Gypsy Origins (Page 46)

For fuck’s sake, why is everyone in my room right now?

A soft, small hand slides up my chest, as a wet, cool face burrows into my neck.

“You’re fucking freezing,” Arion says to her.

Ah, hell. That’s why I’m not on fire.

“I’ve decided I don’t want you there with me after all. If Damien’s is torturing you, you won’t be able to stomach mine,” Arion goes on.

More and more of what’s going on around me is starting to make sense.

Violet says nothing. She simply holds onto me, her skin pressing to mine. That’s an awful lot of skin.

Now would be a horrible time to succumb to my baser urges, so I hope that part of my body stays as immobile as the rest of it.

It feels like she’s mostly naked.

She’s finally mostly naked and pressed to me, and I’m frozen in place. I’m used to feeling like I’m in hell, so it shouldn’t be all that surprising to feel that way now.

Damien cuts in with another cry, and Violet burrows farther into my side. Fortunately, my groan is internalized.

Her skin starts to feel cooler and cooler against mine, as the agonizing fever I usually suffer seems to finally dissipate against her touch.

Emit’s right. The agony is far less severe when she’s here. It’s not her touch, per say. It’s something else I can’t really figure out.

I do know that the touch is helping, so I focus on it, wondering if this means she’s—

“You’re going to have to put on some clothes, love. You’re too fucking cold, and it’s too tempting to touch you when you’re wearing so little,” Arion tells her, causing her to make a frustrated sound.

“I second that on being too tempting, Violet. The full moon just went down a couple of nights ago,” Emit chimes in too conversationally.

I haven’t been under a terribly long time at all if the moon just went down a couple of nights ago.

Shouldn’t be surprising that a Portocale can ease the suffering of the Portocale curse.

After all, she’s still a Portocale gypsy, even if she’s also a Neopry monster as well.

I silently agree that she’s far too tempting right now.

“How can you possibly think of sex when he’s hurting so much?” she asks like she’s disgusted.

I’m glad my agreement was silent at this moment.

“We’re slightly desensitized to this. You can only see pain for so long before it’s the new normal,” Emit tries to explain.

Damien’s worse cry of pain shuts everyone up at once.

“I should probably go see if Emily has torn down my house since I’m ignoring her on her visit,” Arion states dryly.

Just fucking great. Emily is here? This is going to be hell.

Chains rattle and steel groans, when Damien’s worst peak begins, meaning it’s just after midnight.

“Just so you know, I was a damn good man once upon a time,” Arion states very randomly.

If I could roll my eyes, I would.

“I was kind, and soft, and gentle,” he goes on, sounding really close.

Violet shifts, like she’s turning away.

“I was everything you would have truly enjoyed. Don’t punish me too severely for being unable to ever be that man again,” he says quietly.

“Unbelievable,” she says in a disbelieving tone.

“Are you seriously trying to get her to pity you right now?” Emit asks like he can’t believe himself.

“Worked for Damien,” Arion states matter-of-factly before the bed jostles.

He knows Idun is rising, yet he’s still here and seducing Violet? I’m not even awake yet, and already I need a drink to deal with this day.

It’s a few moments of silence before Emit says, “He’s gone. He didn’t seem overly suspicious.”

“Just tell him what I am so he can start processing,” she says very quietly.

“He’s doing so well with Idun rising that I don’t want to spring this on him. He thinks you’re temporary, and you already ruined our first plan of action.”

“Your plan was for me to manipulate him,” Violet states flatly. “I’m not doing that.”

“You have no idea how much easier it would be to have Arion with us instead of with her.”

“He wants that already—the three of you and him,” she states like she’s stressing a point. “But I’m not playing games with his head. It feels stupid to do. At the end of the day, he loves Idun, and he will love Idun even after he finds out I’m not going to die. Delaying it is just putting the problem off. Not solving it. I’m nothing more than his vacation, since I’m apparently easier to get along with.”

“I wish you wouldn’t downplay this so much,” Emit tells her in a tone that borders on exhausted. “You’re just too bloody young to understand.”

Damien cries out again, and Violet curses as her weight leaves me.

Heat fills the absence of her touch, and I immediately miss the cold.

“Violet, don’t fucking touch him—”

“I touched you when the omegas told me not to, and I’m in one piece. I can’t die, Emit. I’m really stressed out, though. Can we do this some other time?”

When it gets quiet, I imagine him doing something to her that makes me want to punch him. I didn’t go steal the attention when she was tending to him. All three of them have apparently been fucking with my time.

I’ll be irritated after I’ve had my drink.

“Unbelievable,” I hear her mutter, as Emit grunts like he’s just been hit.

The laughter under his breath is the last thing I hear from him as it tapers off.

Damien’s pain doesn’t seem to lessen, and I hear Violet grunt. When the sound of fabric ripping snaps through the air, my eyes dart open as if compelled, and I turn my head to see Violet frustratingly trying to get her arm out of Damien’s hold. The sleeve of her robe has been ripped clean off.

Damien hisses, eyes fully white, the closest to a demon one will ever see. Then his head slings back, and an agonized scream rips through his snarled lips when she manages to jerk away.

Her eyes fill up with tears, as she just stares at him with a wobbly jaw.

Then…a steely look of determination crosses her eyes.

“Violet,” I manage to say on a harsh rasp.

Her gaze darts to mine, and a look of relief crosses her features as she hurries over to me, grabbing a bottle of water from the bedside and handing it to me.

Weakly, I manage to get my hand on it, and I drink it appreciatively, as Damien slumps against the wall he’s chained to.

“Is his externalized agony what it’s like inside your head?” she asks me so sadly, her fingers absently gingerly stroking through my hair with the gentlest touch I’ve ever felt from anyone.

Clearing my throat, I try to answer, since I have no idea what to say to her right now. Has she been here for all of it?

“No. Our curses are individualized. In between reliving their deaths, I hunt endlessly and fight never-ending battles.” I drink more of the water before adding, “I’m obviously downplaying it some.”

She looks over and gives me a sad smile. “And because of Dorian and Amos, Damien’s a rabid—”

“I can’t believe Emit left you alone with him while you were touching him,” I interrupt, my mind finally starting to function. “Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you if he manages to break those chains free? I can assure you it’s not him in there right now. It’s just his monster.”

I usually have more rest before I’m expected to bounce right back to my damn feet.

Lifting up, I hiss out a breath of pain, because I’m sore all over.

Violet makes an effort to help me sit up, but she ends up packing pillows behind me to keep me at an angle instead.

“Everything about Damien is a curse of the flesh,” Violet says quietly.

She hands me a couple of small bottles of potions, and I glance down at them in confusion. She stands to her feet and starts pacing, chewing one thumbnail. How she has nails, I don’t know.

Clearly I’m supposed to drink these, so I do so without question.

I feel immediate ease in my side.

“Did you brush my teeth?” I ask, tasting Portocale oranges in my mouth as I lick my polished teeth.

“You don’t like a hair out of place. I knew you’d want your teeth brushed,” she says distractedly.

I can’t help but notice that I’m wearing Thursday’s pajama pants.

Obviously my drawers and closet sections are labeled, and she’s possibly noted that.

“Is it Thursday?” I ask, one corner of my lips tugging up.

“Yes,” she goes on, still pacing as I glance over at her.

I made her all her favorite breakfast foods, and she gave me Thursday’s pajama pants on Thursday and brushed my teeth. From the feel of it, my hair has recently been combed as well.

I have to wipe the stupid smile right the bloody hell off my face before she sees it, but she seems to be zoned out.

“It was the worst of the monsters you were that night, but it affected you differently,” she tells me.

She makes it sound as though my punishment is lessened, but not in a way that makes me feel defensive. It’s more like it’s just part of her ongoing thought process, and we’ve moved on from the fact I’m awake to immediately focus on Damien.