Gypsy Origins (Page 25)

“Should be easier,” Arion states as he picks up a discarded axe and twirls it. “We were just men then, and I had a bible instead of an appetite.”

As if they set up a cue I missed, all four of them lunge forward and go on the attack, widening the circle. Arion becomes a beast with an axe, his eyes fully pulsing red as his pupils try to disappear.

Me? I’m still working on remaining calm and not panicking, because I don’t want to accidentally kill one of them. At this point, I’m not really sure how to kill them, because they’ve been stabbed, shot, bitten, and a number of other things. However, I don’t trust my monster. I think it’d certainly try to find a way.

I stay in the middle of their circle, letting them work together like they’ve done this a thousand times, even though it sounds like they referenced a very ancient piece of their past.

Emit shreds through the wolves he can grab, but I notice a lot more are retreating.

Vance is smooth, lethal, and so eerily efficient, as he cuts through as many—or more—as Arion, putting them down without turning around to ensure they’re really dead. He’s confident they aren’t getting back up when he’s finished with them.

Damien’s energy seems to be waning, since he’s not been feeding all these years. Still, even as a starved alpha, he’s a force the wolves just can’t contend with.

It makes me wonder what he’s like at full charge.

I’m drenched in wet snow, and my teeth are chattering, as the slushy sleet picks up momentum. I feel the lacing in my bra tugging repeatedly, wanting to go to my injury.

Discreetly, I pull off my charms, tucking them in the pocket of Arion’s jacket, so the ribbons will hopefully give up their quest.

The winds whir and groan through the trees as the storm picks up momentum, and the wolves who remain are forced to watch their numbers too quickly dwindling.

Aside from a few stupidly determined stragglers, the rest take off.

Vance leaps over a pile of dead wolves and chases after some of them. My heart kicks my chest when he disappears from sight, and I worry that much more.

Fortunately, he walks back toward us as Arion beheads the last living wolf around us.

The vampire looks agitated about there not being more things to kill when he drops the axe to the ground.

“Find them?” Arion asks Vance.

“This fresh storm is stirring all their scents, and I’m not getting attached to a new hunt right now. Clearly it gives me tunnel vision,” Vance grinds out, eyes intent, as he quickly makes his way toward me.

I don’t have time to speak before he’s grabbing me at the waist and spinning me. I feel his gently probing touch on my one little injury.

My heart sinks a little when I see all the long scratches on Damien’s back and chest, as he drops to the ground, taking a much needed rest.

Pushing away from Vance, I go to Damien, lowering myself in front of him very slowly. My chest aches when I take in all the gaping wounds.

“Just flesh wounds,” he assures me tightly. “Let’s see them do that when I get back to my full power,” he adds a little bitterly.

“Why would you bring Violet to hunt a horde?” Arion asks everyone as I shiver again, easing closer to the battered illusionist to better assess his damage. “And why the bloody hell would you leave Damien to defend her on his own?”

“Fuck you,” Damien says to Arion.

I exhale harshly, as Emit shifts close to us. He stands on two legs once more, staring out at the woods with fury etched in every feature on his face.

“Since when do fucking purebloods form a horde?” Vance asks quietly.

“Since the alpha of this region takes a few centuries off from his duties to be the fun alpha,” Arion cuts in.

I walk inside, wondering if I have enough suture kits for all their wounds, since no one bothered to pack any healing potions.

Chapter 12

VIOLET

Damien hisses out a breath of pain but doesn’t move as I tirelessly work on closing the last big wound on his back.

Emit hasn’t said a word. He’s just been silently stewing across the room, staring out the window like the wolves may come back.

“Purebloods swarming in hordes is a new one on me,” Arion states as he gets a glass of whiskey. “Thought I’d lived too long to see new shit.”

Vance is already sipping a drink of his own, as he strips out of his shirt, flinching just barely.

I see the puncture wounds on his right arm, along with a few other ripped bite wounds.

“Technology is advancing and they’re taking advantage,” Emit says quietly.

“Can I ask what’s going on yet, or will I just be a distraction right now?” I ask quietly as I finish up with Damien’s back and move around to kneel between his legs.

The back of Damien’s hand brushes my cheek, as Emit releases a frustrated breath.

“Purebloods are born when wolves have children together,” Emit explains, even though I’ve already deduced that much.

I’m not a complete idiot.

“Most all of them are born omegas. They’re different from regular wolves in many ways,” Damien adds as I continue to work on patching up his torso.

“You have threading abilities, no?” Arion asks like he’s pointing out I’m doing this the hard way.

“I don’t think you want me sewing you up that way. I don’t sew pretty at all, but it’s really not pretty that way,” I absently explain.

Damien continues just to stare at me as I work, and Vance speaks from behind me.

“Because of their subtle scent, you don’t realize they’re purebloods until they bleed,” Vance is saying like he’s annoyed. “Kill one, and they all get riled. It’s a toxic byproduct of their blood.”

“Pardon the confusion, but until I fucking killed one and got a whiff of the blood, I had no idea what the hell I was dealing with,” Damien bites out. “You’re the ones who came here to track a small pack of unregistered wolves with no idea there was a fucking horde at all.”

“How could I have possibly anticipated the impossible?” Emit grinds out.

“Hordes turn feral and lose the ability for intelligent thinking. Usually, they’re guided by a few of the horde leaders after that point,” Vance explains to me.

“They were still a fresh horde and capable of thought,” Damien argues. “I learned at least that much, and I studied them after I saw their reactions to the first one I put down.”

“Drew,” I say, looking up.

I notice them all giving me a quizzical look.

“That wolf’s name was Drew. The one Damien killed first. Abby was either his girlfriend or sister—not sure which.”

Arion’s lips curve in a little enigmatic grin, and I turn back to Damien, deciding to pay the vampire very little attention.

Damien’s hands stay on me, like he’s touching me to ensure I’m safely in front of him and not an illusion.

“They wouldn’t have attacked?” I decide to ask. “If that first one hadn’t been killed?”

“They would have. I could have just prolonged it if I had known he was a fucking pureblood who was going to bleed that much,” Damien states bitterly, his hands on me tightening.

“So that we’re clear, everyone here fucked up, aside from Violet and me,” Arion chirps.

“How did you find us?” Vance asks him.

“Lemon is quite chatty when a vampire alpha lurks outside the window and makes the entire house tense for a few hours,” Arion chimes in.

A chill slithers up my spine, and I jerk my head to Arion.

“My dad—”

“He never saw me,” Arion says dismissively, though his eyes narrow on a smirking Vance.

“And Lemon’s okay?” I ask to make sure.

“Despite what they’ve told you, Violet, I’m not a man who kills the things his woman loves.”

I bristle, unsure how to broach that topic, since I’m not his anything. Seems stupid to press that issue, since right now I’m just thankful he showed up in time to save Damien.

My hand slides over Damien’s heart, seeing the angry puncture wound there still dripping blood.

“Did she ruin your illusions?” I ask quietly.

“Just temporarily disabled them. Damn good shot for someone who couldn’t see me,” he says, almost as though he’s very agitated about all that. “And being armed with that sort of knowledge is an unusual thing.”

His accusatory gaze swings to Emit, whose heavy stare is on me. I ignore that weighted look, as I finally finish up with Damien.

Before I can lift up from my spot on the floor, Damien bends over, brushing his lips against my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs like I’ve done something tonight instead of stay quiet and let them protect me.

There’s a gnawing sense of helplessness when you know you can help, but also know you can make it worse for them if they’re having to fend you off too.

And I don’t really know how to fend me off. No one has successfully done it yet.

Vance is down to his boxer-briefs when I look over at him and find him opening one of my suture packs.

“How fortunate you had all those,” Arion muses as I go to brush Vance’s hands away and take over, feeling like this is the one small contribution I can make tonight.