Page 64 of Kiss of Blood and Sin

I was leaning against the limousine, the hot New Orleans sun beating down on me, making me wish for a cool drink and a shadier spot. My fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the car’s sleek surface as I waited for Angelo. That’s when I spotted Petar approaching, his face twisted into that all too familiar you’re-in-deep-shit scowl. Ah, nostalgia.

“You haven’t even tried stealing the Moirai Mirror,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

I met his gaze, injecting as much boredom into my voice as possible. “I’ve been a little busy playing Driving Miss Daisy with my new boss. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly employee of the month material.”

Petar’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your timeline has just moved up. You need to steal it tonight.”

I cocked an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of nonchalance I could muster. “Why?” I drawled, stretching the word out like taffy.

He pounded my chest with each word, his finger jabbing into me like a dull knife. “That’s. Not. Your. Concern.”

In a flash, I grabbed his finger and spun him around, my patience snapping like a dry twig. “Don’t. Touch. Me. Ever,” I hissed, my voice dripping with venom.

“Okay, loverboy,” Petar spat, his words laced with contempt. “You just cooked your goose. If you don’t steal it tonight, I’m going to use the Malefic Puppet on either your measly brother or the slut.”

White-hot anger surged through me, my vision blurring red at the edges. I twisted his arm harder, feeling the tendonsstrain under my grip. “Fuck you, asshole,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.

“Pick. The bastard or the whore,” Petar taunted, his words cutting through me like razors. “And if you don’t let go, I’m going to use both.”

Every instinct screamed at me to rip his arm off, to make him pay for threatening the people I cared about. But the rational part of my brain, small as it was, knew I couldn’t risk it. Not yet. With a herculean effort, I abruptly released his arm, shoving him away from me.

“Fine,” I spat, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. I plastered on a smirk that felt more like a snarl. “I’ll play burglar to my resume tonight. Right after long-suffering chauffeur and unwilling pawn in daddy’s schemes.”

“But you still need to choose,” Petar said, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

I shoved him, my hands itching to do much worse. “I said I’d steal it tonight,” I growled, my patience wearing thinner than a vampire’s tan.

Petar’s lips curled into a smile that would make the devil proud. “Choose,” he repeated, savoring that single syllable like a fine wine.

I ran my hand through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. The bastard was enjoying this. A hiss escaped my lips, my fangs dropping down involuntarily. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as they nicked my lower lip.

“I’m waiting,” Petar sing-songed, tapping his foot like an impatient schoolmarm.

Guilt churned in my stomach like a nest of vipers, but Iknew there was only one choice. The word felt like broken glass in my throat as I spat it out. “Valentin.”

The guilt threatened to claw its way up my throat. But Gianna...I couldn’t risk her. Not her.

“The bastard it is,” Petar smirked, looking like the cat who got the canary and the cream.

As he skulked away, I leaned back against the car, the cool metal a stark contrast to my burning skin. My mind raced faster than a vampire on a blood binge. I had a wedding to prepare for, a heist to plan, and a family to protect.

“Jaxon better be right,” I muttered to myself, my fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on the car door. “That damn ring better melt those stupid puppets, or I’ve just sentenced my brother to a fate worse than death.” I paused, a humorless chuckle escaping my lips. “And in our world, that’s saying something.”

Angelo and Enzo came out of Crimson Stakes, the family casino.

I straightened up, adjusting my jacket with a flourish. Time to put on the chauffeur mask again. After all, the show must go on, even when you’re the unwilling star in a cosmic joke of a play.

My stomach didn't just tense; it did a full gymnastic routine. "Is Angelo sending an army to guard you?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. Inside, I was already planning escaperoutes and calculating how fast I could get to her if things went south.

"Just Jacques. He's one of Enzo's best enforcers. We'll be fine. The dress shop is one of Angelo's fronts. The wolves wouldn't dare hit that."

I wasn't so sure. Wolves were getting bolder by the day, and 'wouldn't dare' wasn't exactly ironclad protection. But arguing would only worry her, and God knows we had enough to worry about.

I clutched her hand, maybe a little tighter than necessary. "What kind of dress are you getting? Something with easy access for midnight snacks?" I waggled my eyebrows, but my mind was racing. One enforcer? For the vampire mafia princess? Either Angelo was getting cocky, or... No. I couldn't go down that rabbit hole. Not now.

"Promise me you'll be careful," I said, surprising myself with the seriousness in my voice. "And if anything feels off – anything at all – you get out of there. Dress be damned."

Gianna's smile softened. "I promise. Now, stop worrying and help me decide on veils."

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