Page 3 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

“Valentin, please.” Rose brushed his hair back with trembling fingers. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

Dimitri stalked in angry circles like a caged predator ready to tear apart anything in its path.

I stared down at Valentin. “I said drink, Valentin. You will obey me.”

Power moved through me like a blazing fire, burning through my veins and into my voice. The command rang through the church, heavy with ancient strength. When Valentin’s lips twitched then parted, relief flooded through me like summer rain. He sipped weakly from my veins, blood trickling down his chin. Each swallow seemed to take all his remaining strength, but he drank. After coming so close to losing him, each flutter of his pulse felt like a miracle.

Rose clasped his hand. “He’s drinking. He’s drinking.” She smiled through her tears.

But I could feel him growing weaker, the sucking softer, slower. His eyes fluttered shut and he went limp in my arms, my chest seizing with fresh panic. I pressed my fingers to his throat, desperate for a pulse.

There—faint but erratic. Relief washed over me for only a heartbeat before cold reality set in. My blood wasn’t healing him. Centuries of power and it wasn’t enough. I’d seen vampire blood work miracles, closing wounds that would kill mortals instantly, but Valentin’s condition continued to deteriorate despite my efforts. The bitter taste of failure filled my mouth as I held him, watching helplessly as death circled ever closer.

“No, no.” Rose kissed his stiff wrist as she fell to her knees.

Dimitri howled with rage.

Keir pressed his palm on Valentin’s forehead. “He’s alive.” He met my gaze. “But we need Serenity.” The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air—Valentin would die without her.

“I know.”

I lowered Valentin’s limp form back onto the cold altar, my hands lingering on his chest. Each labored breath he took mocked my immortal strength. The walls of the chamber seemed to close in around me, suffocating in their stillness. No—I wouldn’t stand here and watch another die.

I strode out of the church, throwing open the heavy doors. The night air hit me, thick with the scent of blood and magic.

“Enzo,” Keir’s voice was rough behind me. “What do we do now?”

I stared at the blood staining the marble steps—Angelo’s blood. My friend. My brother. The vampire I’d sworn to protect.

“We hunt,” I said, my fangs lengthening. “And we remind Balthazar why New Orleans has always feared its enforcer.”

Chapter

Two

Serenity

I stood frozen,my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. This wasn’t the hell of nightmares and religious texts. Instead of flames and endless screams, I found myself in what looked like a luxury penthouse. Pristine marble floors stretched beneath my feet, crystal chandeliers dripped light from above, and mahogany furniture paired with sleek black leather created an atmosphere of dark opulence. Had Balthazar somehow taken a wrong turn through the dimensions?

The demon moved with predatory grace toward a bar that would put the finest establishments in New Orleans to shame. Every bottle gleamed with promises of forbidden pleasures, their labels hinting at spirits both earthly and otherworldly. As always, he was shirtless, his tight black leather pants a stark contrast to the refined surroundings. “Would you like a drink?” His voice held the same casual tone one might use at a dinner party.

The absurdity of the situation loosened my tongue before I could think better of it. “I thought we were going to hell.”

He poured what looked like whiskey into a crystal glass, the amber spirit catching the light. “We are.” His smirk carried centuries of secrets as he swirled his finger, making the drink dance in its glass. “Oh, you mean the flames and tortured souls?”

I nodded solemnly, my heart aching for Angelo’s steady presence beside me. Everything I knew about hell, every warning I’d ever heard, seemed to crumble in the face of this elegant deception. “Yes.”

“Let’s just say there are different sides to hell.” He raised his glass to me. “Like Earth. You have Beverly Hills, then you have the ghettos.” He waved his hand. “Think of this as Beverly Hills.”

My throat felt dry as I took in our opulent surroundings. Beyond the luxury of this penthouse-like space, I could sense the true nature of where we were. Just outside these walls, the air itself seemed to pulse with malevolence, so different from the mortal world I'd been ripped away from. This place defied comprehension—a realm where nightmares took physical form and pain was the only constant, with this lavish enclave serving as the only reprieve from the horror.

My father had always been a ghost in my life—a name without a face, an absence I’d learned to live with. Yet now, standing in literal hell, his actions had taken on a terrible new significance.

“You said back in the church that my father broke the deal between you and Dracula.”

“And?” He took another sip, watching me over the rim of his glass. The casualness of his gesture felt like a mockery.

“Why did Vlad make the deal in the first place?” My hands clenched at my side.

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