Page 10 of Bound in Blood (Vampires of Boston #1)

Chapter

Seven

MARCO

M arco woke in phases, unsure of when he really fell asleep.

It made sense, of course, that he’d passed out sometime right after Logan, as he hadn’t slept since the day before he’d accidentally turned the fledgling.

He noticed first that he’d fallen asleep with his head at an odd angle, half on Mateo’s shoulder, half rested on the back of the couch.

If he were mortal, his neck would probably hurt for the next three days.

The next thing he noticed was the hushed conversation between Logan and Mateo.

They were whispering, he realized, so he could sleep longer.

The consideration Logan felt toward Marco made no sense to him, considering all he’d put the boy through, and it tugged at something within Marco’s chest that he had thought was long dead.

“No, I mean, I guess I wasn’t thinking about it when everything was happening.

My brain was just like ‘ yeah, okay, this is kinda crazy, but whatever,’ but I never suspected Alexei might not be human!

I’ve known him for months!” Logan whisper-yelled in exasperation. “Did you know? Like, in the bar?”

“Yeah, we’ve known Alexei for decades. Honestly, I thought he was going to try to out us to you. Or that you already knew about vampires, especially after the Dracula reference. But no, I guess you just attract the supernatural, tesoro. ” Mateo replied, voice still conveying his half-asleep state.

“It’s just so crazy. I mean, y’all, I understand, but Alexei ?!”

“What do you mean?” Mateo asked, half offended, shifting slightly on the couch.

Marco cracked his eyes open, more than a little curious as to what Logan meant, as well.

“I mean, come on. You two were flirting with me within like… five seconds of sitting down at the bar. Alexei never did that. Never tried to lure me anywhere or whatever. Well, except for various sporting events, but I don’t think that counts,” Logan replied, his tone implying this was the most obvious reasoning in the world.

Marco frowned. Something about Logan’s answer wasn’t sitting right with him. He felt like he should be offended. Not on his behalf, but on Logan’s.

“Ah, I understand,” Mateo said, nodding sagely. “Alexei doesn’t have nearly as much charm as us.”

“I mean, he’s never hit on me,” Logan mumbled sheepishly. “I should have known there was something different about you two when you were so eager to take me home.”

Oh, Marco didn’t like that at all.

“Logan, are you suggesting that the only reason anyone would be interested in you is because they have some ulterior motive?” Marco asked, trying to keep his tone even, though his anger was spiking. He wanted to find whoever made Logan feel that way and snap their neck, he wanted to?—

“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s the only reason anyone has ever been that nice to me in the past.” Logan looked from Marco to Mateo, his confusion evident. “Why are you mad?”

Marco let his gaze drift over Logan, taking in his features for a long minute as he thought about what to say.

He started with his ginger hair, curls all askew from Marco playing with it earlier.

Then, he took in his rounded green eyes.

His little button nose, the freckles scattered over the bridge, dusting over pink cheeks.

How could anyone look at Logan’s perfect face and only think of how best to use him?

“Humans are so fucking stupid.” Marco settled on.

“Or blind,” Mateo agreed.

Logan blinked at both of them, mouth opening slightly before shutting again.

“T-Thanks?” he said hesitantly, like he’d never been complimented in his life.

The thought of his mate going his whole life without proper complimenting made Marco want to put a fist through a wall, but he would do his best to try and let it go.

“It’s just… odd,” Logan said after a beat of silence. “Nobody’s ever… looked at me before, y’know?”

He glanced away from Marco and Mateo, clearly flustered under the weight of their attention. “I mean, I’ve had relationships. Kind of. But they didn’t really like the emotional baggage that came with being with me. My family was… a lot.”

Was?

“It wasn’t their fault. They had a lot going on. My dad was the head football coach in our town, so he had a lot going on. And my mom… I dunno.” He shrugged. “I have two younger brothers who needed a lot of attention. I was the oldest. It was my job to be reliable. To help.”

He said it like it was a rule, not a memory. But Marco could feel the bitterness humming beneath it.

“I was the only one my brothers listened to. I drove them everywhere. Football practice, school, therapy. They tore everything apart, but I was dependable.” He smiled faintly. “Reliable. My parents could count on me.”

A pause. Then a small, breathy laugh. “My youngest brother, Justin, used to call me the golden child.”

Marco could already feel the ‘but’ coming.

“The first strike was getting caught drinking at a party. I was eighteen, and my college was over thirty minutes from home, so I thought it would be fine. I didn’t go overboard, or anything. Just one singular beer. But it was enough to ‘damage my reputation,’ whatever that meant.”

He glanced down, worrying a loose thread on his jeans. “Second strike was the boyfriend. He was my college roommate. Caught kissing him in the back of his car after a visit home. My mom cried. My dad didn’t speak to me for a week.”

“And the third?” Mateo asked quietly.

Logan hesitated.

“I failed out. Tried to juggle work and school and taking care of my family, and I dropped too many classes to recover.” He pulled the thread loose. “It was my fault. I should have figured out a way to make it work.”

“What was your family doing to help you during all of this?” Marco asked through clenched teeth.

“It’s not their job to help me,” Logan answered quickly, robotically.

“ Tesoro, I’m not sure if anyone has told you this, but parents were invented to take care of their children.” Mateo tsked, “What happened after you left school?”

“I wasn’t welcome back home,” Logan finished softly.

There was no bitterness in his tone. No anger. Just acceptance. Like it was a natural consequence, not a cruelty.

Mateo’s fingers twitched. Marco felt his molars grinding together.

Logan gave a weak smile, eyes still fixed on the thread he’d unraveled. “They didn’t say it outright. Just… suggested I figure something out on my own. That it would be best for everyone. Less confusing for the boys.”

“Confusing,” Mateo echoed flatly.

“Because you failed a few classes?” Marco asked, voice low and dangerous.

Logan laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Because I failed the classes. Because I made them look bad. Because I was being a bad son, and it was inconvenient to them.”

There was a beat of silence so loud it felt like screaming.

Marco reached for him first, just a hand to Logan’s knee, grounding him. “You are not inconvenient,” he said, quiet but firm.

Mateo, less gentle, leaned forward, eyes sharp. “Do you want us to kill them? Because we will.”

Logan froze for just a second, so fast that someone else might have missed it. But not them.

Then, he forced a laugh, shifting awkwardly. “Wow, y’all are fun. Love this little psychoanalysis session.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but Logan cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I have vampire questions. Since you turned me against my will, you have to answer them. It’s the law.”

“Vampire law expert, are we?” Mateo asked, all too willing to allow this deflection, his usual smirk returning to his face. “I’ll make sure to call you when I need representation in Vampire Court.”

“Not a vampire law, a polite law,” Logan argued, half jokingly. “When you irreversibly change someone’s life, you have to help them navigate their new life. Didn’t your mom ever teach you that?”

“Our mom was a Fascist,” Mateo deadpanned, “the lessons she instilled in us weren’t exactly polite.”

There Logan went with that adorable confused expression again. “I’m not a fan of my mother, either but ‘fascist’ is a really strong word…”

“Oh, God, this generation ,” Mateo groaned. “Logan, she was an actual Fascist. Capital F. As in, loyal to the Fascist party in Italy. What did your history teacher even teach you?”

“My history teacher was a coach. We mostly watched football movies. My final exam for World History was literally ‘What is our school mascot?’ and nothing else.” Logan blushed, clearly embarrassed.

Mateo sighed, running a hand down his face. “America was a mistake.”

Marco laughed. “I’ve been saying that for decades. Remember back in ‘89 when?—”

“Vampire lore, please,” Logan interrupted, pushing off his spot from Mateo’s lap, standing up with his arms crossed. “You can answer all my questions while Mateo finds something to eat. He’s had like fifty mood changes since I woke up, and half of them have been hangry.”

Mateo rolled his eyes fondly before standing and stretching. “Bossy,” he mumbled, but didn’t argue, “I think we still have a few hours before sunrise, I’m going to see if I can hit up a different hospital.”

He grabbed his coat from the kitchen counter where he’d set it a few hours earlier. “But if I come back and you’ve done anything kinky without me, I’m going to be sad, and I will be very dramatic about it.”

Marco let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just go, Mateo.”

Mateo threw up his hands in mock surrender before backing out of the front door, disappearing into the night. After the door shut, Logan sat back down next to Marco, their thighs just barely touching, sending little zaps of rightness up Marco’s spine. God, he felt like a teenager.

“All right, professor. Start talking,” Logan demanded, looking up at Marco expectantly.

“That’s not a question, caro ? * . Try again,” Marco teased, bumping his knee into Logan’s.

Logan rolled his eyes, but forged forward anyway. “Fine. Mateo mentioned he needed to be back by sunlight. Is that a preference or a necessity?”