Page 7 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)

J ack

With dawn came the stark realization that I’d invited a vampire into my home.

I sat up in bed, muscles tense and eyes wide as I scanned my room, but Vinny was nowhere in sight. I sighed and flopped back against the pillows.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I could almost convince myself I’d dreamt him, but the weight of my grief felt a little less heavy this morning, and I knew it was because he hadn’t allowed me to suffer through it alone.

That, and the unmistakable fact that the faint scent of winter still lingered in my sheets. I turned onto my stomach and pressed my face into the pillow he’d leaned against last night while he held me, inhaling deeply to pull him into my lungs.

I groaned. “Why does he have to smell so good?”

“Luck of the draw, I guess.”

I jumped and quickly scooched into a sitting position, then pulled the covers up to my chin as my cheeks heated. Hiding from him, obviously, because he hadn’t already seen me in my ratty old sleep shirt or watched me snore all damn night.

Punch me.

I mean, I’d fallen asleep in his arms after marathon crying, for fuck’s sake! Modesty had definitely left the chat.

Vinny stood in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me, his usual mixture of amusement and desire at war in those dark eyes. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I grumbled.

Vinny licked his lips slowly, holding my gaze long enough to wake that warm swirl of desire in my belly, then he breathed deeply and smirked because he knew . He always knew.

“Go away,” I growled.

“I have a feeling that’s actually the last thing you want me to do.”

I narrowed my eyes but he just held my gaze.

I could say the words, revoke his invitation inside my home, but he was right. That actually was the last thing I wanted to do.

He’d gotten under my skin.

I actually liked him. Like, as a person.

The horror.

After a moment of silent battle, he jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Get up. I got you coffee and donuts.”

I frowned. “You don’t... wait. Do you eat donuts?”

His lip curled. “No, Jacqueline, I don’t eat donuts.” With that, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

“Oh my god,” I groaned as I sank down into the bedding and cocooned myself in the sheets. Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. Why didn’t it occur to me that he might still be here?

He caught me sniffing the sheets!

Ah!

Stupid girl!

I’d blame exhaustion and grief. I’d been working six days a week, training with Vinny three nights a week—plus the occasional weekend spar, and with the holiday rush at the shop and the anniversary of Dad’s death...

I clearly wasn’t running on a full tank of gas.

With a huff, I pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed, pulling my robe tightly around my body as I strode from the room, but when my reflection in the mirror on top of Dad’s dresser caught my eye, I nearly stumbled.

Mother of God, why do you hate me?

I spun and looked at myself, frantically running my fingers through my matted hair as I shook my head. “Of all the cruel jokes,” I whispered, “I had to end up in bed with him for the first time looking like this ?”

“First time implies there might be a second time,” Vinny called from somewhere within my apartment.

And the hits just keep on coming.

As I passed the other rooms on my way down the hall, I paused at the open doorway of my childhood room.

Vinny sat on the edge of my bed, leaning back on his hands, comfortable as could be...as if he hadn’t just invaded a very sacred space.

Teenage me squealed at the sight of him.

He lifted his gaze and cocked one eyebrow.

“Pink ruffles and Pierce the Veil posters?” His smirk turned into a delicious grin.

“It’s an intriguing dichotomy, I’ll admit.

” He looked around and I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling more exposed than I’d been in his arms last night as I sobbed and told him all about my childhood.

“Why didn’t you move back into this room? ”

My eyes snapped to his. I opened my mouth, then closed it, not really sure how to answer.

Vinny’s smile fell as he pushed off my little twin bed and strode toward me. “Hey.” He pulled me into his arms and looked down into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dig.”

Shaking my head, I said, “No, it’s okay.

I just...” I breathed deeply, assessing my thoughts to make sense of them.

“I guess I just missed him.” I shrugged and Vinny nodded.

“So after the hospice people came and cleared his body, I stripped the bed and started to clean up... just going through the motions and removing any signs of him or his sickness from the room...” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat to shove the emotion back.

“And then I realized what I was doing, the magnitude of it all, and—”

Vinny cupped my cheek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I know.” I sniffed. “I fell asleep on the bare mattress that first night.”

He nodded, his thumb stroking back and forth over my cheek.

“When I woke up, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving that room or changing it at all. It smelled like him.”

“Still does.”

My eyes widened as hope bloomed in my chest. “Really?”

Vinny nodded. “Really. It’s a mixture of the two of you, but he’s still there.”

Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes even though I should have been all cried out after yesterday.

“So...” Vinny began, “it’s Christmas Eve. Last night, right before you started snoring like a freight train, you mentioned—”

I groaned and tried to pull away from him but he tightened his grip.

“What’s your Christmas Eve tradition?” He searched my gaze and his eyes narrowed. “Mass, like a good little Catholic?”

I snorted. “I’m not a good little anything.”

“I doubt that,” he murmured. When he licked his lips, my gaze fell to his mouth, and I was acutely aware of our closeness. Wrapped in his arms like this, his mouth just inches away from mine, bodies pressed tightly together...

I inhaled a shaky breath. All I had to do was push up onto my tiptoes and lean in—

“Focus, Jacqueline,” Vinny practically growled. “Christmas Eve.”

Focus. Right. Giving him a curt nod, I thought back to spending all those Christmases with my dad and brothers, but with the memories came a wave of sadness. “It doesn’t matter. My brothers both have other lives now.”

“It matters to me.”

Good grief, was he determined to make it impossible for me to keep my distance?

“Vinny, I—”

“Jacqueline.”

My breath caught in my throat at the way he said my name, so full of power and leaving me little room to talk back.

This was the side of him I knew, the side I was familiar with.

I understood and expected the side of him that didn’t hesitate to throw me down onto the mat or kick my ass until I was bruised and bloody—

“I’d like to spend Christmas Eve with you.”

And that was the side of him that threw me, not onto the mat to spar, but so far off balance I wasn’t sure which way was up.

His eyes flicked back and forth between mine, then his thumb stilled at the corner of my mouth and redness began to seep into that space around his irises.

My pulse sped.

He licked his lips.

No no no

We can’t.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard and, standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom, surrounded by too-pink walls covered in posters of all the emo bands I once adored, I made a decision.

“Say yes, Jacqueline.”

“Yes,” I said on a sigh.

God, yes.

Then his lips were on mine, soft and tender.

And Vinny’s kiss was everything I imagined, yet somehow nothing at all like I’d expected.

Because it was so much more.

Slow and deliberate.

Surprisingly tender.

Each stroke of his tongue sent heat through my veins and weakened my legs.

His mouth moved against mine with delicate precision, like I was a flower he was afraid to damage. Each tender brush of his lips sent goosebumps bursting out over my skin.

My cheeks tingled.

Butterflies sprang to life in my stomach, wild and untethered as they danced, their wings tickling my ribs.

He tasted even better than he smelled, and in that moment, I wanted to be wrapped in the cool winter breeze of Vinny Ricci for as long as I lived.

All too soon, he pulled back, eyes encircled with crimson as he looked down at me. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

I pulled in a shuddering breath and admitted, “Me too.”

Smirking, Vinny shook his head. “So stubborn.”

“It’s too risky.”

“No one will know.”

“Vinny—”

“What is your Christmas Eve tradition, Jacqueline?”

I rolled my eyes. “This again?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You’ll hate it.”

“Try me.”

“Oh my god.” I tried to pull away from him, but he was relentless in his hold and far stronger than me. “Fine.” I huffed. “Rockefeller Center.”

“To look at the Christmas tree?”

I nodded. “And skating.”

Vinny’s jaw twitched with something akin to a grimace. “It’s going to be a madhouse.”

“See? I knew you’d hate it.”

“It’s important to you?”

“No, it’s fine.” I dropped my gaze.

He gripped my chin and tilted my head back so he could look into my eyes. “Please don’t lie to me. Were you planning to go by yourself?”

I sucked in a breath and pressed my lips into a fine line, then nodded.

“What time?”

“After I have dinner at my brother’s. Late... like ten-ish.” I shrugged. “It’s on my way home.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Obviously I don’t have to, Jacqueline.” As he said that, the shadow of an emotion I couldn’t place crossed over his face, but then he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine and all I could think about was the feel of him.

I reached up and circled my arms around his neck, stretching my body along his.