Page 21 of Blood & Bond (The Bouchers #2)

The tether between us pulled tight as he tilted his head down. But I’d just slept for hours with my mouth open, and I didn’t want him anywhere near it before I’d brushed my teeth.

Ducking under his arm, I smirked at his disgruntled expression.

“Shower, remember?” I asked, grabbing my bag. “Point the way.”

“Haven’t you been in here yet?” he asked, walking through the bedroom to the bathroom.

“I’ve been using Zeke’s,” I replied, taking in the space.

The shower was massive and looked like it had been made out of river rock.

The light above the shower made everything bright, but the colors and textures in the bathroom were…

cozy. I’d been in some pretty fancy hotel bathrooms thanks to Zeke, but Ambrose’s was by far my favorite.

Everything was spotlessly clean, and I was pretty sure the tile beneath my feet was heated.

“You can use whichever showerhead you want,” Ambrose said, gesturing toward them. “Handles are underneath.” He walked over to the sinks and opened the cabinet beneath them. “Towels and extra toiletries are in here, but there’s also shampoo and soap in the dispensers inside the shower.”

“You have dispensers in the shower?” I asked, walking over to peek behind the clear glass wall that only covered half the shower. “Like a hotel?”

“I don’t like having a lot of clutter,” he replied.

“So if I leave all my bottles and containers everywhere, it’ll drive you nuts?” I joked.

“Baby, you can leave your shit strewn across the house.”

“That’s what you say now,” I teased, setting my bag on the floor. “But once you’re getting it on the regular, your tune will change. It’s all part of the chase.”

Ambrose laughed. “If I’m getting it regular , I’ll care even less about the mess you make.”

“We’ll see,” I mused.

We stared at each other. The more I knew Ambrose, the more I liked him. He was nice. No, he was kind. Nice was surface, kind went deeper. He was thoughtful. He treated Charlie like a long-lost family member. The whole family did, because to them, he was.

He was considerate and attentive, but he recognized when I needed space and gave it to me, like the night before when Charlie and I were talking.

He also wasn’t a pushover. When it came to arguments, he seemed to give me a pretty long rope, but the knowledge that he would yank me back was always present.

Plus, he was just ridiculously hot and could do things with his mouth that I hadn’t even known were possible.

Ambrose smiled, like he knew exactly what I was thinking, and I looked at his mouth, the canines slightly longer than the rest of his perfectly straight teeth.

His smile widened.

“Stop reading my mind,” I ordered with a laugh.

“Stop making it so easy,” he replied as he walked away.

The shower was as functionally pleasing as it was beautiful, and I stayed in longer than I’d planned because the hot water was so soothing against the back of my neck and shoulders.

We’d been showering in shitty motel room showers for so long, I’d almost forgotten how nice it was to bathe in a place where I wasn’t worried about catching some kind of foot fungus.

By the time I climbed out, I felt like I’d been reborn.

My clothing options were minimal because I’d had to leave half of them behind when I’d stopped at the apartment in Baltimore.

Thankfully, I still had plenty of bras and underwear, four pairs of socks, two pairs of clean leggings, and a couple of clean shirts.

I threw on an extra-large shirt screen printed with a cheesing Mona Lisa on the front.

I’d need to do laundry soon, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

When I finally left the bathroom, I was slick with lotion, my hair was doing good things, and for the first time in a while, my breasts didn’t feel like they had a mind of their own when I walked.

I may have been strutting when I found Ambrose leaning against the kitchenette counter, drinking something out of an opaque glass.

“Feel better?” he asked. He threw back whatever it was and turned to rinse the glass in the sink.

“So much better,” I confirmed. I moved closer. “Are you drinking blood?”

Ambrose paused for a moment and then gently set the glass in the bottom of the sink before turning to face me again.

“Yes,” he replied slowly.

“You don’t have to hide it.” I glanced at the sink again.

“I’m not hiding it.”

“You’re only drinking it when I won’t see you.”

“I only need it once a day. I usually have one at night, but last night I was in Charlie’s room with you.”

“Oh.” I leaned my hip against the back of the couch. “Why do you only drink it at night? Don’t you get hungry during the day?”

“We don’t need much, as a rule,” Ambrose explained. “It’s more like a medication. I need a certain amount to keep from getting sick, but my diet is the same foods you eat.”

“I feel like this should be required learning,” I replied. “So we humans don’t look like absolute ass-hats when we’re around Vampires.”

Ambrose smiled. “But the rumors and the myths are more exciting.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“You never asked Zeke about it?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t know if that was allowed.” I wrinkled my nose as his grin widened. “What? I didn’t want to offend him. I figured if he wanted to explain it, he would.”

“Well, that was very polite of you,” he teased.

“Oh, shut it.”

“I’m glad you feel like you can ask me.”

“Well, I don’t care if I offend you,” I shot back.

Ambrose let out a bark of laughter. “You ready for breakfast?”

“If you’re done in here.”

“I’ll shower in a while,” he confirmed. “I want to get downstairs and see if they’ve gotten anywhere with Finau’s mate.”

“Wait,” I said, putting my arm out to stop him. “Who is that guy?”

“He was in Zeke’s unit,” Ambrose replied grimly.

“The one he was with when?—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” I was dumbfounded. I knew Zeke was gone, but no one had even hinted at how he’d died, and I wasn’t sure if I should ask. I didn’t think knowing would benefit me or Charlie, but it could very well make things harder.

“Zeke was captured,” Ambrose said, the words stilted. “And they didn’t get him back until it was too late.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“If you have questions, now’s the time to ask them,” he said gently. “But I can promise you that the questions you have are easier to live with than the answers you’d get.”

I swallowed hard, searching his face. He’d tell me. If I wanted to know, he’d give me the information, but he really didn’t want to.

“I don’t have any questions,” I replied finally.