis and smiling brightly. Her colour was high in her cheeks, her eyes shining. She looked happy, excited to be there. “Everyone’s going to freak out. They’ll besoexcited you’re here. We all love your writing.”

“Is Aaron in there?” Lewis said as she hauled open the door.

“Of course!” she said and ushered him in.

And she was right, Aaron was there.

He was right there, under a spotlight on the small platform that had been set up at the front of the room, sitting with two other people: a pretty Asian woman, about Aaron’s age, with short hair dyed pink at the tips, and an older woman sporting glasses and a teacherish expression.

The older woman held the mic and was in full flow. The audience—maybe forty or fifty people—listened with rapt attention. That included Aaron, who perched on a barstool on the far end of the stage, nodding as the woman spoke.

He looked… God, he looked good. He looked fucking perfect. Of course, he always looked perfect because he was Aaron: the most perfect thing in Lewis’s life.

His heart gave a soft thump of relief. Relief and joy and…happiness.

Fuck, how had he ever thought he could survive a day without Aaron at his side?

Leaning back against the wall, Lewis settled in to listen. Now that he was here, he was prepared to wait. And eager to hear whatever Aaron had to say.

“...and so that’s where I get my ideas from,” the woman on stage concluded. Smiling, she said, “Who has the next question?”

A microphone was being passed around the audience, and several hands shot up. But to Lewis’s horror, Lauren got hold of it first. “Everyone,” she said, feedback squealing as she held the mic too close. She laughed. “Sorry! But this is amazing—we have a surprise guest!”

Lewis bolted upright, away from the wall. “Wait, no, I’m not—”