I run my hand through her hair, inhaling it against my nose. Just her nearly muted scent is comforting. In fact, I find it more comforting than when it was so potent I could smell her from a mile away.
Free me.
“Today, you had to hurt your brother. I came there wanting you to win, and ready to see him hurting,” she says as her jaw wobbles. “Then I saw the tears in your eyes. I genuinely wanted to see him hurting, because—”
She stops talking and takes a breath, and I fight to keep my monster in check. It’s too close to the surface in my weakened state, and it really does want to claim her.
Ever since I smelled Dorian’s scent on her, it’s been clawing to the surface. Then I used my monster’s strength, knowing it’d be that much harder to reel in.
This never happened with Idun. Violet soothes me all the way down to the worst part of me, while baiting my monster to the surface too easily. I’ve been in control for well over a thousand years.
Violet shatters a male’s control without even meaning to.
“Because,” she says with a firmer, less shaky tone, “I was scared. I’ve been scared plenty of times, but this time was different,” she confesses, as though she feels the need to defend herself.
I smelled her terror. She doesn’t have to tell me about it.
She should run. More terror is on the horizon if I keep her while I’m in this state.
“I was scared because it was the first time my monster didn’t step in to save me. I’ve been scared when it broke free without me summoning it, but to need and not have it…was true terror. I’ve never felt that before today. I only thought I had,” she says quietly, releasing another breath. “Maybe you guys aren’t the problem. I think I’m in over my head. I’m twenty-six and throwing together a sanctuary to protect people. I was arrogant to think my monster could hold its own with—”
She stops abruptly and looks down, clearing her throat.
“I’m starting to feel really stupid, because I had this really good idea to start Sanctuary. A place to keep omegas safe. A place for the Simpletons to be free from Idun’s psychotic tantrums and unwarranted wrath. I’m resilient. I can take whatever physical shots Idun is willing to send my way,” she continues, exhaling another shaky breath.
My fingers dig into her hips, and I glance down to where our laps meet. She smells so good. I want to taste every inch of her body.
Free me.
“Now I finally see what a fool I am, because I never considered her true power being the power she has over others. People dance like puppets on her strings, even though they know she’s sending them into the line of fire,” she says as her forehead falls to mine. “I really thought I could box her out and leave her powerless. She’s already shown me how stupid I am, and she’s just getting started. I’m sorry, Damien. I really wanted Sanctuary to work, but I didn’t factor in all the personal costs to you guys, because I thought I had the gist of everything. Now I finally feel like the girl you’ve all been coddling this entire time.”
I resist the urge to laugh under my breath, because it’s not funny at all.
She’s vulnerable.
Claim her.
Free me.
Take her.
Mark her.
Devour her.
“Of course we fucking coddle you. Marta raised you in the human society. You’re twenty-six,” I tell her with a small, somewhat mocking smile, hiding the fact I’m too on edge to be sharing heart-to-heart conversations, at the moment.
But she runs when I’m insensitive. She’s young. She’s weaker than she realizes. She’s naïve. She’s far too trusting.
Claim her before another does.
Dorian got too close. I can still smell remnants of his scent on her, even though she’s showered. The monster claws that much closer to the surface.
“I’m a monster too,” she mumbles, though now I think she’s less convinced of that than ever.
I’ve seen her cry.
I’ve seen her nearly hyperventilate.
I’ve seen her leap off mountainsides in a panic.
I’ve seen her take everything, and still feel confident enough to stand tall and tackle the next major thing. Time after time.
I’ve seen her overestimate herself more times than I can count.
I’ve also been stupefied by how much I’ve underestimated her just as many times.
This is the first time I’ve truly seen her question what she’s capable of.
“My father genuinely believed he was making Dorian stronger, just as his father had made him,” I tell her, my gaze scanning her sad, defeated face. “You see, my father is also the bastard son of a respected man and a common whore. His father’s name wasn’t Morpheous. My father decided to make his mother’s name mean more than his father’s, after he realized her very gifted gypsy heritage offered him something powerful inside his mind. He built his life from scratch, given nothing at all from the father who couldn’t claim him. He let my mother keep her dignity, just as his father’s wife was allowed to do, but still raised Dorian as a good service to my brother.”
Her eyes stay on mine, and I let that sink in.
“It was a different world. People were vicious, yet genuinely believed they were doing everything they could to repent the mistakes they made, while also taking responsibility. Bastards brought about by a man’s whore were beaten and shamed. If they were adored, the wife was shamed by everyone else, because that meant her husband loved that whore. That offense was worse than simply fucking another woman.”
She looks away, clearing her throat, as I smooth my hand up her back.
“My father was a man blinded by his own accomplishments, because he did accomplish far more than any other bastard during that time. He expected Dorian to turn out just like him. Then he expected my brother to thank him for not deserting him like most of the whore-bastards’ fathers did.”
Her gaze moves back to meet mine, and she slips her hand behind my neck.
“We’re alphas. We’ve made peace with most everything, although we do have plenty of bitter history remaining. Our families have grown closer over these long years, because you’re humbled after living for so long. As alphas, we have a little fun with the killing, because we’ve also made peace with the tough decisions we’re required to make. Arion is right in the sense that if you don’t enjoy being a monster, you’ll simply be miserable all the time. I stopped enjoying being a monster. I started hating eternity. I was genuinely begging for death without shame, to a Van Helsing I hated submitting the last ounce of my pride to,” I tell her, forcing the words out.
She holds my gaze, never looking away, as her touch makes me work that much harder to stay in control.
Claim her.
Free me.
“I knew it was a myth. I knew we couldn’t truly die. Still, that hope kept me from losing my mind for several centuries. I’ll thank Vance for that. One day. No time soon, of course, because it’s quite degrading, looking back on it. But I will thank him for that at some point during our never-ending lifetime. Now I realize he did that to keep me from going crazy. He lied about there being a true death. He went through elaborate hoops to sell this lie. It wasn’t just me he was giving hope, though. It was all of us,” I carry on, my gaze raking over her face.
She shivers against me when I drag her closer, bringing her body flush against mine, as my lips brush hers. My control is slipping.
I can’t push her away.
I can’t seem to stop touching her.
It’s too late now.
If she tried to run, the monster would break free and give chase. Possibly traumatize her and leave her to hate me for all eternity, even after I’ve claimed her as mine.
Free me.
“Now we know the truth, because he sees no reason to keep lying. The simple fact that you’re willing to take a beating, with a Van Helsing flogger, at Idun’s hand, over a worthless shifter, for the sake of protecting your Sanctuary, all while taunting
the bitch? That’s rather motivating, little monster.”
She leans into me, as I cup her cheek. She’s too submissive and compliant right now. Does she not realize the things that does to a man’s volatile monster.
Free me.
“Maddening as you are, you’re like setting a firecracker off in a house full of stale, forgotten dynamite. Keep doing what you’re doing. Even Zuela Van Helsing is more tolerable in recent days. Vance hasn’t stabbed me in months. Arion isn’t at Idun’s side. Emit is an alpha again. I just took a beta for the first time in too long to remember,” I tell her, smirking when she starts shifting around uncomfortably.
Surely she feels the pheromones that are leaking from me by now. My monster is slipping. How do I convince her to be okay with this?
My monster is coming, and I know I can’t push her away, or it’ll break free too easily. This is going to end in disaster if that happens.
Free me.
“I feel like you’re giving me credit for things I shouldn’t be taking credit for,” she grumbles, blushing a terribly humorous amount.
It’s almost distracting enough for me to momentarily forget the dire situation I find myself in.
Almost.
Free me.
“You wanted confessions of love, right?” I ask her, noticing how she blushes that much more.
“Stop making me feel like an idiot for that,” she says on a frustrated huff. “A simple ‘I love you’ would suffice,” she adds, clearly mortified by this point.
I do enjoy her finally understanding things a little better.
My smile slips when I realize how terrifying and humbling that all must have been for her.
Claim her.
Mark her.
Free me.
“Dorian may be my brother, and I do have sympathy for how broken he’s always been, especially since I never found the backbone back then to stick up for him. But he’s envied me for all I’ve ever had. He’s coveted each piece of me, wishing to possess it all for himself, and he’s gone out of his way to provoke me for centuries. He’ll never use you to get to me again,” I tell her very seriously.
When I have her full attention, seeing her finally listening to the words we’re saying, instead of simply plowing through for the gist, I continue.
“Idun knows that today she lost power over him, because he’ll be too terrified of me to ever push me that far again. Broken he may be, but he’s still a survivor first and foremost. He enjoys living. He enjoys being a monster. Idun’s influence will finally begin to dwindle now. Sometimes you have to break something in order to fix it. It’s just a pain in the ass to go through the motions, unless properly motivated.”
My lips finally steal hers, and I kiss her, standing with her in my arms, now that I have the strength.
Free me!
Just tasting her is replenishing me. She passed out after I finally took so much that she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. But she wasn’t down for long.
“You really are resilient,” I murmur against her lips. “Can you really handle an actual feeding so soon?”
Can she handle my monster? Or should I call a Van Helsing to put me down for twenty-eight years?
Claim her.
She kisses me, as though she’s eager to prove to me she can take me, and I fight the urge to grin against her lips.
I’d put Dorian down a hundred more times to have her like this.
My mind continues to slip into the fog, as I revel in the feel of having her. My Violet.
My Flame.
Once I have her firmly lying underneath me, I pin her down, enjoying how very tempting she looks when she’s vulnerable like this. It sings to the predator in me, because I want to possess every inch of her.
“You’re the only good thing to happen to me in too long to remember,” I murmur as I settle my weight on her more.
The monster breaks free and finally surfaces, and I fight to stay alert enough to try and ease Violet into this, keeping a firm grip on the reins. This could end badly if I don’t keep at least this much control.
Her breath catches as she stares up at me, and I give her a dark grin as a laugh bubbles out of me.
We’ll claim her.
We’ll claim every inch of her.
Chapter 8
VIOLET
Damien’s eyes are almost fully white, but not as white as they were that time I freed him from the Portocale curse.
Still, when he rips my clothes off, laughing the entire time, I shiver in some admitted fear.
“Don’t be scared, Violet,” he says, still laughing. “I’m only going to claim you.”
He shakes his head, the laughter cutting out, his smile falling and turning into worry.
Then his smile returns, and his eyes are a little whiter. I remain still, certain I should be as still as possible right now. I think movement would only anger his monster, and I was no match for Dorian Gray.
Damien brought Dorian to a heel too easily.
Even if he used all his power, Damien gains a lot of strength from just a little lust.
His hand closes around my throat, and he begins laughing again, eyes wild as he shoves his pants down. His shirt is still ripped from earlier, dangling at his sides, as he stares down at me with clear intent.
I’ve got his monster right now.
Whether he wants it or not, Damien’s barely an audience inside his own mind. I know that feeling.
Without warning, he thrusts inside me, and I hiss out a breath of surprise, as the hand on my throat moves to stab the bed beside my head. He laughs harder, almost uncontrollably, as he begins fucking me into a near daze.
The pheromones are so potent that I’m immediately crying out, my arms going around his neck.
A hiss breaks free from him when I move too suddenly, and a growl bubbles in his chest until I lower my arms back to my sides. He stares me down, ensuring I’m submitting, as he thrusts deep inside me again.
I bite back the somewhat disturbing cry of pleasure.
I love every inch of Damien. Even this part of him seems to turn me on in ways that should be considered morally reprehensible. But I do love his monster. And even though I should fear it, I turn my neck to the side, exposing it.
He shoves his nose along my cheek, inhaling deeply, as I lie still, feeling the slightest tremor run up my spine when he makes that weird, muffled rattlesnake sound.
My breaths grow shallow and shaky when I feel his lips curve in a devilish grin, and my nerves scream from pleasure overload in the next instant, as it washes over me like bottled-up tidal waves.
I’m not sure when my lips became fused to his or why I thought it was safe to grab a handful of his hair, but he’s kissing me in a way that’s so devouring that I’m already lightheaded.
My veins burn, even as a gush of icy air licks up my heated skin, and my already overstimulated body trembles against even that small amount of extra, because I can’t handle one more sensation.
“Oh, momma’s gonna need some popcorn for this,” Anna, the voyeuristic nuisance, says from somewhere in the room.
Damien doesn’t acknowledge her existence, because I’m clearly all he’s concerned about in this moment.
Maybe this is why I love their monsters so much. I think their monsters loved me before they did.
His head reels back, even as his agile hips move like he’s on a mission to thoroughly wreck me in all the best ways a sexual deviant can wreck a woman, and the whites in his eyes die down.
There’s a clouded gaze there as he shoves his hand in my hair, biting down on his bottom lip like he’s both tortured and on a high at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips coming down on mine. “I can’t—”
I kiss him, shutting him up, since there’s nothing I want more than to go back to the almost orgasm I just lost. My body screams for it, craves it, and I feel as though I’m going to finally die if I don’t—
It’s painful bliss with a
side of immediate exhaustion, because I swear my soul is detached. There’s no way I’m still in my body.
There’s such an explosion of euphoria that is wrung out of every inch of me, that I must be blown out of my body altogether. That’s the only reason I can’t feel him still moving.
I’m almost numb from the overwhelming sensations that have short-circuited—
As if I’m slammed back into my body, my senses all enlist again. It’s too much too soon, hurting way too good. Damien’s eyes are white again, and his monster is smiling too wide, as though he’s truly going to devour me to the fullest.
I cry out, unable to help myself, surely tearing up his shoulders when I almost fight for a breath of air that isn’t stolen by all the powerful pulses of pleasure.
I’m both drugged and dizzy, high off it and damn near loopy, as I drag him down and kiss him again, uncaring what he does to me.
So long as he never stops.
Never.
My head tips back, my lips moving to no sound, even as my body screams in sweet agony from the next hit.
“If I could die, again, this would be the monster I chose to kill me,” Anna states from somewhere overhead.
But she’s not even enough to distract me from the heady rush of all my favorite things happening all at once. From the mirrored images in my mind, to the way he’s manipulating my entire body, all while taking without mercy…
It’s…too…much.
Almost too much.
It’s so much more than the time we broke his curse. How can it be this much more when I can tell he’s more present than he was then?
There’s a burning on my wrist that offers just enough of a bite of pain to bring my head somewhat out of the fog. I suck in air, trying to catch my breath, as my eyes dart over to see a mark appearing.
It’s a red mark that slowly begins stretching over my wrist, almost as though it’s being burned in place. It’s wavy, not creating a pattern of any sort, as it haphazardly grows and expands across my wrist.
Realization dawns on me that this is Damien’s monster claiming me.
My eyes widen, even as the fog damn near sucks me back under.
“It took the wolf three days to fully claim you,” Anna says like she’s enjoying this too much. “I wonder how long it takes a sexual deviant. By the way, this is my new favorite show. It has way more sex than Idun TV. That’s what that show is missing.”
Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6) Page 8