Page 7 of Blood & Bond (The Bouchers #2)

Lucy

I was in a rundown hotel room somewhere in Indiana, and I was pretty sure I was dying.

Staring at the bathroom door, I both wished that Charlie would finish his shower to come say his final goodbyes and that he’d take long enough that, by some miracle, the heat racing through my body in agonizing waves would be gone by the time he came out of the bathroom.

The air conditioner was running full blast, complete with a loud clanking noise that didn’t happen with any kind of regularity, but it didn’t put a dent in the heat.

I couldn’t even open a window to let in a breeze.

Ambrose thought that we hadn’t been followed out of Pennsylvania, but of course nothing was sure.

Charlie had slept for hours while we’d made our way west, and I hadn’t had the heart to wake him for lunch even though I’d said I was going to.

It seemed like the only time that his face lost the pinched, haggard look was when he was asleep.

I wasn’t sure if being unconscious was the escape or if he saw Zeke in his dreams. Either way, sleep had been his reprieve since we left Europe.

We’d gone through a drive-thru at dinnertime and only stopped for gas and bathroom breaks once.

Ambrose was clearly on a mission to get us to Oregon as soon as possible.

After the day cooped up with him in the car, I couldn’t say I was mad about the rush.

Once Charlie was with us, and I’d lost the panic I’d felt while we were separated, my attraction toward Ambrose had amped up so much that more than once I’d found myself fantasizing about making him pull the car over so I could strip him bare on the side of the road.

I obsessed over the flex of his forearms while he drove.

The grip of his fingers around the steering wheel.

The tendons in his neck as he looked over his shoulder while switching lanes.

To say it was inconvenient was an understatement.

It didn’t make any sense that I was his mate.

Beyond the fact that the odds of that happening, which were very low, he was ridiculously gorgeous.

And me? I was average at best. I’d never had a problem finding men to date or sleep with, but I was under no illusion that I was some kind of beauty.

My face was round, my body wasn’t slender or voluptuous, but somewhere in between.

My hair was plain brown and slightly wavy.

Nothing about me stood out. We didn’t fit.

I probably would’ve been in shock about the whole thing, but after the last few months, I felt numb.

I’d already done the whole holy-shit-you’re-a-Vampire’s-mate thing with Charlie.

That had been a shock. Then we’d done the whole someone-is-out-to-get-Vampires-and-their-mates thing.

That was both shocking and terrifying. Then we’d gone through Zeke leaving and the aftermath—more terror.

Realizing that he wasn’t coming back—terror and numbness.

Sneaking our way through Europe and back into the United States—numbness and determination. And finally meeting Zeke’s brothers.

The sustained trauma and strain had made me feel like I’d lost my ability to feel almost anything.

Ambrose had rented us adjoining rooms for the night, and I was glad that I could put some distance between us, but almost immediately after I’d closed and locked the door between the rooms, I started to feel like garbage.

It was almost the same sensation as I’d had in the car when we weren’t touching, but so much worse.

I didn’t remember Charlie having this kind of reaction to Zeke. Though, the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that once Charlie and Zeke had met, they’d been inseparable. They’d gotten their own room the first night and every night after until Zeke had gone back to his unit.

I groaned as nausea rolled through my belly.

Maybe it wasn’t the mating heat or whatever.

Maybe I’d gotten food poisoning or something.

That seemed more logical. Why would nature make someone feel like they were going to vomit their guts out or poop themselves when they found their mate?

It seemed like that would put a serious damper on any romance.

Kneeling on the bed, I tucked my arms tight against my chest and curled over my thighs until my forehead pressed against the comforter.

I would’ve given anything to be able to fall asleep.

Miserable, I took deliberate deep breaths and blew them out through pursed lips.

It didn’t help, but it at least gave me something to focus on while I sweated through my shirt.

By the time Charlie came out of the bathroom in a fresh set of clothes and his hair neatly combed, I was a groaning mess.

“What the hell is wrong?” he asked urgently as he hurried toward the bed. “Luce?”

“I feel like crap,” I complained.

My skin felt too tight to hold everything in, like at any moment it was going to burst and splatter my insides all over the walls.

I closed my eyes and leaned into the pressure of his cool palm as he checked my head for a fever.

“Shit,” he muttered. He turned toward the adjoining door, then back toward the bathroom, then toward the adjoining door again, before spinning toward the bathroom and running inside. He came back seconds later with a cold washcloth. “This should help a little.”

“Feels good,” I mumbled as he laid it over the back of my neck. “Just leave me. Save yourself.”

“So dramatic,” he joked, brushing my hair out of my face.

“I’m never eating at a drive-thru again.”

“You’re spoiled after all that good food we had in Europe,” he said softly, still smoothing his hand over my hair.

“Or someone shit and didn’t wash their hands before assembling my taco,” I panted.

“Gross.”

“Very,” I agreed.

I closed my eyes and groaned as a new wave of heat ran from my scalp to my toes, leaving me lightheaded. I was so busy trying to breathe my way through it that I didn’t notice that Charlie had stopped rubbing my head and had crossed over to the door between our room and Ambrose’s room.

“Lucy’s sick as a dog,” Charlie said.

My eyes shot open, and I lifted my heavy head to see him standing in the open doorway.

“We need some kind of fever reducer and probably anti-nausea medicine.”

“Fuck,” Ambrose said from the other room.

Then he was there in the doorway and striding toward me.

I wanted to glare at him or swipe my hand over my neck or something to stop him, but I was too weary to do anything as he came over and sat on the side of the bed.

The moment he set his hand on my back, my entire body shuddered, and my stomach stopped cramping entirely.

“Give it a moment,” he told me quietly, running his hand lightly up and down my spine.

His hair was a mess.

“What happened to you?” I rasped, feeling my body relax more and more with each sweep of his palm.

“Same thing that happened to you, I’d imagine,” he replied softly.

I grimaced. I could feel the hand on my back everywhere as my muscles started loosening, one by one.

“Oh,” Charlie said from behind Ambrose, his voice trembling. “Oh.”

Remorse filled Ambrose’s eyes as a lump formed in the base of my throat. I could barely swallow, much less say something that would make the whole situation less terrible for my brother.

How the hell was I supposed to explain that for some ungodly reason, I was also the mate of a Boucher brother?

It didn’t make any logical sense. Vampires went hundreds of years without finding their mates.

The chance of two siblings being the mates of two Vampires of the same family must’ve been astronomical.

It would’ve been more believable to win the lottery twice .

The universe had a sick sense of humor. The only reason I’d even met Ambrose Boucher was because my brother’s mate had died. The whole situation was horrific.

“Charlie,” I wheezed, pushing myself up. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for?” he warbled back with a hiccup.

My brother was bawling, and my heart was breaking.

“This isn’t fair,” I cried, tears filling my own eyes. “I didn’t—” I shoved Ambrose’s arm away. “Stop touching me.”

“Don’t stop touching her,” Charlie countered, glaring at Ambrose.

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“If he stops, you’re going to feel awful again,” Charlie sniffled.

“Then I’ll be in good company,” I replied softly, my breath hitching.

“I don’t want that for you,” he said, his words so garbled I could barely understand him. “I’d never want you to feel like this.”

“It’s different,” I tried to explain as I climbed awkwardly off the bed. Ambrose’s hands gripped my hips as I stumbled. I shoved them away. “You were…you were in love with Zeke.”

Charlie let out a sob.

“That’s not what this is.” I gestured between Ambrose and me. “This is some weird biological joke. I’m fine. I promise. It’ll pass.”

“No, it won’t,” Charlie countered, slapping away the tears on his cheeks. “No, it won’t. You think it will if you ignore it, but it won’t. He’s it for you.”

“Maybe not,” I argued. “Maybe he’s awful.”

Ambrose made a noise, but I ignored him, keeping my eyes on my brother.

“Don’t do that,” Charlie ordered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do what?”

“Don’t downplay it.”

“I’m not downplaying anything.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, and it’s insulting!”

My mouth dropped open as I stared at my brother in surprise.

“Do you have any idea what you have?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I would give anything to have that back. Anything .”

“Bub,” I whispered. I had no idea what to say to him. I’d always been able to shield him. I’d always been able to cheer him up. Until Zeke, we’d never encountered a situation that we couldn’t handle together.

I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t even understand what he was going through. The loss of a partner was hard for me to grasp because I’d never really been in love with anyone. The loss of a mate? It was inconceivable.