Winter of Blood and Miracles (French Quarter Vampire Enforcer #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Serenity

I stood over the crib and looked down at our baby girl—Noelle Grace.

She was so beautiful, so perfect. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, her impossibly long eyelashes fanning over porcelain cheeks.

I pressed my hand gently against her stomach, needing to feel the rhythm of her breathing, to ground myself in the reality of her.

“She’s so perfect—exactly what I need.”

The voice came from behind me, male and achingly familiar, but it wasn’t Angelo.

Terror flooded my veins. My worst nightmare made flesh.

Balthazar.

I snatched Noelle from the crib, clutching her against my chest as I whirled around. She made a small sound of protest but didn’t wake. “Stay away from her.”

I ran for the door, but it slammed shut with a force that rattled the frame. The lock clicked with terrible finality.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I turned. Balthazar stepped from the shadows like something conjured from darkness itself. Shirtless, black leather pants clinging to his frame, long black hair falling past his shoulders—he was exactly as I remembered him. Rock star handsome. Utterly deadly.

“You can’t be here.” My voice shook despite my attempt at strength. Noelle stirred against me, and I held her tighter, one hand cradling her head. “You’re in hell. In a cage.”

He stretched his arms wide, a mockery of welcome, and moved toward us with predatory grace. His smile was all wrong—beautiful and terrible at once. “Am I?”

“Get back!” I screamed, pouring everything into it. “ANGELO!”

But the sound that left my throat was barely a whisper, swallowed by the room as if the air itself conspired against me.

Balthazar’s laugh sent chills racing down my spine. “He can’t hear you, love. By the time he gets here, it will be too late.”

The balcony. If I could just get past him to the balcony doors, I could fly away. I could keep Noelle safe.

He stopped advancing and stretched out his arms, palms up in a gesture of false patience. “Give her to me. I have a debt to pay.”

“Never.” The word came out feral, protective, every instinct screaming at me to fight.

I spread my wings—the rush of air, the flex of muscle and bone—and shot toward the ceiling, Noelle clutched against my heart.

But Balthazar was faster. His wings exploded from his back, massive and dark, cutting off my escape. He moved like lightning, like inevitability.

His hand closed around Noelle.

For one horrible second, I felt her weight in my arms. Then she was gone, ripped from my grasp—

I jolted awake, my heart banging against my ribs, the nightmare’s grip still tight around my throat. Sweat slid down my face and my nightgown was plastered to my hot skin. Angelo slept peacefully beside me, his arm draped over my waist.

I put my shaking hand over his, needing to feel the cool solidity of him, needing to know he was here. Real.

My vampire. My king. My mate.

For a moment I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t separate the dark visions from reality. Then the baby moved—a firm press against my ribs, insistent and real—and the terror began to loosen its grip.

I pressed my hand to my belly, feeling another flutter of movement. My baby. Mine and Angelo’s. Safe. Here. Real.

Not stolen away into darkness.

I couldn’t stay in bed, couldn’t lie there in the dark with the nightmare still clinging to my skin like cobwebs. Careful not to wake Angelo, I slipped from beneath the sheets, gently lifting his arm. I padded barefoot across the cool hardwood to the balcony doors, my hand never leaving my belly.

The French Quarter spread below me, bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights.

White lights spiraled up the lampposts and draped across balconies, their gentle luminescence pushing back the darkness.

Wreaths hung on doors, their silhouettes darker shapes against the painted wood.

Garland wound through wrought iron railings, catching the amber glow of the streetlamps.

In the depths of night, the city breathed with life—a distant voice, the faint echo of music, the ever-present pulse of New Orleans that never truly slept.

The chair Angelo had placed out here waited for me—high-backed, cushioned, positioned to ease the constant ache in my lower back. Even in this, he thought of me. Protected me. Loved me in a thousand small ways.

I sank into it gratefully, pulling the throw blanket he’d left draped over the arm around my shoulders.

The soft fabric smelled faintly of him—that clean, masculine vampire scent that was uniquely Angelo.

The December air was cool against my heated face, crisp and clean, washing away the last remnants of the dream.

The baby rolled again, a slow tumbling sensation that made me catch my breath. I rubbed the spot gently, rhythmically, as much to soothe myself as the life growing inside me.

The Quarter was quieter at this hour but not silent. Never silent. Distant laughter drifted up from Bourbon Street, and somewhere a saxophone played something low and mournful—not a carol, but something that belonged to the night. The notes wrapped around me like a lullaby.

Our child. I looked down at my belly, at the place where my hand rested. Whatever darkness haunted my dreams, whatever dangers lurked in the shadows—this was real too. This life. This miracle growing inside me in the winter cold, surrounded by lights that refused to surrender to the dark.

“Serenity?” Angelo’s voice cut through the quiet, rough with sleep and concern. “What are you doing out here?”

I turned to find him in the doorway, shirtless his long dark hair tousled from the pillow. Even rumpled from sleep, he was beautiful—all lean muscle and vampire grace as he crossed the balcony to me.

“I got hot and couldn’t sleep.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I forced a smile.

He stopped in front of me, those dark eyes—ancient and knowing—studying my face with an intensity that saw too much. Then he knelt beside the chair, bringing himself to my level, one hand coming to rest on my knee. “That’s not it. Tell me what’s wrong, amore.”

I wanted to lie to him, to protect him from worrying, to keep the darkness of my dreams from touching him. But my hand reached for his anyway, gripping it like a lifeline; my fingers trembling against his cool skin. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”

His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, soothing, patient. Then he leaned forward and nuzzled into my neck, his lips brushing the sensitive spot below my ear that always made me shiver. “What kind of a nightmare?” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll chase it away. I promise.”

His tenderness nearly broke me. I bit my lip trying to hold back the fear that threatened to claw its way up my throat. “It was… it was about Balthazar.”

Angelo jerked back as if burned, his eyes flashing with something primal and dangerous. “What?”

The tears I’d been holding back spilled down my cheeks, hot against my cooling skin. “It was terrible, Angelo. So real. I thought—”

Before I could finish, he scooped me up in his strong arms as if I weighed nothing, despite my pregnant belly.

He settled back into the chair with me cradled against his chest, one arm supporting my back, the other curved protectively over my stomach.

He kissed the top of my head. “What happened?” He seemed controlled, but I could feel the tension tighten through his body.

“He’s in hell in a fucking cage. He can’t touch you. Can’t touch either of you.”

I buried my face against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart—slower than a human’s, but there. Real. Safe. “He said he needed our baby for payment.”

Angelo’s entire body went rigid beneath me. “Payment?” The word came out lethal, barely above a growl. “Payment for what?”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, seeing the fury blazing in his dark eyes—not at me, never at me, but at the threat to our child. “I... I don’t know. But I think...” My voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It was for him to get out of the cage.”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there as he fought for control.

Then his hand came up to cup my face, his thumb wiping away my tears with infinite gentleness despite the rage I could feel coiling through him.

“I promise you, tesoro,” he said, his voice low and fierce, “no one will ever hurt our baby. You both belong to me. I will burn the world down before I let anyone touch either of you.”

Despite everything—the fear, the lingering terror of the nightmare—a laugh bubbled up through my tears. “He?” I managed, my hand sliding down to rest over his where it curved protectively across my belly. “Are you so sure?”

He kissed my neck. “No. Nothing is ever for sure with you.”

I sighed in his arms and closed my eyes, letting the warmth and strength of him surround me. Safe. I was safe in his arms. Maybe it was only a bad dream. When I got hot while sleeping, I had strange dreams. That’s what it had to be.

That’s what my logic said, but something deep in my core whispered, You’re lying to yourself.