“He might, if he believed that was what was involved, Kemp, but for that to happen I have to believe it too.” Sinclair crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Kemp the way a father would at a son he thought was acting like a love-sick puppy.
Kemp glared angrily back at him. “I do love Owen!”
“You knew him for what, maybe a month or so? Lust and infatuation do not count as love. Did the two of you ever do anything more than kiss and grope a bit? My take on it, from where I’m sitting, is that the two of you probably were more into the fact that you’re each the antithesis of the other. It makes for great drama and at your age drama is what it’s all about; the whole Montague and Capulet syndrome.”
“We are not Romeo and Juliet thank you very much,” Kemp growled.
Sinclair snorted. “No, more Romeo and Romeo, but you know what I mean. The two of you get torn apart by your families and it’s suddenly ‘How can they do this to us? We love each other.’ Then you spend the next year pining away for him and decide to come down here to ride to his rescue and save him from his mean old Sire so that the two of you can ride off into the sunset together.”
“Mix your metaphors much,” someone asked laconically from the doorway.
Kemp whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice and then turned back just as fast to spit out at Sinclair, “You called him? How did you even know…” Turning back to the speaker he said adamantly, “I’m not going home with you and I’m not going back to Seattle.”
The well-dressed vampyre strolled casually into the room, nodding to Sinclair before pulling up a chair next to Kemp. “Did I say you had to do either of those things?”
“You’re here aren’t you?” Then he paused as something hit him. Glancing at Sinclair he said, “You knew all along. All this probing and talk tonight was just a damned act.”
Sinclair shrugged. “I had to get a real sense of how serious you were about Owen, as did your father. We weren’t willing to help you if your feelings really were just teen-aged angst and drama.”
Rian Marston put a hand on his son’s leg. “Mr. Sinclair and I are old friends so when Leif contacted me to tell me you’d run away—again—I got in touch with him to keep an eye out for you. Imagine my surprise when it turned out he not only knew you but that you were working for him. I know the whole story, no thanks to you.” Rian shot a disapproving look at Kemp. “My first thought was that this was indeed just an infatuation born of loneliness and possibly boredom on both your parts. However the more I thought about it the more I felt that was not the case, at least for you. For Owen it could be, as he was turned only a few months before you met him from what your brother said.”
“It’s not, he loves me too,” Kemp told him. “I know he does.”
“Only time will tell. I do believe that you’re in love with him. I can see it when I look at you. A father knows, especially when he’s a vampyre. However that is neither here nor there at the moment. First we have to find Rikard and hope that Owen is with him still or that he knows where his Child is.”
Suddenly, for no reason he could put his finger on, Kemp was angry as hell. “And now that you’re here won’t that be easy?” he spat out. “You can just ask the vampyres here in the city and they’ll bow to your authority because you want to help your poor kid who can’t do anything on his own. You, Sinclair, you are, what was it you said? Riding to the rescue? That’s what you’re both trying to do. And once you find him, then what are you going to do? Drag Owen away from his Sire to be with me? You know what, if that’s what you wanted you’d have done it a year ago but you didn’t, did you? So tell you what, don’t do me any favors by trying now. If we’re meant to be together then it’s up to me to find him. That’s why I came back and that’s what I’m going to do.” Before either man could respond Kemp pushed past his father and left the office, slamming the door behind him.