Page 75 of Kiss of Blood and Sin

Gianna came back into the room, carrying a bottle of red ointment and a clean rag like they were holy relics. “This is Elena’s special mixture of healing elixir—Vitae Sanguinis. This will help you mend faster. She got this from a witch in New Orleans when we were on friendlier terms.”

I eyed the bottle skeptically. For all I knew, it could be thousand-year-old ketchup. I gently clasped her wrist, quirking an eyebrow. “What’s in it? Eye of newt? Toe of frog? Please tell me it’s not made from puppies. I’ve had enough of dogs for one day.”

She sighed, giving me that look that said she was reconsidering her life choices. “Dimitri, it will help you, not hurt you.”

“Tell me what’s in it,” I pressed. “I like to know what I’m putting on my devastatingly handsome body. You understand.”

“If you must know,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Angelo’s blood since he’s the most powerful vampire in the family. Moonflower nectar, crushed dragon scales, essence of phoenix scales, and holy water. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or would you like the witch’s shoe size too?”

“Angelo’s blood?” I smirked, unable to resist. “Does this mean we’ll be blood brothers now? Should I start practicing my brooding face? Maybe get some hair gel?”

Gianna’s exasperated sigh was music to my ears. “Hold still and let me apply this before I decide to let you heal the old-fashioned way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, settling back. “But if I start craving rare steaks and chasing cats, I’m blaming you.”

As Gianna began applying the mixture, I couldn’t help but wince. The concoction felt like liquidfire on my open wounds, making me grit my teeth to hold back a groan. “Holy water, huh? Feels more like holy hell water.”

“That means?—”

I sucked in a sharp breath as she touched a particularly nasty gash. “Easy there, Florence Nightingale. I’d like to keep some skin intact.”

Despite my best efforts to play it cool, a hiss of pain escaped me. “You know,” I managed through clenched teeth, “when I imagined you running your hands all over me, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

Gianna’s touch softened, her concern evident in her eyes. “Take a deep breath,” she scolded. “I promise you’ll feel better soon.”

I forced a smirk, determined not to let the pain show too much. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll take more than a few scratches and some magical fire ointment to keep me down. I'm like a miller moth—persistent, drawn to trouble, and always fluttering where I'm least wanted.”

As the burning sensation began to subside, replaced by a cool, soothing feeling, I couldn’t help but think, if this is what it takes to keep Gianna safe, I’d endure it a thousand times over. But I’d never admit that out loud. I have a reputation to maintain, after all. Instead, I tried to chuckle, “So, does this magical goo come with a side of vampire super-strength? Because I could really use some of that right about now.”

She leaned in, her lips soft against my forehead. “You need to rest now,” she murmured, her breath tickling my skin.

I wanted to argue, to throw out some witty quip about vampires not needing beauty sleep. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, my body betrayed me with a bone-deep exhaustion that made even my eyelids feel heavy. My bravado melted away faster than a snowman in July.

“What, no goodnight story?” I managed to mumble, my voice lacking its usual bite. “I was hoping forThe Three Little Vampires and the Big Bad Wolf. Spoiler alert: the vampires win.”

Gianna shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. With gentle hands, she lifted my legs onto the bed. Every muscle in my body seemed to sigh in relief as I sank into the mattress.

She climbed in next to me, her body a comforting warmth against my side. “Just sleep, my brave vampire,” she whispered, her voice soothing like a lullaby. “You’ve earned it.”

“Brave, huh?” I muttered, my eyes already closing of their own accord. “Don’t forget dashingly handsome and incredibly modest.”

I rested my head on her warm breast, inhaling deeply. Her scent—that intoxicating mix of jasmine and spice—filled my nostrils, more comforting than any security blanket. As her fingers brushed through my hair, I felt the last of the tension seep out of my battered body.

“You know,” I murmured, my words slurring slightly with encroaching sleep, “if this is the treatment I get, maybe I should wrestle werewolves more often.”

Gianna’s soft chuckle was the last thing I heard as I drifted off, my dreams filled with visions of my sexy mate. And if a few defeated werewolves made cameo appearances, well, who could blame me? A vampire’s got to have his fun, even in his dreams.

Someone shook me hard, their grip like iron. “Wake up, Romeo.”

My eyes fluttered open, brain foggy with sleep. For a moment, I forgot where I was. A large shadow loomed over me, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Angelo towered over me like the Angel of Death. Oh, wait. I forgot. He was the Angel of Death.

I dramatically threw my arm over my forehead, squinting up at him. “What’s the matter? Did someone forget to refill the blood bank? Or is it Wake Your Favorite Chauffeur day already?”

“Downstairs. We’ve had a break in.”

Shitshitshitshit

This was it. I was so dead. Damn Petar and his half-baked schemes.

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