Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(77)

I’m the monster who happens to be incapable of staying mad forever, and I’m the pathetic monster who fell for the vampire when he was just a harmless ghost. And every single thing he does wrong seems to be eclipsed by all the very gentle things he does with only me.

“Brace yourself, love,” he whispers so softly I almost miss it. “It’s been a while.”

All thoughts in my head get quickly snuffed out, when his elbow drops beside my head. On the next rock of his hips, the large, four-poster bed slides with his body, and it slams into the wall with his thrust.

My breath catches in my throat as something inexplicably right happens with the next violent thrust that makes me feel just as wrong.

Then there’s a prick of pain when his fangs sink in without warning that makes me feel like a true masochist for enjoying it so much. The hint of pain is quickly followed by a soft, delicate kiss. It’s right on his favorite spot of my throat.

But it’s the way he draws me closer, like he can’t possibly get enough and I’m the best thing he’s ever experienced…

How can I not love every moment of it?

For the briefest moment, I break my mother’s rules, just so I can enjoy a moment of pleasure in the chaos, and I allow myself to feel like a complicated monster too.

My nails slide up his back, as my legs wind around his waist, and he makes some noise that has me angling my neck more. He tears his mouth away, staring down at me, as his body moves over mine, caging me in so closely that there’s no mistaking I can’t get away.

My eyes roll back in my head when my orgasm crashes through me with no preamble or build, just hammered right the hell out of me in bone-shattering shock.

A stuttered breath escapes me, and Arion curses under his, before he groans, suddenly stilling inside me. It doesn’t take me but a split second to realize mine must have triggered his, as he shakes his head and curses next to my ear.

His head lifts, and half-lidded eyes find mine with…an unexpected amount of surprise and intensity, his grip on me tightening very subtly, as he holds me closer instead of moving away.

His gaze dips, taking in our bodies, and for a very alarming second, I almost worry salt is going to spray out of him, because he almost looks…lost and…something else. He seems to tilt his head like he’s studying me, and just as I open my mouth to speak, he’s kissing me again.

I moan into his mouth when I feel his hips rocking once again, already growing inside me like…it’s been a thousand years…

Not overthinking. Just being a monster.

My hands move up into his hair, and he turns us, bringing me down on top of him, as we start all over again.





CHAPTER 22





EMIT


My eyes land on Arion, and my jaw grinds when I see Violet curled across his front, mostly lying on top of him. The son of a bitch grins at me immediately, while he absently traces circles on her bare back.

The sheet starts at the dip of her ass, and it stops again on the backs of her thighs, as though she wanted only a little modesty as she fell asleep on that psychotic son of a bitch.

Weirdly, there’s a ring of salt around the bed, and Violet is wearing her red boots with rubber soles. Only her red boots, it seems.

“Was this a command of yours?” I ask him conversationally, not wanting to put him on the defense…but already things look suspicious.

“No. I’ve told you from the very beginning that she’d be mine the first time I had her alone. She’s been mine for quite some time, but she likes to push back when she can, reminding us she’s not to be stepped on,” he states like he has the keys to the universe. “She had me worried I was wrong. Touch and go for a moment there.”

It’s them who are the idiots. You don’t get great insight on her after sex. You just think you do.

Because when Violet feels anything too intensely, you get a punch of those emotions. Since learning she carries empathic traits, more and more has made sense.

It’s hard to put the pieces together when you don’t even know what questions you should be asking.

Her emotions weave through your mind with a better high than her gypsy spice, bringing a serene, subtly addictive calm amidst the never-ending madness.

“She’s a very affectionate, sound sleeper…and so trusting,” he murmurs, brushing her hair way from her throat. “A man could grow quite adjusted to this with ease,” he goes on, staring down at her as he drags her leg up on his hip, the cover sliding just a bit higher, as Damien steps into the room beside me.

Violet sighs contently in her sleep, unconsciously wiggling herself even closer to him. His smile only grows, as his eyes meet mine.

“What’s with the salt and the boots?” Damien asks, addressing the only other unusual thing we can spot.

“Dead ghosts made for a good safety ring,” Arion says, gesturing toward the lightning streaking outside. “Violet doesn’t want to be struck again.”

Now it makes sense, and I hate him more, because I can’t help but wonder if he’s genius enough to show foresight to such detail…if that’s really Idun and not Violet.

“Maybe it’s nothing unique to you disloyal prats who stick it in anything with a pretty face, despite your promises, but I’ve never had such a delicate thing in my possession,” he goes on, grin only growing.