2. Rena
Rena
Every inch of my body ached, especially my head, but I still had to resist the urge to climb out of the hospital bed and get the fuck away from that house.
I’d teased Reese for years that I needed to find a Vampire.
Human men, in my experience, were less and less likely to want the same kind of things that I did, though that may have been my own shit coming back to bite me in the ass.
I wanted a man who made my heart race, who could toss me around in bed and wasn’t afraid to do it, who loved me so deeply he couldn’t bear the thought of being without me—but I never chose that man. Not once.
Sure, I’d found men who were good in bed and knew it.
I’d gone on dates that left me breathless.
I’d formed relationships that seemed perfect on the surface.
But unconsciously, I always seemed to pick men who were feckless, users, or just in it until the next good thing came along.
It was a curse I wasn’t sure how to break, and my therapist had walked me through more times than I could count.
I didn’t remember my grandparents, but I’d spent my formative years listening to my mama describe how devoted her stepfather was to her mother.
How he’d lit up when she came into a room.
How he’d gone out of his way to make sure that she felt cared for, supported, worshipped.
His love had been deep, unconditional, all-encompassing.
I’d been searching for that kind of love since before I even knew what it meant.
I hadn’t actually wanted to find a Vampire, just what they represented in my childhood understanding. Security. Strength. Devotion.
The reality wasn’t that simple. Not even close.
Mates were instant and irrevocable. There was no getting to know one another or figuring out if the two of you were compatible. You were just thrown into the deep end and expected to swim instead of drown, all while chained to a complete stranger.
I was honest enough to admit that Chance Boucher was freaking gorgeous, and his body was unbelievable, but I’d had gorgeous partners before.
It didn’t erase the fact that I knew the guy was an asshole.
Reese had told me plenty of stories about Beau’s brother and how he behaved.
It seemed like they all just overlooked the shit he said, giving him the benefit of the doubt and acting like it hid a heart of gold… but I’d been down that road before.
When someone showed you who they were, you should believe them the first time.
“Don’t kick me out again,” the Vampire I’d been thinking about ordered as he strode confidently back into the room.
I gritted my teeth at the way my body seemed to relax once he was in my proximity again.
“I’m going to go find Beau,” Reese said, patting my hand.
“Coward,” I muttered as she walked away.
“How are you feeling?” Chance asked, ignoring what I’d said, even though I knew he’d heard me. “Alice has more pain medicine if you need it.”
“Feels like I was in a car accident,” I replied shortly.
I was inexplicably tired, sore, and missing my own bed. I didn’t want to be dealing with whatever this was too. Frankly, I just wanted to forget that I’d ever met this particular Boucher brother, even though I knew that wasn’t possible.
I wanted to go back to that morning when I’d been dressed to impress, a bottle of champagne and a little lace nightie for my best friend in the passenger seat, and a long day of celebration and relaxation ahead of me.
Facing the future that had suddenly tightened like a noose around my neck was beyond my abilities at the moment.
“Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair before sitting on the edge of my bed.
I glared at the audacity.
“I get that this is…” He paused as if searching for the right words. Surprising, since from what I’d heard, he said whatever the hell popped into his head at any given moment. “I get that it’s a lot. I’m sure it’s fucking confusing and overwhelming, especially since you feel like shit.”
“Can you give me some space?”
He let out a short huff of laughter. “Honestly? Probably not.”
Breathing through my mouth, I tried to ignore the scent of him. I wasn’t familiar with the cologne he was wearing, but it worked for him in a big way. Like, it must’ve been made specifically for him or something.
The spot where his hip pressed against my thigh seemed to throb with pleasure.
My thigh.
This was insane. All of it was fucking insane.
“I’m an asshole,” he said, searching my eyes. “I say shit I shouldn’t, and I’m selfish. Plus, I’ve got that middle child thing where I think that everyone else is getting a better deal than I am—the bigger piece of cake, more attention, that sort of thing.”
“And you’re telling me this because…”
“Because you’ve probably already heard that about me, so I don’t want to look like I’m hiding it,” he replied, his lips curving into a charming smile.
Good god. Everything inside me clenched.
“Now you tell me yours,” he said, tilting his head to the side.
“Tell you what?”
“Your faults. Give me all the good shit. Take my feet out from under me so I can’t throw it back at you later.”
I nearly laughed.
“I’m a workaholic.”
Chance let out a noise that sounded like a buzzer. “Nope. Nice try. No humble bragging.”
“I wasn’t bragging,” I argued.
“Sure, you were. It’s fine. Try again.”
“I don’t have any faults,” I replied, raising my eyebrows for a split second before I realized it was a horrible idea and made my forehead scream in pain.
“Oh,” he said softly, reaching out as if he was going to touch my head before pulling his hand back again. “Careful. You’ve got some stitches.”
“How bad does it look?” I asked, bracing myself. Reese had informed me that the cut was barely anything, easily hidden, but she had to say that because she loved me.
“Honestly?” he said with a small shrug. “You’ll have a scar. But you seem to be pretty good with makeup, so I bet you could hide it if you wanted.”
“Will I look like Frankenstein’s monster without it?”
“Shit, woman,” he said with a scoff. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
“I’m not. You know you’re gorgeous.”
“I do okay.”
“I know you’re thinking that if you ask me about it, I’ll have to tell you the truth.
Or maybe that I’m such an ass that I’d tell you even if it hurt your feelings.
” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“But I think you’re forgetting that you’re my mate.
You could have no face, and I’d still think you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. ”
“So it is bad,” I replied flatly.
His chuckle jostled my hip. “Nah, it’s not.
It’s about an inch and a half long and a quarter of an inch from your hairline.
It’ll be red for a while, but Ambrose is good with a needle, and he stitched you up, so the scar will be pretty minimal.
Makeup will cover it, or your hair when you wear it down. ”
“Oh,” I said softly, surprised at how detailed he’d been. “Your brother stitched it?”
“Alice was dealing with the glass stuck in your side,” he replied quietly.
“I can’t believe a champagne bottle stabbed me.”
“I can’t believe you survived that wreck,” he countered. “Your car was upside down when I found you, and you rolled a couple of times if the damage is anything to go by.”
“Shit,” I breathed, letting my head fall back to the pillow. The bed was inclined so I could sit mostly upright, but it still felt good to relax backward. “It’s toast, then?”
“Afraid so.”
“My insurance is going to go through the roof.”
“Lucky for you, your mate’s got money.”
“I have my own money.”
“What’s mine is yours.”
“What’s mine isn’t yours,” I countered immediately.
He smiled, and it wasn’t cocky or charming, but something completely new. It made me feel like the bed was falling out from under me. “Works for me,” he said happily.
“What?” I found myself caught in some kind of blissed-out fog, unable to look away from that perfect smile.
“You keep your money,” he clarified. “That works for me.”
“Oh, good,” I mumbled.
“Reese said you work in marketing?”
“Yes,” I replied, trying to snap myself out of it. “It’s small scale, but growing. Basically, I create social media content.”
“Like an influencer?”
“You know what an influencer is?” I asked suspiciously.
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Right.” I wrinkled my nose. “No, I’m not an influencer. No one knows it’s me making the content. I create it for the companies to post on their own pages.”
“You like it?”
“I do, yeah. It’s fun to see what’s working and what isn’t. I like finding new ways to grab attention and keep it. Plus, it’s always evolving, so it never really gets boring.”
“I’ve created some programs that might help you with that,” he said, his eyes going a little unfocused.
“Oh, yeah?”
He looked back at me and nodded. “I like to play around with algorithms. Once you’re back on your feet, I can hook you up.”
“You’re a tech guy,” I said with a groan.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I hedged. “As long as you don’t try to turn me on to the latest cryptocurrency.”
Chance smiled again, but this time I was able to keep my wits about me.
“I’ve been holding stocks for the last eighty years, sweetheart. I don’t fuck with any of the current shit.”
“Jesus.”
“One of the advantages of a long life.”
I held my breath as he reached out and laced his fingers with mine.
I wanted to pull away, but my body and my mind were in serious debate, because the feeling of his skin against mine soothed something I hadn’t even realized was sore.
He let out a little breath of relief, like it did the same for him.