Gypsy's Blood (Page 51)

He lets his confusing sentence trail off.

“And you sing a double-dutch song that makes no sense, yet expect me to just do…what exactly?”

His lips twitch as his eyes narrow. “All I want to do is feel your touch right now, sweet gypsy. I’ve been stuck underground and you’re the only one who saw my projection—”

“Projection?” I ask on a shaky breath as his hands move to my hips and drag me back to the edge again, just as I’d finally gotten myself pushed back.

“You’re the only one who saw me,” he says quieter. “And I haven’t felt any sort of touch in over a century.”

It’s understandable that he’s completely insane, and since he seems moderately obsessed with just touching me in non-sexual places and not trying to eat me, I decide to keep him happy. Like any good captive.

“How could I see you if other gypsies couldn’t?”

“Maybe because you have so much gypsy pride,” he points out, feeling my relaxing body and groaning against my throat when I ease my hands up his chest.

A rumble of appreciation sounds from his chest as he adds, “You have so much gypsy pride that any prideless gypsy would happily bare their soul to you. I’ve been resisting since I got my hands on you, because my soul would terrify such an innocent gypsy.”

Well…that’s far less poetic and very much a reminder of the dangerous game at hand.

He told me how to play Damien, and it’s the only lesson I have to fall back on with aggressive monsters.

A sound of pleasure seems to vibrate from him as I simply let my hands glide over his chest and up to his shoulders. I even give a little massaging squeeze to his shoulders that has him shuddering against me.

“If I were Emit, my tail would be wagging right now,” he says, his grin spreading against my neck.

I blink a few times, stopping myself from smiling, so that I don’t actually end up with Stockholm’s. It seems like laughing at your captor’s unexpected jokes is the first step down the dark road.

I’m still hoping the lying gypsy monster hunter shows up.

A door crashes somewhere in the house, and Arion’s head pops up as he looks over my shoulder, a slow, calculated, dark grin tugging at his lips as he cups my chin.

Someone shouts and something else crashes, and I actually end up leaning into my captor, because he, unfortunately, seems like the safest option at the moment.

“It’s going to get ugly, love. You should probably go home,” he says like simply leaving has been an option all along. “I’ll take that kiss later.”

My head turns when I hear someone throw open the double doors to the room, and a full body sigh of relief crashes through me when I see Vance stepping inside.

His eyes widen, and Damien comes to the same wide-eyed, abrupt halt beside him as they both stare in shock and anger at the man I’m essentially pressed fully against.

“Would you boys like to warm yourself by the fire?” Arion drawls. “It’s rather cold outside.”

Vance takes a step forward, jaw grinding as a sword slides free from the little handle tucked in his hand.

Arion’s grin only grows as he leans over to whisper in my ear. I don’t even really hear what he says, but I feel a warmness in my chest and a little dazed just before he releases me and steps to the side.

“How exactly did you get out?” Damien asks him as he slowly moves toward me. “Vampires can’t walk those grounds.”

Arion just smirks and moves toward the fireplace, as though this is all casual. “Yes, well, I’m an alpha vampire. You know what that means.”

I don’t, so I wish he’d elaborate.

“How did you get out?” Vance asks in that voice he’s used on me before, and the urge to confess bubbles out of me.

“It’s my fault,” I blurt out.

All the gazes in the room swing to me, and Arion’s grin only grows larger.

“Van Helsings aren’t the only ones who can walk consecrated grounds,” Arion drawls. “But don’t blame her. Obviously she had no choice in the matter,” he easily lies.

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out in my defense.

“That casket of yours will be quite pointless, though, so it looks like I’m here to stay,” Arion states as he lifts the remote, turns on some more upbeat music, and starts dancing back around the bodies.

Vance’s gaze darts to me for a brief second before returning to Arion, but Damien has disappeared.

The scent of cigar smoke has me turning back around to see Arion finishing up lighting one, waving a match until the fire turns to smoke once he’s finished.

He puffs the cigar and dances carelessly while saying, “It’s a wicked new century, don’t you think?”

Vance doesn’t answer, and I keep my gaze trained on the vampire in the room.

He lifts a knife from the table, flips it over in his hand, and I tense as he smirks over at me.

Vance shouts something as Arion flings the knife, and my eyes screw shut as it flies at me.

A harsh grunt has my eyes cracking open, and an exhale of relief comes out of me when I see the knife suspended in mid-air next to my face. But then my eyebrows lift as Damien comes into view, blood dripping around the knife wound in his hand that was apparently reaching for me.

He glares at Arion as he rips the knife from the center of his palm.

“You can see me?” Damien growls at him.

“Everyone can see you right now,” Arion answers with a shrug.

I open my lips again to speak, but I remember why I can’t this time. I made a gypsy promise. Gypsy promises come at the cost of gypsy pride if broken, even when one is tricked into a promise under false pretenses.

“You don’t get to save her,” Arion adds with a smirk, his eyes trained on me. “She’s free to go, so she doesn’t actually need saving.”

“Then I think it’s time she left. You and I should have a talk,” Vance says to Arion, even as Damien steps out in front of me.

Swallowing thickly, I carefully hop off the bar.

I start to leave, but then remember the fact I now have a vampire stalker to add to my list of monster problems. It’s best to show respect in a home of a gypsy alpha vampire, regardless of the circumstances that brought me here. Especially if I want to stay on his good side.

Something tells me that leaving Shadow Hills right now would be damn near impossible. I have a feeling he’d hunt me just to carry through with his really insane plan of me somehow reuniting the band of monster brothers he’s stalked from his grave. Literally.

I used to think my life was complicated. I feel silly now that it’s actually gotten extremely complicated.

Damien hisses out a breath when I move toward Arion, and Arion’s lips twitch as I approach.

“Violet,” Vance bites out like he’s chastising me.

Arion just smirks down at me when I reach him, and I get up on my tiptoes as he leans down. Without overthinking it, I quickly press a kiss to his cheek, the way my mother instructed me to do if I ever visited another gypsy’s home.

His arm snakes around my waist before I can withdraw, and the show of respect backfires when I worry he’s not going to let go.

“I’ll see you later, sweet gypsy,” he murmurs close to my ear before releasing me.

I’m not sure if it’s a threat or simply a warning, but I turn and walk away the second his grip loosens.

Vance’s jaw is grinding as I near him, and his hand comes up to my chin, cupping it and gently halting the retreat I really want to make.

His eyes flick over my cheek that hasn’t started healing yet, and he cuts a lethal gaze toward Arion.

“The bloke who left that mark should be ready soon,” I hear the freshly risen vampire answering from the right, instead of the left, where I expect his voice to come from.

My eyes dart to where Arion is standing behind the bar as Vance releases my chin. As if summoned, the doors open on the other side of the room, and a large keg rolls in, loudly sloshing around.

“Ah, there he is. Anyone else want a drink?” Arion asks as he goes to lift the keg with one hand.

The doors behind him close without anyone ever coming into view.

My stomach churns when I realize Lurch’s blood must have been drained into that keg.

Without hesitating more than I already have, I turn and walk out, hearing Arion talking behind me.

“I knew I’d come back to a mess if you weak-balled prats were in charge all on your own for a damn century,” Arion is saying conversationally. “I have quite a few people to kill, it seems.”

I walk a lot faster, ignoring the chill up my spine as I take in the gravity of the situation. For at least the next two years he was supposed to be buried, anything he does will be all my fault, because I was the stupid, trusting gypsy who made eye contact and let a ghost lead me.

Damien takes two seconds to join me at my side, following me out to my van that has been parked in the driveway like I drove myself here.

My knees give out before I can make it halfway there.

END OF BOOK 1.