Page 34 of Bound in Blood (Vampires of Boston #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

MATEO

M ateo wasn’t looking for a fight. No, really.

He wasn’t. He was perfectly happy letting Marco and Jiro be in their stupid happy love bubble, even if it didn’t include him.

Mateo hadn’t been happy in eleven years.

Not really, anyway. But when Marco came to him to tell him he’d found love, Mateo was as close to happy as he got those days.

His brother was smiling. Really, truly smiling. It was great. Really.

Until he moved out of their room in the house they shared with the other vampires.

Until he went from telling Mateo everything to maybe speaking with him once a week.

Until, most recently, he’d narrowed his eyes at Mateo, declaring Mateo was jealous of Marco, because Marco was happy and Mateo was miserable.

Yeah, Mateo was real fucking miserable.

And Marco was real fucking stupid.

Mateo wasn’t jealous of Marco finding love, or whatever fairy tale bullshit he thought this was.

Love couldn’t exist between the damned. Isabella and Eleanor made a really big show about their so-called ‘mate-bond,’ whatever the fuck that meant, but Mateo wasn’t stupid.

If the love Mateo felt for his brother wasn’t enough to last eleven years of immortality, then nobody’s love was real.

Marco, the poor stupid man, was horny.

Mateo wanted to inform him that the feeling he got around Jiro could be manufactured by literally any human man in the city. Only better, because human men could be drank from and discarded after. Human men wouldn’t tear Marco from the only one who had stuck by him his entire life.

Marco was immortal, and had a boyfriend, and wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, which meant Mateo was no longer needed.

Mateo was lying in his bed, in his own room, staring at the ceiling when he’d heard the voices through the wall.

“ He’s holding you back, Marco .”

Mateo hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. It wasn’t his fault he had fantastic hearing, even by vampire standards.

Like when he’d been turned, it had specifically been to make him into some sort of bloodthirsty super spy.

And Jiro’s voice carried, sort of. Mateo’s ear being up against their shared wall had nothing to do with anything.

“ I don’t understand why you insist on allowing him to… invade your life. I understand he’s family, but what is he doing for you? Other than rampaging through our home and ? —”

“Stop.”

Marco’s voice interrupted, but it was more pleading than sharp. If anyone talked to Mateo about Marco that way, he’d light them on fire. But Marco wasn’t fighting. Marco’s tone said ‘I know he’s insufferable, but he’s my brother.’ A plea for Jiro to just drop it.

Mateo had heard enough. He needed to get drunk.

The bar was filthy.

Sticky floors and stale beer. The thick, cloying stench of sweat and cigarettes and blood that may or may not be inside the body where it belonged.

This was Mateo’s favorite spot in New York.

The regular bartender behind the counter was handsome, even if he was a little mean to Mateo for being an Italian immigrant.

He was an Irish immigrant, though, and Mateo thought it incredibly American of him to hate someone for being the wrong type of settler.

On top of being handsome, he kept his mouth shut when Mateo picked up men, and he was very good at his job, making shitty alcohol almost taste like mediocre alcohol, so Mateo put up with his bullying.

Mateo slid into his usual seat at the bar, drumming his fingers against the sticky counter. The handsome bartender in question, Patrick (or Paddy, if you wanted to get on his nerves) gave him a once-over, unimpressed as always.

“Well, you look like shit,” Paddy greeted, wiping out a glass that had seen better days with a rag that had definitely seen better days.

“Modern day Sherlock Holmes right here.”Mateo held up two fingers. “Whiskey.”

“Didn’t think you mobsters could read.” Paddy snorted, sliding the glass toward Mateo before picking up a bottle for himself.

Mateo smirked. Not a smile, not really. More like an amused grimace. “Yeah, they teach us our ABC’s between How to Make Cement Shoes 101 and Loan Sharking class.” He knocked back the whiskey in one go, setting the empty glass down with a sharp clink.

Paddy scoffed, pouring him another without asking. “But then when do you take Illegal Casinos for Beginners?”

Mateo snorted, shaking his head before taking another sip. The alcohol barely burned and wasn’t nearly as quick to take effect as when he was human, but it was something at least. Something to keep his mind clear. “I think that one’s only offered as a night class.”

Paddy let out a sharp breath of amusement, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “Make sure you retake the unit where you learn to not look like a kicked dog in public.”

Mateo rolled his eyes, tipping his glass toward Paddy in a lazy toast. “You know, we have a saying in Italy.”

“Oh, I’m on the edge of my seat. Do tell,” Paddy deadpanned.

“ Vai a fare in culo. ? * ” Mateo replied, as neutral as he could, using the full phrase, for extra offense.

Paddy snorted. “I’m assuming that doesn’t mean ‘you have beautiful eyes.’”

“Try saying it to the next wannabe Capone that walks in here, then report back,” Mateo huffed. “If you’re not already… what do they say? Taking a nap with the fish.”

“Whatever. I like my kneecaps the way they are, thanks.” Paddy poured a bit more whiskey into Mateo’s glass before setting an empty glass right next to him. “Your boyfriend’s here. Let me guess, Smirnoff?”

The barstool next to Mateo scraped back. “You wound me, Patrick. I have much better taste. In partners and alcohol,” Alexei said, taking his seat. “But, if Smirnoff is all you’ve got, you will not catch me complaining. Much.”

Paddy sighed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a fresh bottle from behind the bar. “I keep telling the doorman not to let you two in here.”

“Yes, but money is a universal language, my friend. Gaelic is not.” Alexei accepted his glass, taking a sip and making that face that said ‘ I’ve had much better .’

“How did you know I was here?” Mateo asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass before knocking it back. He was almost starting to feel a buzz, the frustration curling in his gut almost dulling a bit. Almost.

“Followed the storm cloud. And look, at the end of the rainbow we have both a Leprechaun and the pot of gold he’ll be making off your sadness.” Alexei gestured to Paddy now pouring Mateo’s… third? Fourth? Glass of whiskey in the twenty minutes he’d been there.

Mateo snorted, barely holding back a smirk. “I’m the pot of gold in this scenario?”

Alexei shrugged, swirling his own drink before taking a sip. “Not you. Your wallet. Your family issues might be keeping the lights on at this bar.” He made a disgusted face as he tasted his drink. “It sure isn’t the alcohol.”

“Well, sorry to the local economy, but,” Mateo knocked back what he decided would be his last drink, giving him a second to gain the courage. “I’m leaving.”

He wasn’t sure when he’d come to the decision, not really.

The idea had been gaining traction in his mind for weeks.

He’d been reading up on other states and cities in America.

Ones where he might be judged less or ignored more.

Vampires typically preferred to stick together, but Mateo was fucking sick of vampires and their weird rules.

These were Marco’s friends, not his. Well, other than Alexei.

Alexei was Mateo’s friend. Or, he was just as miserable as Mateo, anyway.

Alexei quirked a brow. “Just you?”

“Marco doesn’t want me here,” Mateo responded, his tone clipped.

Alexei studied him for a moment before nodding. He didn’t look surprised. Alexei never looked surprised, but there was something else to his expression. Something keen and knowing.

“What do you want?” Alexei finally asked, voice smooth and unreadable.

Mateo snorted. “In a perfect world? I love my brother, and I want him back.”

“Yes, well, you know.” Alexei made a vague gesture with his hand, “Our condition has a bad habit of making things like want and love meaningless.”

Mateo scoffed, leaning on his elbows against the bar, putting his head in his hands. “Tell me about it.”

Alexei tilted his head, like he was measuring Mateo’s words against something deeper. Then, he exhaled. Slow and measured. “So, you’re leaving. Where are you going?”

“Boston, I think.” Mateo wanted to go far but not too far. In case… well, just in case.

“Boston would suit you. Heard they’re great at holding grudges.” Alexei lifted his glass in a mock salute. “And excellent at throwing tea parties.”

Mateo snorted, shaking his head as he threw too much cash on the bar. “Yeah? Maybe when I get there, I’ll throw one in Jiro’s honor. Dump his stupid, pompous ass right into the harbor.”

Alexei let out a quiet chuckle, throwing his own money on the bar. “Now that’s a party I’d attend.”

Mateo side-eyed him, skeptical. “You saying you’re going to come visit?”

Alexei shrugged. “I’m saying I’m coming with you.”

Mateo’s fingers curled around his empty glass, shoulders tensing. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not going to walk into the sun over a falling out with my brother.”

“I know,” Alexei said simply. “But I am as sick of New York as you are of listening to your brother have boring sex through the walls.”

Mateo barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. “Never talk about my brother’s sex life again.”

Alexei only smirked, raising his glass in mock cheers before draining the last of the clear liquid. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mateo exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against the counter. “Fine. But if you come with me, you get your own place.”

“Naturally,” Alexei replied smoothly. “I don’t want to hear you having boring sex through thin walls, either.”

“Mm. I’d say the same for you, but you’re a virgin,” Mateo deadpanned.

Alexei pretended to think for a moment, then nodded, “For at least one lifetime, I have been. What can I say? I’m waiting for marriage.”

Mateo exhaled sharply, letting the last of his irritation settle somewhere deep, where it would be easier to ignore. He turned his empty glass in his hands, watching the way the dim light of the bar caught the rim. “So, we should leave tomorrow, then.”

Alexei hummed, casual as ever, but there was something certain about the look in his eyes. “No time like the present. Or, the very immediate future, anyway.”

Mateo huffed, rolling his shoulders. He felt wired, still half a second away from starting a fight he didn’t need.

Oh, well. He’d find a human man on the way home for a snack and a quick fuck, and maybe he’d feel a bit better.

Leaving was the first thing that had made sense to Mateo for a long time.

“You got shit to pack?” he asked, turning to Alexei as he stood.

“Not much.” Alexei adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, smoothing out a wrinkle that didn’t exist. “You?”

“Even less.” Mateo flicked a glance toward Paddy, who was busy with another patron. No use bothering him with a goodbye. “Sun’s up in a few hours. I’ll check the train schedule on my way back to the house and we’ll leave tomorrow at sundown.”

Alexei nodded. “Efficient.”

Mateo slapped some extra cash on the counter as he stepped away from the bar. “I have to be useful somehow.”

Alexei shot him a knowing look as he rose to follow. “You’re doing the right thing, you know.”

Mateo scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as they stepped into the night. New York always smelled like piss and desperation. Mateo hoped Boston would be at least a little better. “Yeah? Didn’t realize you were my moral compass.”

Alexei smirked, adjusting the collar of his coat.

“Mateo, you and I both know neither of us have one of those. I’m just saying.

Sometimes you do everything you can for someone, but it is not enough.

” There was that weird, knowing expression in Alexei’s gaze again.

“What is that stupid expression about horses and water?”

Mateo shook his head. “Do I look like a cowboy to you? What the fuck would I know about horses?”

Alexei hummed in agreement. “No. You are nowhere near manly enough.”

Mateo rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, but he didn’t reply.

They walked in silence for a while, the city’s ever-present noise filling in the spaces between them.

Mateo wished he could be sad about leaving.

Maybe, in a way he was. But he’d been mourning the loss of his brother for a long time, this was merely the burial.

When they were children, Mateo and Marco’s Nonna had slowly started forgetting everything.

It started small, like which twin was which, and ended only when she’d passed away years later.

The in between, when she called them by their father’s name, or couldn’t speak all together, or regressed back years in time, Mateo had grieved.

He grieved the memories they’d had, the Nonna she’d used to be.

By the time she’d finally died, she’d been gone for a long time.

Mateo felt the same way with Marco now. He’d been grieving his brother for five years. It was time to throw his flower on the casket and go. Still, he found himself asking aloud, “Do you really think we’re doing the right thing?”

Alexei’s smirk softened. Not quite a smile, but something less sharp than usual. “I think it’s the next thing. When something bad happens, you keep moving forward. We live too long to fret on what could have been.”

Mateo huffed, kicking a loose piece of gravel down the cracked sidewalk. “Guess so.”

The streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows as they passed. The scent of rain lingered in the air, clinging to the pavement from a long-passed storm.

Tomorrow. Boston.

Mateo wasn’t sure if he felt relief or something else entirely.

Either way, he wasn’t turning back.

* ? Go fuck yourself.