Page 63 of Crown of Blood and Vengeance

Rose slumped over onto Valentin, her tears spilling onto his bare chest. “I love you so much.”

“Little brother,” Dimitri’s voice cracked with emotion—a rare sound from the usually stoic vampire. He moved from the shadows to Valentin’s bedside in two quick strides, his hand gripping his brother’s shoulder as if to convince himself this was real. The centuries-old vampire’s face showed more emotion than I’d ever seen, relief warring with lingering fear. “If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Weariness gripped me as if I had run a marathon, my limbs suddenly feeling like they were made of lead. The power drain left me barely able to stand as I pushed myself off the bed, my wings folding wearily into my back. I looked over at Keir, fighting to keep my eyes open. “I’m tired. Can you take me to Angelo?”

He stretched out his hand, a knowing look crossing his handsome face. “This way.”

Dimitri caught my arm before I could leave, his grip firm but not unkind. A hint of his arrogant demeanor played at his lips, though his eyes held genuine gratitude. “Well, well... looks like I owe you one, little Nephilim. Try not to die before I can repay the debt—it’s so awkward owing favors to dead people.” The snark couldn’t quite mask the sincerity underneath.

I smiled and patted his hand. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Keir led me down the hall, each step an effort against my bone-deep exhaustion. When he opened the door to another guest room, my heart stumbled in my chest. Angelo lay fast asleep on the bed, his bloody shirt removed, his skin freshly washed and gleaming like marble in the dim light. No trace remained of the terrible wound that had nearly claimed him—just smooth, unblemished flesh where death had so recently threatened.

Someone had even combed his dark hair back from his forehead, the damp strands a testament to their thorough care. His face was peaceful in repose. The sight of him safe, whole, and alive made my eyes burn with tears of relief.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Keir said softly, closing the door with quiet understanding.

I couldn’t get out of the clothes Balthazar had given me fast enough. The fabric felt tainted, the scent of hell and brimstone clinging to them like a second skin. Every second wearing them was a reminder of my time in his realm, of the terror and pain. I stripped them off with shaking hands, desperate to rid myself of every trace of that place.

I stumbled into the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as it would go. Steam billowed around me as I stepped under the scalding spray, scrubbing my skin until it turned raw and pink. I watched as the water swirled down the drain, imagining it carrying away the invisible stain of the underworld. Only when my fingertips had wrinkled and the bathroom had filled with fog did I finally feel clean enough to step out.

After finding clean underwear and an oversized night shirt in the drawer, I felt human again—or as human as a Nephilim could feel.

My legs trembled as I climbed into bed with Angelo. His familiar scent wrapped around me—spicy and salty, uniquely him. I laid my head on his broad chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat the sweetest lullaby I’d ever heard. His warm skin against my cheek and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing were proof that this wasn’t a dream, that we were really together again. It seemed like ages since I’d last been in bed beside him, since I’d felt this safe, this complete.

For the first time since Balthazar had kidnapped me, I closed my eyes contentedly, letting Angelo’s presence chase away the last shadows of hell. Here, in his arms, I was finally home.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Angelo

Something warm wason my chest and someone had snuggled next to me. My eyes fluttered open and I looked down to see a mass of blonde hair over my chest. After days of hunting for Serenity through New Orleans, fighting the darkness that had stolen her from me, this precious warmth seemed impossible. Every night I’d woken up reaching for her, my arms empty, her screams still echoing in my nightmares. My heart skipped. Was this a dream? Another cruel trick of Balthazar’s? He’d tortured me before with visions of her, only to rip them away when I dared to hope. I was too scared to move, afraid it was an illusion and she would leave me again, taking what remained of my sanity with her.

But I had to know. I had to know if it was real.

I stroked her hair with trembling fingers, afraid she might vanish at my touch.

The silken strands slipped through my fingers like liquid gold. Memory crashed back: the hellish spear, searing pain, and then... Serenity. Her healing touch, her light pushing back thedarkness that had threatened to consume me. Now here she was, breathing softly against my skin, alive and safe after I’d pulled her from the depths of hell.

My body ached, but differently now. The wound had healed, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness that clawed at my insides. How long had I been unconscious? The hunger rose sharp and demanding, made worse by her warmth, her closeness, the steady rhythm of her pulse calling to me like a forbidden song.

I should move. Should put distance between us. But my arms betrayed me, one hand still tangled in her hair, the other sliding around her waist, holding her closer even as my fangs pressed against my bottom lip.

Serenity shifted in her sleep, her small hand moving to rest over my heart. Even that innocent touch sent fire racing through my veins. The scent of her skin - sunshine and something ethereal, divine - made my head spin. I was too hungry, too weak to resist her pull.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek, each movement sending tiny shivers through me. She opened her eyes and those beautiful blues stared up at me, full of warmth and concern, and she cupped my cheek with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “Angelo, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Her breasts pushed against my chest, stirring a deep desire, and I sucked in my breath. The movement wafted her scent over me: sunshine and jasmine, underlaid with the intoxicating sweetness of her blood pulsing just beneath her skin. My fangs throbbed painfully.

She pulled back the covers to examine my chest, her fingertips brushing my skin like fire. “What’s wrong?”

“You.” My voice came out hoarse, rough with hunger and need. Every small touch was exquisite torture.

She looked up at me, hurt flickering in those celestial eyes. “Why? You don’t like my wings?”

I laughed softly, the sound strained with desire. “No, Serenity. Everything about you is perfect.” I slipped my hand around her slender neck. “I need blood and all I can think about is ravishing you.”

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