Page 12 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

J ack

Giovanni had moved out of the neighborhood as soon as he turned eighteen. As the eldest of the three of us, he’d been our father’s pick for taking over the business, but he’d had his own dreams, his own goals. And, unlike me, he’d been able to pursue them.

Working at various restaurants in the city, Gio put himself through culinary school, then started his business when he was only twenty years old.

Fiorino’s Fine Foods began as a pickling and canning company, with Gio hocking his goods from the back of an old Buick, then morphed into a food truck, and when that went viral and he couldn’t keep up with customer demand, he eventually turned that business into a brick-and-mortar store just three blocks from the family butcher shop.

But he still insisted on living across the bridge, so while I drove to his house for Christmas Eve dinner, I had plenty of time to think about the royal catastrophe my life had become.

Gannon was a vampire.

He’d returned after being away for eleven months, after ghosting me the week of my father’s funeral, and now he was a bloodsucking monster.

But he wasn’t even the bloodsucking monster I should be worried about, because I was one-hundred percent sure that Vinny nearly drank from me today.

He wanted to, that much was obvious, and he’d restrained himself, thank God, but the struggle was real—and it was apparent in the way he ran from me.

So what the heck was I thinking? We’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and have a cute little holiday romance? Maybe we could open an inn somewhere in the mountains and live out the rest of our lives together in Hallmark harmony.

As cheesy as that was, the thought of a life with Vinny brought a smile to my lips. Smiling, and sparring, and, god , the sex. So much sex.

“Good grief,” I muttered as I turned off the expressway and headed toward Gio’s. “I’m a whole mess.”

When I turned down Gio’s street, I slowed as his house came into view, lit up with a twinkling rainbow of Christmas lights.

He hated colorful lights—had argued with Dad almost every year about how clean white lights looked—so this show of color was strictly for our father.

In honor of him on our first Christmas without him.

Last year didn’t count, as we’d been too consumed by grief to even acknowledge the holiday.

My grin only widened as I got closer, then turned into the driveway.

Dad’s beat up old nativity set sat in the center of Gio’s yard, paint chipping off the glowing plastic and looking worse for wear but still such a beautiful sight.

I stared at Joseph and Mary and the plump, plastic baby Jesus in his faded little manger, and happy tears streamed down my cheeks.

My father wasn’t with us physically, but my brother had made sure Dad was here.

Motion by the front door caught my eye and I looked up as my beast of a big brother stepped onto the porch, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder and his white undershirt stained with whatever he’d been slaving over all day in the kitchen.

He grinned when he saw me, but that smile quickly fell once he took me in.

I swiped at my cheeks as he hurried to the car, laughing as he tugged the door open and squatted beside the driver’s side.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” He searched my gaze frantically, that familiar overbearing concern in his deep brown eyes.

Our father’s eyes. Both of my brothers had them.

I inherited the less common blue-eyed Italian genes from our mom.

“I’m fine, Gio,” I said as he cupped my cheek. “Just feeling...” I shrugged and he nodded.

“Yeah. I feel it too.” He patted my cheek, then rose to his feet and stepped aside. “Come on. It’s cold as fuck out here.”

“Maybe you should cover those guns.” I climbed out of the car and he pulled me into a chokehold.

“Without these guns, how would I strangle annoying polpettinas ?” He rubbed his fist into my scalp and I squeaked, smiling even as he tortured me.

I breathed deeply, pulling his familiar scent into my lungs.

As long as I could remember, Gio was happiest in the kitchen, so he always smelled faintly of garlic and oregano, with a hint of the same cologne he’d worn since high school.

A loud bang came from inside the house and I turned to look up at the light streaming through the open front door. “Who else is here?”

I’d assumed it would just be the two of us, what with Leo spending Christmas by the beach in California.

“Thea,” Gio answered, pulling me from my thoughts.

I hadn’t heard that name before. I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him. “Another one?”

Gio laughed, then shoved me away from him playfully and kicked the car door shut behind us. “Aw, don’t be jealous, kiddo. Someday you’ll hit puberty and men will look at you, too.”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. “You’re the worst .”

He winked and wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me into another chokehold as he dragged me up the walk. “Thea,” he called as we made our way up the stairs and into the house, “stop breaking shit in my kitchen and come meet my little sister.”

When we crossed the threshold and he released me, I inhaled deeply and looked at him. “Is that... Did you make...?”

“Dad’s lasagna.” Gio shrugged. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

I nodded, emotion tightening my throat again and threatening to spill from my eyes.

But then a woman stepped out from the kitchen and raced toward me, pulling me into her arms and pressing me against her chest, saving me from my tears as I returned her fierce hug.

“Oh, Jack,” she said, “I’ve heard so much about you. ”

Wish I could say the same, but then that was Gio for you. A different woman every week. He was so full of love to give but had absolutely no staying gene to speak of. He’d grow bored of this one and another would take her place in a week or two.

But for now, I returned her warm smile and lied. “Me too.”

She beamed as she released me and motioned toward my brother. “Well, come on then. Close the door and get the girl’s jacket.” She shook her head in mock annoyance, but her eyes were filled with love for my brother.

As I pulled my jacket off and looked up at him to hand it over, my eyebrows rose. That same love was reflected in his eyes, and I had to clear my throat to get him to snap out of it.

His eyes met mine and he ducked his head.

Holy shit. Was my bear of a big brother blushing ?

Thea gasped, and I whipped my head around to see what had startled her, but her eyes were glued to my sides.

“Oh,” Gio said as he grabbed my coat and ruffled my hair. “Forgot to tell you. The kid’s our resident vampire hunter.”

Thea’s brow furrowed as she finally tore her eyes away from the stakes nestled against my ribs and looked up at me. “Okay, well... Huh.” She nodded, then added, “Is that even legal?”

Gio snorted, shoving me playfully. “She’s never actually killed one.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, come on in, Buffy. Giovanni made enough lasagna for thirty.” Thea headed into the kitchen and I looked up at my brother as I mouthed, “Buffy? Really?”

He laughed as he pulled me into another chokehold, then dragged me into the kitchen. “She prefers polpettina, Thea .”

Thea laughed, muttering something about meatballs, and I slugged my brother in the side. He actually winced, releasing me with a firm shove, then handed me a plate so I could serve myself.

Distracted by Dad’s famous lasagna, the subject of vampires was forgotten, and I was grateful for that.

I’d never told my brothers about Eli. I couldn’t say why, exactly, just that it felt like mine , a secret between Dad and me, something that was ours .

That, and the fact that he hadn’t told my brothers himself had to mean something, so I kept my vigilance a secret.

My vendetta was mine alone.

And I was quickly losing interest.