Page 62 of Oath of Blood and Joy

I searched his face, trying to find any hint of deception. This man was lethal—I’d seen what he could do, the violence his hands were capable of. Yet those same hands now held me with such careful tenderness that it made my chest ache. It wasn’t a question of trust anymore. He’d proven himself, again and again, until doubt had no room left to breathe. He had rescued me from that box, had saved the other girls, had protected my brother despite whatever tension existed between him and Angelo.

The water’s gentle patter filled the silence between us as I made my decision. I nodded shyly, my eyelashes lowering as I gave this small permission. The simple act felt monumental. Perhaps this was the first real choice I’d made since this nightmare began—a choice not born of fear but of a fragile, newborn hope.

Enzo’s hand found mine, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against my skin—a quiet claim, both protective and intimate. The simple touch of his hand sent a current of warmth up my arm as he guided me into a shower large enough for five. The black marble gleamed beneath our feet, water streaming from above in a soft, relentless downpour. He hadn’t bothered to shed his pants, the soaked fabric clinging to him, somehow making the moment even more intimate. The water was perfectly hot, steam rising around us like a protective veil from the outside world.

He emptied some bath gel into his hand—something expensive that smelled of vanilla and cinnamon—and watchedme for a moment, his eyes drinking in every detail of my body with an intensity that made my skin flush beyond the heat of the water. When he finally touched me, beginning to swirl the gel around my body, I gasped at the gentleness in his hands. Those same hands that had torn apart enemies now moved over my skin with reverent care, washing away the smell of the box, the grime, and every stamp of Maximo’s captivity.

His fingers traced paths across my shoulders, down my arms, around the curve of my waist—each touch deliberate, cleansing more than just my body. With every sweep of his hands, I felt pieces of my fear dissolving, washing down the drain with the soapy water. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me—this beautiful, fierce man literally washing away the nightmare I’d endured.

Next, he carefully poured shampoo into his palm and began to wash my hair. His fingers massaged my scalp with surprising tenderness, working through tangles with patient care. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation. Never had something so simple felt so profoundly intimate. The rhythmic pressure of his fingertips against my scalp sent waves of pleasure rippling down my spine, easing the tension I’d been carrying for far too long.

He worked meticulously until my hair was squeaky clean, the last traces of my captivity gone. Water cascaded over us both, his body occasionally brushing against mine in the confined space. Each point of contact felt electric, awakening sensations I’d never experienced before. Through half-closed eyes, I watched rivulets of water trace paths down his sculpted chest, following the tattoo of roses to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.

In this sanctuary of steam and running water, the outside world with all its dangers seemed impossibly distant. Here, there were no Dark Demons, no kidnappers, no supernatural wars—just two people finding unexpected connection in the aftermath of violence.

He pushed back my hair behind my ears, his fingertips lingering against my temple in a touch so gentle it made my heart ache. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, making him look strangely vulnerable despite his immortal strength. “Feel clean?”

Goosebumps prickled along my arms as I drowned in those dark eyes—eyes that had witnessed centuries, yet now saw nothing but me. The air between us seemed charged, making each breath a conscious effort. “Yes. Now I…” The words trailed off, my inexperience making me hesitant to voice the desire building inside me.

“Want me?” He finished my thought, the two simple words sending a shiver down my spine despite the steam surrounding us. Without waiting for my answer—perhaps reading it in my eyes—he kicked off his shoes, then slipped out of his pants with ease, flinging them aside as if the world had shrunk to just us.

His legs were sculpted like the rest of him, powerful and perfect. His cock took my breath away, the sight of him fully nude making reality shift around me. This beautiful, formidable creature wanted me—ordinary, human me. He quickly washed himself with efficient movements, the last traces of the night’s violence disappearing down the drain until not a speck of blood remained on him.

“Now I’m clean…” He reached out, water streaming between us as he lifted my chin with one finger. The tenderness in his touch contrasted with the raw hunger in his eyes, creating a delicious tension that made my knees weak. “But I don’t want to take you here.”

The words held promise rather than rejection, making anticipation coil low in my stomach. Despite the heat of the shower, goosebumps rose on my skin as I imagined what would happen when we stepped out of this marble sanctuary.

He lifted me out of the shower with effortless strength, water cascading from our bodies as he cradled me against his chest. Goosebumps bloomed where the cool air licked over me, clashing deliciously with the warmth radiating from him.

“I can’t wait to take you to bed. I have to have you now,” he murmured.

With careful, possessive hands, he lowered me onto a soft white rug, spreading me out beneath him. The plush fur tickled my slick skin, sending tiny shivers of sensation across my back and thighs, every nerve awake and wanting.

I should be cold, vulnerable, exposed like this—but everything about this fragment of time had me on fire. Heat radiated from somewhere deep inside me, a primal need I’d never experienced before. His eyes roamed over my body with unconcealed hunger, the intensity of his gaze almost a physical touch that left trails of heat in its wake.

He lowered himself over me, the weight of him both thrilling and intimidating. When he kissed me, the world narrowed to just this—his lips against mine, gentle yet demanding, coaxing responses from me I never knew I was capable of giving. I slipped my hands around his massive shoulders, marveling at the hard strength beneath my fingertips. The dampness of his skin made my hands glide easily over the contours of muscle and bone.

My leg rubbed up and down his, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through my body. The intimacy of skin against skin, the newness of a man’s body against mine—it was overwhelming and perfect. But beneath the heat, every touch felt like a promise, something meant to linger long after.

He slowly kissed me, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that belied the hunger in his eyes. His hands roamed over my body with deliberate purpose, fingertips tracing constellations across my skin as if memorizing every curve andhollow. Each caress, each kiss created a heat in me that radiated outward from my core, melting away any lingering doubts or fears.

He planted soft kisses down my throat, the dark shadow of his beard tickling the sensitive skin there. The contrast between the smoothness of his lips and the rough texture of stubble sent shivers cascading down my spine. I gasped when he reached the hollow where my neck met my shoulder, my pulse quickening beneath his mouth. The knowledge that he could feel my heartbeat, could sense the blood rushing just beneath the surface, added a dangerous edge to the pleasure that only heightened my desire.

I moved my hand over his body with exploratory wonder, wanting to feel every muscle, every plane and ridge that made him who he was. The steady warmth of his skin seemed to deepen beneath my touch, as if contact only stoked the heat simmering between us. His chest rose and fell with increasingly rapid breaths that matched my own.

His lips traveled lower, capturing one nipple with exquisite gentleness before applying just enough pressure to make me arch my back, allowing him to take more of my flesh. I never thought it would feel like this—a relentless onslaught of sensation that shattered any hope of clear thinking. A sound escaped me, half sigh and half moan, as pleasure spiraled outward from where his mouth worked against me.

I dragged my fingers through his dark hair, still damp from the shower, marveling at the silky texture between my fingers. The simple intimacy of touching him this way felt almost as profound as the more explicit caresses we shared. His hair curled slightly around my fingers, as if wanting to hold me there.

His hand moved with deliberate slowness down my stomach, leaving trails of fire in its wake until he reached my inner thighs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, my body tensing withneed. When his fingers finally stroked my inner folds, I moaned in pleasure, my hips rising instinctively to meet his touch. The world narrowed until there was only his hand against the most intimate part of me, drawing sensations I’d never experienced before.

In that instant, all the terror of the past days, all the supernatural complications of this new world I’d entered, faded to insignificance. There was only this—this man, this touch, this perfect storm of sensation that threatened to overwhelm me completely.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmured as he looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire yet somehow reverent. The vulnerability of his request paired with the intensity in his gaze, made my breath catch in my throat. “I want to bring you joy.” The double meaning of my name on his lips sent a shiver of anticipation through my entire body.

His long wet hair brushed down my hot skin as he positioned himself between my thighs, the dripping locks leaving cool, teasing trails in their wake. I shivered as I spread my legs, exposed and vulnerable in a way I’d never been before. The cool air of the bathroom against my most intimate parts made me tremble with anticipation and nervous energy.

He kissed my secret mound with unexpected tenderness, the gentle pressure causing sparks to shoot through my core. I grabbed the furry rug, bunching it in my fist, needing something to anchor me as sensation threatened to sweep me away. The soft texture against my fingers was a stark contrast to the firm pressure of his mouth.

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