Page 4 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

J ack

Sheathing my plastic practice stakes, one on each hip in a custom black leather holster made by my favorite Etsy seller, I backflipped away from Vinny, grinning as I landed on my feet in orthodox fight stance with my fists extended in front of me.

Ready. Waiting.

Eager for him to come after me.

But he only chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tuck that right fist a little closer to your body.”

Looking down, I did as he instructed, leaving my left fist extended, and pulling my right a bit more tucked in near my chest. When I looked back up at my trainer, a crimson stain bloomed on his shirt, just inches above his heart. A superficial wound, yes, but one that made pride swell in my chest.

“I’m getting better.”

“You are,” he agreed. “I’m proud of you.”

It shouldn’t have felt so good. God, I knew it shouldn’t. But his praise sank down between my legs, igniting a throb of need.

As it had countless times before.

I’d been sparring with Vinny for months now, and though I knew it was wrong, that it went against everything I believed in—and a very clear and concise law of the treaty—by the end of each training session, it took everything in me not to crawl up his body and fuck him senseless.

Wait, what?

I gave my head a subtle shake. Thoughts like those were dangerous.

Down, girl.

Glancing at his chest, Vinny frowned at the stain of blood, then reached behind his head to grab his shirt. In one quick motion, his shirt was off and tossed aside.

My breath caught in my throat and his gaze flicked to mine, because of course he’d heard the sound. My self-control at an all-time low, I dropped my eyes to his bare chest. The wound had already healed, but that wasn’t what had my stomach twisting deliciously and heat pooling low in my belly.

Muscles, distinct and hard, beneath smooth, taut skin.

Washboard abs. Eight of them.

A defined Adonis belt.

Good Lord, send help.

My mouth watered as my mind wandered.

That V was dangerous, had led me astray too many times, into thoughts I shouldn’t have about a man I shouldn’t want.

“Jacqueline,” Vinny warned.

And it was a warning.

I should heed it.

His nostrils flared. His eyes went dark, crimson sneaking in around his brown irises.

Shit.

“Jacqueline,” he said again

And oh, how delicious those three syllables sounded on his lips.

Come on, Jack, focus.

I closed my eyes and willed the sordid thoughts away as I breathed deeply and fought to calm myself. He could hear my pulse. Smell my arousal.

Nope. Don’t think about arousal.

Shit.

I strained to concentrate on anything but Vinny standing a few yards away from me, his black track pants sitting low on his perfect hips—

No, no. Focus.

To help myself, I began listing items that grossed me out or made me sad. Either would be better than lusting after a monster.

Cottage cheese.

Green olives. Bleagh.

My ex.

Black olives. What even are olives? A fruit? A nut? You can’t even eat them off the tree. How weird is that?

My sister-in-law.

My dead dog.

All dead things.

Vampires are dead.

Vinny is a vampire.

Vinny is—

A breeze fluttered the tendrils of hair hanging around my face.

Standing in front of me now.

Too close.

Too dangerous.

I breathed deeply and braced myself. Then I opened my eyes to his, nearly crimson now and mere inches away from my own.

His fangs were extended, just the tips of them exposed where they rested against his full bottom lip.

Fangs. Because he is a monster, Jacqueline.

Regardless of how beautiful he was—with those strong arms and that dark brown hair trimmed close to his head, those intense Italian brown eyes—

Dammit, Jack, focus!

Vincenzo Ricci was a monster. A monster .

I swallowed hard and he smirked. His gaze flicked to my throat, zeroed in on the rapid beat of my pulse. He bit down on that full bottom lip and a spot of blood pooled beneath the tip of his fang.

The desire to lick that spot of blood should have terrified me, but only worked to make me want him more.

“Have you changed your mind about me?” he asked, his voice low and threatening, but somehow still stoking that flame of desire between my legs.

Shaking my head, I took a step back and he tilted his head inhumanly slowly. “Don’t run from me, little Fiorino.”

Not a request but a warning.

Do not run.

All running would do was inspire the monster’s need to hunt.

And once that happened, I’d have no chance of survival.

He’d explained that at the very beginning of our training sessions and had hammered it into my brain countless times. “Face your attacker head on,” he’d told me. “Fight back if you can. But never—ever—run from us.”

Us. Because he was one of them.

With a curt nod at the reminder, I took another step backwards, slowly inching away from the predator in the room.

My heart drummed a million beats a minute as I edged further and further away from Vinny.

Even though he’d been training me for months, I doubted I could truly take him in a fight.

And, even if I could, I was currently armed to the teeth with fake fucking stakes.

A lot of good those would do me if he decided he was done training and came for me.

He watched me like a hawk, his eyes still ringed with the red of his desire—or thirst. There was no way to tell the difference, as the two were so closely related for his kind. “Same time Friday,” Vinny said, his voice tight and controlled, evidence of his restraint.

I should have said no, should have put an end to these training sessions and found some other vamp willing to teach me how to kill their kind. One who was turned when he was eighty or something so I wouldn’t always feel the need to rip his clothes off.

One who was safe. Well, safer , at least.

But I nodded instead, acutely aware that if I spoke now, my words would come out too breathy—or too weak—both of which could spur something primal in Vinny.

Something I may not be able to escape.

Or want to.

Gah!

When I reached the door that led to the locker rooms, I opened it without taking my eyes off my trainer, then I sidestepped and slipped through the narrow opening, closing the door quickly behind me.

I rested my forehead against the cool metal and breathed deeply.

In spending three nights a week with him for months, I’d gotten too close to Vinny.

I’d begun to humanize him, to see more than just the monster, but the man he used to be.

I’d allowed myself to see something akin to friendship somewhere in the midst of this working relationship, and now the lines were blurred.

I enjoyed our sessions, looked forward to them.

I enjoyed him .

But I needed to get my shit together. Vinny was a vampire.

I paid him to teach me how to fight, nothing more.

Giving my head a quick shake, I pushed off the door. “Stupid, fucking girl,” I growled as I hurried toward the woman’s half of the locker room to grab my stuff.

Stupid hormones, more like it. I hadn’t had sex since Gannon ghosted me just days after my father’s funeral, and the dry spell was obviously clouding my better judgment. “Just say no to sex with vamps,” I reminded myself as quietly as possible, lest Vinny hear me through the walls.

I unsheathed my practice stakes from the holster and tossed them into the empty locker, then shouldered my bag and slammed the door, freezing when the sound of Vinny’s low chuckle echoed through the locker room.

That innately vampiric ability to remain impossibly silent while creeping up on prey was beyond unfair.

As was the way his nearness made my body react with another hot rush of desire.

I cursed under my breath and scanned the darkness for him.

“Careful, little Fiorino,” he warned. His voice was everywhere and nowhere all at once, echoing in the space and sending goosebumps over my skin. “I might start to think you’re coming around.”

With a huff, I rolled my eyes. “Fat chance.”

“Which one of us are you trying to convince?” he teased, his voice a near purr that spiked my temperature and sent my pulse into overdrive.

I couldn’t see him, but I didn’t need to. His deep laugh followed me all the way to the door like a sensuous caress, and I half-expected— wanted? —him to reach me before I made it outside, grab me by the neck, and haul me backwards against the deliciously hard lines of his body.

I’d fantasized about Vinny too many times to count, and though I was reluctant to admit it, the fantasy often involved him taking charge—and taking the decision away from me altogether.

Too many times to count, I’d awakened from fantasies of him sinking his cock inside me as he sank his fangs into my neck—

The wind whipped against my heated cheeks with the force of a slap, snapping me out of my torrid thoughts as I stepped outside.

Thankfully, the chill of the night air was the only bite I would experience tonight.

I’d chalk up that uncomfortable twist in my belly to hunger pains, not disappointment.