Gypsy Freak (Page 44)

The battle ends when Ian can’t push himself back up, even as Emit stands easily.

“Damn pups see him absent from the fights and assume he’s too weak to show up. Fools,” one of the men below mutters as Ian whimpers and grudgingly exposes his neck.

I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen, but judging by the shock in the reactions and audible breaths all throughout the crowd, no one even considered Emit latching onto that throat and ripping into it.

But…that’s what happens.

He turns, and all the wolves, even the older, desensitized group below us, rustle restlessly, and the ones below us even dart to bow, eyes on the ground.

A wave of wolves drop to do the same, like they’re looking to the oldest to show them what to do next in a situation they haven’t faced before.

No one makes a sound as they continue to bow before him.

Emit shifts so effortlessly back to skin, standing to his full, intimidating height, as he wipes the blood from his mouth and beard.

“I think we’ve forgotten that my orders aren’t optional. If someone has my protection, no sane wolf touches them,” he says as he looks up at me like he’s caught a whiff of my scent.

His gaze moves before I can really be certain if he was actually staring at me.

“I put down the rabid,” he goes on. “Killing me is one thing. Torturing me is slightly more offensive,” he goes on in an idle tone that makes some visibly shudder, as though they’d considered being here tonight too and hope he doesn’t realize it.

Or they’re just pissing-themselves scared.

“Stepping on my word and involving an outsider—who is under my protection—in wolf vendettas to spit in my face?” Emit goes on as though he’s asking a rhetorical question.

Arion reappears at our side, his lips curved in a devilish grin that draws a narrowed look from Damien.

“Well, this just got a lot more interesting,” Arion says as he props up on a tree like he’s pleased with the world and all is right.

Vance’s grip tightens on me as he pulls me slightly away from Arion, whose gaze has moved to me.

I pretend not to notice as I stare at Emit, who gives me a subtle nod, as if to say, “We’ll be speaking soon.”

“Light it up,” Emit says to someone, and exploding bottles of fire are launched at the barn by ten or so different men dressed in tactical gear.

The fire burns hot and fast behind Emit, as he towers over most everyone, and stares at them all a minute longer.

“Make sure to tell the wolves who couldn’t make it out tonight,” he adds before he walks away.

Damien is missing when I turn back around.

Chapter 28

EMIT

“Not now. I have something really important to do,” I tell Damien.

“More wolves to kill that you wouldn’t normally kill?” he drawls as he strolls in.

“I already dealt with Vance’s inquisition on the matter last night. I don’t have to deal with yours tonight,” I tell him.

“You wouldn’t see me last night because you were busy then too,” he goes on, glancing around as he sniffs the air.

There’s too much wolf scent in here with all the betas who’ve been coming in and out all day, dropping off their gifts to the alpha today, reminding me who’s loyal and whatever. He won’t even smell the basket of oranges in the very next room.

I’ve spent the day staring at a computer until my eyes blurred.

I look over a few of the pages I printed out, discreetly keeping them out of his view.

“I want to know what really happened,” he tells me as he takes a seat and stares over at me.

“What do you mean?” I ask absently.

“Why did you, the alpha who spares as many wolves as possible and deals with the occasional mutinies, kill Ian and the rest of those wolves?”

“Wolf got unleashed,” I say like I’m explaining myself. “There were too many of my commands getting broken—”

“Feed that bullshit to Vance or Arion, since they lap it up. But I want to know what part Violet truly played in all that,” he tells me, drawing my full, confused attention at last.

He stares at me like he knows something, and I sit up a little taller. He notices the change and a knowing gleam crosses his eyes. But how much does he know?

“What do you think you know?” I ask him, deciding to lead him.

“There’s something to know, so that means you know too,” he says vaguely. “You start.”

“No, you start,” I volley.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Violet told me she couldn’t die before I passed out after…well, after I popped a cork,” he explains, a sour expression on his face.

“And?” I prompt.

His eyes narrow. “And? And?! I say she can’t die, and you say and? Isn’t it obvious? A woman who can’t die shows up here, in our town, somehow raises Arion, but conveniently Arion keeps her from talking about it. We all go a little crazy trying to get close to inspect her, and end up being in bed with her.”

“I was in a casket with her—certainly not the same as a bed,” I point out.

“The point is, Arion has been pushing her on us, and though he’s crazy, we still should have seen it. Arion’s never once strayed from Idun. Now, she’s with you and you killed all those wolves like you’re some sort of true alpha again. The innocent Violet, who should be traumatized, shows up at the sight of the melee in no shoes. No jacket. No—”

“Get to the point and quit trying to make it in the abstract,” I grind out.

“She’s Idun,” he says with no more preamble. “That bitch found a way to die, and she’s come back as—”

“She’s not Idun,” I say dismissively, deciding we’re certainly not on the same track.

“Yes, she is. There’s no other way she could have intricately woven herself into our lives in the maddening way she has—”

“She’s not Idun,” I say again.

“You didn’t see that ludicrous show she and Arion put on in front of me—the one where she pretends not to know about Idun right after having sex with me and giving it away.”

“She’s not Idun,” I argue…again.

“Then how did she live through sex with me?”

“Because she can’t die,” I say like that part is obvious.

“Like Idun,” he growls. “Only the Neopry line can do that.”

“Not like Idun,” I say as I lift the stack of papers.

“You really think Idun isn’t capable of—”

“I don’t know or care what Idun is capable of. All I know is that without a doubt, January Violet Carmine is not Idun.”

“How do you know this?” he asks as I stand. “We should check her hidden orchard for apples to go along with those oranges.”

My lips twitch. “Funny you should mention that…”

I get up, stepping through the door, gesturing for him to stay, and I hurry through the house, past the omegas who are playing some video game in their old room, and head to where Violet is lounging in the room behind theirs, not unpacking yet.

Her eyes find mine, and she stands quickly.

“They said you wanted me to bring some clothes and—”

“Did you bring apples?” I muse as I prop up.

“I brought a few. Mom said people always prefer Portocale oranges,” she tells me as she goes to grab a small box that’s wrapped.

The smell of them is so subtle that the box almost snuffs it out completely.

“Emit, we need to talk about what—”

“We’re going to. I just need to get rid of Damien first,” I say as I glance around. “But you’re safe here, Violet. Wolves are easily amendable creatures with the right motivation. But now I see that times are a little more stressful on the young than on the old, and I’ve been lax.”

She looks confused, but I really do need to get rid of Damien.

“When I return, we’re going to have a long conversation about Portocale gypsies and the dark, tangled past we share with them.”

She moves a little closer as she lowers herself to the bed, eyes a little wide.

“It’s not going to be a fun story to tell, but—”

A sharp pain shoots through my skull, dizzying me for a moment as I stumble a step. When the next searing pain hits, I try to warn her, but can’t.

The last thing I hear is her screaming for the omegas as my neck breaks for the first time.

Chapter 29

DAMIEN

Violet’s shrill scream has me standing and calmly moving through the house. She’s here? Why the hell didn’t he tell me she was here?

My nose is clogged by all the wolf scents mucking the place up.

Emit’s cry of pain has me blurring past the omegas as they scramble around, doing I don’t know what.

Violet is on a bed, trying to help two of the omegas drag him up to it, as my eyes land on Emit’s solid white, vacant gaze.

I help them drag him onto the bed, eyes narrowing on Violet, assessing her every panicked, frightened move.

“What’s happening to him?” she shouts at me when a lash lands across Emit’s chest and he cries out in pain.

“A Portocale gypsy just died. I’ll be down soon as well. Emit’s almost always first,” I say, wondering if she’s going to eventually slip and give herself away.