Gypsy Freak

by Cunning, Kristy

  His eyes flick to my lips and back up to my gaze, as he releases a frustrated sound. “It’s rather complicated to explain why I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that situation, but you’ll understand eventually. I’m sure,” he says a little quieter. “Here,” he adds, pulling a box out of the inside of his coat.

  He hands it to me, and I glance down, running my hand over the long, narrow, soft velvet casing, before taking it from him.

  I expect to find a necklace, given the box shape, but instead, I find a small, beautiful, silver knife with a shimmering marble handle of some sort.

  I expect it to be heavy, but instead, it’s perfectly light, and so easily balanced. I’ve never seen anything at all like it before, or touched anything so deceptive to the eye with expectations and reality.

  “It’s a gift from a Van Helsing for your birthday,” he says, leaning over to adjust my grip.

  His hand closes over mine, showing me the proper hold and grip, and his fingers gently linger on my skin as he moves in closer.

  “Use it wisely. For exactly one hit, you have the power of a Van Helsing. After that, it’s just any other rusty knife with a very attractive hilt.”

  My eyes flick over to his, and I find him a hell of a lot closer. So close I can feel the tickle of his warm breath as it softly bathes my lips.

  “Thank you,” I say lamely, causing his smile to tug up at one corner of his mouth.

  He clears his throat and looks away before adding, “Emit can’t be here tonight because of some beta issues he’s still dealing with. But he has agreed to start training you, the way Damien stated you requested. Instead of me…you know…the Van Helsing who would be an excellent trainer.”

  I’d already moved on from the possibility of Emit training me, since he seems to have zero interest in being friends.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to stick to what I know. Maybe I’ve been lured into a false sense of security this past week, but I feel safe enough. Besides, I’m finally opening the store to the public and still have to hire a new delivery person. There won’t be much free time on my hands.”

  “No more personal deliveries, little gypsy?” he asks, sounding almost disappointed.

  “Margie, I’m sure, will miss seeing me at the front door,” I state with a smartass smile that has his lips restraining one of his own.

  “Touché,” he relents just as the pink satin decorations start waving in the wind, almost in a synchronized dance.

  Little dots glow and dart around, and I swear I see fairy wings. Fairies aren’t real. I’ve already asked Damien. Did he lie to me?

  “How is he doing this?”

  “It’s not real,” Vance explains. “His more complex illusions can also be felt, but it’s very exhausting for him, since he no longer feeds.”

  It’s like a seductive backdrop for a dream fairyland. Even the fountains have sparkly bits of pink and blue water.

  More and more people seem to be changing into robes and masks, and Vance seems to be a lot closer to me on the mushroom seats.

  “This is probably a stupid question, but how does he feed?”

  “By taking as much pleasure from sex as he possibly can without leaving his partner a corpse,” he chirps, grabbing a drink from a passing tray and handing it to me. “Though parties like this temporarily fuel him so long as sex is in the air.”

  My gaze flicks around, and I finally find Damien standing and talking with a group of people who are all laughing at whatever he’s said.

  Usually, I’ve noticed, Damien sort of gets overlooked in the room, despite the blinding beauty. But right now, with that subtle glow to his skin, more and more women—and quite a few men—are swooning as he speaks.

  I’m not really sure why a tinge of jealousy shoots through me. Maybe it’s because our friendship hinges on me being the only person to tolerate him for long periods of time.

  “The longer his heart beats, the more charming people find him,” Vance says when he sees me watching. “He somehow managed to forget how much he loves being adored by everyone in the room.”

  “I guess that was his life before the curse,” I state, smiling a little when he grins over at me and winks.

  He promptly returns his attention to all the people who’ve gathered around him, hoping he’ll spare them a simple glance.

  “This is mild in comparison to how it once was. Give him a few years of a beating heart, and everyone will think they’re in love with him. That’s how it was even before he was immortal with powers of seduction and persuasion.”

  Now I feel even worse for Damien, because when this party is over and cleaned up, they’ll all forget about him, and he’ll be alone again.

  “He stopped throwing parties because he got tired of no one remembering he was the life of those parties,” Vance goes on, sighing heavily. “Then he stopped feeding, since he only felt tortured and never much stronger after the fact.”

  One woman runs her hand up his arm, and I’m not sure why I smile when Damien casually removes it, putting it on a man who seems to appreciate her more.

  Those two start kissing, while Damien continues to charm the circle around him.

  “It seems he’s forgotten this party is supposed to be about you. Give me a minute,” Vance says, about to stand.

  I grab his hand, and his eyes move to the contact. Quickly I withdraw, since I feel him tense, and I shake my head. “Give him this if he’s enjoying it.”

  “He can enjoy it any time. Your birthdays are numbered,” he states flatly.

  “Well, as morbid as that is, I’d still like for him to enjoy this. Besides, I never have parties, so this is a first. I’m not really sure what to do.”

  “You never have parties?” Vance muses.

  “Not since my thirteenth birthday,” I answer, holding back the gory details of that day. “Do you have parties for every birthday?”

  He makes some derisive noise before he laughs. That laugh quickly turns into a hearty groan, as his body still shakes with the suppressed, almost sad laughter. He pinches the bridge of his nose, while shaking his head.

  “Certainly not,” he finally answers, still partially laughing.

  It’s all such a unique, weird reaction that I just watch with an amused grin.

  “Go enjoy your party,” he finally says, smiling over at me. “While you’re young.”

  I dart a dubious glance around at several shameless, writhing piles of bodies. I don’t even know how to attempt to socialize in a setting like this.

  “No one ever talks to me at parties,” I observe, making no move to get up and enjoy my party.

  “Because you continue to hang out with alphas. First at Arion’s party, and now here at Damien’s,” he tells me.

  “But I could be painting myself a target,” I decide to point out. “Since it sounds like everyone else wants to be alpha.”

  “You’ve spent too much time listening to Emit’s worrisome omegas. Careful with them. If they start feeling like they’re safer with you, they’ll move right into your home.”

  “Har,” I say to his very dry humor.

  “I’m serious,” he says as he leans over onto the plusher set of mushrooms, lying down and spreading out like he’s getting more comfortable.

  My gaze flicks to Damien, and I almost fan myself. The thicker the seductive air in here gets, the more…tempting he becomes. It’s messing with my head.

  “You were about to light a candle on a pie, and you sit here with the same expression you had then, even though this is certainly a party a twenty-six-year-old single woman of this era should enjoy,” Vance says from behind me, as I fail to tear my gaze away from the Morpheous in his element.

  “All I can think is how much I wish Anna could be here to see all of this,” I tell him.

  When laughter rumbles out of him, I turn and give him a sad smile.

  “She really would,” I go on. “It feels wasted on me because I don’t want to just join in with some random people. I like t
o know who’s touching me, and I…”

  I shut up is what I do, because saying I’m not usually a casual sex person because I’m clingy doesn’t sound like a smart or respectable thing to say.

  “Anyway,” I go on quickly, deciding to change the subject completely before he can weigh in on the dropped comment, “Mom and I used to do birthdays—”

  I stop talking again when someone races by, and Vance is up and off the mushrooms, intercepting the man.

  I’m not sure what they say or what happens, because they turn and simply dart out. A familiar body presses up against mine from behind, and I feel an arm snake around my waist like Damien’s gotten a confidence boost from the attention tonight.

  “Happy birthday,” Damien says close to my ear.

  “Thank you for the party,” I say a little distractedly, wondering why Vance had to take off.

  “The party is just getting started, Violet. Just wait until everyone really gets going.”

  Damien’s phone must go off, because he keeps his arm around me as he glances down at it. I turn to see him frowning.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, pocketing his phone and smiling tightly at me.

  “Vance just ran out of here without a word, and now you’re lying to me.”

  “We’re alphas, Violet. We’re unfortunately privy to information you’re not,” he says, making me feel a little ridiculous, since I have no idea why I feel entitled to all answers.

  I start to apologize, but he suddenly lifts me, spins me around, and we’re on the dance floor in less than a trapped breath. He moves me to the music that is so…I don’t even know what to call it. I’ve never heard music like it before.

  Sort of a beautiful melancholy tune that continues through one song after the next.

  “You and I are going to enjoy your birthday together, you’re going to get completely intoxicated, and I’m going to hold your hair away from your mortal lips when you spew it all back out,” he says, using an eloquent tone for the most ineloquent birthday promise ever.

  “Aren’t you going to at least introduce me to everyone?”

  He shudders like that’s a terrible thought. “Of course not.”

  “Why?” I ask as he pulls me to the center of the dance floor, apparently wanting his feet stepped all over when he stops carrying me and starts expecting me to dance on my own.

  He tips my chin and winks at me, as he says, “Because they don’t really matter.”

  As I step all over his feet and earn a few grunts, I try to look at it through his eyes. All these people will just forget him if enough time passes, as though they can’t put in the effort to want to see him before it happens.

  He’s so lonely that he stalks me just to keep me from forgetting. And he threw me a birthday party. The first one I’ve had since I was thirteen.

  “Is the party my gift?” I ask on a small smile as my arms twine a little tighter around his neck, my body relaxing as his arms get tighter on my waist.

  “Well, I have two gift options,” he says, moving me around on the dance floor. “The first is a traditionally wrapped, very appropriate gift. It’s in my bedroom. The second is a completely unwrapped and entirely inappropriate gift,” he says, adding the last part jokingly. “Also in my bedroom.”

  He winces and bends when I land hard on his foot, and I shove at his chest when he groans and laughs. “All gypsies can dance,” he says on a teasing sigh.

  I roll my eyes as he turns and guides me up the stairs, even as I sort of smile.

  Everyone tries to be in his line of view, and I can’t deny that I also feel the pull of his presence the more the night goes on.

  “You’re probably the most physically perfect man I’ve ever seen. Is it all an illusion for me? Because most of the time people seem to look right by you. I’ve never really realized how often until I finally see everyone noticing you the way they should tonight,” I say as we go up the stairs.

  He huffs out a somewhat sad laugh, as we finally turn down the hallway toward his bedroom.

  Our fingers lace together like it’s a casual, nonchalant sort of thing to do.

  “I had you a surprise party all lined up, and I was going to hand you your gift at midnight, but you decided to traipse in circles around town for however long. The whole damn town smelled like you,” he says as he gives me a look.

  I’m not sure why I smile. However, it’s clear he’s deliberately deflecting.

  “I tried calling you.”

  “Phones are down,” he states immediately. “They’ll be back on sporadically, but if things keep going like this, there will be little electrical currents in the air that cause random blackouts.”

  Again, the mention of electrical currents has me swallowing a little harder than necessary.

  Lightning will strike the same place a lot more than twice if I’m standing anywhere without salt, rubber, and shelter.

  “Doubtful it’ll come to that. Afraid of the dark, Violet?” he muses as he moves to the dresser.

  “Only since I started hanging out with monsters,” I absently quip.

  A beautiful pink box is tied with a black satin bow. The box is a perfect, small square. I’m smiling as I take it, deciding to drop the other topic, since he has no clue about the conversation I’m having in my head.

  Gently, I pull the ribbon free and open it up. I realize he’s a very thorough stalker when I see what’s inside.

  “I know you have those little pink satin trimmings you put in your bra—”

  “You watch me when I undress?” I ask as I roll my eyes, battling the stupid, very inappropriate smile on my face as I touch the smooth, strong satin.

  It was an invasion of privacy not that long ago. Why am I now smiling about it?

  “Only when you’re kind enough to do it in front of the salt line or leave the door open,” he deadpans.

  It occurs to me how I could keep him from spying, now that he’s said that, and I school my features so I don’t give it away.

  I wonder if he can’t cross a salt line without losing his illusion. And if he breaks my salt line, I’ll feel it.

  “Does that earn me gratitude, or was it too understated? I thought about getting you a car, but worried that’d be obnoxious,” he adds as he pulls out the ribbons he has no clue serve the purpose they do, and I just slowly slip out of my shoes.

  He doesn’t give me any reaction when I put my hand on his arm. “I almost got you a different color, but realized everything you buy for yourself is pink, aside from your clothes. You have no pink clothing actually—”

  He stops talking when I get on my tiptoes and drag his face down to mine.

  He kisses me in surprise at first, but then he drops the box, and his arms go around my waist as he deepens the kiss. It’s easy to be bold with Damien, since he’s a sexual deviant by nature.

  “Can I be greedy and take both gift options?” I ask against his lips, trying to play this smooth…but sounding…so cheesy.

  He kisses me harder, one hand coming up to gently, but firmly, cup the back of my head like he’s worried I’ll pull back at any second, and he plans to keep me here.

  He lifts me suddenly, and my legs go around his waist as he carries me over to the bed with just one arm shelfed under my ass.

  I’m not sure what kind of strength he has to lower us as quickly and gracefully as he does, but my back comes down on the bed without me ever feeling the slightest bit unsteady.

  “To be clear,” he says as he kisses his way down my neck, “you meant me and not the car, right?”

  I’m not sure why I laugh, but I feel his smile against my chest as he kisses his way down, his breath heating me through the fabric of my shirt.

  Suddenly he’s off me, and I dart a look around.

  “Surely you didn’t think I was going to take you like a common horny teenager,” he says from somewhere in the room.

  I feel breath at my cheek, and I jerk my gaze there.

  The warm
breath comes at my other cheek, just as Damien’s body fills in the space and presses against my back.

  “There are rules with me,” he murmurs against my cheek.

  I see his hand when it comes up my hip, pushing my jeans down as he kisses his way across my neck.

  “The most important rule is rule number one.”

  When he doesn’t immediately continue, I arch into him, causing him to release a small groan as a heat starts in my core, wanting him a lot more with every tortured sound he makes.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “Seems rather abrupt.”

  He turns my face, his eyes narrowing on mine like he’s searching for valid permission.

  He needs to feed on sexual energy after spending so much of it on this party. Vance said he doesn’t feed anymore. It’s what I tell myself to feel better about how stupid this probably is.

  “I want to spend my birthday with the only person who planned to spend it with me, and I don’t want to overthink it. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  His lips twitch, and he pushes my jeans the rest of the way down. Normally, I’d be a little shier at this point in the process—half dressed and awkwardly getting onto the part where we’re lost in the moment—but it’s Damien. He’s likely seen the vast majority of my body in every state of undress.

  His lack of boundaries are disturbing…until you get to know him and understand him a little better. You know…if you can appreciate the fact he’s not a typical man and all.

  To be honest, I’m still adjusting.

  “Then let me explain rule number one. It’s simple, really,” he says, his lips brushing over mine as his hand runs up my hip. “Don’t fucking die.”

  Chapter 19

  VIOLET

  I’m the one working not to smile this time, since I know he’s being serious. He fortunately doesn’t notice as he lifts up and pulls his shirt over his head.

  I’m not sure where it lands, because my efforts to restrain a smile get lost as I gawk, taking in every uncovered inch of Damien Morpheous.