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Chapter Twelve

Joy

Panic hugged me, cutting off my air, as Enzo restrained me against his broad chest. His arms formed an unbreakable cage around me, his supernatural strength evident in how effortlessly he held me despite my struggles.

I hadn’t meant for the shadows to come out, but I didn’t have any control over them.

It was as if they had a mind of their own, responding to my desperation like loyal pets to their master’s distress.

He shifted me around to face him, his movements swift and fluid.

His eyes burned crimson, twin flames in the darkness, boring into mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

His fingers gripped my arms firmly, not enough to bruise but with a certainty that left no possibility of escape.

The scent of him—cedar and something metallic—filled my senses as his face hovered inches from mine.

“How long have you been able to do this?” His voice emerged as a rough whisper, wonder and wariness battling in his tone.

“Let me go, please.” The shadows around us pulsed in response to my fear, darkening further. “You’re scaring me.”

Something flickered across his features—regret, perhaps—and he abruptly released me. Without his support, I stumbled backward, my legs wobbling beneath me like a newborn colt’s.

“I’m sorry.” The red in his eyes faded to their normal deep brown as he closed the distance between us in a single step. Before I could react, he carried me to the couch. The sudden shift from restraint to tenderness left me disoriented. “I never want to frighten you.”

I panted, trying to catch my breath, my heart still racing like a trapped bird. My hand moved to my throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath my fingertips. The remnants of shadows curled around my fingers before dissipating into the air.

“Please,” he said, as he knelt before me. “Tell me about this ability.” His eyes searched mine, no longer frightening but filled with something that looked almost like awe.

“Not… not long. Marsha cast some kind of spell and that’s when… it happened.”

He clasped my hand and squeezed gently. “What exactly did she say? It’s important.”

I wasn’t sure why that mattered, but since lying wasn’t my strength I told him the truth.

“She said she unleashed a power inside me… and she said I was an Unseelie. But that’s a lie.

” I lifted my chin up high, the soft cotton of the borrowed T-shirt brushing against my collarbone as I straightened my posture defensively.

“I know who my parents are.” The word Unseelie still echoed uncomfortably in my mind.

He stared into my eyes, his gaze penetrating as if he could see through the layers of certainty I was trying to wrap around myself.

The intensity of his focus made the room feel smaller.

“Are you sure about that?” His question hung in the air between us, weighted with implications I didn’t want to consider.

“Yes.” I swallowed hard, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my T-shirt.

“Louis and Marie DuPont were my parents. I have the birth certificate saying that. And Steve is my half-brother.” The memories of my childhood home flickered through my mind—sunlight through kitchen windows, my mother’s laugh, my father’s steady hand on my shoulder—real, tangible memories that couldn’t be lies.

He cocked his eyebrow, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “Half-brother?”

“Yes, Louis wasn’t his father, but mother never said who his was.” The familiar old family secret suddenly felt different in this new context, a puzzle piece that might fit into a picture I hadn’t seen before.

“Steve is human, that I know for sure.” His shoulders tensed slightly, a subtle shift that nonetheless set off warning bells in my mind.

He hesitated and avoided my gaze, his attention focusing on some point beyond my shoulder. The houseboat creaked gently beneath us, the sound filling the sudden silence.

A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “Why? Who made my brother a vampire? Tell me the truth.” My hands clenched into fists, the shadows in the corners of the room deepening in response to my rising anxiety.

He met my gaze, his expression grave, eyes no longer avoiding mine but steady with purpose. “You asked me to save him and the only way to do that was to turn him.”

The memory crashed over me in vivid detail—Steve appearing out of nowhere, the gleam of a blade, Enzo’s fangs at my brother’s throat. I could still hear my own voice, raw with panic: “Stop! Enzo, please! You’re killing him!”

“I remember,” I whispered, my hand rising to my throat as if I could feel the phantom pain of Enzo’s fangs there instead of at my brother’s neck. “Steve stabbed you in the back. He tried to kill you while you were trying to reach me.”

The image of Enzo on his knees, the knife in his back, then the terrible swiftness with which he’d grabbed Steve?—

“You were draining him,” I continued, my voice stronger as more details returned. “I begged you to stop, and you—” I paused, realizing the significance of what had happened next. “You gave him your blood. You turned him instead of letting him die.”

I searched Enzo’s face, trying to understand the man before me.

He held his head high, every bit of a warrior, not apologizing.

The sharp angles of his jawline tensed as our eyes met, and a muscle twitched near the corner of his mouth—a small tell betraying his otherwise perfect composure.

His dark eyes, usually guarded and calculating, now held a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before—a pleading look that softened his features and made him seem almost human.

His hands hung at his sides, not clenched in fists as I might have expected, but open, as if offering something.

Forgiveness perhaps? “You had every right to kill him after what he did, but you saved him because I asked you to.”

“I would do anything to please you.”

That simple answer was like a gift, a gift I never expected.

“Why would my wishes matter that much to you? You only saw me that one time.”

He didn’t answer right away, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made my skin tingle. “How did you know my name?” The question seemed to come from nowhere, but I sensed it was connected to what he wasn’t telling me.

“Maximo. He described you.” I remembered the fear in Maximo’s voice when he spoke of the vampire enforcer, the way his hands had trembled. “The first time I saw you, I knew it was you.”

He chuckled, the sound unexpectedly warm. Something playful danced in his eyes, at odds with the dangerous reputation that had preceded him. “Ah, I see. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

Heat raced down my throat. How could he disappoint me?

He was a dark avenger, exactly as fearsome and powerful as the whispers had claimed.

Yet there was something more to him—something Maximo’s terrible descriptions had missed entirely.

I held his gaze, determined not to be distracted. “You haven’t answered my question.”

A thought struck me with sudden clarity, making my heart skip.

“Wait, have you been following me?” The pieces began to align—strange sensations of being watched on campus, unexplained shadows that I’d dismissed as paranoia after Serenity disappeared.

The way he looked at me with a familiarity that couldn’t come from a single encounter.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something that might have been guilt crossing his handsome features before his face settled back into careful neutrality. My question had hit its mark.

“How long?” I demanded, indignation temporarily overriding fear.

The violation of privacy, the thought that this stranger had been observing my life while I remained oblivious, sent a wave of anger through me that momentarily pushed aside the horror of my brother’s transformation.

“How long have you been watching me without my knowledge?”

“Angelo ordered me to follow you. Make sure that you didn’t find out we had Serenity.

” Something vulnerable flickered across his usually guarded features.

“The minute I saw you, I knew I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Then that damn explosion happened at Crimson Stakes and I lost you.

” He bowed his head, his broad shoulders slumping with remembered failure.

“It was my fault. I should have made sure you were safe before I went into that damn casino.”

I stared at him, the initial surge of anger already beginning to soften around the edges. Despite everything, I couldn’t hold onto rage when faced with such evident remorse. My natural instinct to see the best in people fought against my sense of betrayal.

I shook my head, trying to process it all.

“And you knew about Serenity all along.” It wasn’t quite a question, but the hurt was evident in my voice.

All those nights I’d stayed positive for everyone else while privately worrying about my best friend.

I’d kept smiling, kept hoping, even when others gave up.

“I never stopped believing she was okay, you know. Something inside me just knew she was alive.”

I looked up at him as a slight renewal of hope fluttered in my chest. “And what happened at Crimson Stakes? Was that when—” I stopped, another memory surfacing—smoke, screams, darkness. “The night everything went black,” I whispered before straightening my shoulders.

I took a deep breath, returning to the more immediate revelation. “So now my brother’s a vampire.” I stumbled over the words, finding them impossible and yet undeniable.

“Yes.” Enzo sat next to me, his weight sinking on the cushions next to me. “If I hadn’t turned him, he would have died, Joy. A demon had ridden his meat suit hard.” The clinical brutality of the phrase contrasted with the gentleness in his eyes.

Steve was now like Enzo, a creature of the night.

My fingers dug into the soft fabric of the couch as I relived seeing my brother feeding on someone, blood dripping down his chin.

Vampires were terrifying to me, their inhuman strength and hunger for blood the stuff of nightmares, but they weren’t as bad as the monsters that had imprisoned me.

My chest tightened with the memory of human hands and eyes evaluating me like merchandise.

Sometimes humans were a hundred times worse than the creatures of the supernatural world.

Enzo pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “I knew Steve was human until recently. His blood. I have fed on enough creatures to know the difference between a human and a supernatural being.” His amber eyes took on a faraway look, as if sifting through centuries of memories.

I shuddered at what that meant—especially knowing Steve was going to follow in his footsteps—but I had to know more.

The chill that ran down my spine made me pull my knees closer to my chest and I hugged them for dear life.

I laid my head on top of my knees as I looked at him.

“So you can tell what a person is by the taste of their blood?”

He gave me a heart-melting smile, his features transforming from dangerous predator to something disarmingly charming.

“I’m over three hundred years old, Joy.” The casual mention of his age made my breath catch.

“Blood is my life, and I am quite an expert on the taste.” He said it like someone might discuss wine varieties.

“So if you fed on me, you would know what I was?”

His smile faded and something else flashed in his eyes, turning his dark eyes red—hunger or a possessiveness, I wasn’t sure which.

The change was instantaneous, the charming facade giving way to something ancient and primal.

Darkness pooled beneath the furniture, seeming to grow denser and more watchful with each word we exchanged.

“Yes.” The answer was rough as sandpaper against a rock. He swallowed hard, the movement drawing my attention to the strong line of his throat.

“Would you lie to me?” I held his gaze despite the flutter of fear in my stomach, needing certainty more than comfort.

“I’m many things, Joy,” he said, his voice dropping to a rumble that I could almost feel through the cushions, “but a liar isn’t one of them.” The conviction in his words rang with a truth I couldn’t deny, even as everything else in my world seemed built on falsehoods.

“Would it hurt?”

He brushed my hair behind my ear, his fingertips ghosting along the sensitive skin there.

The gentle touch sent a cascade of shivers down my neck, a stark contrast to the dangerous power I knew those hands possessed.

“I have ways to make it…pleasurable.” The last word lingered on his tongue, rich with promise.

Blood rushed to my face in a wave I couldn’t control, making a mockery of my attempt to appear unaffected. “Pleasurable? How?” A loud pounding echoed between my temples, loud enough that I was certain he could hear it with his supernatural senses.

“With a kiss.” He stroked the back of my hair, his fingers weaving through the strands with a tenderness I hadn’t expected from someone so lethal. The scent of him—cedar and copper, like freshly spilled blood—enveloped me as he leaned closer.

I stared at his lips, a strange dizziness washing over me. All of a sudden his lips fascinated me—the perfect curve of them, the way they moved when he spoke. I couldn’t understand why I was so transfixed.

Something warm and unfamiliar unfurled in my stomach, a sensation entirely different from fear. I lifted my head and parted my lips, my breath coming in shallow pulls that made my chest rise and fall rapidly.

He slipped his hand around my neck, his palm warm against my skin, thumb resting lightly over my racing pulse.

The touch was both restraint and support as he brushed his lips over mine—a whisper of contact that sent electricity dancing across my nerve endings.

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed me back onto the couch, his body following mine, bringing with it a weight that should have frightened me but instead felt like an anchor in a world that had lost all certainty.