Page 6 of Bound in Blood (Vampires of Boston #1)

Chapter

Four

LOGAN

L ogan’s head fucking hurt.

Really, really fucking hurt. A deep, pounding pressure behind his temples, like the worst hangover of his life. His mouth was bone dry, his throat was on fire, and his entire body felt weighted, like he’d been buried alive for days.

He shifted, groaning softly, not really registering what state of awake he was in. Even that small movement sent a dull throb through his body. His sheets were drenched in sweat, he realized, as he attempted to move around more. Was he sick? Had he been drinking?

What was the last thing he could remember?

Logan inhaled sharply, which was the first mistake he’d make that day.

So many different things assaulted his nose at once.

His fabric softener, sweat, fuck , he could smell the paint on the walls.

On top of everything, he could smell something sharp and metallic, something that made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Underneath that, cologne that didn’t belong to him.

Had he brought someone home? He didn’t?—

Oh.

The twins.

His eyes snapped open. Mistake number two.

The world came into focus, sharp and vivid.

It was pitch black outside, but Logan could make out everything in his apartment like it was the middle of the day.

He was seeing in colors he hadn’t ever even perceived before, clearer than he’d been able to see in years.

He sat up slowly, making out the details of his apartment’s popcorn-textured ceiling.

How had he even been able to sleep with how loud it was in here?

The lights in the hallway hummed; a neighbor must have been watching TV at top volume next door.

There was a loud rushing noise in his ears, like he was sitting right up against the water at the beach. And who was fucking breathing so loud?

Logan turned his head, nearly falling out of his bed at the two pairs of golden eyes trained on him.

“What the fuck!” He gasped, nearly jumping out of his skin.

Mistake three, he realized, as he must have shouted louder than he’d meant to, the sound of his own voice sending a new spike of pain through his brain.

Why were they still here?

Marco was the first to move, pushing up from the floor beside Logan’s bed. His panic was radiating off him in waves. Logan could practically feel the emotion, such a sharp contrast to his confusion.

Mateo, on the other hand, remained sitting where he was, his jaw clenched. Tense. Apprehensive. Afraid. Logan’s brain supplied the emotions, though Logan couldn’t understand why.

“Am I dead? Why are you both so worried?” He tried joking, but neither of them reacted. “Hey… what’s going on? Fuck. I need water.” He shifted, getting ready to stand, but Marco gently pushed him back, shaking his head.

Logan frowned, confusion deepening. “What? I just need?—”

Marco’s grip tightened, firm but not forceful, expression dark. Briefly, Logan’s mind flashed back to him holding Logan in place while he?—

Both twins were looking at him now, like they had plucked the horny thought directly out of his head, which was…

fucking embarrassing, if he was to be completely honest. Logan cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away.

“Okay, well, that’s kind of horrifying. Y’all need to stop looking at me like that. ”

Logan thought he could sense some sort of amusement coming from Mateo, but the other man’s face betrayed nothing, still overshadowed by something heavier.

“How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly. Logan could feel the terror Mateo felt as if it were his own pain. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he needed to choose his next words carefully, not to upset the twins even more.

“Hungover? I think? But… I don’t remember drinking.” He paused, before adding, “And I am so fucking thirsty. I need water. I feel like I swallowed the Sahara.”

The twins exchanged a glance. ‘ Confused,’ Logan’s brain said.

Logan’s frown deepened. “What?” he asked again. “Why are you acting so—” A sharp knock at the door interrupted him mid-sentence.

All three of them snapped their attention toward the sound. The knock was so loud it reverberated in Logan’s skull. His body tensed, nausea intensifying. He blinked once, twice, and Mateo and Marco were on their feet, posture rigid as they watched the door.

Protect. Mine.

The words repeated over and over, rattling around in Logan’s brain like a mantra, though he wasn’t sure why. If he weren’t so disoriented, Logan might try a little harder to figure out why he thought he could piece together the twins’ feelings in the first place.

Another knock. Logan blinked, standing on shaky legs and rubbing his temples. “It must be my landlord. I haven’t given anyone my address. Well, before—” Fuck, he was blushing again.

Mateo shot him a sharp look, but Logan was no longer paying attention.

His landlord was a fucking dick, as most of them were, and would make Logan’s life miserable if he didn’t answer.

As he made for the door, both twins tried stepping in front of him to cut off his path, but with more agility than he was used to, he swerved around them.

“I’m coming!” he called out as a third, much more aggressive knock rang out. The twins were right on his heels as he unlocked and swung the door open, but it wasn’t his landlord who greeted him.

“Alexei?” Logan’s head tilted in confusion. How did Alexei know where he lived? They’d never even spoken outside of the bar.

“Logan!” Alexei greeted, smiling big and bright, but Logan could see the tinge of worry. “You didn’t come to work like you said, Зайчик. I was worried. I don’t like the other bartender. She waters down my drinks.”

Logan blinked, his mind trying to catch up. Work. Shit, he’d missed work? What day was it? What time was it? Sure, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck, but Mateo and Marco were still here, so it couldn’t have been more than a few hours, right? But they did look really, really worried.

“What day is it?” he asked finally, slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he knew he needed to.

Alexei didn’t answer him, though. Just stared at Logan like he was seeing him for the first time, eyes boring into him with an intensity Logan didn’t like.

His easy smile dropped off his face, his body tensing up, like he was gearing up for a fight.

From relieved to furious , all in a matter of seconds.

“May I come in, Зайчик?” Alexei asked, his voice strangely, deceptively calm.

It was such an odd request. Logan blinked a couple of times trying to make sense of it before nodding. “Yes, uh… of course.”

And then, like a tightened coil finally snapping, Alexei lunged.

Logan flinched back, sure Alexei was pissed at him for some reason, but within a fraction of a second he had blown past Logan’s door and had Marco by the throat, up against the wall on the opposite side of the apartment.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Alexei’s lips pulled back on a snarl, his whole body vibrating with rage.

Logan must be out of it, because it looked as if Alexei’s pupils had swallowed up his entire eye, whites and all. And… had his incisors gotten sharper? Logan really needed to lie down.

Marco didn’t fight back, didn’t struggle. He accepted it.

Logan’s body seized at Marco’s defenselessness, mind reeling, scrambling to make sense of what the actual fuck was going on. His instincts—which were brand new to him, he was pretty sure—reacted before his mind could. He rushed toward the two, his arm braced to tear Alexei’s throat from his body.

That couldn’t be right, though, could it? Alexei was his friend. Or, the closest Logan had to a friend here. His entire body fought him as his brain caught up. He had to protect Marco. He had to ? —

“Let him go! Alexei, please!” Logan cried out, “I don’t want to—” To… what, exactly? He couldn’t hurt Alexei, he’d never been in a fight in his life. His body, though, wanted to fight to protect what belonged to him.

Woah.

That was a weirdly possessive thought.

“Don’t interfere, Logan. Your instinctual desire to protect him has everything to do with him being your Maker and nothing to do with how you actually feel,” Alexei bit out.

“What do you mean, my Maker?” Maybe Logan was still asleep. He was sick, and in a deep sleep dreaming weird, fever dreams.

Alexei’s rage, which had not subsided, renewed with vigor. “ You didn’t even tell him?!” He all but screamed, following up with what Logan was sure was a string of Russian words that would make a sailor blush.

“We didn’t have a choice, he was dying!” Mateo pleaded, though instead of protecting his brother from Alexei, he stepped in front of Logan.

Logan took a deep breath before not-so-calmly yelling, “ CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!”

The room went quiet around him. Alexei dropped Marco to the floor, triggering a feeling of relief from Logan, Mateo, and Marco.

Alexei turned to face Logan, schooling his expression, and no, his eyes were definitely still hazel.

He wasn’t mad at Logan , or at least, Logan was pretty sure he wasn’t mad at him. In fact, he looked almost... sad.

“What do you know about vampires, Logan?” Alexei asked, his voice unsettlingly calm, given the fact that he had just had Marco by the throat.

“Like… from Dracula ?” Logan tilted his head in confusion. “Or that one muppet from Sesame Street ? Next to nothing, I think. Just the typical myths. I saw Twilight once.”

Alexei let out a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fucking Twilight .” he muttered under his breath, a pained expression flickering across his face.

“Okay, rude, that movie was really good, inaccuracies be damned,” Mateo argued. Marco quickly shot him a shut-the-fuck-up glare, and Mateo promptly closed his mouth.