Gypsy Origins (Page 3)

“So why carry them in your bra?”

“It makes me feel safer,” I tell her again, and her eyes gleam with more understanding this time.

She nods like that makes perfect sense. Omegas understand fear and comfort.

“So we’re on the same page? You’re going to help find a way to mark the debt paid?” she asks me with wide, hopeful eyes. “A lot of curses can never be undone because they’ve been paid for with blood. But some—”

“I’ll talk to Damien tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be in a chatty mood, since I’ve been dodging his calls. And that’s if he hasn’t already been watching us,” I say as I stand back up, ready to resume my flower removal task throughout the rest of the home. “I doubt he’d be opposed to me ending this curse for them if I’m capable. In fact, I think it’s the reason they were intrigued with me at all. Now I get it,” I say as I stand and brush out the wrinkles of my shirt.

“Violet, that’s surely not all that’s—”

“An oblivious Portocale gypsy who doesn’t know the brutal past? Make her care about you and then lift this awful curse. I don’t blame them one bit. I’d go after mercy too,” I tell her, batting a dismissive hand. “I wanted to know what was so special about me that made them so…fucking creepy.”

I smile a little, cutting through the tension with some humor. This is still a touchy subject for me, so it’s hard to keep my emotions in check when I’m tired and haven’t even had a chance to shower in two—or is it three?—days.

It’s touchy since, you know, they only seemed so curious until they got ahold of me. Then they realized I didn’t live up to expectations, obviously.

First Vance.

Then Damien.

My smile falls, and I turn to walk away before she sees the stupid, embarrassing hurt in my eyes.

Now I get it.

Chapter 2

DAMIEN

I try to play it cool when Violet walks into my house without any warning, not even the sound of her rattling van outside. Sitting up, I put out my cigar and drop my paper, tossing aside my tie that makes this a worse cliché.

“What a pleasant—”

“How do I break the Portocale gypsy curse that forces that sort of suffering?” she asks with zero preamble.

I drop back in my chair, staring at her cold, determined eyes.

“The only way to do that is to get the gypsies who cast the curse to consider the debt paid. You’d have to appeal to stone-cold hearts of the Portocale Council—four firstborns from four threads of the same family, like the four of us. If they have any honor left, they’d hear their new generation’s plea. Supposedly, their questionable honor is how they keep from being monsters themselves. This is considered punishment—not sacrifice.”

She nods, even though I can tell she doesn’t understand a word of what I’ve said.

“I don’t know the Portocale Council. Or anything about them,” she says in a rush. “I don’t think Mom knew about them either, or that’s something she would have mentioned.”

I shrug, unsure what to tell her on that. “Usually, the council finds you. They’ve never let one slip through the cracks before, but I think even they’ve grown tired of the tedious task punishing us has become. They still hate us with a fire though, and their bitterness aides in their relentlessness.”

“My mom wasn’t a bitter person, but she grew bitter oranges. I don’t. Maybe if I never hear this toxic story, I don’t have to lose my oranges, you all get free of this curse, and then you can all stop haunting me to get me to consider it. I’m ready and willing; no further persuasion necessary,” she says as she takes a seat. “Call the council.”

I stare at her, unsure what to even say.

Portocale gypsies, well, that’s one thing. Sure, we fucked them over. But in the end, they’ve fucked us a helluva lot harder.

Then this little gypsy goes and has green apples in her orchard too, and I realize that I’m now a horrible fucking person for forgetting something very important approximately ten or eleven years ago.

Still, it makes no sense at all, and her father’s family tree is as dead-ended as her mother’s.

“Call them now,” she prompts with impatience in her tone.

“It’s not quite that simple. They’ll take you in, grill you for weeks on end, and even tear your mind apart—figuratively—to ensure Arion hasn’t forced you to do this. Then you’ll have to be very compelling and moving to those crippled with no heart. This has been a miniscule long shot, or a Hail Mary pass, if you will, sort of situation from the beginning. Sure, we hoped for it, but we haven’t pressed the issue because we like having that hope. We don’t want it shut down so soon.”

She looks away from me, seeming noticeably chillier in demeanor.

“I’m sorry to threaten that hope, but I can’t be your pawn anymore. Maybe you’re all stones with no emotions left, but I’m getting a little raw.”

My lips turn up at that last word, eyes dipping to her lap, as a very inappropriate thought crosses my mind. “Speaking of raw, I’d like to—”

“Unless you want to be stabbed, don’t go there,” she says like she’s annoyed.

Definitely still prickly. Did she not get the flowers?

“I never got to talk to you after we—”

“You’ve had ample opportunity. Don’t make this about that,” she says dismissively as she stands. “Let me know when you decide if it’s all about you or if I can get this monkey off your back.”

I stand when she tries to leave, and quickly dart in front of her to block her exit.

“We really need to talk,” I tell her, gently cupping her chin and forcing her…very irritated gaze to mine.

“We really don’t,” she says as she pushes by me, reminding me how sensitive she still is.

“I’m sorry,” I call to her back.

“So all your many floral cards said. I’ll be here when you need me, Damien. No need in kissing my ass. I feel sorry for you, since you can’t get out of your own way long enough to have a friend, and no one else will be here for you like they will be for Emit, and possibly even Vance. I’m sure Shera will have Arion covered when it’s his turn, since I’m not even sure what those two are to each other. Not that it matters to me or anything. But for you, I’ll be here,” she goes on, saying a whole lot of words in a really bunch of rushed sentences, as she scrubs a hand over her face.

“That’s not why—”

“Sure it is. We had sex, and you started avoiding me for the first time since I came to town, just like Vance. And now you’re done, but you’re also lonely and don’t want to suffer that way. I get it,” she says with more hostility than I prepared for.

What was the point in buying out a flower store if she’s still this cross? Did it not soften her even a little bit? Girls like fucking flowers.

“Surely if I can overlook the way you threw yourself at a psychopath like Arion the day after I’d been inside you, you can overlook me making a poor call of judgment as well,” I tell her very reasonably.

I forget how unreasonable young women can be…until she glares at me.

“You were in there?” she asks me, reminding me about the fact I once again watched her getting a little physical with another man without her permission.

I have really got to stop telling on myself.

“We’ve established my illicit boundaries are part of my charm,” I say with a smile that usually gets reciprocated.

Not so much today.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “When will this curse hit you?” she asks without looking at me.

“It’s Vance’s turn next. His torture is less severe. Just as all his curses are less severe. He always was the lucky one of us, and some things never change,” I say with a slight sneer. “He didn’t call you after sex either, and you were pressed up on him like nothing was any different during the dead wolf unveiling—”

“You acted like you couldn’t even stand for me to touch you that night, and I just really wanted to be held. Vance may have gotten distant afterwards, but not so cold that his touch burned. Yours was so immediate, and you’d been in my house almost daily, Damien. I don’t even know why you did it, and I don’t care at this point.”

I’m in way more trouble than I thought I was…

Usually my dick is what gets me in trouble with a woman, and I’ve thoroughly leashed it. I’m officially out of my comfort zone.

“This sucks a lot worse than how Vance treated me, especially since I risked so much just because I wanted to be with you. The only person to really care about my birthday…the first birthday I had to spend without my mother.”

Her eyes cloud up with tears, and she takes a deep, calming breath, before she turns and opens the door. I shove it shut in front of her, as I press up against her back, winding my other arm around her waist.

The first good thing to happen to me in centuries, and Idun finds a way to fuck it up for me too.

“I thought you were Idun,” I tell her honestly, feeling her go tense.