Page 11 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp like a gunshot. “All in good time. I don’t want to give away all my secrets…” He headed over to the door, pausing in the doorway. “Not yet.”

Misery swept over me as he left and his words sank in. God, I should have known. Hell was where you paid for your sins in the worst possible way. And Balthazar planned to make me and my father suffer for eternity—a revenge centuries in the making.

Julienne patted my forehead. She stared at the door then back at me. “I might be able to heal you, but you would have to trust me on this.”

Anguish gripped me. I concentrated on breathing and not moving. The slightest movement brought unbearable agony.

Pass out Pass out Pass out

But there was no mercy here. Only misery and despair.

She pulled back her lower lip and revealed fangs, then she tore into her wrist. “Here, drink. Don’t worry. It won’t turn you unless I command it.”

I immediately thought of Angelo and how he saved me with his blood—how intimate it had felt, how his blood had tasted of ancient power and love. She stuck her wrist in my mouth. Blood trickled down my throat, metallic and strange, carrying none of the warmth I remembered. It spilled down my chin, each drop a reminder that this wasn’t him. The burning fever inside me slowly squelched, and I could take breaths without writhing in pain.

Angelo, forgive me.

This felt like betrayal, like I was turning my back on every sacred moment we’d shared. But if I didn’t do something, I would go insane. The hellhound’s venom would tear my mind apart piece by piece until there was nothing left of me for Angelo to save.

The more I drank, the less that pain gripped me. I tore away from her wrist and shook my head.

“Enough, please,” I whispered, my voice coming out soft and rough.

Julienne licked her wrist and her wound healed. “Can you draw on your power?” She wiped the wetness off my chin and neck with gentle fingers, like a mother tending a sick child.

My heart raced at the thought. Last time I’d used my power, a hellhound had nearly torn me apart. The phantom sensation of those teeth made me shudder. I reached for that familiar warmth inside me anyway, bracing for pain—but when it flickered to life, relief flooded through me. My power was still there, still mine. Even in hell. “I don’t... I don’t know if I can control it.”

“Try, Serenity. You don’t want to show any weakness here. They’ll use it against you.” The look in her eyes and the tightness around her eyes and mouth spoke of personal experience—of pain and humiliation that she must have experienced.

Balthazar didn’t say how long Julienne had been here. But any time in hell must feel like an eternity, especially when you’re a bargaining chip in someone else’s game.

I didn’t want to be anyone’s chess piece—especially not Balthazar’s. The very thought of being his plaything made bile rise in my throat, bitter and burning.

Taking a deep breath and clutching my fists until my nails bit into my palms, I pulled on my power. At first nothing happened, and panic clawed at my chest. Had hell stripped this from me too? But then something flickered in my chest, fragile as a butterfly fighting against a cold, cruel wind. Hope, small but defiant.

Tingles rolled over my skin like a firefighter’s spray dousing a fiery blaze, each point of contact a promise of relief. Coolness swept over me as if I’d been thrown into a pool on the hottest summer day, the blessed chill chasing away the hellhound’s burning venom. My coiled muscles slowly unraveled, releasing knots of tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding. The pain retreated like a tide pulling back from shore, each breath deeper and longer than the last, until finally I could fill my lungs without wanting to scream.

It would take every ounce of energy I had to get back to Angelo. Whatever games Balthazar had planned, whatever torments he’d devised, he’d underestimated one thing—a Nephilim’s love wasn’t easily broken.

Julienne smiled down at me as she patted my face. “You look better.”

I clasped her hand. “Thank you. I couldn’t stand it much longer.” My relief was short-lived as my gaze fixed on the door.Every shadow, every creak triggered a flutter of panic in my chest. Those hellhound teeth had torn into me once—I couldn’t survive another attack.

“You must be careful here, Serenity.” She looked over her shoulder as if she were afraid Balthazar was lurking in the shadows. “Everything here is more intense, more painful. This place is full of illusions, all designed to manipulate you and drive you mad. Any stumble, the briefest doubt, and you’ll fall into Balthazar’s trap.”

A chill crept into my blood. I’d already seen how hell could twist reality, creating this perfect copy of my room. If it could do that, what other tricks waited for me? The thought of losing my grip on what was real and what wasn’t made my stomach knot. I’d already faced demons, even my own personal ones, but the idea of my mind being turned against me—that was a different kind of terror entirely.

Chapter

Six

Angelo

“I thoughtI told you to take him to King Nico’s palace—Fandor Citadel.” The last voice I wanted to hear turned my blood cold.

Balthazar. His presence made bile rise in my throat. What the fuck had he done with Serenity? The memory of her terrified eyes haunted me, and desperate rage clawed at my chest. I wanted to roar at him, to tear him apart with my bare hands, but all I could manage was a pathetic grunt that made me hate my own weakness.

With muscles screaming in protest, I glanced over my shoulder.

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