Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6)

by Kristy Cunning

  I push myself up, feeling dizzy from the onslaught of the abrupt, violent illusions.

  “This isn’t Violet. Learn to tell the difference, Vampyre, or she’ll have you between her legs too easily,” Damien says as he drops Violet to the ground.

  The woman before us morphs into the bitch I really am starting to hate. After this many years of loving her so faithfully, I’m starting to wonder if it truly was all a waste.

  She smirks over at him. Not that he notices. He hasn’t glanced at her even once.

  How could he have possibly known that was Idun so easily?

  “I was trying to do you a favor, lover. Without you feeling as though you betrayed your precious girlfriend, since you’ve apparently grown monogamous in your old age. In case you haven’t noticed, I freed you from your curse so you could feed. Dorian is a dangerous problem you never would address. You can’t face him as you are. You need—”

  “You called a meeting today,” he says without looking at her, his eyes staying focused on the mirror before him. “Amos’s House had emergency problems to deal with that took up almost thirty-six hours of his time and focus.”

  Again, why is he bringing that up?

  Why does Idun bristle?

  He cuts his eyes to her at last, and the cruel smile he gives her is unsettling. I almost question if this is really Damien or not, which is a whole new cause for alarm.

  “One of these days, you’re going to learn to stop underestimating me. In the meantime, sit down, shut up, and look pretty,” he tells her, before turning and walking off, eyeing the challenge card in his hand.

  I’m genuinely baffled.

  I’m also mildly confused by the distinct absence of any feelings toward Idun. There was a time that just looking at her set my blood ablaze. Now, I can’t stand the fucking sight of her.

  “What’d you go and do to piss him off?” I ask her, my eyes narrowing with new suspicions.

  She gives me a cold look, as a dark smile curves her lips.

  “Doesn’t matter how many times you boys reject me. I’ll always be here, Arion. Eventually, Violet will grow tired of all the trouble you bring her. Surely you see that by now. Don’t get too attached, pet. And you may have to get used to sharing your House seats with Dorian, since Damien is going to be a fool who only feeds off the weak. Without me, he’s no match for Dorian. Consider that.”

  She turns and walks away, laughing, as she starts stripping out of the baggy clothes. I cut my gaze away, jaw ticking, because I rather hate not knowing what’s going on.

  She finally disguised herself as Violet. We knew it was coming and have been handling the paranoia.

  She finally, finally did it, and Damien effortlessly made it a nonissue. How did he know that quickly?

  Annoyed with this entire thing, I hurriedly go to join Vance and Emit, who’ve already taken a seat in the growing audience.

  Damien’s father is here. What the hell is he—

  Amos rushes in, taking a seat near the back, as though he also knew this was coming. How in the hell did he get here so fast? That’s at least a two or three-hour trip, even on the fastest jet he has at his disposal.

  Trust me, I know all about their planes, trains, and automobiles by this point. Every detail.

  He knew this was coming hours ago?

  “What’s going on?” I ask Vance, since a few more semi-close Morpheous family members join the audience in the middle seats.

  “I’m not entirely certain,” he says, his attention just as focused as mine.

  “I don’t like this. Damien hasn’t fed enough to deal with Dorian,” Emit murmurs in a register barely above a whisper.

  Damien stands alone in the center of the arena. He’s wearing the ring that bears his family’s crest—a piece of jewelry he rarely dons, aside from special occasions.

  He’s still disheveled, since he came straight from Violet’s bed, and he doesn’t ever glance away from the door where Dorian should be.

  “His phone was in the parking lot,” I point out, lifting the cracked article in question from my pocket. “How did he know about this challenge? How did his family know? It’s not as though he’s been doing anything other than shagging Violet, and he certainly couldn’t have—”

  “Dorian called them,” Anna says as she abruptly appears.

  In my fucking lap.

  Just as I’m about to salt the infernal bitch, the triplets appear, all of them lounging comfortably in Emit’s lap, hanging onto him like he’s Papa Wolf or some shite.

  “He knew Damien would accept,” they all three state in unison, as Anna turns and grins at me very wickedly.

  A familiar male ghost suddenly appears in Vance’s lap, leaning forward, as he watches ahead.

  Vance’s eyes widen with undisguisable indignity, and his jaw tics, a clear sign something is about to die.

  “Behave, monsters. Don’t make this about you,” the dude ghost says. “She’ll be very upset if you keep letting her down.”

  With that, they all disappear. Emit, Vance, and I exchange a…look.

  I don’t know if we’re confused, pissed, suspicious, or just plain baffled by this point.

  “How are the triplets here?” Emit asks as though that’s the paramount question here.

  “Why does a ghost think he has the right to tell us to behave?” I demand on a hissed breath.

  No one fucking tells me to behave and gets away with it. Besides Vance. That’s only because he’s the one who is actually supposed to make us behave, and he can sometimes kick my ass.

  Vance steeples his hands together, eyes ahead, as his jaw grinds.

  With a harsh exhale, the Van Helsing says, “I realize we’re extremely high maintenance boyfriend material, and we lack a certain sensitivity a delicate woman like Violet seems to demand from a man, but—”

  “But a ghost coming back from the dead is the human equivalent to hearing your grandmother just climbed out of her grave,” I interject, understanding his meaning. “Even if grandma did dig out of hell, she couldn’t have come back the same.”

  We’ve started dissecting how very differently Violet thinks from us. It’s clear she’s too stubborn to see it our way, and manipulating her isn’t very easy, since she’s never impressed with how good we are at manipulation.

  “She manipulates us, and she’s proud to pull one over on us,” I add. “She’s enlisted a double-standard, because she’s not proud of me when I manipulate her.”

  “Fucking vampire,” Emit says under his breath, as though I’m once again being obtuse.

  “You don’t understand gray areas, but that’s not the point,” Vance cuts in, his eyes turning to both of us, before looking ahead again. “The triplets are back as well. She brings ghosts back from the bloody dead and shrugs a shoulder at the following inquisitions into such. Then she uses our neglectful romance tendencies to shut us down for farther probing, not understanding the severity. She’s maddening.”

  “And Marta Portocale lets her away with murder, I’ve noticed,” I chime in. “I never expected that woman to be so lenient. Not given what a bitter, rigid, uptight bitch she is.”

  “I’m not allowed to do my job, and ask important questions concerning impossible beings—both dead and alive—because my girlfriend is pissed at me,” Vance carries on, truly getting more and more upset about it. “Yet the wolf is mated to her, and she’s proud of that huge scar he’s left her with. This is truly hell.”

  Zuela Van Helsing, who is still working on Violet’s stained-glass masterpiece, takes a seat just in front of us, ending our conversation.

  “Please tell me that stupid fuck has been feeding,” Zuela says on a tired sigh.

  “Nowhere nearly enough,” Vance mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Especially not since he exhausted himself merely monitoring Violet’s pain levels during her mating with Emit.”

  Zuela’s nose wrinkles.

  “I really don’t understand you boys. I’d cut a man’s wanker off befo
re I graciously let him use it on my woman,” he confesses.

  “We know,” we all state in unison, vividly remembering him doing just that. Back when he was married to Vance’s mother.

  Who…didn’t appreciate her lover’s dick being removed for all eternity.

  We all shudder in unison.

  Aside from Damien, who is still intently staring ahead at the door. I almost see him willing Dorian to hurry this along.

  This is the most likable I’ve ever found Zuela, and it makes me leery. I don’t like him being tolerable. I prefer hating him and wishing for his head to land on a stake.

  “He has nothing to gain from this,” Zuela says, turning to face Vance, as if the Head Van Helsing has any say in this matter. “Worst scenario, he fails, and then you have Dorian sitting at your table. Best scenario, he wins, and Dorian acts humbled for a century or two. But if Damien’s not been feeding—”

  The door finally swings open to the lower section of the arena, straight across from Damien.

  Damien…smirks.

  I love when Damien smirks in battle. It means he’s feeling confident. But I lack the same confidence in him, because I know Dorian hasn’t missed a meal in thousands of years. Damien’s no match right now.

  Now that I think about it, I really don’t want Damien doing this.

  Why do I feel the sudden urge to bite my nails?

  “I don’t like this,” I note aloud.

  Emit’s already bent over, eyes intently focused on the ring below.

  Damien flicks the challenge card to the ground, and Dorian grins as he does the same thing.

  “You’re too easy, brother. You know better than to have a weakness—”

  Dorian’s words end on a pained cry, and he drops to the ground almost immediately.

  I lean way forward, because this is damn interesting. Even at full strength, Damien should have had to struggle for a while to break into Dorian’s mind.

  “Sorry. I’ll skip taunts and threats and get straight to the point,” Damien says coldly, as Dorian’s eyes glaze over, and a scream leaves his lips.

  His body lies limp on the ground, and even Zuela Van Helsing shivers as though he’s just felt fear in Damien Morpheous’s presence for the first time.

  “I’m Damien Morpheous,” Damien grinds out. “First legitimate son of our family. You’re Dorian Gray. The illegitimate bastard who has a problem with our fucked up family legacies.”

  Damien kneels beside Dorian.

  “You’re a little too old to be blaming Father for all your problems. You want someone to fuck with, next time, come directly to me,” he says in a chilling tone, even as the room’s temperature heats significantly.

  “I’ve got chills in the best possible way,” I confess, truly gobsmacked to see Damien so powerful for the first time in ages.

  It’s like seeing their skill levels back in the day when we were kids, when Damien’s talent was so far beyond Dorian’s reach it was laughable.

  “I wouldn’t have,” Dorian cries out, welts showing up on every piece of skin visible. “I was just scaring her! It was just the bloodlust and maddening spirits of sin from Pandora’s Box that time. I swear I wouldn’t have done it, Damien!”

  Ice forms on the floor beneath me, and Vance grabs my arm and Emit’s dragging us back down to our seats.

  I was just scaring her…

  “Who the hell is he talking about?” I say between clenched teeth, even though I know the answer already.

  Violet’s office was wrecked.

  Damien’s phone was dropped and broken.

  All the important Morpheous members are in attendance for a challenge they knew would be accepted.

  Amos looks terrified.

  Damien fed off Violet enough to send Dorian to the ground.

  It’s a damn good thing she can’t die, because he clearly took more than he’s ever taken from one source so quickly.

  The only thing that would spur him to take such desperate measures, is—

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Damien tells Dorian, even as he fists his hands. “But she didn’t know that, and you used it against her. Because of that terror I smelled all over her, I’m done feeling sorry for you. It’s time you see the difference in our power, so you’ll stop dreaming of beating me. Next time, I’ll show no mercy.”

  Dorian’s next scream echoes all around, and my mind travels back to the past, idly remembering all the times he must have been holding back.

  That son of a bitch really felt pity for Dorian all this time?

  “Someone explain to me what’s going on right now? How did he penetrate Dorian’s mind so easily?” Zuela growls over his shoulder.

  Damien’s been keeping secrets.

  “As the firstborn, and the most enraged at the sight of Idun’s death, Arion encompassed the blood-thirstiest spirit,” Vance tells him.

  “I’m aware,” Zuela bites out.

  “As firstborn, I encompassed the wildest, most savage spirit,” Emit says on a quiet, thoughtful breath, as we watch Dorian’s body begin to writhe.

  “As firstborn, I encompassed the most prideful, valiant spirit, the moment I stepped in to temporarily play a hero,” Vance adds.

  My eyes flick to Dorian. “As firstborn, Dorian encompassed the most sexually deviant spirit from that box. He’s the most physically powerful.”

  “But as firstborn Morpheous, Damien inherited the strongest mind. He was groomed for that role. We’re ignorant fools for never considering it before now,” Zuela says in frustration and understanding.

  “He was ashamed to feel sympathy for a man like Dorian,” Vance states on a hushed whisper, similarly echoing my thoughts from earlier.

  “And we’ve spent centuries thinking they were nearly on the same level, all because Damien wanted Dorian to have hope,” Emit murmurs so quietly I almost miss it.

  A soft, barely noticeable, yet very familiar scent catches my attention, and my gaze darts to the top. Then, after I spot Violet standing in a viewing box, her eyes wide and hands pressed against the glass, my gaze darts across the way to spot Idun.

  The bitch is in her seat and watching with unwavering attention, and clear lust, as Damien tears Dorian apart from the inside.

  Our girlfriend is going to expose all our secrets at this rate. She really does attract too much bloody attention.

  Chapter 6

  VIOLET

  Dorian’s screams tear through the air again, the sounds so broken and tormented that I honestly believe Damien is doing far worse to him than Dorian did to me. And it looks like it’s killing him to do it.

  My heart breaks, as I watch Damien fight back his own tears, even as his eyes burn with fury and anger.

  I feel my breath catch in my throat when two hands are suddenly on my waist, and after a blur of motion, I’m soundly seated in a vampire’s lap.

  Vance gives me a worried look.

  “Violet, put us at ease,” Emit says without looking in my direction. “How far did Dorian push you?”

  It’s becoming clear that they’re all wound really tight, and my hands tremble just a little. I quickly recover.

  “He really wasn’t going to do anything? It was all for show?” I ask quietly, my gaze drifting back to the arena.

  Dorian screams again, his eyes completely white, as he foams at the mouth and begins writhing. I spot a familiar face in the crowd just behind them, and my own jaw grinds.

  It’s their father.

  “Pandora’s Box is a glorified term for the banished sins and spirits. Demons led us into battle that historic night, because we fucked with the dark consequences of blood magic,” Zuela says on a frustrated breath, surprising me when he’s the one to answer my question so semi-directly. “In the name of immortality, we never stopped to consider what monsters we’d forge in ourselves. Dorian was a weak, kicked pup. He’d have been an ideal target for that particular demon.”

  I get the gist of what he’s saying. Dorian was just a vessel that night. Now
he has the worst reputation, for his was the most unforgivable sin of all.

  “Damien wasn’t allowed to feel sorry for his brother,” I whisper in realization.

  I glimpsed only small fragments of their past. At first, Damien was proud he was better. Then, he was worried about Dorian.

  “Dorian hates Damien, because he envies him that much for how much better he’s always had it. And Damien hates himself for not being able to give his brother a better break,” I add, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

  I came here desperately hoping to see Damien thoroughly destroy Dorian, because he made me believe it wouldn’t be any problem. Just before I passed out, because I didn’t realize until now, that feeding Damien is actually a big task, when he’s fueling up for a fight.

  But he took selfishly. Just as I asked him to.

  And I was able to give him all he needed.

  I’m enough.

  I didn’t realize until now how much I needed to know that I’m enough for him. Because he’s decided to be faithful, and he genuinely has to start feeding more regularly, since Idun is a passive-aggressive bitch who uses pawns to do her dirty work.

  “Dorian loves her,” I state in agitation, my gaze swinging up to find her staring directly at me.

  She narrows her eyes, even as a sinister smirk lines her lips.

  She’s not playing pretend anymore.

  The game is finally changing. She’s going to come after me with everything she’s got, and they’re going to get caught in the crosshairs every time she does it indirectly.

  Like today.

  “What laws did she extort to convince him he could get away with this?” Vance asks.

  “He’s too pathetically weak if he’s still being manipulated by her,” Arion grinds out. “Don’t make excuses for him.”

  I feel them all turn an incredulous glare on the vampire petting me.

  “Can I tear his head off?” Arion asks next to my ear. “Or will that offend your sensitive nature?”

  It certainly interrupts the intense stare-down between myself and Idun, which they all seem oblivious to.