Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6)

by Kristy Cunning

  My foot slides forward, and I smile a little more to myself, studying the brazen morsel of temptation. So daring, young, and innocent, it seems. And ambitious, if she’s willing to do this right under Idun’s nose.

  I’ll name a ship after this one.

  Chapter 18

  VIOLET

  Seduction fail.

  Majorly.

  Damien is a sadist.

  These boots were meant to humble me in every way, and leave me with no dignity, since I’m hopping around, mostly naked, stuck in this fresh hell to explore.

  In front of Vance Van Helsing. The one who doesn’t already know that I’m great at ruining all of the ‘sexy’ when I try too hard.

  Two hands are suddenly on my hips, and my breath hisses between my lips when I’m roughly shoved against the table in front of me. His body comes down on my back, and both my hands are wrenched behind me, as his breath teases my ear.

  Bare skin brushes against mine, as his strong, lean muscles contract against me.

  “Careful, witch. I may want you, but I don’t trust you. Move too suddenly, and I will end you for the sake of suspicion,” he assures me, the deadly threat coming as he kicks my feet apart wider.

  I’m not sure why I tremble. I’m also not sure why I like it so much when he pushes between my legs, fingers grazing me in a place that has me squeaking out a breath of surprise.

  My fingers grip the edges of the table, even as my knees tremble in warning of losing balance. It feels like fire is licking my veins, while wrapped in ice cubes, when he kisses the side of my neck that I happily give him more access to.

  He groans against me, the vibrations doing all sorts of crazy things to the center of my thighs.

  “Are you truly brave enough to hold this bubble of illusion right in front of her?” he asks me in a tone that suggests he’s wildly excited by the concept.

  I don’t know this Vance. It makes me long for the real Vance, while also getting embarrassingly turned on.

  This Vance sees me as a powerful, daring, alluring creature. Damn. He’s going to feel so stupid when he realizes it’s just Violet. I stifle a smile, but the urge to grin fades quickly, when he tugs at my hair, putting his lips to my ear.

  “Answer me,” he murmurs, his hand running down my stomach, dragging a lick of those metaphorical fiery ice cubes with it.

  “I’m brave enough,” I tell him, deciding to feel a little badass for a brief moment, since that’s clearly what he thinks I am right now.

  If I’m honest, it’s empowering for Vance to think I’m badass. I like it.

  Going with it, I angle my neck more.

  “Then how are you so submissive that you’ll give me your throat?” he asks in a quiet but demanding tone.

  “You don’t have a tendency to bite, so why does it matter if I expose my throat?” I point out in deflection.

  I feel him grin against my neck. Usually, that would draw a bored stare.

  See? This is why first impressions are so damn important. I can walk, talk, and act the same, but he’s seen me as something else in here.

  I’ll blame Anna for how the real Vance sees me.

  She’s the one who had me stuttering a defense to an orgy misunderstanding.

  “If you’re really worth this terrible decision, then I’ll name a ship and a horse after you,” he tells me like he’s giving me a compliment.

  I resist the laugh, mostly because he’d feel insulted.

  He’s important.

  He’s fierce.

  And he’s definitely the highest expectation of man for this era.

  He’s supposed to be that arrogant.

  “I’ll remind you of that,” I tell him, meaning it.

  I bet Vance gets embarrassed for the first time ever—

  Great. Now I’m doing the same thing Idun does.

  Only for a different reason and with different motives. Also, I’m trying to break a painful curse for him.

  “You’re too certain of yourself,” he says against my ear, even as he slowly eases inside me, his breath hissing between his teeth.

  My mind damn near blanks.

  “And I want you too much to be natural. Be glad I don’t hold very many grudges against women as enchanting as you. This is surely some masterful trickery.”

  It’s a little harder for me to form words, because his hips are already moving in all the best ways, and I grip the edges of the table tighter.

  A cry escapes me when he finds the perfect angle, and he works me into a frenzy in a short amount of time.

  A guttural sound passes through his lips, almost tortured relief, and his grip on my hips tightens.

  It’s all hazy, almost as though I’m stuck in a dream within a dream, for several long minutes.

  Over and over, I almost reach that peak, but the orgasm escapes my grasp each and every time, until I’m almost whimpering in misery.

  Vance turns me, dropping me to the table so hard my back claps it, and he comes down on top of me, eyes just as desperate as mine. Our lips crash in perfect unison, and he hungrily devours me, as I drink him in.

  He shoves back inside me, fingers clutching me with an iron grip, as he works his hips in that perfect, unnaturally well-timed rhythm that should send me rolling over the edge so effortlessly.

  Another whimper escapes me, even as I drag my claws up his back, needing him closer, desperate for that release.

  “What madness is this, woman?” he growls, eyes narrowing on me, as he slams a hand beside my head, his hips relentlessly working. “Why can’t I—”

  A breath hisses out of him, and he groans in near misery, just as I do, when yet another orgasm is stolen from me. We had them stolen at the same time this time, it seems.

  I can feel my pulse in every inch of me, almost as though I’ve been set on fire and put out numerous times.

  It’s misery and almost-perfection at the same time, until it becomes an unbearable nightmare.

  Once again, he slams his hand down beside my head, aggressively thrusting, as he anchors me to him with his other hand. I cry out, so desperately close, only to be painfully denied again.

  “What spell is this, witch?” he demands, as though I’m the reason we’re both being denied an orgasm.

  Fucking mental connection.

  This? This is where the line is drawn? Orgasms?!

  To be honest, all my senses are slightly dulled, possibly because this is just my head inside his head…

  I whimper, and he groans, as he stops moving and trembles against me.

  “How cruel of a woman are you?” he whispers, sounding both furious and really turned on.

  How screwed up were you?

  I don’t ask that aloud.

  “I’m going to have to get my life put at risk, apparently, because sex isn’t the magical, intimate connection I was expecting,” I tell him, moaning against his mouth when he kisses me as though he’s seducing me into giving him what he really wants.

  I’d be happy to oblige.

  Really, I would.

  If I was a witch doing whatever it is he thinks I’m doing.

  This really got too complicated. Usually these things just sort of pan out for me.

  Now there’s an angry Van Helsing buried inside me, staring down at me like I’m a vicious woman who is toying with him. He shakes his head, blinking several times, and sways to the right.

  Just that motion elicits another whimper from me, since…I really am almost able to feel release. Almost.

  He grabs a knife, and I panic a little, when he narrows his eyes back over at me in a way that suggests he’s decided I’m the enemy. Just as he lifts the blade into the air, clearly ready to kill me without farther ado, I start singing like a panicking idiot, my voice shrieking with the rushed words.

  “The apples have all rotted; the oranges are just bruised.”

  The image changes around us, and we’re jarred apart. My breath is sucked out of me, because this time, there’s a flash of light and
a house-ton of pressure that slams into my chest.

  For a moment, I think I’ve been ejected from his head, but when my eyes open, we’re in a far different setting than the more medieval surroundings I’ve been in for most of the night.

  It looks like Europe. London? I don’t know.

  I’m geographically challenged, and terribly uncultured.

  The cobblestone, scent of smoke, and hand-crank cars set a confusing scene.

  The oddly dressed children who are laughing draw my attention, and my eyes widen in slight horror. Only a few of the kids are cringing and covering their eyes, while a few others laugh about wringing a chicken’s neck for the butcher. The butcher laughs with them, as though this is the fun part.

  This is terrifying.

  I’m clearly a sheltered monster.

  My mother made me so un-badass—

  I slap the side of my head that is getting foggy…or maybe the air is getting foggy.

  “Jack!” Vance shouts in the distance.

  I wobble around, trying to process the major change in scenery.

  Shit. Did I really send him back into the trance?

  I run down the streets, wondering what the hell this has to do with apples and oranges.

  “Jack!” Vance roars. “This ends tonight.”

  Who the hell is—

  My breath rushes out of me, and my eyes go wide once more, only this time, it’s because there’s a man. A man who is dragging two mutilated women’s bodies.

  He grins with more menace than anyone I’ve ever seen, as he drops the women and adjusts his hat, as though those two motions go together.

  My hands tremble, because this guy seems pretty unafraid of Vance. Is he another alpha?

  Jack’s eyes turn to meet mine, and he grins a smile that chills me to my bones.

  Vance’s head turns as well, all of it confusing the hell out of me. How does a memory see me?

  Vance is dressed in something much fancier than his last wardrobe. This suit was meant to make James Bond jealous…before James Bond was born.

  His lips move, and true horror lights his eyes, as Jack lunges for me. Vance throws himself at Jack, blade raised, but Jack dodges it and crashes into me so hard it sends me—

  I bolt upright, my eyes flying open, and my head feels like it cracks, when it hits a hard surface that’s as unforgivingly rigid as a brick wall. Pain sears through my face and skull. Someone grunts and curses, and I immediately realize the vampire’s forehead is what has possibly broken my face.

  The numbness fades, and pain slices through me long enough for my eyes to water.

  “Shit! You just woke up and I now have another thing I have to apologize for. You need a warning bell strapped to you, you dangerous fucking woman,” Arion says very seriously, rubbing his forehead, while looking positively exhausted.

  I glance over, spotting the clock, and cringe.

  “What day is it?” I ask…and then notice how Damien and Emit are staring at me with what can only be shock.

  “What the hell just happened?” Damien asks, scrambling up to his feet.

  “I’m not sure, but one of the memories saw me, and attacked. The next thing I know, Arion is breaking my nose,” I point out, shoving my nose back into place, admittedly wincing when the bones crack back together.

  “No. No. No. You can’t go and do something impossible, and expect me to expect you to wake up when you shouldn’t have, and then move so fast,” Arion says very quickly, jumping up and pointing a finger at me like he’s accusing me of something.

  His eyes narrow on me.

  “You can’t do what you just did,” he adds with a rather passionate delivery.

  “Sit up too fast?” I ask in confusion, feeling my heart still racing from the scary looking dude who came after me.

  I’m way more scared of him than I am Idun. Who the hell was he and what does he have to do with anything?

  Why does Arion look angry?

  Why does Damien look too tired to have an expression?

  Why is Emit covering his face and shaking his head?

  “No! You can’t go into another person’s head, Violet. Damien’s not that fucking powerful!” Arion insists.

  “But he was. Tonight, anyway. You guys really underestimate him a lot. He’s a Head Alpha too,” I remind him. “And clearly more dangerous than I realized.”

  Damien grins like I’ve complimented him in some way.

  “Don’t smile, Morpheous! She’s flattering you to distract you from the fact she just broke all the rules of our universe. This time, we get answers, January Violet Carmine,” Arion goes on, getting louder and slightly more frantic.

  “The vampire hasn’t panicked like that since…I think he was mortal. He’s not himself right now,” Emit mumbles, but then he glares over at me. “But you do have to explain this time, Violet.”

  I half wonder if they’ve gone crazy or something.

  “Why in the hell do you think I know anything about this stuff? Damien took me in there. The rest I sort of winged, even though I thought I had a great plan, and clearly did it wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Damien asks me, sounding mildly calm.

  “I mean…you were right. Memories couldn’t attack me,” I explain.

  “Of course they can’t. That’s why this was doomed for failure, even though it never made a damn bit of sense in the first place,” Arion rambles on, tearing his tie off and tossing it to the ground, before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

  “But then I sort of woke Vance from the trance, enough to make him think I was a witch with an agenda. He tried to kill me, since you apparently can’t have orgasms in the mind without Damien’s help, so I finished singing the gypsy song because I panicked. When we flipped scenes, a dude named Jack did attack me. But…then I ended up crashing into Arion, so…”

  I let the words trail off, since everyone is blinking at me in a way that suggests I currently make no sense.

  “Jack?” Emit asks, not sounding entirely sure he heard me right.

  “Yeah, do you know him?”

  “I’m sorry, but are we really moving on from the fact she bloody just came out of Vance’s head instead of being stuck there?” Arion asks.

  “I’ve never heard of a Jack,” Damien says, frowning. “But I hadn’t ever heard of Talbot, either, and he’s genuinely legendary among the entire community.”

  “Not the important part,” Arion points out, kneeling in front of me, while I remain sitting on Vance.

  His eyes level mine, and I feel a pulse of something in my skull.

  “Tell me what you just did.”

  Word for word, I repeat everything I’ve already said, and I also get really pissed at him for using that power on me again.

  He curses and stands up, shaking his head.

  “Violet, you make impossible things sound easy, and that’s simply not the way it works. Edmond is right; we turn a blind eye too often. Now you’ve erected a House, stolen Idun’s alphas that she used like betas, and made her look a fool to over half of the upper level monsters,” Arion tells me in a tone that definitely means he’s serious.

  I hold my breath, worried what he’ll say next.

  “We need to see your fucking monster,” he says, surprising me so much that I’m the one left zigging to someone’s zag.

  He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a firm nod.

  “Right now. Let’s see it.”

  “Are you kidding? She just came out of the Portocale curse, and you think provoking her and going on the offense is the best idea? Interesting strategy, vampire,” Damien muses, glancing over at Arion.

  Arion bristles, and I…get more confused.

  “Emit’s just going to wait to see how we both fuck it up, and then he’s going to slide in there like the sneaky asshole he is,” Damien carries on, eyeing Emit in suspicion.

  “Are you fucking serious right now, Damien?” Emit asks him.

  “She’s my Flame. I’m
going to be twice as competitive with her mate. Simple math, mutt. I’m not letting you play your game anymore. You get to fuck up before me, so you handle this,” Damien tells him, gesturing toward me like I’m the ‘this’ that needs handled.

  I have no idea what’s going on, and I ask again for the date.

  They’re too busy arguing about who pushes my buttons next, something I’ve noticed they do more when they’re stressed or frustrated.

  “You’ve only been out for an hour. Chill, freak show. It’s the same day,” Anna says from across the room, before she disappears.

  One hour?

  Same day?

  It felt a whole lot longer than that.

  Vance jerks upright so suddenly that I narrowly dodge a massive headbutt.

  “Did you just see how fast she moved?” Arion asks the room, very likely pointing an accusatory finger at me.

  Vance’s breaths come out quick and sharp, as his eyes dart around the room, brow furrowing in confusion for the briefest moment.

  “It worked,” I whisper in slight shock now that his alertness registers in my head.

  “It worked,” Damien echoes in a hollow tone.

  When I glance over, his eyes are studying me; the way he studied me when he thought I was Idun, only a little different.

  A hand smooths up my cheek, fingers slipping into my hair and firmly gripping, and then my head is turned and my lips are pressed against Vance’s.

  Firm and demanding, he deepens the kiss, and I forget what is even going on, as my body aches with remembered agony from all the robbed orgasms during the dream.

  My arms go around his neck, and he flips us so fast it’s almost dizzying when he comes down on top of me, roughly settling between my legs. His hips roll, and the kiss gets more heated, as my brain damn near short circuits.

  The side of my underwear suddenly goes slack, and I feel the tiniest kiss of metal. A breath hisses out of me when I realize he’s just sliced my underwear off with a thin knife, and he’s done it quickly, barely letting me feel the process on either side.

  I feel his smirk against my lips as he strips the rest of it away, lips greedily taking all he wants from me.