Page 34 of Bound in Blood
“Mm, sure. Anyway…” Mateo held up a finger, “Rule One: Marco, Alexei or I will be within a mile of the bar at any given time during your shift. We won’t be creepy and hang out in thecorner or whatever, but we’re close enough that if you need us, you can text or call.”
“Rule Two,” Marco said, as Mateo held up a second finger, “If you feel the slightest bit off—hungry, dizzy, anything—you call one of us. No exceptions.”
Logan huffed. “Yes, Mother.”
Mateo smirked, sticking out his thumb, “Rule Three: Try your best not to show off any new superhuman abilities. Make sure if you’re lifting anything, you’re pretending to struggle, make a customer repeat themselves a time or two if the music is too loud, etc., etc. Everyone should believe you’re the weak little human you were less than a week ago.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but nodded. As far as rules went, these weren’t too bad. “Yeah, yeah. Noted.”
“Just keep alert and try not to do anything stupid. If youdohappen to hear any gossip about the bodies, let us know, okay?” Mateo stepped back into Logan’s space, kissing his forehead before Logan had a chance to protest.
He sighed, acting offended at the gesture, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at his lips. He could see it—the genuine worry in Marco’s eyes. The way Mateo tried to act like everything was fine but kept shifting on his feet like he was holding himself back from outright forbidding Logan from leaving.
But honestly? It was kind of… nice.
Nobody had ever worried about Logan before, not really. Sure, his boss gave Logan shit when he felt like he’d been working too hard, and a few of the regulars would tip him extra when they noticed him picking up extra shifts toward the end of the month, but this was different. Or at least it felt different to Logan.
“No stupid shit. I promise,” Logan agreed finally.
Marco studied him for a moment before nodding. “Good. We’ll hold you to that.” He stood from his spot on Logan’s bed, crossing the room to Logan and kissing him on the forehead just as his brother had done a minute ago. “There. Now it’s even,” he murmured softly, pressing his forehead to Logan’s for just a second. His hand skimmed Logan’s waist, like he was ready to hold him there. Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, expression unreadable.
Logan blinked up at him, only caught slightly off guard, almost convinced not to even bother with work. It would be almost too easy to let them take care of him for all eternity, wouldn’t it? Instead, he rolled his eyes to cover how flustered a couple of forehead kisses had made him. “I’m going to be late if y’all don’t stop.”
Mateo shook his head. “Then leave before we try harder to convince you to change your mind.” He gave Logan a once-over, eyes pointedly stopping on the bulge in Logan’s jeans, “I’m not sure it would be that difficult.”
“I’mleaving,” Logan announced, marching out into the hallway, “Try not to miss me too much.”
Marco muttered something under his breath in Italian, and Mateo just shook his head, grinning, “Hard to miss you when we’ll be stalking you all night.”
Logan flipped him off without looking back before descending the stairs, taking a deep breath, and stepping outside.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter
Thirteen
LOGAN
The Pyre was already alive with noise by the time Logan walked through the back door, the thrum of music vibrating the floorboards, the low hum of conversation a familiar comfort amongst recent chaos. Logan breathed in the smell of booze and bad decisions, feeling comforted in a way he could never explain.
Vik looked up from where he had been doing inventory, pausing mid-scribbling something on the clipboard he was holding. For a moment, he just stared at Logan, his steel-gray eyes assessing.
When Logan had first moved to Boston, Vik had sat next to him on the plane from Texas. He’d caught Logan’s attention immediately, with his sleeveless shirt that exposed most of his ribs, his dark brown shaggy hair, his unreasonably handsome face, and his seemingly permanent glare. He looked dangerous.ExactlyLogan’s type.
Vik had two full sleeves of tattoos unapologetically on full display, even though there were definitely people staring. Logan noticed the tattooed flames in the bi-pride colors first and thanked whatever airplane gods might be listening for seating him next to the beautiful stranger.
It had shocked the hell out of Logan whenVikhad been the one to start the conversation between the two of them on the plane. Logan had kept it going nearly the entire flight just so he could keep looking at him, even when it was clear the attraction was not mutual. Vik seemed more concerned than anything that a twenty-two-year-old was moving cross country by himself. Like twenty-two was practically fresh out of the womb.
But Vik was nearly thirty-one, and had apparently made the same dumb decisions as Logan when he was Logan’s age, for the same reasons, and that meant he needed to take Logan under his metaphorical wing.
Logan had stepped off that plane with a job and a number to call for an apartment and his first honest-to-God friend, even if that friend seemed allergic to Logan’s optimism. But, hey, that optimism hadn’t steered him wrong yet, had it?
Logan stared back at him now, six months removed from his embarrassing crush and completely terrified he was going to give the game away immediately. Vik had become somewhat of an older brother figure to him in these past few months, and Logan didn’t like keeping secrets from him. But Vik only raised an eyebrow, his thick southern accent caught somewhere between surprise and approval when he said, “Well, shit. You look… alive.”
Logan snorted, rolling his eyes. “You know, for a stand-up comedian, you make a great bartender.”
Vik smirked, tossing his clipboard onto the bar, eyes flicking over Logan’s face again appraisingly. “Really, though. The Russian guy made it sound like you were on your deathbed. But here you are, looking like you’ve spent the last few days on vacation. Well, without the tan. Still as pale as usual.”
