Page 31 of Oath of Blood and Joy

I kept my face carefully blank, centuries of practice hiding the rebellion burning in my dead heart. But my decision was made. If it came to it, I would stand between Joy and the world. Even if that world included Angelo.

Chapter Twenty-One

Joy

The door creaked open and Marsha entered the room, the harsh fluorescent light behind her casting her elongated shadow across the cold floor. My head throbbed with a dull ache, my mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Oh, good. You slept well, little one.” Marsha approached me, the cloying scent of her perfume—roses and something chemical—flooding my nostrils.

I crossed my arms across my chest, feeling the silky fabric of the black gown against my skin—a garment far too revealing, too adult for my comfort. The smooth material slipped treacherously under my fingers as I tried to pull it higher over my chest, covering my thumping heart. “Who undressed me?” The words came out hoarse, betraying my fear despite my attempt to sound defiant.

Marsha’s lips curled into a smirk as she set down a tray I hadn’t noticed before, the metal clattering against the small bedside table. “Worried that one of the guards saw you?” She tilted her head, studying me like a specimen under glass.

I glared at her, heat rising to my cheeks as my fingers dug into the delicate fabric of the gown. The shadows in the corner of the room trembled slightly, responding to the surge of emotion I couldn’t fully control.

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the tile, and twisted my nose hard enough to make my eyes water. “Don’t worry. It was me under Maximo’s careful gaze.” Her nails cut into my skin when she finally released me.

My gut turned at Maximo seeing me naked. I swallowed hard, tasting bile at the back of my throat as I shifted away from her touch, the long black silk of the gown pooling around me and cascading over the edge of the bed. The thin mattress beneath me creaked with the movement. “But why? I don’t understand. He’s never done that before.”

“Because you belong to him.” Marsha smoothed her immaculate skirt, the gesture casual and terrifying in its normalcy. Her eyes, cold and empty as a doll’s, met mine. “He can do whatever he wants to you, even take you if he wants to. Come with me. He wants to see you.” She smiled then, revealing teeth too white and too perfect, like a predator’s.

I had no choice but to follow her out of the room, her words haunting me like malevolent whispers. My bare feet flinched against the cold stone floor as we entered the fort’s hallway. Ancient gray walls loomed on either side, scarred with centuries of history and stained with patches of dark mold that climbed like slow-moving creatures toward the low ceiling. Mismatched torches cast wavering shadows that seemed to reach for me as we passed, their bronze light doing little to dispel the gloom.

The atmosphere pressed down with the scent of damp stone and something else—something ancient and unwholesome that clung to the back of my throat with each breath. Water trickled down one wall in a thin rivulet, marking time like a broken clock. The oppressive silence was broken only by Marsha’s heelsclicking sharply against stone and the soft whisper of my silk gown.

The fort’s hallway was just as dreary as my thoughts about Maximo—cold, confining, and filled with lurking threats in every shadow. Each step forward felt like moving deeper into a trap from which there would be no escape, the corridor stretching before me like a throat ready to swallow what little remained of my freedom.

Sleeping with Maximo? The thought hit me like a sharp, angry wind, making my lungs constrict painfully. Images flashed unbidden through my mind—his weathered hands roaming over my skin, his mouth claiming mine—and acid burned in my gut, rising up my throat until I could taste its bitter warning. I swallowed hard against the wave of nausea, the silk of the gown suddenly feeling like a thousand tiny spiders against my skin.

Enzo might have lived for centuries, but his face remained eternally youthful. Maximo, though, looked every one of his mortal years—practically twice my age, with those cold, calculating eyes that had always assessed me like property rather than a person.

Every cell in my body recoiled at the thought of his touch. I had absolutely no attraction for him—how could I? He was my captor, the man who had stripped away my freedom, my dignity, my choice. The shadows in the corners of the room quivered and stretched toward me, responding to the spike of revulsion and fear I couldn’t suppress.

My mind fled instinctively to Enzo—to the memory of his kiss, unexpected and consuming. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his lips against mine, gentle yet demanding, the subtle coolness of his vampire touch that had somehow burned through me like fire. My fingers unconsciously rose to my lips, tracing where his had been. Even now, trapped in this nightmare, the memory sent a forbidden shiver down my spine.

I couldn’t imagine ever feeling for anyone what I felt for Enzo, despite my confusion about what those feelings even were. He was dangerous, complicated, a predator in his own right, but he had never made me feel like a piece of property. The conflict he stirred in me was nothing like the pure revulsion Maximo inspired. With Enzo at least, there had been choice. There had been respect beneath the hunger. Maximo, on the other hand, everything was always forced. I was never given a choice.

Henry stood outside a door, wearing a surly look that twisted his features into something barely human. His eyes tracked my approach with undisguised malice, lingering on the silk gown in a way that made my skin crawl. The memory of his hands on Zoe flashed through my mind, sharp and sickening. But I refused to cower before him, straightening my spine instead and lifting my chin. I held my head high, drawing on every ounce of hope I possessed.

I met his gaze directly, a small act of defiance that made his jaw clench. My thoughts raced to Zoe—her terrified face, her desperate cries right before Henry knocked me unconscious. God, I hoped he hadn’t finished what he started when I couldn’t protect her. The uncertainty tightened around my heart, but I forced my lips into the ghost of a smile, refusing to let him see how deeply his presence affected me. Whatever light remained in me, I would use it as a shield—not just for myself, but for Zoe and all the others trapped in this nightmare.

I entered the room, hesitating at the threshold as the rich aromas hit me in a conflicting wave—buttery croissants, savory bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and the distinctive bittersweet smell of chicory coffee that reminded me painfully of home. A long wooden table dominated the space, its polished surface gleaming under ornate chandeliers, food arranged with meticulous precision like some mockery of normalcy.

Maximo sat at one end, his posture perfect, fingers drumming lightly against the dark wood. My gaze fell on the empty place-setting and chair next to him, and my throat constricted at the implication. Sitting next to him, knowing he’d seen me naked while I was unconscious, stirred a nauseating violation that seemed to seep into my very pores. The black silk of my gown suddenly felt too thin, too revealing, offering no protection from his calculating gaze.

Marsha slid into the other chair next to him with practiced grace, the scrape of wood against floor grating in my ears. She smoothed her skirt with one hand while shooting me a pointed look, her smile never reaching her eyes.

“Joy, please sit.” Maximo gestured toward the chair next to him, the movement fluid and commanding at once. His eyes never left my face, studying my reaction. “You must eat before your next lesson.”

Nausea gripped my center like a fist, acid churning against emptiness. I doubted my stomach would tolerate a single bite, but refusing would only make things worse. My fingers curled against the fabric of my gown as I forced myself to move forward on leaden legs. Whatever lesson he was planning would be horrible, just like it had been with Zoe—her muffled screams still haunted me. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to pulse in response to my fear, a reminder of the power within me, the very reason I was here.

I reluctantly sat next to Maximo, keeping my eyes fixed on the polished wood grain of the table. Every heartbeat sent fresh pulses of pain through my bruised face. The physical proximity to him made my skin prickle with revulsion, as though my body itself was trying to shrink away.

He poured me a cup of coffee, the dark liquid swirling in the delicate porcelain cup. The familiar aroma that should have been comforting now turned my stomach. “Since today is sucha beautiful day, you’ll be outside. Your lesson today is to unlock something with your shadows.”

“What if I can’t?” I desperately tried to hide the fear that threatened to betray me.

Marsha laughed, the sound like glass breaking. “Then you’ll get some more bruises to go with the ones you already possess.” Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, already selecting spots on my body for new marks.

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