Gypsy's Blood (Page 30)

“You don’t seem to realize just how many enemies you have.”

“Apparently more than I thought, and that has happened since moving to town and becoming fascinating to all of you,” she states a little accusingly.

“What?” I ask as I shift gears, completely confused.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbles.

Infuriating female. This is exactly why I elect to forgo sex. Women are too bloody complicated, and sex grows boringly monotonous and tedious after centuries flit by like years. It’s simply not worth it.

Shifting gears again, I drive us quickly toward town. At least now my restlessness to hunt her down is settled and I can finally sleep again.

“How did you just happen to be driving down that road at that moment?” she asks.

“Let me tell you a little bit about my curse,” I state as I cut down another road, taking a slight detour. “When someone I’ve pledged protection to disappears without a word, I’m compelled to hunt for them. I can’t sleep, eat, or even rest until I’ve recovered them.”

She bristles. “So you’ve been forced to hunt for me this entire time because you’re a Van Helsing and that’s how it works?”

“Far more complicated than that, but sure. We’ll start there,” I say with a bitter smile, my eyes trained on the road. “I drive. I feel compelled or I don’t feel compelled to go places. I felt compelled to finally turn on that road just a few minutes before spotting you. First time I’ve felt anything in days.”

She bristles once more.

“Is it weird that I was kind of hoping for anyone to drive by, since I was freezing and can’t walk in these boots—”

“Why are they so big?” I ask…simply because I can’t help myself.

“Because they were the smallest ones I could find, and I don’t want to talk about it,” she says in exasperation. “Anyway, I had the thought I’d even settle for one of you. Then poof. There you were.”

She gestures at me a little wildly.

“Yet you still deliberated on whether or not to join me for a solid ten minutes,” I remind her.

“Because it was a little freaky.”

“My gift for hunting didn’t work until you conceded you wanted me to find you,” I admit, hoping it’s not a mistake to tell her that, but knowing I have to give a little bit before she breaks off and runs again.

I can’t afford to spend my time chasing her every time she has a fit, no matter how intrigued I am by the curious gypsy girl.

“What’s the point in only hunting for people who want you to find them?” she asks like she’s genuinely intrigued.

“It’s not like that for everyone. Only the Portocale gypsies can be found by a Van Helsing at their behest,” I go on, telling her the safer things she’d normally know under usual circumstances.

“Why?” she says, and then I catch sight of her grinning, like hearing that word come out of her mouth has turned into an amusing game of sorts.

Why is even that action so damn distracting? Why does the curl of her lips always draw my eyes to her mouth? I’ve lived long enough to not be blinded by a pretty smile.

“You’re very easily amused,” I note.

“Apparently the same applies to you. How do you stare at me and still drive perfectly between the lines?” she muses without looking at me.

“Damn. My girl just showed off some of her game. Boom,” Anna chimes in from the backseat, being notably quieter than usual.

I still want to salt her.

Violet actually grins broader.

Rolling my eyes, I look back at the road, until she says, “I’m expecting an answer to that. Why do Portocale gypsies get preferential treatment from your hunting abilities?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I state with a droll tone.

She reaches up to turn the heat on, and her hand brushes mine when I make a move to do the same thing. It’s instinctive to stiffen when I’m touched by anyone unexpectedly, but the second the icy glide of her skin grazes mine, I slam on the brakes.

Violet shouts something about lunatics and broken balls. Anna screams as she’s launched through the front windshield, which is terribly dramatic and unnecessary, considering she can’t actually be thrown from a vehicle.

I shove open my door and stalk around to Violet’s side, throwing open her door so hard one of the hinges snaps and the door half collapses on the ground.

There’s a streak of terror in her eyes that has me calming just slightly as I kneel down and pull her freezing hand into mine.

“Why the hell are you so cold?” I bark, feeling a weird panic climb up me.

It was stupid to pledge protection to someone who intrigues me this much. I blame it on the fact she’s a Portocale and I may be able to finally pay my life debt and stop being punished every time one of their short lives ends.

That’s a fool’s dream, but that niggling sensation of hope is the only thing I can accuse for this ridiculous fascination.

“Because it’s cold outside, and I walked five miles before I got desperate enough to settle for you,” she says very warily, as though she’s watching for me to make any sudden movements.

“How is this not affecting you?” I ask her.

I notice now that her eyes are a little sunken in with subtle, dark circles highlighting them, and she’s a lot paler than usual.

“It’s by sheer stubbornness alone that I’m not passed out and sleeping this off until I’m warm. Can we shut the door and keep the little bit of heat that’s left inside?”

Blinking out of my trance, I release her immediately, grimacing at the door now. What the hell is my problem?

Quickly peeling off my jacket, I put it on her. Then I quickly lift the door into place and wedge it shut.

After getting back in and quietly shutting my door, clearing my throat, and adjusting my tie, I calmly put the car into gear, and slowly accelerate us until we’re at top speed, as I drive toward her house.

“Unless you want vomit on top of the snow in the floor, I strongly urge you to slow down,” she says with a small, warning gag.

“I can’t handle watching her spew,” Anna says as she also gags before she disappears.

I let off the damn gas. I regret taking that detour right about now.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were freezing?” I ask, double, triple, and quadruple checking to make sure the heat is maxed out.

“Because I still have the ability to turn the heat up myself. You freaked out. Not me,” she says like she’s the one being reasonable now, exhaling heavily in relief when I slow all the way down to the speed limit.

“It’s a common courtesy you tell your driver that you’re freezing,” I grind out.

“I didn’t go to etiquette school, Mr. Van Helsing, sir,” she retorts, returning her attention to the window.

I hate it when people are condescending to me. That’s my specialty.

“Any reason why you’re still being hateful to me, or should I expect this sort of hostility during all our future encounters?”

She gives me a dubious look. “Do not stare through my windows ever again, and I’ll be much more cordial. I’m forgiving, but there’s a ceiling limit to that forgiveness.”

“Noted,” I say tightly. “But while you’re sitting there and judging, you should take into account the person you’re sitting with.”

When I look over, I see the confusion in her eyes.

“Living forever is the dream of every man who fears death,” I answer softly, my gaze shifting back to the road. “You want to see the world, even if you’re not a traveler. You want to taste every food out there, even if you’re a picky eater. You want to rule the world, even as you endeavor to remain humble. It’s the curse of mortality.”

I cut down her road, speeding up just a little over the limit, checking her for nausea. She’s just staring at me like she’s genuinely intent on hearing me continue.

“After living for so long, you either do it all, or you do nothing at all,” I finish. “Either way, you simply find nothing that excites you anymore. Nothing holds your attention for long periods at a time. You held our attention. None of us have been intrigued by any one person in far too long to dignify with an estimated number of years. I respected your boundaries, whether you believe it or not, by limiting myself to that small bit of my curiosity being sated. Trust me, it’s highly respectful, all things considered. You’re no longer in a world where you have the high-road as a true option, and no one is going to give you the luxury of being coddled just because you’re too young to understand.”

She clears her throat, glancing down.

“I suppose that’s true. If I’d never come here, would monsters even know I exist?” she asks, glancing to the side window.

“No one would know you as anything other than Violet Carmine, Marta’s niece-by-marriage, most likely. Your background is really well charted and seemingly true. Only the alphas and the Van Helsings know the full scent of Portocale blood. But it still smells sweet enough to garner attention, even if they don’t know the mistake they’re making when they grow tempted.”