Gypsy Freak (Page 16)
I hop off the counter as Dad heads back out. Again. It really feels awkward having him here. In Mom’s house.
The urn is right where I left it, and I pick it up, carrying it upstairs.
“I thought your mother was buried,” Damien calls from just behind me when I reach the inside of my room.
I was hoping he wouldn’t follow.
“This is Anna. I have to put her in a bunch of my salt balls, per her final request. And I’m going to do it at your house, since you’re clearly determined to stalk me today and I don’t want to be in a house a cat can break into,” I go on.
“My house is wrecked, thanks to Vance. Be sure to bring thick-soled shoes.”
I pause, canting my head. “Actually, I know a better place I can go, and maybe even get away from you too,” I say as I stand, my smile forming.
Chapter 12
EMIT
I’m not sure what to think when I come home from my run and smell the telltale scent of Portocale oranges.
I do know that I want to break a jaw when I see Damien sulking at my counter and eating one of the oranges that are spilling out of the large bowl on the counter.
“What the hell?” I ask, seriously confused.
“Violet said half of these are mine, so fuck off. I drove her over here, and got tired of hearing your omegas talk you up hours ago. They didn’t even acknowledge me standing there. I think Violet’s the only one who even noticed I left the damn room when she tossed me a pity conversation-starter that I promptly ignored. I remember when women used to clamber over each other just to be close to me and hope I might spare them a simple glance.”
He releases a long, frustrated sigh, before popping another orange slice into his mouth.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Exactly half. If you try to take one more than that, I’ll cut off your—” I stop talking when I notice the oranges have not even a single bruise on them.
“Despite her current circumstances, she’s not a bitter girl, that Violet,” Damien says like he’s taken notice of where my attention has returned. “Funnily enough, neither are her oranges.”
I toss aside my keys and phone and move to the counter, studying the bowl a little less hungrily and a little more appreciatively.
They’re flawless.
“Maybe that’s why Marta Portocale didn’t tell her daughter the same story that would have made her as bitter as every other Portocale gypsy.”
“Maybe Violet will be the first Portocale gypsy to listen to our side of things,” he surmises.
“Even hearing our side won’t change the truth of what happened,” I remind him very quietly, since it’s clear she must be here, probably in the omega wing, if I had to hazard a guess.
“From what I’ve gathered during the time I could stomach listening to your omegas exaggerate every good thing about you, Violet is going tonight to try to talk Arion into some deal with real peace between you two. It’s cute how she thinks life is simply that simple. The omegas adore her just for trying to give it a shot.”
He flicks an orange peel away after he licks it clean like he’s the wolf.
“The only good part of all this is that I now know you’ll never again get laid by those wolves, no matter how much they praise you to Violet. They’ve not just picked out a girlfriend; they’ve picked you out a mate.”
I glare at him, and he just grins, never meeting my eyes.
“Too bad I’m way out ahead of you,” he adds.
“I’d say Vance is winning, if this is a sprint instead of a marathon,” I tell him, still not even sure if I actually want her or if I just want her long enough to piss them all off.
“Vance lucked into his moment and failed to follow-through with charming stalkery. She’s leaving a window open for me at night now.”
I roll my eyes as I start heading toward the omega wing.
Sure enough, I spot Violet, but I slow my steps when she walks out in a really nice, long, black dress.
She stumbles when she sees me. “Sorry. I know I really shouldn’t be here tonight of all nights, considering your deal with Arion, but they swore it was okay.”
Fay nods enthusiastically, which is weird, since she has no enthusiasm. Ever.
I don’t like this. They like her far too much.
They’re already treating her too much like pack, and Violet is very mortal, fragile, and not at all pack.
“I didn’t realize it was a formal thing, so I’m really glad I stopped by. I left oranges, since now I know they’re sort of a big deal. It’s a gift for—”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t make her keep talking,” Damien groans as he goes over to her with more familiarity than I like.
She hated him. She hated him way too much. Why is she just standing there as he drapes an arm around her shoulders?
“We’re off to my house so her dad doesn’t see her going on date with a vampire. Have fun tonight,” Damien says with a smirk as he steers her by me, bumping his shoulder against mine as he goes.
“It’s not okay for you to just show up at my house,” I call out to him.
“Sorry,” Violet blurts out, which of course makes me run a hand over my face when Damien starts laughing.
My omegas actually fucking growl at me. At me.
Never has that happened.
I glare at all of them, and Fay whimpers before scurrying off. Then I turn and glance over at Damien as he explains to Violet that my comment was solely directed at him.
Shaking my head, I go to my private office and pull out the Portocale family tree, trying to figure out what branch Violet’s family descended from.
All I’ve been able to think about is ending one of the few curses that can end, especially now that I know Violet is clearly the perfect Portocale for that.
But as the minutes tick by, I find myself unable to focus on anything other than what Damien said about her naïve plan to broker a true truce.
Instead of staying put, the way I really need to, I decide to go find one of my tuxes and crash a vampire’s party.
The second I exit and lock up my office, I head down the hallway, forging a plan to talk to Arion and tell Violet not to interfere. The last thing I need is to deal with Arion thinking Violet is my weakness, when she’s clearly more Vance’s, and certainly more Damien’s.
I had no idea how obsessed he’d grown until tonight.
However, the second I enter my bedroom, I find Ian sitting on the stool in front of my bed, and I pause.
He swings an angry gaze up at me. “Last night was a failure, I know. But—”
“Last night was little more than a slap in the face compared to what could have happened. We attacked them in their home. Vance could have punished all of you to punish me,” I bite out. “Leave it, Ian. Let me deal with this.”
“Deal with it like you did a hundred years ago? Putting him underground for a century is a slap on the wrist.”
“Based on what Vance told me last night, it may have been far worse than he actually deserved,” I grind out. “Arion woke during that time. It’s unsure how long he was awake, but he certainly lived awake and underground for long enough to try and claw his way out. He’s been severely punished.”
He stands abruptly, a growl in his throat. “Far worse than he deserved?” he snaps. “You remember what he did to our people? He drained them and then killed them. He—”
“He upheld a law I refused to abide by, but he stepped out of his place. Those wolves were going to be culled regardless,” I interrupt, my voice even as I advance on him.
I’m two steps in front of him before he finally remembers his place and forces his eyes to lower.
His jaw tics with the effort it takes.
“He stepped out of line by making it personal. Vampires don’t get to cull the wolves. They don’t get to decide when, how, and where. I do. Van Helsings do. Wolf alphas do. But the law is still the law for a reason.”
He jerks his face to the side, his fists forming and opening.
“When there is no order, there is only chaos,” he finally says, answering the unspoken question.
“Chaos from us in this era would equal an apocalypse none of you will survive. The immortal alphas will be left to start all over, and to be honest, none of us really want to do that. So there are laws. There is order. Deal with it. With the new information, I declare that Arion has been sufficiently punished, and no farther attacks will be plotted, threatened, or even considered.”
He doesn’t speak. Instead, he stalks out, angry as always. Personally, I grew bored with staying angry centuries ago. I prefer to stay blitzed out of my mind, but right now is not the time.
All I want right now is to ensure Arion isn’t planning his own form of revenge, restarting the vicious, never-ending circle.
And to make sure a little gypsy doesn’t land on the wrong side of him when it sounds like she’s choosing a side that isn’t his.
Chapter 13
VIOLET
The problem with intentions and gypsies is that we don’t always follow through, and the closer it gets to seven, the more nervous I feel about my little speech I’ve prepared.
It honestly sounds really, really lame. And stupid. I can picture Arion laughing in my face before slitting my throat.
Then what? My usual plan of action is to kill whatever just killed me, but I can’t kill a man who can reincarnate, find me, and try to kill me again. If he can even die. I’m not sure on what happens just yet, but I do know they’re all immortal to some relative extent. I’m undying, so I’m not sure what that means for me…