Page 1 of A Bond Beyond Blood

Chapter One

Elias

The change was apparent the moment I returned to the butcher shop, a pungent tinge of rot in the air.As if, somewhere within the store, meat had been contaminated.A slab of beef, perhaps, had gone sour.

My lip curled in disgust as I cursed my heightened senses.Death and decay were always the most offensive aromas—

But this was something else.Something worse.

As I stepped deeper into the store, realization hit me.

Not beef.Not animal meat at all, in fact.

Tilting my head toward the exposed wood beam ceiling, I closed my eyes and inhaled, pulling a deep breath of contaminated air into my lungs.

The acrid scent was tainted with sadness and grief.

Itsked, then righted my head, shaking it as my gaze landed on Franco behind the counter and I strode toward him.“You’re dying.”

The man’s eyes widened, not from surprise at the statement itself, as it was fact, but certainly surprised that I’d caught on so quickly.Even after all this time together, he was shocked by my inhuman abilities.

After a long stretch of heavy silence, he nodded curtly, then began to place my order in the refrigeration bags he reserved for me.

Had I not stayed away so long between supply runs this time, perhaps I would have caught it sooner.Perhaps I could have alerted him in time...

As I got closer to the counter, the putrid scent of his illness grew stronger.

“Cancer,” I said quietly.It wasn’t a question, and there was no sense in pretending, because by the droop of his shoulders and the sadness in his eyes, the heady atmosphere of grief—and the intensity of the decay—it was obvious that the disease was too far along.

What a shame.

As I watched him busy himself with his task, avoiding my eyes, a strange sense of sadness overcame me.

The butcher and I had long been acquainted, decades of something slightly akin to friendship between us.Though I could not say I would miss the man necessarily, I had developed a sort of fondness for his terrible jokes, his gruff personality, and the business relationship we had honed over the years.More importantly, the butcher kept me well fed.

Which was why, in this moment of being presented with the profound fragility of the human condition, a selfish question arose in my mind.And, as I was not one to mince words or intentions, I found myself asking, “Who will take over in your stead?”

Franco froze.

Even his breath stalled in his throat.

But in the silence of the butcher shop, his fragile little heart took flight, pulse racing like the beating wings of a bird.

It was then that I noticed his hands shaking.Not a lot, just a slight tremble, so slight that the human eye might not have been able to perceive the movement.My eyes narrowed as I focused on the racing pulse in his neck.

“Butcher,” I said, and his heartbeat stuttered.“Look at me.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze.Fear made his deep brown eyes wide, the whites on full display, but he quickly schooled his expression.Not quickly enough, though, I’m afraid.And there was no denying the panic in his most vital organ.

“What are you afraid of?”I watched him for any sign, catching it in the quick flick of his eyes away from me—the moment he decided to lie, which instantly piqued my interest.

“D-death,” he stuttered, and I raised my brow.

“No.”Considering him, I waited as the seconds ticked by on the old clock above the doorway.“It’s something else.”

“Jack will take over for me.”

My eyes narrowed at the abrupt subject change.It would appear that subtlety wasn’t one of the butcher’s strengths.

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