Page 71 of Kiss of Blood and Sin

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Dimitri

I dumped the dead wolf in the trunk, half expecting it to spring back to life and ask for round two. Claw marks stung my chest and arm, and everything hurt, as if I’d gone ten rounds with a meat grinder. But I’d be damned if I let Angelo and Enzo see me sweat. Angelo still viewed me as a ninety-pound weakling, and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of proving him right.

Enzo met me at the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he caught the scent of my blood. “Can you drive? You smell like a vampire juice box.”

I broke free of his grip, flashing my patented smirk. “It’s my job, remember? Wouldn’t want to disappoint the boss. Besides, what’s a little internal bleeding between friends?”

Enzo put up his hands in surrender. “Your funeral. Just don’t pass out and drive us into a swamp.”

I lifted my chin, channeling every ounce of bravado I could muster. “Please. I could drive this thing in my sleep. Which, come to think of it, might be an improvement over my usual state.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Now, who’s in the mood for some puppy chow?”

I slid into the driver’s seat, ignoring the protestations of my battered body. As we pulled away, heading toward the bayou, my mind kept circling back to Gianna and that lone wolf – that assassin who'd dared to come for her.

The image of Gianna trapped, terrified, with that mangy mutt closing in... it made my blood boil. My hands tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. This wasn't just some random attack. It was calculated, precise – an assassin sent to take out the woman I loved.

I could still smell her fear, could still see the relief in her eyes when I burst in. A second later and... No. I couldn't let my mind go there. The possibility was too horrifying to contemplate.

That wolf, that vicious, cold-blooded killer, had tried to take her from me. He'd dared to threaten my Gianna, to make her feel helpless and afraid. Each mile we drove fueled my rage, my need for vengeance.

This wasn't about pack dynamics or territory. This was personal. Someone had sent that assassin, had crossed a line I didn't even know I had. And I would make damn sure they regretted it. I'd hunt down that wolf, and whoever sent him, and make them pay.

Because this? This I couldn't forgive. Wouldn't forgive. They'd tried to destroy my world with surgical precision, and now? Now I would dismantle theirs, piece by piece.

As the bayou loomed closer, I felt a grim smile tugging at my lips. Let them send their best. I was ready to show them just how dangerous a vengeful vampire could be.

“You know,” I called over my shoulder, unable to resist, “I’ve always wanted to visit a dog park. Think they have a leash law out here in the bayou?”

The silence from the backseat was deafening. Tough crowd. But as we drove deeper into wolf territory, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were heading straight into the belly of the beast. And for once, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d come out on top.

But hey, at least if things went south, I’d go out with a killer one-liner. It’s all about priorities, right?

I pulled the limousine up to the gates, feeling like I was driving into the world’s most aggressive dog park. My wounds throbbed in time with the engine’s purr, a not-so-gentle reminder of my recent furry encounter.

A guard held up his hand, looking about as welcoming as a root canal. “You’re not expected.”

I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Angelo’s eye. He pulled out his cell phone, his face a mask of barely contained fury. “Trystan, open the damn gate.”

Well, well. Vampire king has the wolf king on speed dial. Color me intrigued. And slightly nauseous, but that might be the blood loss talking.

“Because one of your damn curs tried to kill my sister,” Angelo snarled into the phone. “Open it now unless you want a war.”

He hung up with a decisive click. Immediately, the guard’s phone appeared in his hand like a magic trick. “Yes, sir. Right away.” He shoved his phone back into his jacket. “Open the gates.”

I guided the limo up the driveway, feeling like we were being swallowed by Moby Dick. A three-column white plantation-style mansion loomed ahead, oak trees creating a canopy overhead. It would’ve been picturesque if it wasn’t, you know, crawling with creatures who wanted to tear us limb from limb.

Guards lined the path, swords glinting in the sunlight. Their thoughts might as well have been written on their foreheads: The only good vampire is a dead vampire. Charming.

The mansion door swung open with all the subtlety of a Broadway musical, and out stepped a tall, muscular man flanked by what I could only assume were his loyal band of merry thugs. This had to be the infamous Trystan Hunter. Great.

He descended the stairs with the grace of a lion and the swagger of a peacock, his long brownish-blond hair catching the light like some kind of shampoo commercial gone wrong. If this guy was going for the 'fallen angel' look, he'd nailed it - right down to the 'I eat kittens for breakfast' gleam in his eyes.

I had to hand it to him, the man knew how to make anentrance. All he was missing was a white cat to stroke and a swivel chair to dramatically turn around in.

But angelic? Please. This guy was about as heavenly as a rabid Chihuahua in a tutu. And probably twice as yappy.

As Angelo and Enzo exited the limo, I hauled myself out, praying my legs wouldn’t betray me. Every movement sent waves of pain crashing through my body, but I plastered on my best I-eat-werewolves-for-breakfast smirk.

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