Page 1 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

E lias

The change was apparent the moment I returned to the butcher shop, a pungent tinge of rot in the air. As if, somewhere within the store, meat had been contaminated. A slab of beef, perhaps, had gone sour.

My lip curled in disgust as I cursed my heightened senses. Death and decay were always the most offensive aromas—

But this was something else. Something worse.

As I stepped deeper into the store, realization hit me.

Not beef. Not animal meat at all, in fact.

Tilting my head toward the exposed wood beam ceiling, I closed my eyes and inhaled, pulling a deep breath of contaminated air into my lungs.

The acrid scent was tainted with sadness and grief.

I tsked , then righted my head, shaking it as my gaze landed on Franco behind the counter and I strode toward him. “You’re dying.”

The man’s eyes widened, not from surprise at the statement itself, as it was fact, but certainly surprised that I’d caught on so quickly. Even after all this time together, he was shocked by my inhuman abilities.

After a long stretch of heavy silence, he nodded curtly, then began to place my order in the refrigeration bags he reserved for me.

Had I not stayed away so long between supply runs this time, perhaps I would have caught it sooner. Perhaps I could have alerted him in time...

As I got closer to the counter, the putrid scent of his illness grew stronger.

“Cancer,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a question, and there was no sense in pretending, because by the droop of his shoulders and the sadness in his eyes, the heady atmosphere of grief—and the intensity of the decay—it was obvious that the disease was too far along.

What a shame.

As I watched him busy himself with his task, avoiding my eyes, a strange sense of sadness overcame me.

The butcher and I had long been acquainted, decades of something slightly akin to friendship between us.

Though I could not say I would miss the man necessarily, I had developed a sort of fondness for his terrible jokes, his gruff personality, and the business relationship we had honed over the years.

More importantly, the butcher kept me well fed.

Which was why, in this moment of being presented with the profound fragility of the human condition, a selfish question arose in my mind. And, as I was not one to mince words or intentions, I found myself asking, “Who will take over in your stead?”

Franco froze.

Even his breath stalled in his throat.

But in the silence of the butcher shop, his fragile little heart took flight, pulse racing like the beating wings of a bird.

It was then that I noticed his hands shaking. Not a lot, just a slight tremble, so slight that the human eye might not have been able to perceive the movement.My eyes narrowed as I focused on the racing pulse in his neck.

“Butcher,” I said, and his heartbeat stuttered. “Look at me.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. Fear made his deep brown eyes wide, the whites on full display, but he quickly schooled his expression. Not quickly enough, though, I’m afraid. And there was no denying the panic in his most vital organ.

“What are you afraid of?” I watched him for any sign, catching it in the quick flick of his eyes away from me—the moment he decided to lie, which instantly piqued my interest.

“D-death,” he stuttered, and I raised my brow.

“No.” Considering him, I waited as the seconds ticked by on the old clock above the doorway. “It’s something else.”

“Jack will take over for me.”

My eyes narrowed at the abrupt subject change. It would appear that subtlety wasn’t one of the butcher’s strengths.

Interesting.

He dropped his gaze and returned to the task at hand, filling the cooler bags with this month’s order.And, as intrigued as I was, I allowed Franco’s sin of omission to sit in the air between us.

I would find the truth in time, of that I had no doubt. I had so much of it remaining, while he had very little. He finished bagging my order, and I pondered his simple answer to my inquiry.

Jack, the butcher’s offspring, would take over upon his death.

Jack .

A name I’d heard in passing over the years, but nothing more. As my visits were scheduled under the darkness of midnight at a prearranged time, the butcher was always alone, and frankly, as long as my requirements were met, I cared little about his personal life.

That was, until now.

But if Jack was to take over upon his father’s demise, I would need to meet the lad soon.

The arrangement the butcher and I made decades ago was one that had no expiration.

Franco knew that when we went into the agreement; I had been forthright about the details.

And anyone with even a vague understanding of vampire laws knew the cost of a vampire’s bargain.

A deal with the Devil herself would be less costly.

Franco secured the bag and pushed it across the counter toward me. When he met my gaze again, his eyes were glassed with unshed tears. “Will you allow me out of our agreement?”

I closed my eyes in a long blink. “You know I cannot.”

Franco sniffed as he nodded. “I do, yes.”

The only way out of our agreement was death. Not his, but mine. Whether ten years or ten-thousand, as long as I remained walking the earth, the butcher’s progeniture would continue to serve me.He’d made a bargain, forged with blood, and nothing but my demise would terminate that bond.

To give of life is to take in return, but it was because of my benevolence that I only required a steady supply of animal blood as repayment for our bargain. Others of my kind would demand far worse from their blood-bonded. Servitude in countless ways.

And I had no desire to turn humans into pets, food banks, or...

Or worse.

After a long stretch of silence, the butcher finally met my gaze head on. “Jack is...” He swallowed hard, the sound audible in the heavy silence. “Special.” The man’s voice cracked on the word. “Please be kind.”

I tilted my head, eyes narrowing as I watched him. Had I ever been anything but?

There was more to this situation than he let on, but this was not time to question him.

The man was weakened by illness, and though my heart had been hardened by lifetimes of lonely existence, I knew of empathy and could give him at least that much.

Whatever was special about this son of his would be revealed in time—and Heavens knew I had plenty of that.

Franco, sadly, had very little. I refused to waste a second of it on unimportant minutiae.

“How much time do you have?” I asked.

“A month. Maybe more... if lady luck is on my side.”

Luck. Had luck been on his side, we would have never met. “And your affairs? I assume you have them in order?” I didn’t know what possessed me to inquire, as if I cared about his human dealings or could be of any help upon his death.

Franco nodded. “Yes, Mr. Bristol.”

I nearly flinched at the use of a surname I hadn’t heard spoken aloud in years, though I had little doubt it had been whispered and cursed among my kind.

Franco had addressed me by my given name as far back as I could recall. A funny sense of melancholy came over me then; with Franco’s death, the last person who knew the truth of my existence would be gone.

I would truly be alone. A recluse hiding in shadows and surviving on animal blood, no better than a wild animal running loose in the forest.

An unexpected desperation claimed me, tightening my chest and setting my pulse to race.

“I could save you,” I said, and my eyes widened as words were liberated from my lips before I could think better of them.

Franco’s quick inhalation indicated his surprise, but all he said in response was, “I know.”

“You need only to ask, butcher.”

The bargain had been made between us years ago; receiving the gift of everlasting life from me now would bring about no changes to the terms of our original agreement.

His bloodline belonged to me regardless of whether he lived, died, or was turned—indebted as long as I walked the earth.

I could offer my blood and expect nothing in return.

And yet, Franco simply shook his head. Stubborn man.

Certainly, I could coerce him to consume my blood, force him to turn, but immortality was not a fate I would inflict upon anyone, least of all the closest thing to a friend I had known in all of my centuries of existence.

No, he would have to choose this life. To ask me outright.

As the seconds ticked by, I found myself anxious to hear his answer.

Finally, his eyes closed in a long blink, but when he opened them again, sadness was replaced with resolve. “Thank you, but no. My time has come.”

Whether due to grim acceptance or foolish pride, the man had made his decision.

After a moment, I slipped my hands through the handles of the bags and gave Franco a curt nod. “Go peacefully into the endless night, my friend.”With that, I turned my back on him, shoulders heavy with the profound knowledge that this would be the final time I bid farewell to the butcher.

When I returned, it would not be Franco awaiting my arrival, but his son, Jack.

As the little bell chimed to announce my exit, then the door closed behind me, I disappeared into the shadows.

Though the world had become a place where creatures of the night were no longer myths and bedtime stories but existed alongside humans, it was still unsafe for those who swore fealty to the missing king.

Easy targets, they were, for both vampire hunters and the vicious predators who rose to power once the treaty was signed in the king’s prolonged absence.

I maintained a low profile, though it would be a lie to say I enjoyed this existence.

I was tired. Lonesome.

And, worst of all, bored out of my godforsaken mind.