Page 23 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

G annon

I didn’t need sleep anymore, which made these lonely nights all that much longer—and all that much more excruciating. If I could sleep, even for just a little while, I’d be able to pass the time, but instead I was forced to wander.

To think.

Then wander some more.

It’s what led me to Jackie’s place this morning after over a year away, then again a short while ago. My feet were determined to lead me back to her, even after all this time apart.

I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. The loneliness was a palpable presence, a stifling, suffocating beast. With the holidays, the pain became too much to bear.

I’d been debating showing my face for weeks now, ever since those first signs of autumn began showing up in the bite in the air, the leaves changing color on the trees, but I hadn’t yet found the courage until this morning.

I had nowhere to go and no one who missed me, while I missed my ma and Jackie so goddamn much it hurt almost as badly as the constant hunger.

But when I found myself at Fiorino’s Meats twice today, my ex-girlfriend wasn’t alone.

What the hell was she doing with Vincenzo Ricci ?

Franco would turn over in his grave if he knew.

The Riccis were bad news.

As far as the five families went, we learned from a very young age that the Donatis and Riccis were off limits.

It didn’t matter that most of the Ricci family were six feet underground, or that Vincenzo Ricci had been turned into a vampire back in the fifties and ‘gone straight’ or whatever, running his boxing gym and keeping his nose out of the family business.

Once a Ricci, always a Ricci ; that’s what our fathers used to say anyway.

And that fucker had thrown me off a balcony!

I stopped walking as I remembered the way I’d felt, for just a split second, so goddamn free .

That was before my stomach revolted. So embarrassing. At least Jackie hadn’t been there to bear witness.

Tilting my head back, I inhaled deeply, wishing I could recreate that feeling.

Of flying. Of freedom.

As daylight began to paint the cloudy sky with a soft purple hue, I blinked out of my thoughts and stopped walking. Spinning in a slow circle, I took in my surroundings. I’d wandered all night and wound up in the warehouse district, surrounded by brick and concrete buildings on every side.

This early on Christmas morning, not a lot was happening in this part of the city, and as I assessed the warehouse closest to me—abandoned, judging by the busted windows on every floor—an idea bloomed in my mind.

I didn’t need a Ricci to throw me off a balcony; I could throw myself off.

My lips twitched on a smile as I hurried down the side alley in search of a window with enough glass busted out of it that I could slide inside without having to break anything or draw any attention to myself.

Not that anyone was around, but after those first few weeks of living on the streets, I’d learned not to invite trouble.

I could handle myself against any humans who might start shit, but holding my own against other vampires had proven to be a bit complicated—and I had yet to figure out what made some of them so much stronger than me.

About halfway down the alley, one of the windows had been completely broken and the shards had been carefully removed, so I gripped the base of the window frame and hauled my ass over, dropping to my feet inside the abandoned space.

Trash littered the floor, and an old, yellowed mattress had been pushed into the far corner.

Scowling, I covered my nose, wishing I could turn off the heightened sense of smell in moments like these.

Crouching low, I waited, listening for any sounds of life.

There’d been squatters here recently—pungent scents of human excrement and old, rotting food wafted from the corner—but it didn’t sound like anyone was here now.

Not a single heartbeat or hushed breath carried on the stagnant air.

Rising to my full height, I headed for the stairwell; a building long abandoned wouldn’t be likely to have electricity, and I hated elevators anyway. Too many things could go wrong.

I hauled the heavy door open and waited, again listening for any signs of life, but even in here, the only thing my heightened senses picked up on were scents I wouldn’t soon forget.

I climbed the stairs to the first landing and looked at the door, considering.

Vincenzo had thrown me from the balcony outside Jackie’s apartment, but that was only one story up.

I already knew I’d land on my feet from that height.

Which meant I had to go higher.

Pulling in a deep breath, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, trying to find the courage to proceed.

Becoming a vampire had changed many things; my fear of heights was not one of them.

But for fuck’s sake, I was a monster now, a creature of the night— ha ha, right, that one was a myth.

We could obviously walk in daylight. But I was a killing machine.

When I was initially turned and set loose on the world without a fucking soul around to tell me what the hell was going on or how to handle my urges , the body count rose quickly—

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside. Dwelling on my mistakes and regrets would do nothing for me now. Another deep breath, then I squared my shoulders and started up the stairs to the next floor.

At the door that led to the third level of the warehouse, I stopped, considering once again the drop to the ground outside. Gaze flicking from that door to the stairs, I made my decision and continued to climb. I was a vampire now, goddammit! I couldn’t be afraid anymore.

I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

The next landing was the highest level of the old warehouse, the fourth floor, or, as the sign on the door indicated, roof access .

Nodding to myself, I twisted the doorknob, but it didn’t give immediately, so I focused my energy, wrapped both hands around it, and twisted harder until the lock snapped and I could yank open the door.

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding without meaning to, then stepped out onto the roof into the crisp evening air.

Snow had begun to fall, drifting down in delicate flakes all around me, melting as they hit the rooftop.

A white Christmas. Jackie would love this.

The night I’d been turned had been a lot like this one, though minus the snow falling.

At the time, the crisp chill in the air was unseasonable, a cold winter that refused to let go to make way for spring.

But on that cold, late April night, I’d been headed home from a party, fucked up out of my mind from drowning myself in booze and pills, always trying to forget the way I’d turned my back on the only girl I’d ever loved—and too fucking cowardly to apologize.

I’d been doing that a lot back then, drinking and drugging through the misery and guilt instead of manning up and telling Jacqueline the truth, admitting that watching her pain, her grief, had made me feel so helpless—and I hated that feeling more than anything else in the world.

I’d felt it before, that powerlessness, the night my father’s debts caught up to him and he was beaten to death in front of me while I hid in the pantry.

After that, I vowed to never feel helpless again.

So watching Jackie grieve and being unable to help her was excruciating. The way her bereavement had triggered memories of my own loss had broken something inside me, and when she’d needed me most, I’d fled.

I ghosted that girl when I should have stayed. Turned my back on her when I should have pulled her into my arms. She needed strength and I gave her weakness. I ran from her grief instead of holding her through it, loving her through it.

A true piece of shit if ever there was one.

I left her alone like her father had, though only one of us had any control over that.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d marry Jackie Fiorino.

Now, I’d be lucky if she ever spoke to me again.

Tilting my face up to the sky, I closed my eyes and absorbed the sensation of each tiny flake of snow that hit my skin. The way I could feel the brush of each snowflake like a gentle caress was something I still wasn’t used to.

I’d had my face turned up to the sky that night, too, just like this, stumbling my way home and trying to focus on the moon to steady my steps. I never even saw the vampire who grabbed me, didn’t have a chance to fight or scream before his fangs pierced the flesh of my throat.

The first pull of blood from my veins stole my breath.

The next cleared my mind, the fog of my intoxication draining with every drop of life the monster pulled from me, and with that clarity came understanding. I was dying. What followed was a flood of emotions so powerful I couldn’t catalog them all, but at the forefront, fear and regret.

And then acceptance.

I only have bits of memories after that, a handful of little glimpses of that night and the weeks that followed remaining with me even now. Huge blocks of time are still missing from my mind.

I try not to dwell on those.

The soft sound of leather against asphalt as my feet dangled in the air and I struggled to find purchase, the toes of my sneakers scuffing back and forth over the ground.

Nausea, as the overwhelming scent of his cologne clouded around me like he’d showered in the stuff.

The way I’d drift in and out of consciousness.

Then there were the memories, a slideshow of my short life, flitting past as if he was extracting them from my mind one by one.

Snapshots of moments with my mom, my dad...

A lifetime with Jackie...

Mental photographs of our childhood, the years I spent chasing her around the playground to the times I began to chase her for a smile, a laugh... a stolen kiss.

Emotional memories of the way my feelings for her changed over the years from friendship... to love... to something even deeper that I didn’t have words for.

The first time we kissed, on a dare, at just eight years old.