Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(18)

Vance drops to his bed, giving us all a pointed look.

“The poor girl has gone through hell as far as her sheltered, much more innocent mind is concerned. Subtlety takes longer, but in the end, it never fails, so long as my fuck-ups stay minor,” the smug son of a bitch says with a smirk. “At least with you lot to contend with,” he adds in a dry drawl, his lips curving up at one side, as he adjusts the strings on his robe twice.

His focus is steadily dimming; I can tell when I see him tug at both sleeves in a quick, subtle sequence.

“There’s a reason I hate you,” Damien says in an annoyed tone.

“Go be whiny and she’ll like you just fine again. I’m not likely to find out what her problem is with me, unless at least one of you takes mercy and finds out what I’m doing wrong,” Arion gripes.

Even I engage at last, joining Damien and Vance in giving Arion a unanimous, eerily similar, perfected look.

Arion’s eyes dart from each of our faces as he slowly points a finger at us, like he’s counting or some shit.

“That’s the face you all give me when you think I’m being deliberately obtuse about something,” he says warily.

He’s only wary and not arrogant when he’s unsure of himself.

It’s a rarity, and almost enough to make me enjoy this moment of confusion in his corroded mind. But I can’t even muster up enough hatred for him to bother paying true attention much longer.

“I’m going to need the three of you gone before she finishes her shower,” Vance announces with a curt smile. “Give her a break. Someone tend to the issue of her store. Obviously, the omegas won’t be of much help, but Shera’s been invited in, apparently.”

Arion waves him off like loaning out his favorite beta is not a problem, but he’s too frustrated to talk about anything else right this minute.

“She hates me, and all of you seem to know why, but you want me to figure it out on my own. Stop fucking pulling my dick and tell me where I’ve bloody gone wrong. I was doing so well in the beginning,” Arion says like he’s genuinely perplexed when I look away.

“In your head, I’m sure you were doing excellent,” Damien retorts dryly. “Why is she mad at me? It’s clearly not over the Neopry secret thing. We’ve had plenty of sex since then. You’re welcome, by the way. Apparently, I left the door wide open for you to move back to the top,” he adds sourly, glaring over at Vance.

“She’s been through enough without your invasive prying for one night,” Vance tells all of us.

I stand as they continue arguing, and Arion makes a sound of frustration, before he walks out abruptly.

He’s out of sight by the time I make it out the door, leaving Damien and Vance to argue on their own.

I make it almost to the door before I sit down in a corner instead, readying myself to talk to Vance, as my hand scrubs over my beard, smoothing it as I think.

Three fucking attacks. Three. By wolves.

It’s no surprise I’m by far the last person she wants to talk to.

The soft scent of Violet’s blood hits me, causing my eyes to lift to the stairs she’s descending, her eyes upward, as her lips stay thin, as though she’s overhearing some of the arguing from Vance’s room.

She adjusts the small towel that’s barely covering the things she wants covered, as her damp hair all drapes over one shoulder.

For a second, I forget she has every right to hate me, because all I want to do is throw her over my fucking shoulder like the animal I am and steal her away.

Just as she finishes coming down the stairs, her eyes collide with mine, and she freezes to her spot. With a small huff, she turns and heads toward the kitchen.

I’m sure she’d like her space. It’s the smart move.

“Don’t,” she says like she knows I’m following her, even though I’m damn quiet about it.

Hard to do at my size.

She walks through to the kitchen and opens the fridge, and then bends over enough to give me a small flash of the bottom of her ass.

It’s painfully hard to tear my eyes off it. I blame her for that. Until she bloody went missing, I’d no idea how attached to her I’d gotten. Every ounce of failure being wrung out of me is because of how helpless I felt while she was gone.

“Violet, I realize you’ve been attacked by wolves three times, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again. My protection used to mean more, and I understand that you’re—”

“Clearly they’re not scared of any of you,” she says with a dismissive shrug. “At least not until it’s too late,” she adds, not sounding overly concerned with it.

“There’s no telling what Shera told you during those moments alone when she likely believed she’d die, so I have no idea what to say to make this better right now. But I am going to clean house, Violet. I didn’t realize it was this messy.”

She gives me a confused look.

“You think I’m mad at you because wolves attacked me?” she surmises, rolling her eyes like she’s as frustrated with me as she was with Damien.

Now I feel as bloody confused as Damien.

“Emit, I have no right to judge how any of you do your alpha thing, because I know very little about the world and politics of monsters. It’s a violent world, from what I’ve observed. I’m dealing,” she says in a manner that leads me to believe she’s cross with me for not already realizing that about her. “Now please go. I just want to make a sandwich and hide until Damien is gone. Hopefully, he’ll leave without a broken nose.”