Gypsy Freak

by Cunning, Kristy

  I idly wonder why Portocales can’t be turned into monsters…

  If so, what the hell am I?

  “But, aside from the small council, Portocale gypsies are as doomed to mortality as we are to immortality,” he goes on.

  “The council is immortal?” I ask, clearing my throat as I keep my more pressing questions to myself.

  “In…a way. We need to get to work before they realize a Portocale gypsy is sleeping around with monsters and trying to free us from the Portocale curse.”

  I stop abruptly, and he smiles down at me, winking. “It’s just one little curse. We have plenty of others attached to us that are irreversible to make up for the loss of this one punishment, sweet gypsy.”

  “Because the true objective is to relieve you of this curse. Not to have that weird happily-ever-after,” I state, needing clarification.

  “If we can stop falling in agony every time a Portocale is killed, that’d certainly be great. Because it’s not just old-blood Portocale gypsies. It’s anyone with Portocale blood in their veins, no matter how miniscule it is. You have threading abilities, which means you’re of strong Portocale old-blood and have the power to stop the curse.”

  “So just tell me how to stop the curse and leave me out of your plight. Win/win.”

  “Not quite,” he says tightly. “I’m afraid you actually have to care about us enough to really want the curse to stop. You’re very likely related to at least one of the semi-immortal council members, which means you could appeal to that one on our behalf when the moment comes. I’m sure it’s going to take a bit to reach that point of concern.”

  “Got it,” I say as I step back.

  He frowns when I move away from him, putting a little distance between us.

  “You’re not going to kill me because you need to use me. The other vampires aren’t going to hurt me because you managed to rise two years early and beat up a Van Helsing and a werewolf alpha on your first week out of the box, and I’m your date.”

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this,” he says as he narrows his eyes.

  “I’m going to go dance now and drink. A lot. I think it’s the only way I’m going to be able to deal with the fact you’re determined to use me like tape and glue to your boy’s club…because I’m on information overload.”

  With that, I turn and walk out into the rave. This time, vampires shuffle out of my way, and no one steps on me, as I move to the center of the dance floor, let the music hum through me, poke my ass out, and…dance like no one can see me.

  Chapter 15

  VANCE

  Relief courses through me when I finally spot Violet stalking through the rave. Predictably, everyone moves out of her way.

  Arion was supposed to have to battle for his position. Instead, it’s still Emit fighting all his betas and Arion is sitting prettily back at the top of the vampire chain with no opposition, because he rose early.

  All the whispers of mutiny have certainly tamped down at this party he threw himself to prove to everyone he’s still the monster no one wants to face.

  Unbelievable.

  Emit will be in a rage for years to come about this turn of events.

  My thoughts immediately turn back to Violet when she weirdly sticks her rear way out, and starts…I’m not really sure what she’s doing. Is she hopping? No, she’s moving to a rhythm of some sort, but certainly not the music.

  Never mind; there’s no rhythm at all. Just random writhing that has me cringing, even as I smile at the absurdity of whatever it is she mistakenly thinks she’s doing out there.

  The vampires try to stare, but cut their gazes away because they’re likely worried Arion is testing them. You don’t stare at your alpha’s date for the evening, no matter how lovely or…ridiculous they look.

  My phone vibrates, and I answer it without ever taking my eyes off the one gypsy I’ve met who doesn’t have any rhythm.

  “Yes?” I say by way of greeting Damien, who has apparently given up trying to get me to respond to his texts.

  “For fuck’s sake, have you found her yet?” he gripes.

  “Yes,” I say with a confused grin when she starts doing some slow spin with an up-and-down motion…that has more people shuffling out of her way.

  “What’s she doing?”

  “Do you know those old washing machine agitators that moved the clothes around?” I ask him dryly.

  “Why the hell are you asking me about washing machines?”

  “Because that’s what she’s doing right now. Moving like one of those agitators…without the rhythm.”

  He goes quiet, possibly trying to picture that for himself.

  “Why?” he finally asks.

  “I think she’s dancing,” I answer unsurely as she starts flailing her arms and singing along with the music.

  I assume she’s singing; I can’t hear anything over the obnoxious music below, but her lips are moving with the words. I perch on the balcony railing, getting more comfortable as my gaze rakes over her with even more curiosity.

  “All gypsies can dance,” he’s quick to rebut. “It’s one of the better stereotypes that I actually don’t mind because of how true it is.”

  “Not this gypsy,” I say, finding myself smiling as the weird triplets suddenly appear…and quickly disappear like they don’t want to be seen with her.

  I need to talk to those lucid ghosts about what Anna told me.

  Violet starts doing some hip-thrust maneuver that I can’t believe I snort at.

  “Are you laughing right now?” Damien asks like he can’t believe his ears.

  My laughter quickly tapers off when I see a familiar face in the crowd. The prat below gradually works his way toward Violet, the only one brave enough to do so.

  “Dorian is here,” I tell Damien.

  He goes unnaturally silent for a chilling beat before responding. “Send him back off to find his rogue turner.”

  Dorian runs a hand through his hair, putting on his practiced smile, as he approaches Violet.

  “I need to go.”

  “Why the hell are you going? I want—”

  “He’s speaking to Violet.”

  The line goes dead, and I start toward the edge of the balcony, straining my hearing, even as the music hurts them when I do. I barely catch a bit of their conversation when he tells her his name.

  “Oh! Sorry! I can’t talk to you,” Violet tells him before turning and walking off, confusing him and me.

  He actually stands in place, looking around as though he’s been struck.

  “Perhaps she is a gypsy freak if she can refuse Dorian’s charm at the mention of his name,” Emit says from right beside me.

  Distracted by Violet, I never even heard him approach.

  “Why would the werewolf alpha show up at the vampire’s ‘Welcome Back From the Grave’ party when tensions are so high?” I ask him on an angry breath, as Violet picks back up with her horrible dancing far away from the still-stunned Dorian.

  “Why is Dorian Gray here?” he asks instead.

  “The better question is, where is Arion when he’s supposed to be with Violet and keeping her away from men like Dorian?” I point out.

  “I’m right here.”

  Arion’s voice has us both whirling around, finding the vampire himself smirking, as he casually leans against the wall behind us.

  This room is so full of vampire scents that it makes it far too easy for everyone to sneak up on me right now.

  His hands are in his pockets as he glances over the edge at Violet. “Rather peculiar method of dancing. I’ve been underground a while, so correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s wretched, is it not?”

  I expect to have to step between him and Emit when Emit’s hands turn to fists.

  “Looks like you’re healing, old chap,” Arion chirps, still smirking as he looks over at Emit. His eyes turn to meet mine. “I assume that sheet she was wearing was yours. Tell me, was she nursing your wounds, and things ju
st got too hot and out of control?” he goads.

  Emit takes a step forward, and I don’t make any move to stop him.

  “You two here to team up and try your luck?” Arion goes on, glancing down at Violet once again. “Because I’m rather positive she hates it when we fight, given the events of last night.”

  “What’s your play, Arion? I saw the marks inside the coffin. I know you woke. I’m sure you’re pissed. Out of the four of us, no one loves revenge more than you. I can’t let you reignite the war,” I tell him calmly, trying to remind myself we’re in a home full of really powerful and top-tier vampires. “There’s been a lot of changes this past century that certainly restricts us more than ever before.”

  Emit likely reminds himself where he is as well. At least, I’m assuming, since he bites his tongue and keeps himself on a leash. One more night until the full moon. It’s a miracle he’s doing this well with so many vampires around.

  “Draining a vampire normally does leave them unconscious. However…I’m an alpha tied to the Portocale curse. When the first one died while I was underground—”

  “You felt it,” Emit says quietly, his jaw grinding. “That was maybe five years after you went under.”

  “Was it? Seemed like I was under there for an eternity, since I had no perception of time. Maybe next time leave me with a watch or two,” Arion goes on, talking as if it’s no big deal, when we all know better. “Anyway, that certainly woke me, and my hundred-year rest became an agonizing state of unrest after that,” he continues with a conversational tone.

  “Then we’ll consider it even and our people can stop trying to kill each other for a past conflict that has been more than substantially paid for in turn,” Emit says, surprising me a little.

  More than a little, actually.

  Arion cuts his eyes toward him. “Your wolves aren’t finished. They want me eternally underground. You really should take control of your packs, alpha,” he says, smiling bitterly. “Before they show you the same courtesy just for being in their way.”

  Emit rolls his eyes. “They are strong-willed, like any wolves. I put Ian in his place tonight—”

  “Did you give him a good lecture, wolf? I bet that really did the trick, alright,” Arion interrupts in a sarcastically disgusted tone.

  Insert ten minutes of verbal jab after verbal jab between the two of them. I lose interest for a moment, checking my emails to see if there are any leads to my unsolved cases.

  “Says the merciless vampire,” Emit dryly counters after one particularly nasty insult.

  “Says the disturbingly pathetic wolf, who can’t get over the first wolves he killed to become immortal,” Arion counters in a cold, calculated tone after Emit volleys another insult his way.

  Tuning them out again, my eyes flick back over the balcony to find Dorian once again trying to talk to Violet. It’s when he touches her arm in a way that most would perceive as an innocent touch that I start to leap over the balcony.

  However, I barely stop myself when I see her quickly disentangle herself like his thrall doesn’t really affect her.

  I pay close attention to the way she once again excuses herself, and moves to yet another spot on the floor to dance.

  “I think we all know the real reason you two crashed my party and decided to lurk in the shadows. Her name starts with a V, and she lacks any rhythm,” Arion states with some amusement.

  I shift my attention between Violet and Dorian, barely listening to the vampire by this point. I’ll deal with him later. There’s another alpha who is pissing me off far worse than him right now.

  Shera intercepts Dorian before he can make a third attempt to corner Violet, and his eyes swing up to the balcony, just as Arion and Emit perch on either side of me.

  “Only a true Portocale could resist the temptation Dorian presents,” Emit says very quietly.

  “Only a true Portocale can evoke enough emotion from those heartless bastards to release us from this curse,” Arion states in a droll tone. “Face it. You all want her for what she represents.”

  I scrub a hand over my face, staring down at Violet and not saying anything to the contrary. Arion sure as hell can’t know what having her has done to me.

  She’s in every thought, every flavor, and every breath right now. I can’t get her out of my head, and I have no idea what the hell to do about it. It’s rather inconvenient, considering how ruthless Arion can be. Not to mention what Damien might do in an effort to steal my one little shard of happiness.

  “I’ve offered her the four of us, by the way,” Arion goes on.

  I choke on air. Emit makes some really weird rumble of surprise that sounds suspiciously like a stunned wolf. Emit and I both look at bloody absurd vampire like he’s lost his mind, as the insane vampire’s grin grows, his eyes on Violet.

  “Don’t look so put off by the notion. She’s like a breath of fresh air in a stagnant, poisoned well,” Arion goes on. “She could have taken sides. She may still. But for now, she’s content to simply learn what she can before making any decision. The only thing I know for sure is that she hates it when we fight.”

  He cuts his gaze toward us, sadistically grinning once more.

  “It’s rather the opposite of the woman who tore us all apart, don’t you think?” he adds.

  “Idun only started the rift. We’ve all widened it on our own. Surely you don’t think sharing some naïve little gypsy girl is going to piece together centuries of bitter, unresolved issues?” I ask incredulously.

  “I think she already is, considering the two of you are standing here in my party without weapons or claws. Her gypsy pride is like a beacon, and we’re all drawn to it, feeling the need and desire to protect it.”

  “Is that why you made her forget anything pertaining to you when you’re not around?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  His grin spreads. “She made a gypsy promise. That little gem just helps her keep it. If she really wants to break her promise, she’ll remember everything and be able to do so.”

  Now I wish I’d brought one of those weapons. It’d feel damn good to stab him somewhere.

  Anywhere.

  “Is Damien going to continue to lurk, or does he want to join in as well?” Arion goes on, just as Damien appears, narrowing his eyes on Arion.

  “Your scent is stronger when Gray is near,” Arion says like he’s explaining the unspoken question in Damien’s eyes.

  “I’m only here because Dorian is here,” Damien is quick to tell him. “Not to welcome you home.”

  “You’re here for the same reason they are, even if none of you will admit as much. I’m going to go drink a little blood and mingle with some bloodthirsty power hogs, who are pretending to be happy I’m home. Keep an eye on our girl until I’ve finished up,” Arion says with twitching lips, as he struts away like he’s found the keys to the kingdom.

  “He really has lost his damn mind,” Emit says under his breath, even as he fixes his gaze to Violet.

  “That washing machine reference makes more sense now,” Damien states dryly, though his jaw grinds when Dorian finally makes it back to Violet.

  This time, she looks defeated and rolls her eyes, as she takes a seat at a table.

  Damien vanishes.

  Chapter 16

  VIOLET

  “I’m not sure why you’re chasing me around this party,” I tell the infamous, relentless, nowhere-nearly-as-sexy-as-Damien Dorian Gray.

  Maybe it’s all the hype, but the actual being himself is far less spectacular than I expected.

  “I’m curious why a Portocale gypsy is caught up in Arion’s Welcome Home party amongst vampires, who have no idea how powerful you’d make them with your death.”

  I’m not sure why I find that amusing. Maybe because he’s so blunt, or maybe because he’s trying to do the same thing Arion is—get me to talk and open up, and then trust and do whatever curse-removal plans the alphas have. Maybe it’s because his chin looks sort of like a small butt cra
ck that wiggles when he talks.

  Some girls love that sort of thing, I know. But one Morpheous stalker is enough, and Damien has grown on me, unlike this Morpheous stalker with the wiggling chin that doesn’t stop wagging.

  They really are a relentless breed.

  “It’s a long story,” is all I tell him.

  “Does the council know about you?” he muses.

  “Does Arion know you’re here and talking to me?” I ask instead of answering the question I don’t have the answer to.

  “Arion knows everything that happens in his House. I’m sure he’d be down here if he took issue with me speaking with his guest.”

  “Actually, I think I’m his date, but it’s hard to tell with monster alphas. I’m sure there’s a harem for him like there is for Emit.”

  “Date with Arion? You? A Portocale?” he asks as though he can’t believe the words out of my mouth... “You know Emit?” he adds with the same level of incredulity.

  “I’ve had a rough few months, and tonight was supposed to really suck. But I’m actually enjoying the way everyone averts their eyes and lets me simply dance the way I enjoy. Excuse me. Hopefully for the final time,” I say as I stand and start to walk off.

  He quickly cuts me off, and I exhale harshly as he narrows his eyes.

  “You’re deliberately ignoring me. How?”

  “You’re quite annoying,” I tell him like it’s a secret.

  Pushing by him yet again, I start walking, but I stop when Damien suddenly becomes visible just in front of me. I’m so relieved he’s stalking me right now, because Dorian actually seems to freeze in place, as Damien casually struts toward us.

  “Issues, Violet?” Damien muses, as I glance at the clear hesitation in Dorian’s eyes, while he stares in surprise at Damien.

  “My vampire escort disappeared when I started dancing, so I could use someone to keep the stalkers at bay, if you’re offering.”

  His lips lift at one corner, as his eyes leave Dorian’s to meet mine. He looks good in a tux.