Page 60 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

J ack

I’d made this walk a hundred times. It was a three-mile trek from the shop to Vinny’s gym, even less as the crow flies, and I knew these streets like the back of my hand.

Lately, Vinny had become more protective of me, so I rarely got to take this walk alone.

I used to cherish this time to clear my head after a session with my hot trainer, always warring with my feelings of hating vampires and wanting one of them so badly I could taste it. The fresh air cleared my head.

I missed that.

These days, with such little time to myself because, let’s face it, juggling two men wasn’t an easy task, and I was also running the butcher shop full-time, I’d found very little alone time. I know, I know, rough life, right? Two sexy men vying for my attention.

But I missed this quiet walk, the way the air smelled differently from one block to the next. From exhaust and grease outside of Marco’s Tire shop to the welcoming scents that would come from various houses I passed. There was something peaceful in this ritual.

But tonight was different. There was a chill to the air that didn’t feel entirely weather-related, a little too cold for late spring.

An energy in the atmosphere... I don’t know.

.. something extra that I couldn’t put my finger on.

It made my shoulders want to curl in protectively.

But I kept them straight, kept my head held high as I walked.

The least I could do is not look like prey.

My stakes were tucked into the holsters at my sides, and every so often, I reached into my leather jacket to reassure myself that they were still there, that I had protection.

The sensation of eyes on me didn’t go away, that subtle feeling of wrongness dragging icy fingers down the back of my neck.

I tried to pick up my pace without breaking into a run, while also forcing myself to breathe deeply, slowly, trying to calm my heart, my racing pulse, in case whoever was tracking me could hear it.

Petit colibri. Little hummingbird.

My heartbeat, as fast as hummingbird wings.

My footsteps stuttered as I thought of the vampire king. Could he be tracking me?

“If that’s you, asshole,” I murmured under my breath.

My pursuer chuckled darkly, and cold steel straightened my spine.

I didn’t recognize that laugh.

And he’d gained some ground.

Eli’s warning rang loudly through my mind. He’d offered me a place at the House of Lords, and I’d refused. Of course I had; it’s not like he and I were cozy—a few moments of poor decision-making skills aside. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made a mistake.

He’d said enemies would come for him, for me, and I’d ignored him. Who was I ? Some human girl with a butcher shop and a couple vampire boyfriends who, no offense to Vinny’s former glory days, weren’t really anyone to speak of either.

I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Why would I be?

But I’d caught the eye of a vampire king, who’d already done a number on the Council of Lords in his attempt to step back into power.

Jesus, Jack.

Gritting my teeth, I picked up the pace.

And here I was, out on a stroll after dark because, what, I wanted some alone time? Because having two overprotective boyfriends was too much for one girl to handle?

Just full of bad decisions, aren’t you?

His footsteps sounded closer behind me when I crossed over Fourteenth, and I picked up my pace.

If it was a vampire, breaking out into a sprint would be the wrong move, but even if it wasn’t a vampire, I had serious doubts about my ability to outrun a human pursuer either.

Speed wasn’t necessarily something I’d trained in.

Agility, yes.

Throwing punches, absolutely.

But running...

Not so much.

Hand to hand combat was more my specialty, so if whoever was behind me wanted to tussle, I’d be ready. Besides, I’d been trained by the very best.

I pushed that thought aside, though, because I was being silly. The person a few yards back could be out walking just like I was. Heading toward town for a bite to eat or making their way to the nearest bodega for a fifth of whiskey and a pint of ice cream. Maybe a lottery ticket or two—

But then he whistled, low and slow, the kind of whistle men think is appreciative but actually just results in every hair on the back of a woman’s neck standing on end.

God, I asked for this, didn’t I? So damn stubborn that I purposely didn’t call Vinny to tell him I was heading over. I’d left Gannon’s last text on read .

I grit my teeth and walked faster, careful not to run or appear that I was trying to get away. I certainly didn’t want to invite a chase, even though every human instinct told me to flee.

“Hey,” he called, “where’re you off to so fast, little lady?”

The question tickled that place between my shoulder blades, that sensitive area that spoke of danger and looming threat.

I slipped my left hand into my jacket and wrapped my fingers around the stake, leaving my right hand swinging casually at my side.

I debated grabbing my phone, but staring at a screen would provide an ideal moment for someone to strike—

“Hey,” he called again, an angry snap to the word this time. “I’m talking to you, slut.”

I snorted even as the slur made my spine tense with irritation and a hint of fear. He was escalating far more quickly than I would have anticipated.

Fucking men .

Couldn’t a girl just surprise her two boyfriends at work without being harassed?

His taunting grew bolder, the whistles and name-calling under his breath, like no one had bothered to raise him right.

The guy followed me for three more blocks and I remembered this girl I’d seen on my social media app, who would turn the tables and run toward men who followed her too closely, growling and screaming at them until they panicked and changed course.

I debated that option for only a moment and then I finally remembered who the fuck I am.

Jacqueline Alessia Fiorino, the fucking butcher.

I’d survived a fight with Elias Bristol, the vampire king. Sure, I’d only survived because he’d allowed me to, but I had battle scars to prove that, as far as humans go, I was

A

Fucking

Badass.

I grew up the youngest of two older brothers, one of them a born scrapper, and I’d not only survived but thrived. I also learned a thing or two, knowing how to hold my own in a fight long before I stepped foot into Vinny’s gym.

And now, I was the girlfriend of former middleweight champion Vinny Ricci, who’d been training me for well over a year now—when he wasn’t fucking me senseless.

Some pervy asshole walking the avenue wasn’t going to make me cower or run, or worse : feel like prey.

“I am no one’s prey ,” I snarled quietly.

And he laughed, the sound decimating my final fucking nerve.

I spun on my heels and assessed my opponent. He stopped walking then, obviously surprised that I’d faced him instead of trying to get away.

Someone should have told him not to doubt a Fiorino.

He’d remember for next time, though.

He was young, maybe my age or a bit older, with a shaved head and long, lanky limbs. He wore a dark green hoodie and acid-washed jeans, both of which hung loosely on his lean frame.

With what I hoped was a sinister smile, I strode toward him.

I’d been training in the ring for well over a year—and now sparring with both Vinny and Gannon for months—and though I knew I couldn’t win a fight with a vampire, I could easily take a skinny creeper like the one staring me down right now.

“You know what?” I said as I reached him. “I’m so fucking tired of assholes like you.”

He stumbled back a step when I charged toward him, and my smile grew as I allowed myself a split second to be proud that I’d startled him, but then he moved so quickly it took a moment for my mind to catch up with my mistake.

My hands were at my sides, nowhere near the stakes tucked into my holster—and this wasn’t just some creep human out for a stroll.

He bared his teeth; the light from the streetlamp above glinted off his inhumanly sharp incisors. When his hand wrapped around my throat, I sputtered, trying to pull air into my lungs past his viselike grip.

I’d gravely misjudged this situation.

He slammed me against a chain-link fence, the sound of the metal screeching and scraping echoing in the quiet night.

He snarled at me and my pulse skyrocketed. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, whore?”

I gathered all my saliva even as my lungs strained against the lack of oxygen, then I spit into his face, using his brief shock for the opening that it was.

I brought my knee up swiftly, slamming into his groin hard enough to make him release me as he doubled over, then I took advantage and slammed two swift punches into his kidneys.

As he growled and snapped at me, wincing from the pain, I reached for a stake, then slammed it into his back, right beneath his left shoulder blade, praying that I hadn’t missed my target.

The vampire fell to the ground and I exhaled a whoosh of breath as relief and adrenaline flowed through me, my veins buzzing like the live electrical wires above my head.

As I strode away from him as quickly as I could without breaking into a run, careful not to turn my back on him, I shouted, “My mother is dead, asshole.”

When his head whipped up, my steps faltered.

Then he reached behind him for the stake—and I knew .

I’d fucked up. Again.

All that training and still, I failed when push came to shove.

I missed when it mattered most.

He yanked the stake out and roared as he tossed it aside.

My pulse was a thunderous rush of pounding drums in my ears. I had less than half a mile until I reached the gym, until I reached the safety of the two vampires I loved, and I’d never make it in time.

This was it. This was where I died.

But I turned and started to run anyway, because the men who raised me didn’t teach me to give up easily.

As I ran, thoughts of them flooded my mind. Dad and Giovanni, Leo out in California, his new baby I still had yet to meet...

Vinny, Gannon... my heart ached at the impending loss.

Even Elias Bristol crossed my mind and I ached from the loss of the vampire king.

I’d been so lucky to be surrounded by the incredible men in my life, both human and vampire—

A sob of anguish wrenched its way up my throat. I couldn’t fathom the thought of never seeing them all again.

My attacker slammed into my back with such force that the impact lifted me off the ground and propelled me through the air.

I screamed, but the sound was cut off as his teeth tore into my neck, ripping into my flesh before I’d even hit the pavement.

But when I did finally slam into the ground, the agony of my body grinding forward against the asphalt for what felt like miles was nothing compared to the fire burning through my neck and shoulder.

“Jackie!”

Gannon?

My thoughts grew muddled and strange as the vampire bit into my flesh repeatedly, each bite searing like he’d poured acid on my skin—or gasoline—and lit a match.

He wasn’t feeding ; he was destroying.

I screamed until my voice was hoarse, then the sounds I made were garbled, and my eyes began to lose focus, darkness pulling up from the shadows to circle my vision, tightening until my sight was but a pinprick of light, the glow of the streetlamp the last thing I saw before I succumbed to the end.

When he finally stopped biting and just started to suck the blood from my veins, he began to hum a song I recognized but couldn’t place.

The pain became so severe that I felt nothing at all because pain was all there was.

I became the pain. It couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Or maybe that was the gift of Death himself, freedom from pain as he ferried me away.

Death.

“Jackie! Jackie! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Gannon screamed. “Open your eyes, baby girl, don’t leave me. Don’t you fucking leave me!”

Death sounded a lot like the boy I’d loved my entire life.

There was something beautiful in that.