Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(29)

“Is Vance avoiding me? Is he weirded out with what happened between us? We didn’t speak when he drove me home, and he hasn’t called since I ignored that one call because I was with Dad.”

He pauses, stopping the orange at his lips, as he arches an eyebrow at me.

“I’m trying to be your dirty, kinky rebound from the boring, drab Van Helsing. I’m not trying to be your gay best friend. My answer is that he’s not worth it, but I am,” he says with a completely serious expression.

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes.

“Have you seen me?” he asks incredulously. “I get that the wolves want an alpha wolf, but surely you have better taste,” he adds, glancing over at the mirror and back at me.

“You do realize how vain you seem when you can’t help but glance over at a mirror every two seconds to appreciate how good you look?” I ask dryly.

Okay, to be fair, he’s definitely the most gorgeous man alive, but it is so annoying when he glances at the mirror like he— “Part of my curse,” he answers as he looks back down.

I don’t even bother asking questions, and apparently that works, since he starts giving answers without being prompted.

“My first sacrifice for immortality was the thing I found most important. That, of course, was my fame. I had no idea I was making the decision for the entire family,” he goes on. “First-borns apparently had that power during the ceremony.”

“There was a ceremony to make you immortal?” I ask, sitting up.

He continues staring at the peel of the orange in his hand.

“Step one,” he answers absently. “It wasn’t as easy of a step as I thought it was. Especially when my family received the same curse. Now, after a few weeks of not seeing us, mortals forget we even exist. Even the little poser immortals who don’t age but still die a true death…”

He lets his words trail off for a second.

“So it really is just the alpha immortals who can’t truly die who remember you,” I say as a small pang starts in my chest.

“Unless they’re in my presence fairly regularly, anyone not of alpha blood forgets me,” he says, agreeing. “Even you’ll forget me if I let you go more than a week without seeing me, since I’m so new to you,” he goes on, eating another bite.

“Dorian somehow gave up something else, I’m assuming. Since he’s a bastard,” I continue, leaning in as I grow more intrigued.

“He was the true first-born, ousted only by title and name,” he adds quietly. “It was a loophole. He shouldn’t have even been immortal. Leave it to that cockroach to take everything from me. Father doesn’t even claim me as the first-born anymore, but Dorian can’t take the Morpheous name for fear of fading into nothing like the rest of us. He added his own curse to our family legacy as the unofficial first-born.”

He glances at the mirror across from us, what little bit is left of it, and just stares.

“To this day, unless I’m unconscious, I can’t go more than a few hours without checking my reflection, or I forget who I used to be. I forget how it used to be. Before we tried to make it better and ended up destroying it instead. It’s dangerous when I allow that to happen, and it’s a slow road to remembering again afterwards.”

Cocky, creepy, annoyingly obtuse…all those things usually describe Damien. Not vulnerable.

“Sorry. Now I feel like a jerk for the mirror comment.”

He gives a small grin. “I’m the only one in my family who suffers the worst of the curses. No sexual pleasure for a being forged from sexual deviance. Even watching doesn’t bring the pleasure it used to.”

The first part I already knew, but the second part is what I almost ask about, until a horn blows just outside.

“That would be Shera. Arion would kick down my doors and walk on in uninvited,” he says, clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink.

“I thought vampires had to be invited in,” I say uneasily as the horn blares again.

He gives another sad smile as he swirls his drink in his hand. “There was a time when Arion was invited in. Just because the invitation has been rescinded, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have the ability to walk in.” His eyes find mine when the horn blares again. “Remember that.”

When the horn blows this time, I stand, and I hesitate. “You probably have a lot of suits and stuff, right?”

He gives me a dry look. “I’m not coming to Arion’s party. Trust me when I say that would be in poor taste, considering what he did to my people.”

“What did he do? I know he killed them, but why? No one ever just volunteers the why.”

“Because the why never really matters at the end of the day. It’s the what that determines our future history.”

“I killed four vampires, and all of you asked me why. It only seems fair to return the favor.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking over to mine. “All of us?”

Just as I try to answer, a fog rolls into my mind, and I can’t recall what I was going to say.

The horn blows once again.

“Shera already hates me because I’m apparently judgmental. Since his beta is picking me up, maybe that means this isn’t actually a date. That would help me—”

When someone starts banging on the front door and ringing the doorbell incessantly, I sigh. “If you come, please make sure I’m not dinner.”