Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(37)

“Only a true Portocale could resist the temptation Dorian presents,” Emit says very quietly.

“Only a true Portocale can evoke enough emotion from those heartless bastards to release us from this curse,” Arion states in a droll tone. “Face it. You all want her for what she represents.”

I scrub a hand over my face, staring down at Violet and not saying anything to the contrary. Arion sure as hell can’t know what having her has done to me.

She’s in every thought, every flavor, and every breath right now. I can’t get her out of my head, and I have no idea what the hell to do about it. It’s rather inconvenient, considering how ruthless Arion can be. Not to mention what Damien might do in an effort to steal my one little shard of happiness.

“I’ve offered her the four of us, by the way,” Arion goes on.

I choke on air. Emit makes some really weird rumble of surprise that sounds suspiciously like a stunned wolf. Emit and I both look at bloody absurd vampire like he’s lost his mind, as the insane vampire’s grin grows, his eyes on Violet.

“Don’t look so put off by the notion. She’s like a breath of fresh air in a stagnant, poisoned well,” Arion goes on. “She could have taken sides. She may still. But for now, she’s content to simply learn what she can before making any decision. The only thing I know for sure is that she hates it when we fight.”

He cuts his gaze toward us, sadistically grinning once more.

“It’s rather the opposite of the woman who tore us all apart, don’t you think?” he adds.

“Idun only started the rift. We’ve all widened it on our own. Surely you don’t think sharing some na?ve little gypsy girl is going to piece together centuries of bitter, unresolved issues?” I ask incredulously.

“I think she already is, considering the two of you are standing here in my party without weapons or claws. Her gypsy pride is like a beacon, and we’re all drawn to it, feeling the need and desire to protect it.”

“Is that why you made her forget anything pertaining to you when you’re not around?” I ask through clenched teeth.

His grin spreads. “She made a gypsy promise. That little gem just helps her keep it. If she really wants to break her promise, she’ll remember everything and be able to do so.”

Now I wish I’d brought one of those weapons. It’d feel damn good to stab him somewhere.

Anywhere.

“Is Damien going to continue to lurk, or does he want to join in as well?” Arion goes on, just as Damien appears, narrowing his eyes on Arion.

“Your scent is stronger when Gray is near,” Arion says like he’s explaining the unspoken question in Damien’s eyes.

“I’m only here because Dorian is here,” Damien is quick to tell him. “Not to welcome you home.”

“You’re here for the same reason they are, even if none of you will admit as much. I’m going to go drink a little blood and mingle with some bloodthirsty power hogs, who are pretending to be happy I’m home. Keep an eye on our girl until I’ve finished up,” Arion says with twitching lips, as he struts away like he’s found the keys to the kingdom.

“He really has lost his damn mind,” Emit says under his breath, even as he fixes his gaze to Violet.

“That washing machine reference makes more sense now,” Damien states dryly, though his jaw grinds when Dorian finally makes it back to Violet.

This time, she looks defeated and rolls her eyes, as she takes a seat at a table.

Damien vanishes.





Chapter 16





VIOLET


“I’m not sure why you’re chasing me around this party,” I tell the infamous, relentless, nowhere-nearly-as-sexy-as-Damien Dorian Gray.

Maybe it’s all the hype, but the actual being himself is far less spectacular than I expected.

“I’m curious why a Portocale gypsy is caught up in Arion’s Welcome Home party amongst vampires, who have no idea how powerful you’d make them with your death.”

I’m not sure why I find that amusing. Maybe because he’s so blunt, or maybe because he’s trying to do the same thing Arion is—get me to talk and open up, and then trust and do whatever curse-removal plans the alphas have. Maybe it’s because his chin looks sort of like a small butt crack that wiggles when he talks.

Some girls love that sort of thing, I know. But one Morpheous stalker is enough, and Damien has grown on me, unlike this Morpheous stalker with the wiggling chin that doesn’t stop wagging.

They really are a relentless breed.

“It’s a long story,” is all I tell him.

“Does the council know about you?” he muses.

“Does Arion know you’re here and talking to me?” I ask instead of answering the question I don’t have the answer to.

“Arion knows everything that happens in his House. I’m sure he’d be down here if he took issue with me speaking with his guest.”

“Actually, I think I’m his date, but it’s hard to tell with monster alphas. I’m sure there’s a harem for him like there is for Emit.”

“Date with Arion? You? A Portocale?” he asks as though he can’t believe the words out of my mouth... “You know Emit?” he adds with the same level of incredulity.