Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(55)

A shaky breath snakes out of me when he places a single, soft kiss on the spot of my throat he’s been fascinated with—the spot where he bit me and didn’t leave a lasting mark.

“The next time will be much better when that time comes. My patience only struggles because of how sweet it was to taste a Portocale that didn’t burn the tongue. But it’s not the Portocale in you that lingers in a man, driving the most patient of the four to the brink so easily,” he says in that soft, hypnotic tone once more.

“No,” he goes on, kissing my neck again. “It’s a taste like no other—one powerful taste at first, but a simmering second one, so subtle and unique. It grows increasingly more addictive each day that passes without it, the craving almost unbearable. If another vampire ever tastes your blood, I’ll have to kill them to keep them away.”

My heart sinks a little. “So now the reason you want me is because of my blood?” I ask in an even tone, staring at what bit of his cheek that I can see.

I feel his grin against my throat. “A very welcome fringe benefit, Violet. An effective side effect, but not the catalyst.” He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger as he leans back, solid black eyes meeting mine.

A chill immediately slithers up my spine, and it’s not me who is knocking down the temperature this time. I don’t notice it as much when I apparently do it.

I notice it very much right now.

As goosebumps pebble my skin, my eyes flick to the barely-there points of his fangs that are teasing me with a glimpse.

“I’m saying you tempt the monster on the surface, and the one underneath,” he goes on.

I don’t know what to do or say. Every reaction I have leads to him reading way too much into it, and I don’t usually have to overthink my reactions, damn it.

He’s like a loaded shotgun with a sensitive trigger. I’m not good with those. At all. They always leave a mess for me to clean up.

“Just tell me how to change it, Violet. Tell me what I can do. Don’t continue to write me off so easily, when we both know you want me as much as I want you,” he goes on, gently dragging his lips up my neck. “Give me a direction.”

It’s exhausting trying to constantly pretend like I don’t miss Ace every day, and I have so many unanswered questions that I’ve wanted to ask for so long.

“Maybe we could discuss some things as friends—” I pause when a glint of amusement crosses his eyes. “—and whenever you face Idun and deal with that very complicated history, instead of making me feel like the rebound or time-out girl, then we can talk.”

The amusement dries up quickly with that last bit.

“They’ll give you basements and chocolate, Violet, but I’ll give you absolutely anything. Why isn’t that enough?” he asks like he’s getting slightly offended.

“Uh-oh,” I mutter under my breath, inwardly cursing those diplomatic lessons I got the ‘gist’ of when my mother was preaching at me. “Maybe I worded something wrong, because that was supposed to be good.”

“Uh-oh is good?” he asks like he’s confused.

“No, that was—”

A howl has him turning his head, his hand coming up to my cheek.

“Are we in danger of wolves attacking here?” I ask in the quietest whisper I can muster.

“Not from those wolves. They’re getting antsy because we’ve arrived unannounced, and we aren’t the kind to let others in on the stupid shit we’re about to do. But Emit can sort them out. No worries,” he says as he faces me, smiling humorlessly. “Or I can kill them. Their choice, really.”

I open my mouth to point out that it’s things like that which have me really questioning his sanity, when he adds, “Take a look around, love. Once she comes out of hiding, which is undoubtedly going to happen soon, you’ll likely not get another chance.”

He kisses the side of my head, and he’s gone in the next instant.

I didn’t really want to do this solo.

I’m questioning why I have a very confusing relationship status with four guys, who all claim to want me, yet have to face things like this castle alone.

I’m tempted to call for Vance, but wonder if those distant howls don’t have all their attention. My guess is that I’m safer up here than down there, in their opinion. It’d be rude to ask for a hand-holder while there’s possible danger below.

I need to stop thinking.

I’m quite literally on a mountaintop that has very little land surrounding the massive castle that stands alone up here.

There’s no bridge to more land. It’s just an isolated castle at the top of a steep peak that is really and truly only accessible by climb, and the fog up here is so thick that it’s hard to see too far out in front of you.

I manage to find the entrance, and the entire door groans as I push it open. Only creepy darkness greets me from inside the crack I make, and the groaning door echoes throughout the empty, sketchy looking structure.

I thought my mother’s house had a lot of dust, but the slick floor tells me this place is covered in it, even if I can’t see.

I stick my hands in my coat pockets, since it’s considerably cooler up here, and my hand hits something hard. A small smile graces my lips when I feel a flashlight that I know for certain I didn’t put in there.