Page 1 of The Curse of Blood and Silenc

Chapter

One

Angelo

The leather seatcreaked as I slumped back. “The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Serenity,” I grumbled to Enzo. Jazz seeped in through the limousine’s windows as the heady scent of blood mingled with the lingering aroma of bourbon in the air—the unmistakable essence of New Orleans at night.

Dimitri Dragan—my driver and brand-new brother-in-law—caught my eye in the rearview mirror, a sardonic smirk on his lips. “Trouble in paradise, Your Majesty?” he quipped. “Or just another night failing to find a certain human girl in a city full of them?”

I scowled at him. “Just drive, Dimitri. Your ‘wit’ is as unwelcome as it is unimpressive.”

He chuckled, but I caught the brief flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. As my sister’s husband…and a royal pain in my ass…Dimitri never missed an opportunity to push my buttons. Yet despite being a born vampire—typically a weakness in my eyes—he’d proven himself time and again, even taking on a powerfulwolf who threatened my sister, dispatching the beast with a mix of charm and brutality that was uniquely him.

In other words, his dedication had earned him my grudging respect, if not my full trust.

“Joking aside, Angelo,” Dimitri said, his tone turning somber, “we need to find Joy. For Serenity’s sake...for everyone’s.”

Serenity. My Nephilim. The prize I’d won at auction and now refused to let go. Her celestial blood sang to me, a siren’s call I couldn’t resist. But she was more than just a captivating creature—she was our salvation. Her powers had healed the Aeternum Stone, which had been fading. If it had gone completely dark, Dracula would have found us and wiped out not only me, but my entire family for not following his rules. The stone was the only thing that kept him at bay, a shield against our enemy.

My mind filled with images of Serenity anxiously pacing the halls of Crescent Manor, our mansion overlooking Bourbon Street, waiting for news about her best friend Joy DuPont who’d vanished into the labyrinthine streets of the French Quarter without a trace. Serenity’s anguish clawed at my gut, fueling a primal urge to hunt down Joy and prove my unwavering devotion to my mate.

Enzo Di Salvo, my most trusted enforcer, ran his piercing gaze over me. His handsome face held a flicker of guilt. “You mustn’t blame yourself for her disappearance, Angelo. I was the one who was supposed to be watching her.” He looked out the window at the raucous crowds on Bourbon Street, his jaw clenched. “If it hadn’t been for that damn explosion at Crimson Stakes...”

Enzo had been following Joy as she passed out flyers about Serenity near my casino Crimson Stakes when an explosion had occurred. He had raced into the casino to find out whathappened, and while his back was turned, Joy had disappeared without a trace.

I ran my tongue over my fangs, feeling the pulse of the city outside. Serenity might not have chosen this life with me, but she was now integral to our survival. The delicate balance of power, life, and death rested on her slender shoulders.

“We’ll find Joy,” I said, my voice low. My hand instinctively moved to the hilt of my sword concealed beneath my coat. “And whoever turns out to be responsible will learn why crossing the Santi family is a death sentence—one delivered as inevitably as the tide of the Mississippi.”

Frustration rolled through me. As king of New Orleans’ vampire underworld I commanded legions of immortal warriors and controlled a vast criminal empire that stretched from the Mississippi to the bayous. Yet I couldn’t find one missing girl? My failure choked me like the suffocating humidity of a Louisiana summer night.

Dimitri stopped the limousine at the back of Crescent Manor and opened the door for Enzo and me. He always let us out at the rear entrance of the antebellum mansion, away from curious eyes on Bourbon Street. I didn’t like my movements being tracked.

I approached the door, my heart heavy. Serenity had been frantic for days, pleading with me to find Joy. I’d pursued every lead, even following a false trail to Simon Cartier’s auction house at Ravenwood Estates. Now, returning empty-handed, I braced myself for Serenity’s disappointment.

I reached for the doorknob, expecting her to burst out, eyes wide, bombarding me with questions about her best friend’s whereabouts—the best friend she feared had been sold into slavery.

Instead, the door creaked open and silence whisked over me like a cold wind.

No running footsteps.

No anxious face peering around the corner.

No excited voice calling out for news.

The quiet was oppressive, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle and your shoulders tighten. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. Serenity’s absence screamed louder than any words could. As I stepped inside, the silence seemed to thicken, filling the air with almost tangible dread.

Enzo glanced over at me, his lips pressed to a worried line. His eyes asked the question we were both thinking: Where was Petar? He was supposed to be guarding Serenity. His absence set off alarm bells in my head.

As I stood there my nostrils flared, instinctively seeking out information. The familiar scents of vampire and Nephilim lingered, but something was off. I strained my ears, but the only sound was the thunderous pounding of my own heart.

Step by cautious step, I entered the house. My heightened vampire senses worked overtime. No wolf. No human. No Fae. The side hallway loomed before me, a tunnel of growing dread. My movements were measured, silent. I was a hunter now, stalking an unknown threat in my own home.

Then it hit me. Metallic. Unmistakable.

Blood.

I signaled to Enzo to cover the rear as we moved silently through the mansion. Years of survival had taught me never to announce my presence to my enemies.

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