Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(39)
It’s so tragically cringe-worthy. I feel even dumber when Arion makes some sound of amusement, and Damien’s lips struggle to keep a respectable line.
“‘No’ would have been a far better answer,” Damien says, as Arion runs a finger down my cheek.
“Damien’s going to take you home for me, because I have a wolf and a Van Helsing to deal with, now that they seem far more agreeable,” Arion adds with that typical amusement in his tone.
My eyes flick up to the balcony to see Emit scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he looks away, his muscles tensing. Vance is staring right at me with a heated look I’ve only ever seen that one time.
I almost want to go to him, but then I remember he hasn’t bothered coming to me.
That’s when…Arion’s words register, and I turn around to face him.
He immediately bends down so quick that I startle, and his lips brush mine so softly, before he moves up to my ear to whisper, “Save me for last, sweet gypsy. I fall the hardest.”
He’s gone before I can even try saying the little speech I prepared that I finally have the courage to deliver about werewolves and vampire peace.
I groan, and when I look up, Emit and Vance are also gone.
“I let the omegas down,” I tell Damien, who comes to drop an arm around my shoulders like our intense moment has dissipated with Arion’s retreat.
He looks a little lost in thought as he stares at the balcony where the other two were.
“Your goal was to prevent a new war. That doesn’t happen in one night, no matter how good a speech is, Violet,” Damien says absently as he starts guiding me out.
I shut my eyes and let him lead me through the blood fountain maze, and I don’t open them again until we’re exiting. Funnily enough, a lot of eyes are on us as we depart, like they know Arion isn’t watching right now.
“I feel less powerful,” I say quietly…to myself, apparently.
Damien has vanished, even though I can still feel his touch.
As far as they’re all concerned, I’m walking and talking with myself.
He doesn’t speak, and more and more vampires studiously take me in, regarding me with far too much interest. As soon as we leave behind the peanut gallery, Damien returns to flesh, and I glare at the side of his face.
“Sorry,” he states very unapologetically. “I needed to see them watching you so I could see if any of them had any ideas. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to do so in my presence. Even those who forget me still feel my dominance,” he adds.
“Well?”
“Curious interest. No malice. Yet,” he says, adding that last word like a caution.
Shera meets me at Damien’s vehicle, my clutch in her hand, and she hands it to me.
“Congratulations. You’re officially safe from any future vampire attacks, even the unregistered ones,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “However, should you have any issues, please call the number on the card I left in your purse.”
With that, she turns and walks away.
“I think that’s the most pleasant I’ve ever heard her be,” Damien muses.
“That was pleasant?”
“Comparatively speaking, yes.”
When I finally manage to glance at my phone, I curse, because somehow it’s already after midnight. How long did I dance?
“If I ask what you can do with pheromones, will it turn into a demonstration?” I ask for the sake of curiosity.
“Most certainly,” he says as he opens the door for me, glancing back at the house. “Take my car, Violet,” he adds, shutting the door in front of me before I can get in, and then he pulls out the keys. “I actually need to listen in on what the three of them are discussing.”
I take the keys from his hands, not bothering to argue, and he walks around to the other side in front of me, opening that door for me instead.
After I’m inside the vehicle, he shuts the door and disappears. “Leave a window open for me,” is the last thing he says.
I can’t help but wonder if seeing him through his illusion was a trick Arion used with his astral projection, or if he can see him regardless.
I also can’t ask anyone but Arion or that memory will fade.
“I can’t believe I actually enjoyed a vampire party,” I say on a disappointed-with-myself breath, as I carefully navigate my way through the crowded lot.
It doesn’t take me long get home…without anything jumping out of the shadows at me.
It’s quiet and dark in the house when I get home, and I trip over Dad’s toolbox that was apparently forgotten in front of the door. The clumsy stumble doesn’t even interrupt the thoughts I’m so lost in.
The monsters are a complicated group of people, too complex for me to judge any of them based on one encounter. Besides Dorian. I really don’t like him. He was a little too pushy and insistent that I speak to him, and kept touching me, doing that thing where images pop into my head.
I’m not sure why he kept giving me images of me kneeing him in the balls, because that’s really what I ended up wishing I could do by the end.
When I pass the guest room, I hear Dad steadily snoring. Loudly.
A small smile graces my lips as I head into my room. If he’s still here next week, it’ll be the first time he’s spent my birthday with me since I was a kid.