Page 20 of Blood Bonds

“Come on, hurry the fuck up!” the punk snapped, clearly getting impatient and looking around as if expecting the cops to show up any second.

As for my protector, he didn’t seem scared or freaked out in the slightest as he calmy reached into his jacket. Then he pulled his wallet free, still not yet saying a single word to the thief. Instead he silently complied, holding out his wallet for the thug to take.

The hooded man looked around the space once more before taking cautious steps forward, reaching out with his free hand ready to snatch it. However, the second he got close enough, my protector had other ideas and his hand snapped up in what seemed like a well-practiced move. Swift and effective. The man howled in pain as I heard bone snap after he broke his wrist, then the gun, along with the wallet dropped to the floor instantly.

After this the man in front of me, grabbed the thief by the throat and dragged him closer, only to issue one single command.

“Run.”

The sound came out like some murderous promise should the thug not think to heed the extended invitation to live. It was a sound that made me shiver and instantly my hands released their hold on my protector. Because now I had something else to be afraid of, and it wasn’t the man that had been waving the gun our way.

He let go of the thug and the second he was free, he quickly took this as a lucky escape and good advice on how to stay breathing. Because one second he was there, and the next he was running into the night, nearly falling over himself in his haste. Meanwhile, I was smart enough to take a few cautious steps back.

Then the man released a deep sigh, as if this had all been very taxing on him and having a guy pull a gun on him was an everyday occurrence. Jesus, who was this guy?! But that was when it hit me, making me blurt out,

“Are you a cop?”

He paused his movements for a second, because he had been leaning down to retrieve the gun and his wallet. Then he rose back to his full height and turned to face me. I watched as he calmly placed his wallet back in his inside jacket pocket, and I couldn’t help but eye the gun in his hand warily.

“Not today I am not,” he replied cryptically, making me frown.

“You mean you’re off duty?” I asked, pushing for more.

“Something like that,” he told me before tucking the gun in the waistband of his trousers at the back, out of sight beneath his jacket. Again, his reply had me frowning in question. What did he mean by ‘something like that’? It was either a yes or no answer…wasn’t it?

“What is your name?” he asked me, and for some reason I couldn’t stop myself from telling him.

“I’m Vanessa, but my friends call me Nessa.”

“Vanessa,” he repeated, making me inwardly sigh and hold back the muttered response of, ‘not a friend then, okie dokie’. Although if I was honest, I couldn’t be too disappointed because, at the very least, I got to hear the way he said my name. Again, another toe-curling moment and most likely the true reason I held back my response.

“And you are?” I asked, thinking this only fair. I expected a name in return, but what I got was so much more, and he held out his hand for me to shake.

“It is nice to meet you, Vanessa, I am Victor.”

I eyed his hand, once again wary of what may happen when I gave him a piece of myself. Would he snatch me up like the man last night had?

He watched my hesitation with interest, his raised brow seemingly daring me to give him my hand. As if this was a test and he was curious to know if I was brave enough to pass it. So, with the mindset that the guy had just saved my life, I placed my hand in his much larger one and let him curl his fingers around mine, easily swallowing it whole. Then he shook it lightly, his skin feeling slightly rough, as if he were more used to manual labor than sitting behind a desk like the suit implied.

He had the hands of a warrior.

Christ, why couldn’t I get that thought out of my head? Maybe because he was still holding my hand and hadn’t yet let it go after the customary time shaking a stranger’s hand usually took. Which was why my nervousness was hitting new heights, making me say something as stupid as,

“Our parents must have both liked the letter V.”

Oh My God, did I really just say that? I would have smacked myself on my forehead if my right hand was free.

His mouth quirked up on one side for the slightest second just like it had before.

“Well thank you for saving my life, that was… erm… impressive,” I said, trying to make a point of taking back my hand, something he hadn’t yet allowed.

He ignored my praise and my thanks, instead shocking me completely by asking, “Have dinner with me.”

I snatched my hand away more forcefully this time, meaning he had no choice but to let me go. Then I laughed nervously, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets, my fingers flexing behind the material as if I could still feel his fingers curled over my own.

“I can’t do that… I mean, I don’t know you,” I told him, making his eyes crinkle a little at the sides because, again, he looked to be fighting a grin.

“Sure you do, we share the letter V and survived a mugging together,” he teased, surprising me, because he didn’t strike me as the type that even knew how to joke. In fact, he was the most serious male I had ever met in my life.

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