Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(25)
“Damien stalked her home. And that ghost’s name is Anna. Quite charming…when not suffering the side effects of the final decay.” His lips thin on that. “She’s notably missing.”
“If she possessed Violet to ride around on you—which, by the way, is the only reason you got her in bed before me—then of course she’s missing. She’s a pile of salt. She was too close to the end.”
He runs a hand over the back of his neck, and his look softens, as Violet continues to make friends with all the omegas who made camp in my house a few years ago.
“She paused her grieving and followed Damien there tonight. Willingly. She interceded on your behalf without even remembering why Arion is such a threat. Somehow, she managed to remember it all, and still stepped in between the two of you when she thought he’d kill you, and trusted he would spare her. And all you likely did was growl at her after all that,” he says, making me feel like I really am an imbecile, as I exhale harshly.
Without another word, he walks to the end of the hallway. Ingrid practically scurries into the side panel, never wanting to be out when a Van Helsing is close.
All the women snarl at him when he bends to Violet. He doesn’t react, but Violet startles at their sounds.
One by one, they all hug her like she’s going to war or some shit, and Ingrid even scuttles back out, hugs her quickly, and launches herself back into the walls.
Still, that action alone means they’ve really taken to her much too fast. Violet’s like one of those tempting damn traps that somehow sneaks up on you, and we’re all getting sucked in. At least that’s how it feels.
She lets Vance guide her down the hallway, and she gives me a quick, tight smile, before practically hurrying by me in clothes that really don’t fit her at all.
She even pulls Damien’s jacket tighter around her as she goes, like it’s giving her a dose of security. Damien. Damien fucking Morpheous is ranking higher than me to her?
Unbelievable.
Vance slows as Violet walks on ahead, and he’s smirking for some reason. “They really do act like she’s going to be yours,” he says as though now he finds this amusing rather than insulting.
“She may very well be,” I say just to fuck with him, and also because I hate the fact she really did step in tonight, even though I could see the fear in her eyes.
That took guts or stupidity. I’m not sure which.
It renews the interest I keep trying to snuff out.
“She could barely meet your eyes,” he goes on, still amused. “The funny thing is, now that they like her and want her to be your girlfriend, you won’t be getting laid anymore.”
He claps me hard on my aching, gnarled shoulder, and I inwardly groan.
“All their attention will move to her. Clever girls, those,” he says as parting words, as he walks on out.
My head drops back as I stare up at the ceiling. Even Arion has a fucking date with her tomorrow. She’s coming over in Vance’s sheet and Damien’s jacket. I actually feel fucking left out.
“Great. Now I’m also the immature one,” I mutter to myself as I turn and head away from the omega wing.
This day is complete shit.
I head back to bleeding room and lie back on the tile, staring up at the ceiling once again. There, I watch the wolves who would have never put me in this situation, as they dance around the poisoned tree that led me down this regretful road.
Sometimes I need to remember.
Before I do things I’ll torture myself for later.
Like rip out the throats of every beta who challenged me tonight and sent me running headfirst into a fight I wasn’t ready to face just yet.
Chapter 11
VIOLET
I’m tiptoeing down the stairs, as the horrible sawing continues just outside my window. Dad apparently didn’t bother waiting until I woke up or even had more than two hours of sleep before going to work.
Now I just sound whiny.
Angrily, I start the coffee and take a deep breath as I focus on the fact Dad is actually here. For once, I was the one who bailed on him and still haven’t explained why in the hell I was coming home dressed like I’d been stuck in a dryer with the too-tight, too-small clothing…after wearing a sheet before that.
Hopefully, he’s in his usual stoic mood today.
“I bet it sucked having him for a father when you were little,” Damien says too close from behind me, and I scream as I jump.
I whirl around, finding him at the kitchen doorway, a grin on his face as he props up there.
“Do I even want to know how long you’ve been here?”
“I can’t read minds, Violet. At least not without touching you first,” he adds, his grin only growing.
The sawing stops, and he disappears seconds before the back door swings open. Dad barely glances in my direction before going to pour himself some coffee into his thermos.
“Damn cold out there, but I didn’t want more sawdust in your house than necessary,” he grumbles.
“Thanks for that,” I state flatly.
Damien snorts, and I try not to throttle him as my father looks over his shoulder at me, frowning.
“I was being nice,” Dad defends. “We can talk about what you were wearing last night later.”
I try not to turn around and knee Damien in the nuts when I feel a hand squeeze my ass.