Page 9 of Vein & Vow (The Bouchers #1)

Chapter 8

Beau

T he last two days had been so overwhelming that I was beginning to get a headache behind my left eye. Between that and the heat urging me to go into the bedroom and interrupt Reese’s conversation, my mood was somewhere between punching a wall and pulling the blankets over my head just to drown everything out.

It was hard to imagine my baby brother with a mate. The thin thread of guilt over finding my mate twice while the others still waited felt a little thinner because Zeke had also found his. However, it was now wrapped in the guilt over being alive to enjoy it while Zeke wasn’t. I couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to continue on a mission when he knew the other half of his soul was back wherever he’d left him, waiting for him to return. I honestly didn’t even understand how it had been possible for the two to part. Unless they hadn’t completed the bond, which meant that my mother’s heart would break all over again when she realized that the last piece she had of my brother would grow old and die long before any of us were ready for it.

I wondered what Zeke’s mate was like. I’d always known that his mate would be male—all of us had. My little brother had never seen the appeal of women. He’d appreciated their differences, and he’d adored my mother, but he’d never been attracted to the fairer sex. Was his mate outgoing like Zeke or more reserved? Did he enjoy video games the way my younger brother had? How old was he? How had they met? How had he reacted when Zeke told him that he was a Vampire? I hoped that my brother’s bond had started out less chaotic and messy than mine had.

Reese had gotten under my skin. I’d been so sure that something was wrong and the universe had epically fucked me, but I was beginning to wonder if I’d been the one who was wrong. She’d actually cut her arm in some misguided attempt to wake me up. And yes, it had helped, but it hadn’t been necessary. If someone had asked me the night before I would’ve guessed that Reese wouldn’t give a single fuck whether I lived or died. I hadn’t given her much reason to. For some reason, she seemed to care.

I couldn’t figure her out.

I’d been a dick, and to be completely honest, that was kind of my baseline. I didn’t like most people, and I had patience for even less of them. Beyond some fantastic orgasms, it’s not as if my presence improved her life any.

It was still early. We’d known each other for twenty-four hours and spent a lot of those hours apart, but in the last few, I’d developed an almost rabid need to be near her, and I didn’t think it was the bond. The fire was still present. I could feel my back growing damp beneath my t-shirt, but that didn’t explain the bit of relief I’d felt when she’d slid her hand into the neck of my shirt earlier or when she’d turned to comfort me when I hadn’t asked for it.

I’d even been grateful for her smart mouth when she’d started arguing with me, making Ambrose laugh. She cut the tension. It wasn’t appropriate. She was still obnoxious. But somehow, she’d also broken the ice when I’d felt like we were all trapped under it.

I walked around the living room and kitchen aimlessly, picking up the few things that were out of place. From what I remembered of Millie, she’d been soft. Soft-spoken and soft-hearted. I couldn’t imagine her even knowing that someone had been tortured, much less sitting through the family meeting that we’d just had. She’d have been sweet and comforting and unobtrusive—but she wouldn’t have cut through the tension. She wouldn’t have urged me to go with my brothers, knowing full well the kind of agony it would bring her.

Making the comparison made me feel lower than a snake, but it was impossible to ignore.

“I talked to Noah,” Reese announced as she strutted out of the bedroom. “He assumed that I was with you, so I’m not fired.”

“Were you worried you’d be fired?”

“No way,” she scoffed. “Mr. Miranda would divorce his ass. But I still figured they might be worried if I didn’t check in.”

“Was he worried?”

“Not at all,” she replied wryly. “Apparently, they’ve met your dad and liked him, so they assumed you weren’t a serial killer.”

“I’m not sure that logic is sound.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” She smiled gently. “How are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shit downstairs got heavy.”

I shrugged, not really sure what to say. Was I okay? Not really. Would I survive? Obviously.

“Do you think they’ll be able to find your brother’s mate?” Reese asked softly.

“I hope so.”

“I’m sure they’ve got all kinds of gadgets to find out where that picture was taken.”

“Probably.”

“Do you wish you went with your brothers?”

I took her in, the messy hair and t-shirt, the white bandage wrapped around her arm, the way she’d braced the toes of one sock-covered foot on top of her other foot as she leaned against the doorframe.

“No.”

“You seem like an action type of guy,” she mused, straightening. “I can’t see you content to stay behind.”

“I’m needed here,” I replied as she walked toward me.

“Another reason for you to dislike me.” The words were light, but her eyes never left mine as if she was trying to read my answer before I spoke.

“I’m relieved, actually,” I said, surprised that the words were true. Did I wish I was helping my brothers find Zeke’s mate? Of course. But there was a sense of freedom in having a different responsibility.

The mate bond was my most sacred commitment, and no matter how I’d raged against it at first, the rightness of it was settling deep in my chest. Everything felt just slightly less important.

“I’m glad,” Reese said, pausing when our toes were nearly touching. “Because I’m starving, and I was worried that if I asked you to get me food, you’d be even more pissed.”

“Get your own food.”

Reese’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I’m joking,” I said quickly, reaching for her as she took a step backward. “Too soon? Fuck.”

“You were making a joke?” she said slowly, studying me like a bug under a microscope.

“Not a good one, obviously.”

Her lips twitched, and I let out a shallow breath of relief. “My brothers always tell me that my jokes are too dry.”

“Well, it can get confusing,” she said kindly, still studying me. “Trying to figure out when you’re actually being a dick and when you’re just pretending to be a dick.”

“I was pretending.”

“Which time?”

“The most recent one.”

“Okay, cool. Can we go get food now?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, grabbing her hand as I headed toward the door.

“You know, I like this hand-holding thing,” she said as she followed along behind me. “You’re a hand holder, I dig that. I mean it’s not good if you actually need two hands to complete an activity, but?—”

“You’re babbling.”

“You freaked me out telling jokes,” she shot back. “I feel like I’m in some alternate reality right now.”

I didn’t even try to stop the chuckle that came out of my mouth.

“I mean, I figured you were too hot to be funny, you know? The whole asshole thing fits better. That made sense. I didn’t like it, but it made sense,” she continued as we moved down the stairs. “Of course you’d be an asshole. When someone looks like you, they’ve gotta have a flaw or two, right? But now you’re telling jokes, and shit feels upside down.”

I paused, making her come to an abrupt stop, and turned to face her. With her on the upper step we were nearly nose to nose.

“I didn’t handle it well when we met?—”

“Yesterday? So long ago I can barely remember.”

“I was dealing with some shit, and you weren’t what I was expecting.”

“Story of my life,” she said. “People always thought they were getting this cute little princess, and boy, were they pissed when they realized they’d been given an angry tomboy with the vocabulary of a trucker.”

I wanted to say something flowery. I was supposed to say something flowery. She’d agreed to the mating bond the same day we’d met. She’d jumped in with two feet which was really fucking crazy but also really fucking incredible. Even if she had a hard sarcastic exterior, she still deserved for me to treat her like something special. Everyone wanted that.

But I couldn’t think of anything flowery, and the silence was getting awkward, so I just blurted out the only thing I could think of.

“You’re growing on me.”

Reese’s eyes widened before she threw back her head and laughed.

“That didn’t come out right,” I mumbled.

“I think it came out just right,” she countered, looking back at me. “If you would’ve tried to tell me that you were crazy about me, I would’ve known you were lying.”

“Are you crazy about me?” I asked nonchalantly.

“I tolerate you,” she replied, patting my cheek. “But that’s good enough for today, right?”

“Works for me.”

“Cool. My stomach is eating itself at this point, so if we could get off the stairs?”

“I made lunch,” my mom called out, startling Reese.

“Christ on a cracker. I need to remember they hear everything.”

“You’ll get used to it,” my mom answered.

We made our way to the kitchen and stood around the island to eat while my mom asked Reese open-ended questions and laughed at her stories. Mattie Boucher was good at that. She’d never met a person she couldn’t talk to. Danny and Zeke were the same way, and I was coming to realize that Reese was, too. I’d never been very good at keeping a conversation going. I was always too focused on what I’d say next to really hear what the other person was saying. I managed to keep myself from looking like an idiot, but no one would ever describe me as a brilliant conversationalist.

I watched as Reese daintily wiped a bit of mayonnaise away from the corner of her mouth in amusement. She had impeccable table manners under the don’t-give-a-fuck personality.

“I’m excellent with a rifle,” Reese said, nodding her head.

I’d been too busy with my own thoughts and hadn’t caught whatever the hell they’d been discussing.

“You’re what?” I asked dumbly.

“Your mom?—”

“Mattie, please,” my mom corrected.

“ Mattie asked if I had any self-defense training,” Reese said slowly, enunciating each word. “And I told her nothing formal, but I throw a pretty strong right hook, and I’m excellent with a rifle.”

“I’m not sure where to even start with that,” I confessed.

Reese grinned. “Well, I grew up in foster care, and I moved around a lot, so either I taught myself how to scrap, or I got terrorized.” She lifted her arms out to her sides. “Lots of new schools, lots of new homes, lots of secondhand clothes. I’ve never been particularly big, so I had to be fast and know what I was doing.”

A flash of rage flowed through me at the thought of my mate having to defend herself, but I shoved it back down. It wasn’t as if I could track down every bully she’d dealt with as a child and punish them personally.

“As for the rifle,” Reese said easily. “I was fostered with an older couple for a while, and the man liked to hunt. They didn’t have any kids, and I was the right age to take out with him. Ed and Cathy. I’m pretty sure she was afraid the old dude would fall and break a hip, so she encouraged me to be one with nature. Turns out, I’m a fantastic shot.”

“You’re full of surprises,” I murmured.

“I’ve lived a thousand lives,” she said cheekily.

“Erik will love that you like to hunt,” Mom said. “He doesn’t go often anymore, but he’d love the company when he does.”

“None of the boys like to go?” Reese asked, taking another bite of her sandwich.

Mom let out a little giggle.

“What?” Reese mumbled around her food, holding her hand in front of her mouth.

“It’s just that you call them boys even though the youngest of them could be your great-great-great?—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reese said with a wink. “You guys are all ancient.”

“They’re old,” my dad announced, striding in from the garage. “ I’m ancient.”

“How old are you?” Reese asked in fascination.

“Whatever you’re imagining,” I told her quietly. “Older than that.”

“No fucking way.”

“Thank you,” my dad said as Mom handed him a sandwich. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “This looks great. I’ll take care of dinner.”

He rounded the island and sat down.

“Reese likes to hunt,” my mom said, raising her eyebrows.

“Is that right?”

“I mean, I haven’t done it in years, but I think I remember the basics,” Reese hedged.

“What do you hunt?” Dad asked as he dug into his sandwich.

“Deer and elk.”

“With?”

“A rifle?”

“Amateur.”

“Hey,” she complained with a laugh. “What do you hunt with?”

“Longbow,” he replied. “Knife.”

Reese’s mouth dropped open. “Bullshit.”

I leaned back to enjoy the show.

“All it takes is patience.”

“Wait, are Vampires like crazy fast or something? I’ve seen the movies.”

Dad choked a little on his sandwich while Mom laughed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Reese grumbled, leaning back against me. “Laugh it up.”

“Uh, no,” I said, brushing the hair off her neck. “We’re not unnaturally fast.” I paused for a moment, holding back my laughter. “We don’t sleep in coffins or sparkle either.”

“You’re such an ass,” she complained, elbowing me in the gut.

It almost sounded like an endearment.

“We’re stronger than humans,” my dad explained. “Our hearing is much more sensitive, and so is our eyesight. And as you know, once mated, we’re immortal.”

“And you don’t age past thirty-one.”

“Well, actually,” my mom said, waving her hand from side to side. “That’s an approximation. I stopped noticing changes in Beau around thirty-one years old, but Danny was closer to what?” She glanced at my dad. “Twenty-five?”

“Around then, yes.”

“Chance was—” She paused and squinted. “Twenty-nine or thirty.”

“Thirty,” my dad confirmed.

“Ambrose and Ezekiel were both around twenty-seven.”

“Wow. So why are they all different?”

“No one knows,” my dad answered. “Just one of those things.”

“Maybe it’s based upon their mate, right?” Reese said, glancing up at me. “I mean, I’m twenty-seven, so Beau being essentially thirty-one is pretty perfect.”

My parents both looked at me and then Reese.

“That could be it,” I agreed, running a hand down her back.

“I mean, it would make sense.”

“It would.”

“You guys should take a poll or something,” she mused. “See what the age differences are between mates.”

“I’m not sure how many Vampires would be willing to give out that information. We’re generally pretty private.”

“Well, you should at least say something to your brothers,” she said, tipping her head to meet my eyes. “If they know how old they are in relation to their mate, they could narrow down the search a little.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell them.”

“Mattie and I are ten years apart,” my dad said gruffly. “I’m not sure how helpful a poll would be in understanding.”

“But you two got together in the 1860s, right? So, ten years difference would’ve been pretty standard back then, more so than now.”

“True,” my mom said with a small smile.

“I’d bet five years or less,” Reese said thoughtfully. “I bet all the Boucher brothers are within five years of their mates’ ages.”

“Could be.”

Reese let out a little uncomfortable laugh and shrugged. “Or I could be absolutely wrong, and there’s no correlation at all. Ignore me.”

I kissed the top of her head as the conversation turned to other things and a weight settled in my gut.

I understood where she was going with it, and the idea had merit except for one thing. Millie Davies had been twenty-one when we met.