"Mmm." Mr. Weatherby hummed in absent agreement with Paxton's talk of the weather. He looked from James to Paxton, eyes narrowing again. They had him right where they wanted him, and #13 did not very much like being in this position. At least the two of them had the sense not to flaunt their victory. Neither James or Paxton seemed to gloat.
Mr. Weatherby paused mid-motion of putting his glass back down on the table, stunned by the audacity of this Paxton Rivera. Across the table, James' mouth twitched in a half smile. He almost, but didn't quite let out the snicker. Mr. Weatherby set his glass down and eased himself back into his chair, threading fingers together in front of him. "How forgetful of me."
Making eye contact with one of the servers brought the man to Mr. Weatherby's seat and Mr. Weatherby whispered in his ear. The server paled and looked at James. "But sir..."
"James," Mr. Weatherby cut in. "Forgive me, is it customary to introduce a vampire and his meal, or do you go straight to the biting?" Mr. Weatherby raised an eyebrow. his eyes eager to watch. "Regardless, please, help yourself and don't get any on the rug. You know how your mother adored the colors."
James blinked once. Was his father was truly offering a servant, a live human being, as a meal for him? To consume in front of them? James growled and saw the look in Mr. Weatherby's eyes. How tempting it would be to dive into his head and telepathically beat him senseless. Instead of protesting that he was not some freakshow, some animal to throw meat to and watch feed like a circus fed a lion, James remained calm. He removed his napkin from his lap and placed it on the table as he slid the chair back and stood up.
The server trembled but didn't dare move as the young heir approached him. James stopped beside Mr. Weatherby's chair and leaned down to whisper. "Thank you, father. I'll remember this... kindness."
And in a move quicker than the human eye could follow, James had the server's head pulled back, fangs sunk into his neck, and was feeding.