Gypsy Freak (Page 45)

Kudos to Idun for keeping this charade going this long. She hasn’t been this patient since she made us fall in love with four different women who all turned out to be her.

“Doesn’t this last for like a week or something?” Violet asks, her gaze swinging over to mine with tears there, when Emit cries out again.

Another lash lands on his chest.

The emotion in her tone has me glancing at Emit, who seemed adamant she wasn’t Idun and got up to presumably show me proof…before hitting the ground.

“Or something,” I say distractedly, sniffing the air and finding something vaguely familiar subtly tinging it, prompting me to look around.

“If you’re just going to stand there like it’s no big deal, get out!” Violet shouts at me, as an omega rushes to her side, already dabbing Emit’s wounds with a wet cloth.

“Emit gets petted when he’s suffering. I’ll be alone in my room,” I tell her, while on the hunt for this bizarrely familiar scent I simply can’t place.

It’s driving me mad and forcing me to sniff around the room.

“I’m starting to realize that’s more of a preference of yours,” Violet says a little harshly.

I give her a cold smirk that she doesn’t notice, because she’s busy saying soothing things to Emit like he’s not catatonic and stuck in hell—dying every Portocale gypsy death and getting a lash of punishment at the end.

How has Idun faked that Portocale blood? I don’t put anything past that bitch. Emit underestimates her.

The next lash slices across his chest, and blood spills from the wound; however, I quickly get distracted.

A medium sized box with a ribbon has been dropped, and a hint of green is peeking out when I track that scent to its origins.

Holding it together to keep anything from spilling, I turn the box upright and peel the lid off. My eyes land on green apples, and forgotten memories flutter through my mind with that old gypsy song.

My stomach twists with knots as I sniff the apples, lost to the memories as I take a small bite just to be sure.

The smell is always subtle, but the tart bite that turns into the very familiar sweet taste…it was always an underappreciated treat.

One thing is certain; these are definitely not Idun’s red apples.

My gaze darts to Violet as she continues fussing over Emit, her touch soft and concerned. Idun couldn’t grow green apples…

Turning my attention back to the delicacy I never expected to see again, I get a little queasy.

It’s all a confusing mess, but it’s enough to piece together the puzzle Emit was trying to solve for me.

“Are you really eating his apples right now? I brought those for him, and I don’t have many. Please stop. He may want them when he wakes up,” Violet says in a soft, broken tone as she helplessly sits at his side.

I watch her as I put down the other apples, and she cuts her tear-streaked eyes away from me as she continues fussing over the wolf.

Staring down at the green apple in my hand, I get a little sicker.

I need to go buy some fucking roses. Right now.

My gaze flicks back to Violet once more, and holds there, wondering how the fucking hell it’s possible.

I start thinking back to the way those bodies were ripped apart…

That wasn’t Emit’s wolf. Emit wasn’t covering for Idun. The Portocale blood is real? The oranges are real? The apples are real? But how?

Impossible pieces begin to align, taking over my Idun conspiracy theory, as a new one surges forth.

I walk out of the house, lifting my phone and taking another bite of the apple I stole.

“Hello?”

“Chris, this is Damien, and—”

“Who?”

I sigh, finding some of my curses more tedious than others during moments like this. “Check your notes. You work for me. The name Morpheous is a large part of your income.”

I take another bite of the apple as the clicking of keys on a computer tell me he’s doing what I’ve asked.

“Oh, right. The one no one remembers.”

“I need you to find out all you can about Violet Carmine’s family tree on her—”

“That I remember,” he says proudly. “But it dead ends. It doesn’t tie into the tree you wanted it to,” he goes on.

“Yeah, well, I’m more interested in the tree on her father’s side now. Track it back as far as you possibly can,” I tell him as I glance over my shoulder.

“O…kay. He a gypsy too?”

“No. He’s not,” I say with certainty as I hang up. “But he may have gypsy blood in him,” I add to myself. “Which changes absolutely everything.”

I dial the next number on my list, and a pleasant woman answers.

“I’d like to buy every rose in your store,” I tell the woman who remains silent, as though she’s stunned. “And if you have any apologetic balloons, I’ll buy those too,” I tell her as I scrub a hand over my face. “Better make it every single flower in your store. I have a lot more to apologize for than I can say with just roses. I don’t want her as frigid with me as she is with Vance. Personally, I still think he’s the bigger ass out of the two of us, but I still should apologize properly.”

“I’m sorry?” she says.

“Yes. That’s what I want every single card to say,” I tell her.

“This is all very confusing,” she says quietly, more to herself than me.

Staring at the partially eaten green apple in my hand, I tell her, “You have no idea.”

Chapter 30

ARION

I watch as Damien flees Emit’s house like a thief in the night, glancing over his shoulder. He tucks something into his pocket that I can’t see or scent, due to the atrocious stench of wolf all over the damn place.

After I’m certain he’s gone, I make my way to the kitchen window, where I spot Violet filling up a pan of water. My dark smile forms.

She’s in Emit’s house, after I told the lovely thing to get closer to the wolf. She only pretends to fight me, while doing exactly as I ask her to.

One can only assume she’s on board with my plan for us.

“Don’t worry, sweet gypsy. You’ll do fine,” I tell the girl who looks dreadfully worried.

Her eyes shut, and she lets a few tears drip down her face. No doubt her sensitive nature is struggling with the bloodshed she so recently faced. Even after being around Emit’s true monster, she’s here.

The sweet girl loves the dark monsters.

“You’ll do fine for as long as your mortal life allows,” I add, my smile only growing as I turn away, heading back into the shadows.

I pause when I hear her speaking, and I quickly turn back around, wondering who in the hell she’s speaking to.

“You’re missing a lot,” she says quietly…to absolutely no one.

I get closer, peering inside, finding the kitchen utterly empty.

“Don’t worry, Anna,” she goes on, only farther confounding me, since she’s talking to a dead ghost, who certainly no longer exists. “I’m going to make this right somehow.”

Poor gypsy is still in denial about her best friend’s latest death. No wonder she’s not a basket of tears over the dreadful ghost.

Grief is a mysterious and powerful thing indeed. Luckily for Emit, it also makes a woman vulnerable. I suppose that’s how Damien lucked his way into her body.

Matters not how we get the girl, so long as we all get her and she becomes ours.

Maybe Idun will finally regret her crimes against us when we select such a precious replacement and prove to her we don’t need her to be a unit.

It’s not like we can keep the bitch away forever. All the darkest secrets rise eventually.

No matter how well or deeply they’re buried.

That problem isn’t one we’ll have to deal with any time soon. For now, the only thing I’m focused on is Violet Portocale and the new era she represents.

So far, she’s proving to be more than worth the effort.

Despite the heavy snowfall, there’s a little pep in my step as I head to the address Shera gave me for a nest of unregistered vampires I get to eat.

This has been one hell of a good week.

END OF BOOK 2