Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(14)
Damien suddenly appears directly across from Abby, and a crossbow is aimed at her. She barely turns in time to see it fire, and the arrow shoots through her abdomen, causing her to howl in pain. The crouching omegas whine and cower all the more.
“For the record, I’m a rather vindictive monster. That’s for the degrading arrow you, a simple pureblood, foolishly put through my heart. You’re a little easier to kill than I, and you stay dead. Wouldn’t want that to happen just yet,” Damien tells her with a sinister tone I’m not used to hearing from him.
Vance turns like he’s finally ready to acknowledge the wolves in front of us.
“You have five days to remind people about what it looks like to have a Van Helsing knocking down your doors. Usually, I don’t leave witnesses alive. If I catch whiff of fearful acceptance in enough abundance, I may not kill you when those five days are over,” Vance tells them dismissively. “However, keep in mind that I have very high standards. Don’t make me want to hunt you.”
As if hesitating, wondering if this is all a trap, they take one wary step toward the door, before their fleeing instincts kick in hard and they yelp and clumsily race out the rest of the way.
A chill settles over the room, and all alpha eyes turn to the one remaining wolf. I barely notice Shera peering over the edge of the balcony—the same one we were both on earlier.
“Shera, we’d like to have a moment alone with Abby,” Arion says as he tugs his long-sleeved shirt over his head and hands it to me. “Take Violet to my house.”
“She’s bleeding,” Vance says immediately, narrowing his eyes at Arion. “I doubt the vampire estate is the smartest route.”
Arion shrugs a shoulder. “My vampires are smarter than wolves, but whatevs. Shera, take Violet to Vance’s home.”
I tug his shirt on, happy to cover up the underwear no one was supposed to see.
Emit’s eyes never meet mine. He’s the only one who doesn’t at least glance this way when Shera comes to help me up. The blood loss is still taking its toll, so she ends up having to lift me and carry me like I’m a bride once again.
“I’m not going to feel pretty for days. Which is terrible timing, given my pitiful breakup and all,” she says on a sigh, as she carries me toward the doors. “Don’t worry,” she goes on like now everything is normal and she’s still a badass, “I took care of the media room first thing.”
I glance over her shoulder, still metaphorically rolling downhill, as the shirtless Arion takes a small blade from the ground and walks happily toward the scared wolf…who got exactly what she wanted.
All four of them.
In one place.
She probably regrets being so ambitious.
“This is twice I’ve suffered this indignity with you,” Shera prattles on. “Now I’m in my knickers for all to see, and you’ve got my unthreaded clothing peeking out of your brazier. A fauxmega wolf is going to cause me to suffer endless challenge fights that will leave me exhausted, battered, and sore. And I’m not even allowed inside your home like those worthless omegas who turn tail and run. At least I tried to defend you.”
Abby’s eyes dart to us, and I see true terror there instead of unrelenting malice.
“Shera,” I murmur a little drowsily.
“What?” she grumbles, stumbling a little, cursing, and righting us, as I’m jostled just slightly through it all.
“You’re invited in,” I tell her quietly.
She pauses long enough for me to glimpse Abby around the edge of the corner we’re turning.
Abby shifts back to flesh, but stays naked and crouched, fear more prominently shining from her eyes when Arion’s grin slowly climbs.
It’s the last thing I see before I let my eyes shut.
CHAPTER 4
VIOLET
Soft lips brush my forehead, as the sound of loud music plays somewhere farther in whatever house I’ve just woken up in. It takes me a second to register the fact there’s a body under me and someone is absently tracing circles on my leg that is very much across a familiar bare waist.
Vance is only wearing some nice pajama pants and smelling freshly showered, his mind seeming anywhere but here, as he just loosely holds me to him.
I’m confused, since I expected it to be Damien holding me. Vance isn’t the cuddling type, I’ve noticed.
“Your neck is healed,” he says like he knows I’m awake, amidst a sound strongly akin to a champagne cork popping, as someone cheers.
That someone sounds distinctly like Arion.
I say nothing as I rest my head under his chin, content to finally feel like I’m safe and sound with the Van Helsing who didn’t need any help with the wolves this time.
“Have you always turned your cellar into an artificial sun room with portable orange trees in large pots?” he asks abruptly, while the music and laughter continues down the hallway.
Not moving my head off his chest, I lean back to peer up at his fascinatingly soulful eyes, and he stares down at me. It’s now I realize he’s twirling my blade with his free hand like it’s not a dangerous weapon.
“Mom always made sure to find cellars for our homes, whether we rented or owned. Once I moved out, I used my cellar and hers. Until she moved here and told me she’d have me out once she finished something important,” I explain with a shrug.