Page 23 of Bound in Blood
“Oh no,tesoro,that was all you,” Mateo purred. “We walked into that bar and you were hypnotized only by our dazzling good looks. I tried to bet Marco that I could get you on your knees in the bathroom without saying a word, but he?—”
Logan launched a rolled-up pair of socks at Mateo, hitting him square in the forehead. Mateo, the drama queen, acted like he’d just been shot, dropping the duffel bag in his hands to the floor before flopping backwards onto Logan’s mattress.
“Ah! I’ve been wounded! A fatal shot between my eyes. Betrayed by my one true love, how will I ever go on?” He reached a hand out to Marco, “Tell my story, brother! Let me live on in your memories!”
Marco didn’t even look up from the shirt he was folding, “Le porgo le mie più sentite condoglianze?*.But to be fair, you called him easy, Teo.”
“Maybe you’ll think before you speak in your next life,” Logan suggested, his face still a bit red from being called out. And, to be completely honest, from Marco speaking Italian, even if Logan had no clue what he said.
“Hm. Not likely.” Mateo sat up, tossing the pair of socks into the suitcase Marco had spent so much time neatly organizing.
Marco sighed, pulling the socks back out, refolding the shirt they’d wrinkled. “But no, Logan, we have never, and would never use compulsion on someone we wanted to sleep with. Maybe if it was just feeding, but when you get sex involved, neither of us will engage until we’re clear on the enthusiastic ‘yes’.”
Mateo nodded, stretching lazily. “Why would I sleep with someone who doesn’t want me? It’s no fun if my partner’s not begging for it. And you were, might I remind you,” Mateo stepped into Logan’s space, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “beggingfor it.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no stifling the shiver that ran up his spine at the memory of being touched. Still, he hardened his gaze. “Begging for what? You two killed me before we got anywhere fun.” He stepped back, carefully putting the last couple of things he could fit in his suitcase. “I think this is everything.”
Marco checked his watch—because, of course, he would still have an actual, non-smart watch—and nodded. “Good timing. We’re cutting it close to sunrise. We need to go.”
Mateo, who Logan had seemingly stunned more than he’d meant to with his words, sighed dramatically, grabbing for the bag he’d dropped to the floor. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to be stuck in this sad apartment for another day.” Marco took the suitcase he’d been working on and reached out a hand to take Logan’s, but Logan held onto it.
The three of them made their way to the door, Logan turning around and glancing over the now mostly empty apartment,committing it to memory. It was a terrible apartment, and for the most part, he wouldn’t miss it. But it had been the first thing distinctlyhis.His first attempt at life under his own control. He stared for a moment longer, waiting for the panic to set in, but it never did. He should have been terrified, right?
So why was he so sure he was making the right choice?
With one last look around, he took a deep breath and followedhis matesout the door.
* My love
* I offer you my deepest condolences
Chapter
Nine
MATEO
Mateo De Luca was no stranger to rage.
Not anger—burning hot and fast, flaring up and fizzling out within moments or days. No, his was all-consuming. It festered, wrapping itself around his ribs, coiling into his gut like a spring made of barbed wire. For years, it had never faded, never loosened its grip.
It took ten years of immortality before Mateo had smiled for the first time. Nearly twenty before he stopped blaming Marco for everything that had happened to them. Almost sixty to accept that the ghost of what his mortal life could have been would haunt him forever. It had taken so much work to be better. Todobetter. To smile and laugh and find joy in existing. Someone had once told him,If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.That had become his philosophy. If you don’t laugh, you’lllevel buildingswith your rage.
He still felt it, sometimes. A phantom pain of his past, cropping up at the oddest times. Like now. Sitting in the back of an Uber, his fingers curled loosely around Logan’s, the old rage gnawed at the back of his mind, begging to be let in.
Not at Logan. Never at Logan. At the circumstances that landed them here. At the fact that he’d been twenty-four foreighty-nine years, andonly nowcould he bring himself to hold the attention of a man for more than one night. And only because he’d been forced to, by some weird divine vampire intervention. No matter who bore the brunt of it, Mateo’s rage had always been reserved for himself.
Thirty years ago, he would have driven Logan away. He knew it. Logan—who, just like Mateo, had been thrown into this world with no knowledge, no warning. Logan, who accepted it, acceptedthemwith such ease, like he’d beenmadefor it. Logan, who was resting his head on Marco’s shoulder like hehadn’thad his entire life ripped away from him less than forty-eight hours ago. He had every reason under the sun Mateo would never see again tohatethem. But instead, hetrustedthem. Or he was beginning to, anyway.
Mateo glanced down at their joined hands, his thumb rubbing absently over Logan’s knuckles. His skin was still warm—like the humanity hadn’t yet been entirely pulled from him.
Would he be as cold as me one day?
The thought made something uncomfortable twist in Mateo’s chest.
Logan shifted slightly, adjusting his head against Marco, murmuring something too quiet for even Mateo’s heightened hearing to pick up. Marco responded with an amused hum, his cheek brushing against Logan’s curls. They were already sonaturalwith the casual affection that it made Mateo’s heart stutter. When was the last time he held hands with someonewithoutexplicit intent? He clenched his jaw, opting to look out the window instead.
Mateo exhaled, resting his head against the cool glass. He shoved the rage back into the deepest pit of his mind, where it belonged. He couldn’t let even a fraction of that person resurface—not with Logan, not when the kid had trusted him with hislife, despite everything. Not when Marco, after decades of justsurviving, finally had something that had so much potential to make him trulyhappy.
