Page 20 of Oath of Blood and Joy

My shoulders sagged, matching the hollow feeling spreading beneath my ribs. I still could taste Enzo’s lips on mine, sweet and intoxicating, the memory burning through me with unexpected intensity. I had felt safe in his arms, knowing that no one could harm me with him holding me close, his strength a sanctuary in this nightmare world of shadows and monsters.

But this creature before me...man or beast or pure evil...Maximo might have the power to bring down my brave vampire. The very thought carved a hollow of dread in my chest, threatening to swallow me whole. That wasn’t something I could live with—the guilt of watching Enzo die when I could have prevented it would haunt me forever. He had risked his life to save me, had thrown himself between me and death without hesitation, his protection unwavering despite barely knowing me.

And I wouldn’t let him die. The decision crystallized within me, turning my fear to steely resolve, my confusion to fierce determination. My hands trembled but my gaze remained steady as I faced the monster before me, ready to sacrifice myself for the vampire who had awakened something dangerous and powerful within me—something I was only beginning to understand.

I blinked away tears, each one a tiny crystal of fear and regret, and headed outside into the night air that suddenly felt colder against my skin. My feet were bare, vulnerable. The sandals had been discarded next to the couch where Enzo had kissed me just moments ago—a lifetime ago. My cheeks still tingled where his stubble had brushed against my sensitive skin, the sensation a lingering reminder of his touch, now the only physical evidence that his lips had ever found mine.

I had to save him. Maximo left me little choice.

I braced my shoulders and forced myself down the steps of the houseboat, each sound seeming to echo across the dark water. Taking a deep breath, I stepped from the dock onto the marshy ground of the bayou. Stickers and sticks dug into my feet with each hesitant step forward, tiny daggers of pain shooting up my legs. I winced and pressed my lips together to keep a groan from escaping, unwilling to give Maximo the satisfaction of hearing my discomfort. My toes curled against the hostileground, desperately trying to minimize the contact with the sharp objects hidden in the darkness.

Maximo didn’t make a move to help me across the sticker path and almost seemed to enjoy my pain, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as I stumbled. The shadow manipulator in me wanted to lash out, to wrap him in darkness and squeeze until he couldn’t breathe, but I restrained myself—Enzo’s life hung in the balance. I took his hand with my shaking one, feeling the unnatural coolness of his skin against my trembling fingers, bile rising in my throat at the contact.

He whisked me over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, his grip tight enough to bruise, knocking the breath from my lungs. The world tilted sickeningly as blood rushed to my head. Then we moved faster than I expected, trees and bushes blurring into streaks of shadow as the wind whipped my hair painfully against my face. My stomach lurched with each impossible leap and bound as we disappeared into the darkness, deeper into the unknown.

My last glimpse back showed me the protective shadow barrier still surrounding Enzo’s crumpled form. Enzo was wounded but not dead. That single thought became my anchor, the only comfort in this storm of terror. I clung to it desperately as Maximo carried me away from everything familiar, from the vampire who had somehow, in the span of a single night, become my unlikely protector—and perhaps something more.

Chapter Fourteen

Enzo

Agony pulsed through me as if I’d been stabbed with a hellish blade, each wave of pain more excruciating than the last. My muscles seized and twitched uselessly. What the hell was in Maximo’s fingers? Some ancient venom I’d never encountered in all my centuries? It was as if I were paralyzed—unable to move, unable to save Joy.

Again.

The word echoed in my mind like a damning bell. History repeating itself in the cruelest way possible. Once more, I was forced to watch helplessly as someone I’d sworn to protect was taken from me. The paralysis couldn’t mask the slowly sinking failure settling on my chest, heavier than any physical wound.

Heavy footsteps faded away from me, each one taking Joy further from my reach. I couldn’t even call out, my throat constricted by whatever poison now coursed through my veins. I strained against the invisible bonds holding me, blood vessels threatening to burst with the effort. Nothing. Anger surged through me, primal and white-hot, and the only thing thatmoved was the lengthening of my fangs, stretching painfully in my mouth, desperate for Maximo’s throat.

Maximo was dead, dead, dead.

The promise repeated itself in my mind like a sacred vow. If it took another century, another millennia—I would hunt him to the ends of the earth. I would tear out his still-beating heart and watch the light fade from those unnatural red eyes. Every moment of Joy’s suffering would be repaid tenfold. My vision pulsed red with murderous intent even as my body refused to obey my commands.

Shadows slowly faded away from me as if I’d been in a protective box, tendrils of darkness reluctantly retreating like living things. Had Joy done that? What was this power? In all my years walking this earth, I’d seen many gifts manifest in humans—precognition, pyrokinesis, even limited telekinesis—but shadow manipulation was rare, ancient. Magic that echoed from a forgotten era when spirits and mortals shared the same paths.

The implications sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with my immobile state. If she could control shadows without training, what else might she be capable of? And more importantly, what might others do to possess such power? Maximo was merely the first. There would be others—vampires, demons, entities from realms I dared not name. All would come for her once word spread.

As feeling gradually returned to my fingertips, bringing with it fresh waves of searing pain, I made another silent vow. I would find her. I would save her. And then I would discover what she truly was—this woman who could command shadows with a thought. No more assumptions, no more mysteries.

If only I could move. If only I could follow. The scent of her fear still hung in the air, taunting me with its freshness. Time was running out.

With a bellow of rage that began in my mind but emerged as little more than a strangled groan, I forced my index finger to twitch. It was a start. A beginning.

Maximo had no idea what he had just unleashed.

I drew on my vampire strength—the same strength that had put down dozens of rats who thought they could muscle in on our territory—but all I could move was my thumb and my eyes. It was as if my blood, muscles, and bones had all congealed into a wax of burning pain, my body a prison of agony. Whatever toxin Maximo had used was potent enough to incapacitate even one of my kind—immortal and unnaturally strong. I’d need to remember this, if I survived.

More footsteps approached, cautious yet deliberate Was the bastard coming back? Returning to gloat over his victory, perhaps? Maybe I could use compulsion—lock eyes with him and force him to reveal where he’d taken Joy. Even in my weakened state, I might manage that much. I focused what little energy I had left on preparing for eye contact.

“Enzo? Where’s Joy?”

The moonlight cast a silvery glow on a surprising face—Steve DuPont. He was supposed to have gone back with Lorcan to Keir’s Court of Thorns. Why was he here?

I hadn’t noticed before how much his features resembled Joy’s, though his were harder, more weathered by time and violence. It struck me now, seeing him in this light, how neither of them bore any resemblance to Louis DuPont, the man whose name they carried. He’d be furious to know that I lost his sister for the second time, even if I was his maker. Some enforcer I was. Shame burned hotter than the venom in my veins. The Santi family had one rule above all others—protect your own. I’d broken it. Twice.

I moved my mouth, but no sound came out except a low, miserable hiss. Pathetic.

The frustration nearly drove me mad—so much to tell him, to warn him about, and my body betrayed me at every turn.

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