Page 23 of Cry of Blood and Joy (French Quarter Vampire Enforcer #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Joy

Bam Bam Bam

The sound crashed through my consciousness like thunder, dragging me back from the edge of sleep with violent force.

I blinked slowly, my eyelids feeling heavy as lead weights, and pulled the scratchy hotel blanket over my head like it could somehow shield me from the world.

Every movement felt like swimming through molasses, my limbs weak and unresponsive.

Bone-deep weariness gripped me like a vice, and I groaned softly into the musty fabric. The sound that escaped my lips was pitiful, barely human, and it made my chest ache with a different kind of pain. I was so weak, so tired even the simple act of breathing felt like an enormous effort.

My mind drifted inevitably back to Enzo—the way he’d kissed me with such ravenous passion, his lips moving against mine like silk and a goodbye all at once.

Then the sharp, sweet pain of his fangs piercing my neck, the sensation that should have been pleasure but had become something else entirely.

He’d drained me deliberately, methodically, until I was so weak there was no way I could follow him into whatever danger he was racing toward.

The betrayal still stung, but underneath it was a crushing understanding of why he’d done it. He loved me enough to hurt me, to break something beautiful between us in order to keep me safe. The complexity of it made my heart ache even as my body struggled to function.

“Joy, sweetheart, I know you’re in there.

” The voice drifted through the thin door like poisoned honey, smooth and darkly amused.

“And before you start hyperventilating—which, let’s be honest, you’re probably already doing—I’m not here to hurt you.

Well, not today anyway.” There was a pause that carried through the wood.

“I’m here because we need to chat about your brother.

You know, Steve? Tall, brooding, newly minted vampire with a serious case of hero complex? ”

I put my arm over my forehead. Oh, no. Steve. Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

Another pause, this one heavier with implication.

“See, here’s the thing, darling—Angelo has him.

And trust me when I say that’s not exactly a five-star experience.

So unless you want dear old Steve to become Angelo’s new favorite chew toy, I suggest you open the door and we have ourselves a little conversation. ”

I froze completely, every muscle in my weakened body going rigid with terror. My heart, which had been beating sluggishly from blood loss, suddenly shifted into high gear, pounding frantically. Cold sweat broke out across my skin despite the humid warmth of the room.

It was Dimitri.

Enzo and Rocco were gone, Steve hadn’t returned from his hunt, and I was alone—weak, defenseless, and completely at the mercy of one of Angelo’s most dangerous enforcers. My shadows stirred weakly around me, responding to my fear, but they felt distant and sluggish, as drained as the rest of me.

I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, trying to muffle my ragged breathing as panic crept up my spine.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to call my shadows to protect me, but my body refused to obey.

I was trapped by my own weakness, caught in the very cage Enzo had created to keep me safe.

“Joy, do really want your brother to tango with Angelo? I’ve done that dance. Your brother’s chances of surviving are about a million to one.”

Each syllable drove deeper into my chest until I could barely breathe. Hot tears leaked down my cheeks in steady streams, cutting tracks through the grim and exhaustion that coated my skin like a second layer of despair. The salt burned against my lips, bitter and accusing.

I couldn’t let Steve die. The thought crashed through me with the force of absolute certainty, shattering what little composure I had left.

Angelo would torture him because of me—because I was the one who’d hurt Serenity, because I was the monster who’d put his mate in a coma.

Steve would pay the price for my sins, would scream and bleed and break under Angelo’s torture while I cowered in this filthy room.

I couldn’t let that happen.

It was time to face the music, no matter how much I wanted to sit this one out, no matter how much every fiber of my being screamed at me to stay hidden and safe.

But safety was an illusion—it always had been.

There was no safety for people like me, for monsters who destroyed everything they touched.

I kicked the covers off with violent determination, my weak limbs protesting every movement.

The effort of dragging myself upright sent shockwaves of dizziness through my skull, and I had to grip the edge of the mattress to keep from collapsing back down.

The room spun around me like a carnival ride from hell, tilting and swaying until I thought I might vomit from the sheer disorientation.

I couldn’t move until the spinning stopped, couldn’t do anything but sit there gasping like a landed fish while my body reminded me just how thoroughly Enzo had drained me.

The irony was bitter as poison on my tongue—if Angelo took me to his special room, the pain wouldn’t last long.

Not in the condition I was in. My weakened body would give out quickly under whatever horrors he had planned.

Enzo’s anguished attempt to keep me safe had probably sealed my fate. It had turned me into exactly the kind of helpless victim that wouldn’t survive Angelo’s tender mercies for more than a few hours.

But at least Enzo would be safe. At least Steve would live.

At least the people I loved would survive, even if I didn’t.

The thought should have brought me comfort, but a crushing sense of loss nearly sent me flopping back onto the bed.

That wasn’t an option. I braced my shoulders, resigned to losing both the life I wanted and the love I’d barely begun to explore.

I wiped the tears from my face with shaking hands and forced myself to stand, swaying like a drunk as I prepared to walk toward my own destruction.

“I’m coming.” My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else—someone broken and defeated, someone who’d already given up hope.

The pounding stopped abruptly, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the noise had been.

I had to admit, even through my terror and despair, Dimitri was showing remarkable restraint.

He could have easily broken down the flimsy door, could have torn through it like tissue paper and dragged me out kicking and screaming.

The fact he hadn’t meant he either needed me cooperative or was playing some deeper game I couldn’t fathom.

Each step toward the door was a monumental effort, my legs as weak as a strand of spaghetti. With trembling fingers that felt disconnected from my body, I unlocked the door and pulled it open. My heart pounded so hard against my chest I thought it would burst.

Dimitri leaned casually against the doorjamb like he was posing for a magazine cover, looking devastatingly handsome despite the circumstances.

His tousled dark hair fell across his forehead in artful wisps that probably took him twenty minutes to perfect, and he cocked his eyebrow in that trademark expression as he took in my bedraggled appearance with obvious amusement.

“I believe this place is having a negative effect on you,” he drawled, carrying that familiar blend of mockery and genuine observation that made my skin crawl.

Self-consciousness crashed over me like a wave, and I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, knowing it was a hopeless mess. But vanity was the least of my concerns right now. “Is Steve alive?”

“For the time being,” Dimitri replied with casual indifference that made my stomach clench with fresh terror. “But he won’t be for long if you don’t come with me.” The threat was delivered with such nonchalance, it was almost worse than if he’d screamed it.

I looked deep into his dark eyes, searching for any hint of mercy, any trace of humanity that might exist beneath his predatory exterior. “If I go with you, will Angelo let Steve go and not kill Enzo?” The words came out in such a rush that I wasn’t even sure he understood what I had said.

“Joy, Joy, Joy.” Dimitri shook his head with exaggerated disappointment, like I was a naive child who’d asked if Santa Claus was real.

“You must be under the illusion I have any influence over our currently psychotic vampire overlord.” The casual way he described Angelo’s mental state filled me with a bone chilling terror.

“Please, Dimitri.” I hated how desperate I was, desperate to do anything—even sacrifice myself for my brother.

I was the one who had to pay for my sin, not Steve, not Enzo—me.

“You have to convince him.” The plea felt like swallowing broken glass, but I’d beg on my hands and knees if it meant saving the people I loved.

He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of mock sincerity that was both theatrical and somehow genuine.

“I’m not exactly his best buddy, sweetheart, but I know someone who might have a chance—and the operative word here is might—Gianna.

But no promises.” His expression softened slightly, just enough to give me a glimpse of the man beneath the monster.

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was probably the only silver lining in this storm cloud of despair. A chance was better than no chance at all, even if it was slimmer than a razor’s edge.

I ran my fingers through my hair again, a nervous gesture that accomplished nothing except to remind me how utterly destroyed I looked and felt. “Well, then,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice when everything inside me was screaming in terror. “Let’s go see Angelo.”

“He has a special room all set up for you at the casino.”

“You mean like the one you were in?”

“That was his special room at Crescent Manor. The one at the casino is straight out of medieval times.”

The words were like signing my own death warrant, but if there was even the smallest possibility my sacrifice could save Steve and Enzo, then it was a price I was willing to pay.

“This way,” Dimitri said as he motioned toward a sleek black Corvette that gleamed like polished obsidian in the dim parking lot lighting.

The car looked completely out of place among the rusted economy vehicles and beat-up sedans that surrounded it, like a panther lounging among alley cats.

Even in my weakened state, I had to admire the audacity of it.

The only bright side to this entire nightmare was he wasn’t going to toss me over his shoulder like Enzo had done. If he tried that in my current condition, I would definitely be redecorating his pristine black leather jacket, and vomit wasn’t a good look on anyone.

He opened the passenger door with exaggerated courtesy, like we were heading to dinner instead of my execution. I practically fell into the passenger seat, my legs giving out as I tried to lower myself gracefully. Dimitri had to steady my elbow to keep me from collapsing completely.

The leather seats probably cost more than most people made in a month. The interior smelled of expensive cologne and leather conditioner, a stark contrast to the musty decay of the hotel room I’d just left behind. My head lolled against the headrest, the simple act of holding it up too exhausting.

As the engine purred to life with predatory elegance, memories crashed over me like a tidal wave of terror.

Ever since the first time I’d seen Angelo Santi at Fandor Citadel, where the demon Balthazar was threatening to execute him, he had terrified me on a level beyond rational thought.

There was something in his cold, calculating eyes—an absolute absence of mercy, compassion, or humanity.

Even beaten and bloodied, I knew instinctively he was the most dangerous creature in the room.

My first instincts about him had been devastatingly right.

I was about to enter his infamous torture chamber in the casino—the room people entered but never emerged from alive.

The stories whispered about that place were the stuff of nightmares, tales of agony that lasted for days, of men who had begged for death long before Angelo granted it.

My hands trembled in my lap as the Corvette glided through the empty New Orleans streets, each passing block bringing me closer to my doom. The city lights blurred past the window like tears, beautiful and distant, as if I were already becoming a ghost watching the world of the living slip away.

I pressed my face against the cool glass and closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of being alive, of having a heartbeat, of existing in a world where Enzo’s laughter could still echo in empty rooms.

I just hoped that somehow, somewhere, Enzo would understand why I’d made this choice.

I hoped he would know, beyond any shadow of doubt, how much I loved him—loved him enough to walk into hell itself if it meant keeping him and Steve safe.

I hoped he wouldn’t blame himself for what was about to happen, wouldn’t carry the guilt of my death like another chain around his heart.

But most of all, I hoped he would find a way to forgive himself, and maybe someday find happiness again, even if it had to be without me.