Gypsy Moon (Page 39)

She says nothing as she starts massaging the small bottle of hair soap into her scalp, suds quickly forming as she does so. Her motions aren’t graceful or meant to seduce—more hurried than anything—but I still can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have her do that for me, and wonder how to broach that topic.

There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door that must have come with the bathing room, and the shirt I gave her is neatly folded and waiting on the counter.

I’m curious to see which one of those she wears out of here.

Her red coat is hanging on another hook, and I smirk as I ask, “You threw all your clothes at Blue. Why not the coat?”

She seems to be working on getting soap out of her eye as she answers me with distraction. “Felt wrong to de-thread such a nice gift. Where did you find that fabric? It’s so much like Mom’s cloak.”

A small smile graces my lips, because she wouldn’t take the bloody gift, and now she won’t risk it because it’s precious to her. Quite the enigma, our little Violet.

“Portocale gypsies have particular blends of threads they like to wear, based on the clothing option. I plan to extort my knowledge to the fullest extent in order to impress you.”

She looks over her shoulder, eyes meeting mine, as she arches an eyebrow.

“I’m already impressed,” she states like she feels I need to know that. “That’s not the barrier, Arion. Please don’t make me feel guilty for trying to navigate very tricky water. I’m already out of my depth and struggling to stay on the surface.”

“From snowball analogies to drowning ones,” I point out dryly. “When you feel like you’re soaring, I’ll stop.”

“I don’t particularly like soaring,” she states with a shrug, turning back to the water. “I prefer a nice, comfortable speed that gets me to where I’m going and allows me to soak in the scenery along the way. And I like being close to the ground.”

“Enough time around us will give you more of an adventurous spirit, love. To be honest, we could probably use a dose of it ourselves,” I state idly, glancing down to see Vance’s new message stating he wants to speak to Violet.

He can fuck the hell right off.

This is my time. I sent him a video, because I’ve also changed my mind about letting her call him. I want her to myself for a little while.

She gives me a small smile over her shoulder again. “I’m guessing Idun was pretty adventurous.”

I thought the new girlfriends didn’t like discussing the old girlfriends, but Violet seems oddly at ease every single time she brings her up.

It makes me want to taste her blood again just to double check. Then she slips and almost falls, catching herself just barely, and I know for certain it’s not Idun. Idun wouldn’t even fake a stumble. Too much pride.

Violet rights herself quickly, and I answer like I didn’t notice the fact the poor girl occasionally struggles with the basics—standing on her own two feet.

I’m not sure why she hasn’t been under constant surveillance already.

“Quite adventurous, yes,” I tell her conversationally, as I take a seat on the counter next to my folded shirt, wondering how she’d act if I just stepped in with her.

I think I promised to behave…

Why did I do that?

When she grows quiet and just stares at me expectantly, I realize she wants a more elaborate answer.

“She was a top hunter—almost better than even Vance. Like him, she was the only other among us to hunt for sport in those days. The rest of us only hunted for the food we needed, but the trophy hunts made the two of them twice as good as the rest of us. Then.”

My gaze flicks to the mirror behind me, seeing my darkened eyes, as the memories try to turn into a storm.

“Vance was always the one she chased the hardest. Damien was the second most chased. Emit was…not really chased as hard or as eagerly. After immortality, he became a bit whiny.”

She says nothing, and I take it as the cue she wants to hear more.

“Vance loved her hunting spirit that felt kindred to his,” I add, causing her to bristle.

“I hate hunting. I always feel sorry for the animals, but then I also feel hypocritical because I can’t seem to go vegan,” she tells me, causing my lips to curve up in an unexpected grin.

Certainly not Idun.

“With Damien, she had to be crafty. He was a man who loved sex and women, but didn’t really intend to settle down. But Idun could be the most beautiful woman in the room when she wanted to be, and Damien loved to be the man with the most beautiful woman on his arm.”

Violet bristles again, shaking her head.

“Maybe then. Now he just wants to be acknowledged by genuinely interested people,” she points out, and I cant my head as I sit back. “It’s shitty how people just overlook him when they realize they’ll forget him soon enough. Damien makes it hard to get close to him, but he’s still worth all the effort.”

“He spent centuries building that island he’s alone on, Violet. No need to pity him quite so much. He’s playing you most of the time.”

She nods like she believes me.

“Are you agreeing or just nodding so as not to have to argue?” I ask her, suspicious.

“I believe you think he’s playing me,” she answers in a non-answering sort of way.

“He still wants you,” I inform her, so as not to tear that rope out of the ceiling, just in case. “But he does play games, and to him, you’re like a lovely prey he gets to truly enjoy. The first thing Idun will do is lift his curse, though, love. Prepare yourself for that.”

She turns quickly, shutting off the water, and I hop off the counter to grab a towel.

“That’s good news. If she lifts his curse—”

“He can be a philandering womanizer once again, and you’re the type to shed tears instead of getting angry, sweet little monster,” I state very cautiously. “It’s important to keep him engaged and watched—”

“Damien does the watching, Arion. Not me. Well, apparently you enjoy watching too,” she tells me in a dry tone as she steps out and into the towel I’m holding for her.

She doesn’t have a problem with my looking, so I take my time closing the towel around her. It’s the touching that makes her pump those metaphorical brakes, as Shera said.

“If she lifts the curse, it’s something I’ll celebrate for him,” she goes on, eyes not meeting mine as she steps around me, clutching her towel and securing it in place, as she moves to the sink.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror when I curiously ask, “And if he strays? What would you have me do?”

Her brow furrows, and she starts and stops herself from speaking, as though she’s allowing a moment of hesitance to search for the right words.

Finally, she says, “I’d have you do nothing. If he wants to be with someone else, so be it. It’ll hurt, I might cry, and then I’ll carry on. Snowball downhill, remember? I survived my mother’s death when I believed it to be real—I can survive a breakup.”

I’m not really sure what to say to that. It seems like such an under-reaction to the very possible hypothetical.

And the damn girl is too hopeful that Marta Portocale is truly her mother. It’s slightly unsettling how much she apparently cares for a woman I despise with a deeply rooted, unadulterated hatred.

“I’m the most loyal, which is my point,” I resume, needing to ensure she’s understanding. “I’ll be the one to hold the pieces together when they start falling apart. It’s just one piece of knowledge you’ll benefit from with me at your side, Violet. Just one. I’ll be there to keep them with you, so long as you promise not to tear us all apart…the way she did, by the end.”

Her gaze meets mine again as she finger-combs through her wet hair.

“No.”

The simple answer from her lips makes zero sense to me.

“What?”

“No,” she says again, rolling her eyes, as she grabs my shirt from the counter.

She quickly starts stuffing her arms through the sleeves too long for her. “Can you give me a few minutes to finish up in here?” she asks sweetly.

I don’t particularly like this sense of confusion.

“No? No what, Violet?”

She makes a small sound that really doesn’t bode well for me.

“I could explain, but then you’ll argue, Arion. The point is, the answer is no. I don’t want you keeping the boys in line for me, and I will never ask you to do something to them, or manipulate them, or any other version of control Idun once had you implement.” She turns and levels me with a look that is still a little sad. “I’m not Idun.”

“I know you’re not, but—”

“I’m not adventurous, because when I say I attract danger, I mean it very literally, and more so than ever before, at current. There’s too much adventure and not enough time in between to adjust. Now I realize it’s the curse of an omega, and it’s okay with me because at least I can take it. It takes the focus off other omegas who can die.”

I start to argue, but she continues speaking, as she bends over abruptly and starts tying her hair up in a towel.