Really good.
I can’t believe I’m back to drooling over my boundary-smashing stalker.
I blame it on the atmosphere and the fact my life is upside down. It seems like I’m left in a constant, vulnerably emotional state these days.
Dorian takes a wary step back, as Damien moves to me, and even though we’re not the sort of friends who dance together—considering I just keyed his car recently—I still let him take my hand and pull me away.
“Why does he look scared of you?” I ask quietly once we’re far enough away from the new stalker, who is moving away from us instead of toward me for a change.
“Because he is,” Damien states flatly. “He only ever communicates with me over the phone. It’s rare he’s in my presence.”
“What happens when he’s in your presence?” I ask as he guides me toward the mostly empty dance floor that got abandoned earlier when I was really letting loose.
“He remembers how much stronger than him I truly am. Odd how he forgets,” he muses, sounding like he’s dropping hints.
“Immortal alphas don’t forget you… He can die?” I ask very quietly.
“It’s theorized he’s not a true Morpheous, for more reasons than just the name. Never mind that. Just dance, gypsy girl. He won’t bother you anymore tonight, and we oddly enjoy watching your exhausting, haphazard moves.”
“We?” I ask, just as my gaze swings up to the balcony and collides with Emit’s and Vance’s.
They just stare with stoic expressions, and I suddenly feel like I’m sitting under glass.
“Ah, Damien, you put pressure on her and gave her a case of performance anxiety,” comes a smooth voice from behind me as Arion’s body presses against my back.
I hate the way I react to him, even as a little hint of fear spikes the rhythm of my heart.
It’s like an unbidden shiver always accompanies his touch, and I’m starting to feel less and less of that fear I should feel, like he’s quickly wearing me down the way Damien has started doing.
Damien’s eyes seem to light up when Arion pulls me closer, letting his lips brush against my ear. “His heart is beating, little gypsy. Do you want to see what he’s capable of when that happens?” Arion asks in a dark, seductive tone.
Damien slowly shakes his head at me, even as he takes an unconscious step forward, eyes on me like he secretly hopes I say yes.
“When his heart beats, he’s not deadened. It’s certainly a turn-on when he uses your own pheromones against you. Ask him to give you a demonstration,” Arion whispers like the devil in my ear.
My gaze flicks up to the balcony again, seeing Emit and Vance leaning over it a bit more, eyes riveted like they’re also waiting to see what I’ll say.
When I blink, my eyes reopen on Damien, finding him so much closer. “Say no, Violet,” Damien says very quietly. “You’ll let him touch you too if I use anything here and now, and he knows it.”
I feel Arion’s grin against my throat, before he presses a soft kiss there, his hands slowly gripping my hips as he starts to move me to the music.
“I’m already touching her, Morpheous, and with a clear head, she’s allowing it because she’s not afraid of me. She knows she’s safe, and deep down, she enjoys the fact one of the worst monsters in here is enchanted with her. It makes her feel powerful after spending so long on the run as someone’s prey.”
I really wish I could say he was wrong, but the same vampires that trampled me earlier have avoided me ever since Arion landed at my side. They’ve moved out of my way, and certainly seem a lot more afraid of getting too close.
I don’t feel so hunted right now. It’s weirdly the first time I’ve been able to relax. And it happens to be in a roomful of monsters, which should be more of a surprise.
My breath hitches when I feel the very tips of sharp points grazing my skin, but Arion fortunately doesn’t press that boundary. He just teases me with the threat, as if reminding me he’s in complete control of his monster side.
Damien’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I really consider learning a little more about him. Anna would be here begging me to say yes.
But I also know Arion really hurt Damien somehow, and I can tell he wants to do this as much as he doesn’t. Since I’m not exactly sure what pheromones are capable of inducing, I finally blurt out, “Another time!”
It’s so tragically cringe-worthy. I feel even dumber when Arion makes some sound of amusement, and Damien’s lips struggle to keep a respectable line.
“‘No’ would have been a far better answer,” Damien says, as Arion runs a finger down my cheek.
“Damien’s going to take you home for me, because I have a wolf and a Van Helsing to deal with, now that they seem far more agreeable,” Arion adds with that typical amusement in his tone.
My eyes flick up to the balcony to see Emit scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he looks away, his muscles tensing. Vance is staring right at me with a heated look I’ve only ever seen that one time.
I almost want to go to him, but then I remember he hasn’t bothered coming to me.
That’s when…Arion’s words register, and I turn around to face him.
He immediately bends down so quick that I startle, and his lips brush mine so softly, before he moves up to my ear to whisper, “Save me for last, sweet gypsy. I fall the hardest.”
He’s gone before I can even try saying the little speech I prepared that I finally have the courage to deliver about werewolves and vampire peace.
I groan, and when I look up, Emit and Vance are also gone.
“I let the omegas down,” I tell Damien, who comes to drop an arm around my shoulders like our intense moment has dissipated with Arion’s retreat.
He looks a little lost in thought as he stares at the balcony where the other two were.
“Your goal was to prevent a new war. That doesn’t happen in one night, no matter how good a speech is, Violet,” Damien says absently as he starts guiding me out.
I shut my eyes and let him lead me through the blood fountain maze, and I don’t open them again until we’re exiting. Funnily enough, a lot of eyes are on us as we depart, like they know Arion isn’t watching right now.
“I feel less powerful,” I say quietly…to myself, apparently.
Damien has vanished, even though I can still feel his touch.
As far as they’re all concerned, I’m walking and talking with myself.
He doesn’t speak, and more and more vampires studiously take me in, regarding me with far too much interest. As soon as we leave behind the peanut gallery, Damien returns to flesh, and I glare at the side of his face.
“Sorry,” he states very unapologetically. “I needed to see them watching you so I could see if any of them had any ideas. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to do so in my presence. Even those who forget me still feel my dominance,” he adds.
“Well?”
“Curious interest. No malice. Yet,” he says, adding that last word like a caution.
Shera meets me at Damien’s vehicle, my clutch in her hand, and she hands it to me.
“Congratulations. You’re officially safe from any future vampire attacks, even the unregistered ones,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “However, should you have any issues, please call the number on the card I left in your purse.”
With that, she turns and walks away.
“I think that’s the most pleasant I’ve ever heard her be,” Damien muses.
“That was pleasant?”
“Comparatively speaking, yes.”
When I finally manage to glance at my phone, I curse, because somehow it’s already after midnight. How long did I dance?
“If I ask what you can do with pheromones, will it turn into a demonstration?” I ask for the sake of curiosity.
“Most certainly,” he says as he opens the door for me, glancing back at the house. “Take my car, Violet,” he adds, shutting the door in front of me before I can get in, and then he pu
lls out the keys. “I actually need to listen in on what the three of them are discussing.”
I take the keys from his hands, not bothering to argue, and he walks around to the other side in front of me, opening that door for me instead.
After I’m inside the vehicle, he shuts the door and disappears. “Leave a window open for me,” is the last thing he says.
I can’t help but wonder if seeing him through his illusion was a trick Arion used with his astral projection, or if he can see him regardless.
I also can’t ask anyone but Arion or that memory will fade.
“I can’t believe I actually enjoyed a vampire party,” I say on a disappointed-with-myself breath, as I carefully navigate my way through the crowded lot.
It doesn’t take me long get home…without anything jumping out of the shadows at me.
It’s quiet and dark in the house when I get home, and I trip over Dad’s toolbox that was apparently forgotten in front of the door. The clumsy stumble doesn’t even interrupt the thoughts I’m so lost in.
The monsters are a complicated group of people, too complex for me to judge any of them based on one encounter. Besides Dorian. I really don’t like him. He was a little too pushy and insistent that I speak to him, and kept touching me, doing that thing where images pop into my head.
I’m not sure why he kept giving me images of me kneeing him in the balls, because that’s really what I ended up wishing I could do by the end.
When I pass the guest room, I hear Dad steadily snoring. Loudly.
A small smile graces my lips as I head into my room. If he’s still here next week, it’ll be the first time he’s spent my birthday with me since I was a kid.
With that in mind, I skip my shower, happy to be done with monster business so I can finally spend time with Dad.
They all seemed calmer tonight, possibly even…amiable. I’ve seen Emit and Vance fight, and then move right on along like nothing happened.
I’ve seen Damien and Vance fight, and Vance didn’t even really get all that upset about Damien watching us in…well, in Damien’s bedroom, which…just makes it all too weird.
I haven’t heard them say a single nice thing to each other, yet sit in the same room with a comfortable familiarity that can easily give those around them a false sense of security.
They could be having tea right now for all I know.
And thinking about all that is exhausting when I’ve danced the night away in front of all of them. I guess that’s one way to make four guys really not interested in you.
My phone rings, and I answer the unknown number while in the middle of my laugh/groan.
“Yes?”
There’s silence for a second, and my laughter tapers off.
“Hello?” I ask, hearing Dad snoring all the way from here.
Before anyone ever speaks, a ghost pops into my room, and my eyes unfortunately land right on his.
“I really don’t have room for another monster in my life, so I hope you’re just a normal guy,” I tell the ghost as I hang up the phone, absently tossing it aside.
He takes a step forward, smiling like he’s excited to talk to someone, but then he stops, frowns, and vanishes from sight.
O…kay…
Not questioning my luck, I decide to get as much sleep as possible before Dad wakes me up with the sun.
Unfortunately, the ghost reappears just as my eyes blink, and I startle as he marches to me.
“Are you doing that on purpose, or has someone done something to you?” he asks me.
I’m not sure why, but as if they’ve just been waiting for the signal, the triplets appear behind him.
“Judging by the look on her face, she has no idea what you’re talking about,” they all say in eerie unison.
Then, either Sarah, Lily, or Bethany adds, “We think someone is using you, young gypsy. And they’re slowly-but-surely killing any ghost who sticks around too long. Anna made us promise to find out who. We just wanted to make sure you really didn’t know before we held true to our end of the bargain.”
So much for sleep.
I sit up in the bed, looking between the triplet’s eyes, but keeping a wary peripheral on the new guy.
“One of the guys?” I guess, knowing better but feeling stupidly too comfortable amongst beings who almost feel…kindred.
“No. Anna said it started the moment she met you, and judging by their unhealthy obsessions with you, I’d say they surely haven’t known of you longer,” one of the others says.
“So who?” I ask, skipping right over that ‘unhealthy obsession’ thing.
“Something like this takes time to fester and grow. It uses a piece of your own life force to channel that spirit’s energy to something or someone. So who, aside from your very unimpressive, snoring, farting, butt-scratching father, has had access to you?”
“My unimpressive, snoring, farting, butt-scratching ex,” I deadpan. “And my mother,” I add, my lips thinning as what they’re saying slowly falls into place. “Are you saying my mother did something to me? Because my ex knew nothing about the gypsy world.”
“We’re saying she’s either protecting you or betraying you. Which sounds more like your mother?” the guy asks, taking a healthy step back. “And I’m only here because a gypsy will owe me a debt, and I have a living girlfriend with a broken heart and an empty bank account,” he adds. “You’re going to fill it up for her so she cries a little less.”
I still have rich gypsies who owe me a debt, and a lot of oranges they seem to covet…
“What do I get out of this?”
“You get to find out who killed your favorite-ever ghost,” one of the girls says, causing a pang in my heart. “You’re working so hard to find out who killed your mother, even though you really already know, and it makes you mad that you can’t do anything about it. But where’s your mother’s spirit, and did she kill Anna to do something even from beyond death?”
“Mom hunted rogue spirits only. Never the peaceful,” I say quickly, not liking where this is going at all.
“So why isn’t it as important to you to find out who used you to kill Anna? Because Anna clearly isn’t the target, Violet. Someone is doing this to you, and it’s your right to decide if you want to speak to the dead.”
I don’t have to ask questions. I’m slow, but I catch up eventually. “If Mom has anything to do with this, it’s because she knew I’d be gullible and make eye contact. She said the dead shouldn’t get to influence the living. They’ve had their time. If you know I’m dangerous to you, why not run?”
“If you know it’s happening, and you don’t want it to, then why not try to figure out how to stop it?” the guy volleys. “Or should the dead go into final decay early just for being too close for too long?”
“Like Anna,” the triplets all point out again as my jaw wobbles.
“Fine,” I bite out, feeling a tear roll down my cheek. “I’ll find out, but if my mother did this, then there’s a really good reason.”
“Or you just make up a really good reason because you can’t think for yourself,” another triplet pipes in. “Anna said you had blind faith and loyalty to your mother, even in her worst moments. She was afraid you’d be left without this piece of you if it continues. We agree.”
“I could lose sight of ghosts,” I say, half wondering if that was Mom’s intentions, already unfairly considering her the prime suspect.
She knew how bad I hated that I couldn’t see the dead. It was just one more thing that made me feel like a failure to the family name. She swore not all gypsies could see the dead, but I knew all the old-blood gypsies could.
My gaze flicks to the unknown guy, who just stares at me.
“If your girl’s heart is still broken, your death is fresh. Why are you the best candidate for this?” I ask.
“His freshness is the key to us using our knowledge. He can handle much more exposure than us, and study things we can’t…to determine exactly what it is and how
it’s attached.”
“There’s a Portocale curse involving—”
“Far, far different,” one triplet scoffs. “Completely unrelated.”
They spend the next yawn-worthy fifteen minutes or so breaking down the very complicated specifics. I’m not sure if I believe any of it, to be honest. It’s not like the dead say very dependable things.
“What happens next?”
“For now, just go to sleep. He’ll be able to feel more when your guard is down.”
“Sleep I can do,” I say with a shrug as I turn over in bed and pull the cover up, happy to have my back to them…as I allow one more silent tear to fall.
Chapter 17
ARION
The taste of Violet still dancing on my tongue, I take a seat behind my new desk for the first time since I’ve returned home.
“Shera doesn’t really know my taste in decor as well as I’d hoped she would,” I say as I look around, taking in my underwhelming office.
Isiah glares at the door when someone knocks.
“I’ve been trying to speak to you all day. You need to adjust the beta rankings on paper, because Shera was left in charge by the outdated documentation, regardless of your wishes for me to take control until your return.”
“I heard you did quite well, even without the adequate authority,” I state dismissively, peering into one of the drawers full of pencils. “Now why would I need a bunch of sharpened pencils?”
Shera walks in, shutting the door behind her when she grows tired of waiting for an invitation. “It was fun sharpening all of them, and that drawer looked empty.”
When I open the next drawer, I find it also full of sharpened pencils.
I give her a wry look.
She shrugs unapologetically. “It was empty too.”
“So you got me a desk full of pencils,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“We have serious business to discuss,” Isiah says to me, leaning over the desk and far too close to me, his hands perched on the edges.
I hear Shera swallow seconds before Isiah makes a pained sound. I smirk as I pull back, leaving two pencils slammed into both centers of the backs of his hands. “Get blood on my desk, and I’ll shove a few more in other places,” I warn him. “I realize I’ve been gone a while, so let’s try to remember exactly who I am before proceeding here, Isiah. I’d hate for you to cease being one of my favorites.”
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