Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(71)

Why are my pupils shrinking?

Something’s wrong.

I suck in a sharp breath, preparing to scream for Arion, but only a muffled sound escapes me instead.

“Violet?” Arion calls, sounding mildly concerned, as my hand, that I seem to have no control over whatsoever, turns on the faucet.

The hand I have control of slaps that hand away, as all the mechanical functions seem to slowly be taken away from me. All the while, I’m growing dizzier.

“Don’t fight this,” an all too familiar voice cuts in.

I stumble into the sink, and the possessed hands start splashing water on my face, just as I feel the invasion seal me out of my own mind.

It all goes dark for what feels like a brief second of struggle and strain, before a painful breath bursts into my lungs with a harsh gasp. The spray of salt rains down me, really confusing the shit out of me.

There’s a painful ache in a very inconveniently random place, as my eyes stare up at an unfamiliar ceiling, my breaths coming rapidly and shallowly. Why does it feel like I need to clench my thighs just to soothe that ache?

I’m vaguely aware of the fact I’m on the bed with my shirt pushed almost up to my neck, and my hands are on my thighs, nails digging into my skin, as the vagueness turns to sharp awareness.

I blink rapidly when my eyes land on Arion, who has a hand shoved in his hair and is staring down at me in so much shock and appall that I feel like a truly horrible person.

I swallow around the breath trapped in my throat, because that brief second I thought I was out has clearly been a lot more. Arion’s head starts shaking, and he slaps the side of it, chanting a seemingly endless series of desperate nos.

I’ve killed people and never felt as guilty as I do in this moment, and my throat is too dry and still burning too badly for me to speak. All that comes out is a rasp, pained sound.

Arion stumbles to the bathroom, clumsily rushing around, and I hear the water running. Given his reaction, he’s perfectly aware of what just happened.

I stave off the tears as he hurries back out, eyes not meeting mine, as he absently hands me the small glass of water.

Just as I take a sip, he slams his fist through the wall to the bathroom, and I startle as one of those tears slips out.

“I knew it was too easy. I knew it was wrong. I fucking knew it,” he says as he drops his forehead against the wall. “It didn’t feel like you.”

My throat loosens up, though it still hurts a little. My entire body is limp and drained, completely different from when I gave control to Anna willingly.

A forced possession by three psychotic, delusional, pitiful ghosts is an entirely different, horrible experience. At least I think it was the triplets who possessed me, given the voices I heard.

I’m still confused as to what just happened and how.

My eyes dart to the clock, noting that they couldn’t have possessed me for very long at all, even with all three of them at the wheel. But things clearly escalated quickly.

“No,” he says again on a low groan, as he sits down at the end of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees and putting his hands in his hair. “I couldn’t have known, Violet,” he says as he rocks forward. “How could a ghost have possibly possessed you without consent? You’re a bloody gypsy and a monster, and you just had a massive feeding—”

“I’m sorry,” I manage to croak, before quickly drinking the rest of the water.

He turns and gives me such a pitiful look, before moving up closer on the bed.

“Why the fucking hell are you sorry, love? Did you let them do that?” he asks almost…hopefully.

This is possibly the most fucked up situation in the history of twisted, insane, fucked up situations.

“I apparently didn’t seal the door all the way after Anna, or something,” I say quietly, even though my throat feels gradually better.

That damn door will be bolted shut as soon as I figure out how to make that happen. Not that it helps this current situation.

Arion drops back on the bed, scrubbing his face with both hands. “No idea what that means, love, but I think I’m the one who needs to apologize in this situation. I’m not terribly good with such things, so I could use some guidance on what exactly to say. Old as I am, I’ve never found myself in this predicament. Ever.”

It’s not funny. At all. None of this is funny. I’m not sure why that still sounded a little funny.

Maybe it’s hysterical laughter that comes when someone’s mind finally shatters against the endless hits, but I have to swallow back that laughter to keep from looking insane to the vampire everyone else thinks is insane.

“It was three of them,” I explain. “Triplets.”

He just makes a frustrated sound, shoving his palms against his eye sockets, as he groans again, and then he quickly leans over and lifts the room’s phone to his ear.

“Linda, I’m going to take you up on the offer of liquor. Bring me the strongest, nicest scotch you have.” He glances over at me, arching an eyebrow. “What’s your poison, love?”

“I’ll just stick to water,” I tell him.

“And a few bottles of water,” Arion adds before turning and hanging up the phone, dropping back again and putting his arm over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says so seriously that I really hope it’s sincere and he’s not that good at faking it.