Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(63)

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not as stupid as you apparently think I am. Shoving me at them, playing with my head, actually giving me the ridiculous thought that this could be a home for me. Then what? Kill me or wait for me to die so you can unleash whatever monster she is and regenerate the wars?”

One side of his lips tug up, but it’s not exactly in a smile. It’s a dark expression that has me reconsidering the fear aspect, as he gently brushes my cheek with the back of his finger like it’s a warning.

“Violet, the thing with thinking you know what someone else is thinking? It’s a dangerous road to travel. I can assure you that you will never think as I do. As for Idun,” he says, eyes flicking over mine as he leans in closer, lowering his voice, “she can rot for the next thousand years too.”

I roll my eyes, refusing to be gullible with him ever again.

He cups my chin and forces my gaze back to his. A shaky breath rattles out of me when he steps between my legs, forcing them wider apart. Another tendril of fear slithers up my spine when his lips brush mine.

“Trust me when I say I want you. Possibly more now that I’ve finally seen a little fire in you. But save that fire for the appropriate targets, love. I’m not your enemy,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine again.

“Fay,” I whisper hoarsely, and he freezes. “Did you—”

“Of course not,” he says, releasing my chin and allowing me to lean back a little.

He grabs my hips and pulls me down on the desk, bringing my body closer to his as he stares down at me, hungrily raking his gaze down to where my legs are spread around his hips.

“I have no interest in sad omega wolves who live in fear. I focus on the ones who would like to see me underground for all eternity. I focus on the ones who don’t understand why alphas are necessary.”

His eyes flick to mine.

“And Idun has no place here. Not now that I’ve seen a much simpler, easier, more reasonable way, sweet gypsy. I only want what we had to sacrifice—the kinship we took for granted before we knew how cold the centuries could be. The loyalty and trust we have between us even now, despite centuries of betrayal. We still know what lines the other won’t cross.”

“In other words, this is so you can all be friends again, and yet I’m not some pawn?” I ask with more bite than he seems to like.

His grip tightens on my waist, staying just shy of painful.

“No, Violet. I went underground wanting a woman to fix everything she broke, because I saw no other way for us to ever exist without the burning, blind fury ever again. Then things changed, and I’ve already explained why.”

His grip loosens, and he cups my chin with a softer touch, tilting my chin up.

“I knew then that Idun had broken us, but she’d never repair us. She’d merely mock us for our pain before causing us more grief, just as she always did,” he goes on, the words getting softer as he invades my space the way he always does, teasing me with the chill of his breath while keeping his lips just a hair’s breadth away.

“But you? You make them almost feel human,” he goes on. “You give them hope. Even Emit, though he’s far more stubborn than I anticipated. You really do have to work harder there.”

My breath of annoyance only causes him to smile.

“There’s that calmer gypsy who thinks before she swings at very dangerous vampires,” he murmurs, nipping my earlobe and causing me to startle just enough to rub up against him.

I’m going to hell. It’s official at this point. I’m blaming him for the vast majority of it, but two burning rejections after sex makes a girl a little vulnerable, and Arion always makes me feel like I’m what he desires.

My head is so fucked right now.

Even though I don’t trust him or even really like him at this point, it’s like I’m drawn to him, and my mind flits to the few glorious weeks he was just Ace.

He groans a little as he starts pushing me down on the desk, and I hate him even more when my legs wind around his waist. I hate him and want him, and everything about him is maddeningly confusing.

I feel both used and desired, and I’m not sure which one I truly am.

“If I could make you immortal, this would all be so much easier,” Arion goes on like those are words of assurance in monster speak, kissing his way down my throat as he starts unbuttoning the front of my shirt.

I don’t even fight him, losing all the anger as his lips continue to work magic against my throat, and I hold on instead of just falling apart.

“So no, Violet, I’m not waiting for your death or conspiring to kill you,” he whispers. “You’re quite literally the only thing giving me hope. Because I’ll bury them all before I go underground again,” he adds, causing my emotions to slip into turmoil again, giving me the whiplash he always does. “And I really don’t want to fucking put them through that.”

I’m not really sure how it happens. Fear and sex are too closely linked when he’s in the room, and he’s the only one who really does this to me. I’m not sure if he kisses me, or if I stupidly kiss him. All I know is that the second our lips touch, it’s like a live wire all over again.

The pulses of energy are almost explosive as I grind against him, and he makes an impatient sound before I hear the remaining buttons on my shirt pop away and rattle in various places around the room.