Page 17 of Cry of Blood and Joy
“No.” The word came out fierce, almost growling, as I cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look at me. “You’ve given me life where there was only loneliness. For centuries, I’ve walked through this world like a ghost, existing but not really living.” My thumbs brushed away the tears on her cheeks. “I’ve always lived in darkness, Joy. But you—you bring me into the light. You make me remember what it feels like to hope, to laugh, to care about something more than just surviving another night.”
I pressed my forehead against hers, breathing in her scent, grounding myself in her presence. “That’s worth fighting for. You’re worth fighting for. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—Angelo, Keir, or anyone else—take that away from me.”
Chapter Eleven
Joy
Having a bounty on my head was one thing. Knowing Angelo’s men were closing in was another entirely.
My hands shook uncontrollably, and I could feel that familiar electric tingle crawling beneath my skin—the powers I couldn’t leash, couldn’t silence, couldn’t hide. Panic clawed at my chest. Angelo and his men were hunting me like some prize to be claimed.
The metallic taste of fear flooded my mouth as I stared at Enzo’s grim expression. I was the daughter of an honest police detective—Louis DuPont—or at least I thought I had been. My heart ached at knowing that wasn’t true. The memory of his steady presence, the scent of coffee and Old Spice that always clung to his uniform, the way he’d ruffle my hair and call me “kiddo”—none of that was a lie, was it? He wasn’t my blood father, but he was in every other way that mattered.
My throat constricted with grief. If he knew what I’d become... what Steve had become... or even what Louis had become in the end—it would have broken his heart.
A sharp crack split the air as the lightbulb above us exploded, glass raining down like deadly confetti. Shadows swirled around it as if they had a mind of their own. I flinched, pressing my palms against my temples. Over and over I concentrated on just inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The acrid smell of burned ozone filled the space between us.
“This is exactly why they fear you,” Enzo murmured, his voice barely audible over the buzzing of my uncontrolled energy. His warm breath ghosted across my cheek as he leaned closer.
I couldn’t let my powers spiral again—not with Dimitri outside, not with Enzo and Steve counting on me to keep it together.
His calloused fingers gently caught my chin, tilting my face until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. When I finally looked into his dark eyes, they held no fear, no disgust—only a tenderness that made my throat tighten with unshed tears. Slowly, gently, he lifted my trembling hand to his lips. The brush of his mouth against my knuckles sent warmth spiraling through me, chasing away the cold dread that had settled in my bones.
“It’s why I love you,” he whispered against my skin.
My heart fractured with disbelief and hope. The scent of his cologne—leather and spice and all Enzo—filled my lungs as I searched his face for any hint of deception. Finding none, I offered him a smile that felt as fragile as spun glass, weighed down by all my fears.
“Because I’m dangerous?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, like ash and regret.
His thumb traced the curve of my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “No,” he said, his voice firm but infinitely gentle. The warmth of his palm cupped my face like he was holding something precious. “Because you’d do anything to protect those you love. Your shadows are your strength—not a curse.”
Something loosened in my chest, like a fist finally unclenching. As if responding to his words, the shadows around us shifted, no longer wild and chaotic but flowing like silk, wrapping around us both in a cocoon of protective darkness that felt like coming home.
He slipped his hand around my waist, his fingers spreading wide against the small of my back, and pulled me close until there was no space left between us. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest, grounding me in a way nothing else could. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of my shirt, chasing away the lingering chill of fear.
His lips came down and captured mine with a gentleness that made my knees weak. The kiss started soft, tentative—as if he were asking permission—but when I melted against him, it deepened with a hunger that spoke all the words we couldn’t say. He tasted like red wine and something sweeter, something mesmerizing, and I found myself drowning in the sensation.
I moved my hands up into his hair, threading my fingers through the dark strands that were softer than I’d imagined. He made a low sound in the back of his throat when my nails scraped gently against his scalp, and the vibration sent shivers racing down my spine. His other hand came up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin just below my ear.
For a moment, the world fell away—no bounties, no supernatural threats, no uncontrolled powers crackling beneath my skin. There was only this: the way he held me like I was something precious rather than dangerous, the way his breathing had gone ragged against my mouth, the way the shadows around us seemed to sigh and settle into stillness, finally at peace.
“Do you guys need to get a room?” a lazy voice drawled from the doorway, dripping with amusement and poorly timed humor.
The spell between us shattered like glass. I slowly pulled away from Enzo, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as the real world came crashing back. My lips tingled from his kiss, and the ghost of his touch remained on my skin. The shadows that had been peacefully wrapped around us scattered like startled birds, retreating to the corners of the room where they belonged.
Enzo’s arms tightened around me for just a moment—protective, possessive—before he reluctantly let me step back. When he turned toward the interruption, his dark eyes had gone cold as winter, and I could practically feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. The gentle man who had just been kissing me with such tenderness had vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous.
He glared at Steve with the kind of look that could have frozen blood in someone’s veins. “Maybe you should get one if you want to live.” His voice was silk wrapped around steel, each word carefully measured and deadly quiet. The threat wasn’t empty—I could see it in the predatory stillness of his posture, the way his hands had curled into loose fists at his sides.
Steve held up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin never wavered. “Easy there, fangs. Just thought you’d want to know we’ve got company coming–the kind that doesn’t knock.”
Crap, they found us. The world tilted sideways as blood drained from my face and black dots danced in front of my eyes.
Enzo immediately moved in front of me as if to protect me. “Who is it?”
Shitshitshitshit.
“Dimitri Dragan.”
