Page 16 of Oath of Blood and Joy

Joy struggled not to cry, but I could see the tears threatening to fall and how her lip quivered. The sight sent a sharp, unexpected pain through my chest. Her scent changed subtly, the vanilla notes souring with distress, intensifying in my heightened senses until it was almost overwhelming. Each racing beat of her heart echoed in my ears like a drum, calling to the predator within me—not with hunger, but with a fierce need to protect.

That’s twice Marsha hurt her. The witch’s days were numbered. My fangs descended involuntarily, the sharp points pressing against my lower lip as ancient rage bubbled to the surface. I turned slightly away, masking the reaction even as the taste of my own blood bloomed in my mouth. The beast inside me roared for retribution, for the witch’s throat beneath my hands. I would not tolerate anyone hurting what’s mine. The thought burned through my veins like liquid fire, a possessive fury that had existed since the first night I caught Joy’s scent on the wind. A feral darkness clouded my thoughts as I imaginedexactly how I would make Marsha pay for every tear, every bruise, every moment of fear she had caused Joy to feel.

“I promise you, Marsha will never hurt you again.” I lifted her chin with a gentleness that belied the fury raging beneath my controlled exterior. The oath hung between us, heavy with significance.

A tear escaped, sliding down Joy’s cheek, catching the light before dropping onto the collar of her borrowed shirt. The sight of that single tear affected me more than centuries of bloodshed. “But what about the other girls?” Her voice cracked, revealing the burden she carried—concern for others even in the depths of her own pain. Her hands twisted the hem of her shirt, her fingers twitching with the effort to maintain control.

I drew her into my arms and held her close, enveloping her in my embrace. The scent of her—wild jasmine and cedar beneath the lingering traces of fear—filled my senses, making my chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache. She struggled at first, her small fists pushing against my chest, her heartbeat a frantic rhythm against my own. But then she broke down and cried, her resistance crumbling like a dam finally giving way after holding back too much pressure. Her tears dampened my shirt, her body trembling against mine as sobs wracked her frame. I held her carefully, conscious of my strength, one hand cradling the back of her head where soft curls tangled around my fingers.

The houseboat rocked gently beneath us, a soothing rhythm at odds with the storm of emotions between us. Outside, night creatures called to one another across the bayou waters, oblivious to the promise I had made—a promise that would soon paint the darkness red.

“Enzo, we have to save those other girls.”

Her crinkled brows and those trembling lips were like a knife through my heart. Now I knew how Angelo felt when he disappointed Serenity. It was a helpless, powerless feeling thatI had rarely experienced, but Joy could make me go out in the pouring rain to retrieve whatever she needed. The realization that I couldn’t immediately give her what she wanted—couldn’t snap my fingers and make everything right—left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was a vampire, powerful beyond human comprehension, yet in this moment, I was utterly inadequate.

“After what we did tonight, Simon won’t have the auction.”

“But then what? If we don’t do something, they’ll be sold into slavery.”

The blood trade was our primary source of power. We drained humans, sometimes forcibly, breaking one of Dracula’s ancient rules but gaining immense strength in the process. The potent blood harvested from fear-filled victims made us nearly unstoppable. The sex trafficking disgusted us. Using humans for blood was one thing—it was our nature, our survival—but treating women as commodities to be sold for pleasure crossed a boundary that even the most ruthless of our kind respected.

She clutched my shirt with her fists, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so small. Her knuckles whitened with determination as she pulled back just enough to look up at me, her tear-stained face fierce despite her vulnerability. “Promise me you’ll help me free them.” Her voice trembled but held firm, her eyes burning with a hope that pierced straight through centuries of my carefully cultivated detachment.

A war brewed inside me, desire clashing against duty with brutal force. That request could result in a war that would anger Angelo beyond measure. The consequences would ripple through all three supernatural families, upending the delicate peace we’d established. Our mission had been to save Joy, not bring down the human trafficking trade. I could almost hear Angelo’s voice in my head, cold with fury at the mere suggestion.

But how could I deny her? Looking down into those eyes that somehow remained luminous even through tears, I feltsomething ancient and unmovable shift within me. My thumb brushed away a tear from her cheek, my resolve crumbling like ancient stone. “I’ll find a way.” The promise formed a binding chain around my heart, one I knew I would not break even if it meant standing against my own king.

My phone rang—Angelo’s ringtone. Fuck. He’d heard. The shrill sound cut through the intimate moment like a blade, reality intruding on the sanctuary we’d briefly created.

I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear it, but I always answered him. Three hundred years of conditioning didn’t disappear in an instant. My muscles tensed involuntarily, my jaw tightening as I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the phone, Joy still clinging to me. Her warmth against my chest felt suddenly precarious, a comfort I might lose at any moment.

“Yeah, boss?” I kept my voice neutral despite the dread pooling in my stomach. Joy looked up at me, her eyes still glistening with tears, confusion replacing her grief as she sensed the change in my demeanor.

“What the fuck happened at Ravenwood Estate? Simon called ranting at me and I had to cover your ass. You conducted a raid without my consent?” Angelo’s voice exploded through the speaker, loud enough that Joy flinched against me. His fury crackled with barely contained violence, each word precisely enunciated—always a dangerous sign.

“You said to find Joy, and I have her.” I kept my response simple, factual, even as my free hand tightened around Joy’s shoulder, drawing her closer in an unconscious gesture of protection. My promise to her pressed against the loyalty that had defined my existence for centuries. I could feel the scales tipping, the balance shifting in ways that would change everything.

“Where are you?”

I hesitated, not sure if I should tell him. My loyalty to Angelo warred with the protective instinct that had been growing since I’d rescued Joy. The line between duty and desire had never been so blurred.

“Enzo?” The warning clear in just two syllables. Even through the phone, his authority pressed down on me like a physical weight, centuries of obedience demanding I answer.

There was no use lying. “Sangue Reale.” The name of the houseboat felt like a betrayal on my tongue, exposing our sanctuary to the outside world.

He exhaled, the sound carrying a mixture of relief and approval. “Good. Maximo and Simon don’t know about the houseboat. Bring her here.”

I hesitated, my grip tightening on the phone. At Crescent Manor, Joy would be safe behind centuries-old protections. She’d be reunited with Serenity, which would ease the haunted look in her eyes. Every instinct I had—as a guardian, as a vampire who’d survived this long—screamed to take her to safety immediately.

But I’d seen the determination in her face when she spoke of her friend. I’d felt the desperation in her voice when she mentioned the other girls. If I took her to Crescent Manor now, those girls would face their fate alone. Joy would never forgive me—or herself. And something in me couldn’t bear to see that light in her extinguished, even if keeping it alive meant risking everything.

She would be safe at Crescent Manor, but she wouldn’t be happy there, not while knowing those other girls would be sold.

My eyes found Joy’s, her expression shifting as she tried to read my face. The promise I’d just made to her hung between us, still fresh, still binding. “There were other girls there, Angelo.” I tested the waters of his tolerance.

“They don’t concern us. Serenity needs to see her and she’ll be safe here.” His dismissal was casual, absolute; assuming I wouldn’t question his orders.

A look of horror fell across Joy’s face. She must have heard him. The distance she created between us tore at my heart as her eyes filled with the beginning of betrayal. In that moment, I could see her reassessing everything—my rescue, my comfort, my promises—wondering if any of it had been real.

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