Page 7 of Bound in Blood

He barely registered the pain as Marco sucked down on his throat. Just enough to tense, only for a moment, before overwhelming amounts of pleasure flooded Logan’s veins. Mateo hadn’t even touched his cock yet, had he?

A strangled gasp escaped Logan’s throat, his limbs going slack. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of something beingtakenfrom him, but he couldn’t will his mind to care.

Mateo left sharp kisses… no, Mateo leftbitesalong the space between Logan’s hipbones, the sharp pain just enough to keep Logan from entirely slipping into…

Something felt off.

Logan’s body felt too heavy, muscles sluggish. Like he was just on the edge of sleep, but still fully awake. That didn’t make sense, did it? He hadn’t been drinking, and now he could barely form a thought. He wanted them, wantedthisso bad… but wasn’t he supposed to be doing something? Saying something?

Mateo’s mouth was hot and insistent against his hipbone. Marco’s teeth and hand on his throat were firm, teetering the lines of possession.

Logan’s body was thrumming, floating, slipping…

But that was fine. This was fine.

Why was he so tired? The night had barely started! Both Mateo and Marco were still fully clothed, weren’t they?

The world around Logan began to fade, vision growing hazy behind his too-heavy eyelids. Faintly, as if through a tunnel, he thought he could hear “Marco, stop,fuck!You’re taking too much!” and briefly he wondered why Mateo sounded so panicked.

Logan wanted to ask what was wrong, but his lips wouldn’t part to say the words.

His throat wouldn’t work.

His hands?—

Had he even lifted them?

No, because hecouldn’t.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Whycouldn’the move?

…Oh.

Everything tilted.

Then Logan faded into nothing.

* From ‘fratello’ meaning brother. This has the diminutive, so it would mean ‘little brother’

* God

Chapter

Three

MARCO

He hadn’t meant to.

Fuck!He hadn’t meant to.

Logan’s body had gone limp in Marco’s arms, his warmth already beginning to fade, and Marco’s brain was empty save for the sound of his ragged breathing. The coppery tang of Logan’s blood was still thick in his mouth, coating his tongue, his lips,Logan’s throat.God, it was the best thing Marco had tasted inages. Even as the life slipped from Logan, Marco considered taking what little was left. It was a craving that couldn’t be sated.

“What the fuck, Marco?!”

Mateo’s voice barely registered through the haze. Marco didn’t even look up. Mateo had stood up and was now pacing the room like an angry, caged animal. Marco’s hands pressed against Logan’s chest, feeling for something,anything,but his hands confirmed what his heightened hearing was already telling him.