Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(47)

“Why is he throwing me a party when the only friends I have are in Vegas?”

“I don’t know, but Damien hasn’t hosted a party in centuries. It’s...actually sort of a big deal. Morpheous men throw the best parties that no one ever really remembers who hosted.”

I’m…not sure what to say to that.

“I just sort of figured we’d do cake and drink bourbon, but he didn’t answer—”

“The phones don’t work,” Vance reminds me on a sigh. “And since when are you and Damien so close?”

For a second, he almost sounds jealous. But he didn’t call even when the phones were working, so I assume I’m reading into it.

“He’s just sort of always there lately.”

“And helping you with your ghost issue,” he adds, possibly letting me know Damien fills him in on my side project.

“Is there a point to this inquiry?”

“No,” he mutters, pulling into Damien’s driveway.

Wow, a lot of people are here.

“It’s really hard to keep up with your mood swings,” I tell him before I get out of his car.

“I’ll explain my mood swings when I decide I’m okay with you hating me the way all Portocale gypsies do,” he says in an annoyed tone as he guides me up the stairs.

Before I can even bother asking the pointless question I rarely get a response to, the door swings open, and Damien grins down at me, a lit cigar hanging between his unnaturally perfect lips. He grabs my hand and drags me inside, not giving me any time to ask him what’s going on.

I practically stumble over my feet when I see two people having sex on one of the tall couches. I pull my hand out of Damien’s and keep watching, when another man comes up behind the woman and decides to get in on the fun.

She certainly doesn’t seem to mind.

I can’t look away because…seriously?

This is beyond shocking as far as cultural shock goes. My momma raised me to be a semi-good gypsy. These people don’t give a damn who thinks they’re good or not. I suddenly feel like a sheltered little girl.

That actually pisses me off a little.

“You said you weren’t throwing this kind of party,” Vance says in a bored tone as his hand touches the small of my back and starts guiding me away.

My neck hurts from looking over my shoulder so hard. This is…sort of awesome now that the shocking part is over. I could seriously take notes in a place like this and feel like a diva the next time I’m in the bedroom.

Maybe then the damn guy would call.

Anna would give my vagina lessons on getting that call-back if she were here.

You left too soon, Anna. You’re really missing out. I’m keeping a list of things to tell you all about just so you can be jealous.

“Well, it’s been a while since I threw a party. I had to use one of those enchanted envelopes to give everyone a reminder of who I even am,” Damien answers, pulling me away from Vance…and out of my own head.

So many people walk by us, too caught up in kissing, touching, or grinding to pay us any attention. It’s really freaking distracting, because my eyes want to see all the really scandalous thing. I’m starting to wish my neck was made of rubber.

“So this is who you are?” I ask, going off his comment as I see five women paying one naked man a lot of attention…like this is his birthday party.

Standing between Vance and Damien…I can feel the warmth slithering up my spine. My head really shouldn’t be going there. I’m not sure why it is.

“I’m a being of sexuality. Clearly this is the kind of party I end up throwing,” Damien says in an amused tone. “I’m starting to think you like it.”

I continue watching the new scene before me as one girl moves onto the man’s lap, not even bothering with a condom, much like Vance and Anna.

“I’m guessing immortals don’t worry about pregnancy or disease?”

“We are the disease, so no. We don’t get other diseases,” Vance says, steering me away once again, keeping me between him and Damien, as Damien gives a few courtesy smiles to people who are staring like they expect him to speak.

For whatever reason, he looks…weirdly even better tonight—Damien, that is. He’s always freakishly gorgeous, but tonight there’s…a glow about him. Not a neon sign glow, but a brighter, healthier sort of glow.

It’s a subtle yet notable change. If that makes any sense. There’s also this confident, arrogant smile he’s wearing that really suits him better than the sad one he pretends not to normally have.

Vance seems distracted, checking his watch, looking anywhere but at me.

“I’ll be right back, birthday girl,” Damien says close to my ear. “Don’t leave Vance.”

With that, he disappears into the throngs of people, and I look around, taking in all the lavish silks hanging from the mirrored ceilings. All the mirrors Vance broke have been restored, and it makes the party seem endless.

“Is this house bigger?” I ask Vance, wondering if the bouncy castle Damien has rented normally has seven people having sex with each other, or if the rental company will have to use a lot of bleach.

“It’s not any bigger,” Vance says dismissively, bristling when his eyes linger over one pair who are really quite distracting.