Page 29 of Cry of Blood and Joy
But then sharp, sudden pain pierced my neck like lightning, and understanding crashed over me with horrifying clarity. His fangs sank deep into the tender flesh of my throat, and the sensation was tantalizing and agonizing all at once—pleasure and pain twisted together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Enzo,” I whispered, but the word came out weak and breathless. The pleasure of his bite warred with the crushing realization of what he was doing—taking something beautiful between us and twisting it into a cage.
He drank and drank with the aching hunger of someone who knew this might be his last chance. My life force flowed out of me with each pull of his mouth, my strength ebbing away like water through cupped hands. My legs wobbled beneath me like a newborn foal, and my arms dropped to my sides as if the strings holding me up had been cut.
“Enzo,” I whispered. The betrayal was worse than the physical weakness, worse than the dizziness that made the room spin around me.
Part of me wanted to hate him for this, wanted to rage against the manipulation. But even through my anger and hurt, I understood why he'd done it. He was terrified of losing me, just as terrified as I was of losing him. It didn't make what he'd done right, but it made it... human. Or as human as a vampire enforcer could be.
He finally stopped and pulled back to look down at me, his dark eyes filled with something that might have been regret. Blood—my blood—ran down his chin in crimson streams that caught the dim light. “I’m sorry. I know this was a betrayal, butcompulsion would have been worse. That would have made you a puppet, stolen your mind. I would never do that to you.”
The apology felt like salt in an open wound. My knees buckled completely, and he caught me before I could fall, lifting me into his arms with the same gentleness he’d always shown me. But now it felt like mockery—gentle hands that had just drained my strength, tender touches that had betrayed my trust.
He carefully placed me on the bed, and even that simple movement made my head spin violently. The mattress felt like quicksand beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole. He covered me with a blanket that felt heavy as lead against my weakened limbs.
“I love you with all my heart. I can’t risk losing you again. Please forgive me.” His words were raw and tormented and filled with so much anguish it made my chest ache even through my weakened state. He kissed me on my parted lips one more time, and the salt of tears slipped into my mouth—mine or his, I couldn’t tell.
My heart shattered and soared at the same time. Even through my growing weakness, even with the bitter understanding of what he’d done, those three words hit me like lightning. He loved me. With all his heart. The confession I’d been longing to hear was finally here, but it came wrapped in manipulation and desperation that made it impossible to fully embrace.
I wanted to tell him I loved him too, wanted to reach up and cup his face and promise him forgiveness, but my limbs felt like lead and my voice had abandoned me. All I could do was stare into his dark eyes, hoping he could read the complex storm of emotions there—love and hurt and understanding all tangled together like thorns around my heart.
“I... love...” I managed to whisper. I needed him to know, needed him to understand that even this—even using our bond against me—couldn’t destroy what we had.
His eyes closed briefly, as if my whispered response was both salvation and torment. When he opened them again, I saw his conflict reflected there—the enforcer who had to make hard choices warring with the man who would do anything to keep me safe.
“Let’s go,” he said to Rocco, his voice already shifting back to business with a speed that made my heart clench. The sudden change was jarring—one moment professing his love with burning intensity, the next moving past what he’d just done to me as if it were simply another tactical decision.
His jaw clenched and the lines around his eyes tightened as he pulled away from me. This wasn’t easy for him either—it was tearing him apart just as much as it was destroying me, and somehow that made it both better and infinitely worse.
Chapter Twenty
Enzo
As Rocco and I stepped into the room I’d paid for, I closed the door behind us. I stared at it a moment, wishing I could go and gather Joy into my arms and bring her pleasure rather than pain. What I’d just done crashed over me like a tidal wave of self-loathing. Guilt over tasting her blood—sweet and intoxicating and wrong in this context—tore at what little decency I had left like claws ripping through flesh. The metallic taste still lingered on my tongue, a reminder of my monstrosity that I couldn’t swallow away.
She was my mate, my heart, my everything. I’d taken something sacred between us—the intimate act of feeding she’d always given freely—and weaponized it to keep her safe. The irony was bitter as poison. I’d hurt her to protect her, violated her trust to ensure her survival.
But at what cost? The question haunted me, and I had no answer that didn’t make me hate myself more. What good was keeping her alive if I’d destroyed the very thing that made life worth living—her faith in me, her love, her trust?
Behind me, I could feel Rocco watching me with the wary intensity of someone who’d just witnessed something deeply disturbing. When I finally turned to face him, disapproval was written across his features like condemnation carved in stone. His dark eyes held judgment and something that might have been pity, and both made my skin crawl with shame.
“Don’t say a word,” I snarled. The last thing I needed was a lecture from someone who’d tortured his own mother, even if it hadn’t been his choice.
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but the wariness never left his expression. “I didn’t say anything.” His tone was carefully neutral, but his unspoken criticism lurked beneath the surface.
“You didn’t have to.” My hands clenched into fists, every muscle screaming to punch the nearest wall. “Let’s go.”
I was already moving toward the door when his quiet voice stopped me. “You might want to wipe the blood off.”
Drawing on vampire speed, I ran into the bathroom. I caught my reflection in the mirror and cringed. I looked like a fiend right out of hell—one of the demon Balthazar’s nightmares. I grabbed a white towel off the rack and wiped the blood away from my chin and mouth.
I threw down the bloodied towel, the evidence—her blood, Joy’s blood—of what I’d done. No amount of cleaning would wash away what I’d done, and we both knew it.
The door opened and I rushed back into the room, my heart still hammering from the sight of my own monstrous reflection. The taste of Joy’s blood lingered on my tongue like a brand, a constant reminder of what I’d become—what I’d chosen to become.
Rocco met my gaze with a look that confirmed my worst suspicions. “Dimitri’s outside. I don’t think he saw me.”
The news twisted inside me like a sharp blade. I scrubbed my face with both hands, trying to push away the despair that threatened to overwhelm me. “Fucking great.” The words came out raw and bitter, tinged with the kind of exhaustion that went bone deep. “If we go outside, he’ll know we’re staying here. Angelo would be here in a heartbeat.”
