“So, she does this really impossible thing, and you’re just going to fuck her without a single question, Van Helsing?” Arion asks in a dry tone. “Can’t we have just one inquisition?”
Vance kisses me harder, hiking my leg up on his hip, as he reaches between us to shove his underwear down.
I think I whimper when I feel the heat of something hard and blunt grazing my inner thigh in the most teasing way possible.
Definitely back to all those lost sensations, only now, it’s worse.
“The room just dropped five degrees, and that wasn’t me,” Arion notes. “Violet, am I pissing you off? Are you attempting to posture against me?”
“Are you seriously suggesting she’s an alpha like us instead of the Simpletons?” Damien asks, as Vance curses under his breath, breaking the kiss, and denying me what I want the most right now.
He leans over, apparently trying to find something, as Arion answers Damien.
“Perhaps a unique blend. It’s not preposterous. The rules with her are different, therefore we need to stop referring to them and only pay attention to the ones relevant to her—”
Everyone stops talking all at once, which is awesome, but also confusing, so I glance over, just as Vance goes still and stares with me.
He drops something and completely covers me with his body, almost as though he’s shielding me from Edmond’s eyes, which is sooooooo fucking creepy. This is my mother’s family!
Edmond, however, isn’t looking at me. His attention is on Emit, Damien, and Arion, who are all mostly blocking him from my sight.
“You guard her so well, that she may damn well be the destruction of all of us. Anything too good to be true, is often just that. Surely you’ve learned at least that much by now. There’s always a heavy cost and sacrifice. I’ll be around,” he says, turning and walking out. “It fucked the last one up. History won’t repeat itself,” he adds, his voice echoing down the hall.
“We really do need to see your monster, Violet,” Damien says as he turns around, looking too tired to have much emotion about any of this.
Vance leans down abruptly, and this time he flings his hand. Three knives fly through the air and stab the wall directly beside their heads. They all give him a round of blinks.
“It can wait,” he says in a gruff, somewhat shaky tone, as he lifts three more knives, staggering them between his fingers with casual ease. “Close the door on your way out.”
He turns his head so suddenly that a surprised sound escapes me when he reclaims my lips, kissing me so hard that it’s damn near bruising.
“Vance, we genuinely can’t overlook this one. It was too—”
A pained grunt ends whatever Arion was going to say, and Vance breaks the kiss, allowing me a quick opportunity to glance over and see all three of them are standing with a knife jammed in their right thighs.
“I said it can wait. Close the fucking door on your way out,” he grinds out, damn near glaring at them.
Heat bubbles in my chest, and my body gets twice as excited, because Vance’s attention returns to me, heavily resting on my face.
This is new.
This look.
This intensity.
My hands slide up his bare chest, feeling the subtle way his muscles tense under my traveling touch. When his mouth descends on mine this time, my toes curl in preemptive excitement.
“Vance, we—”
There’s a curse muttered, a door slams, and then there are three distinct thuds that prove he’s thrown more knives, only this time, we’ve been left alone. I think.
I don’t really care.
All I do care about is the fact that when he pushes inside me, I feel it in every part of my body, the relief hitting me with powerful, exciting, and consuming sensations. My moan gets swallowed by him, and he shoves me up higher on the couch, kissing me deeper.
His hips roll, and those sensations explode across me, the brink of that elusive orgasm returning so damn quickly that it’s almost painful.
My fingers twist in his hair, and he practically growls against my lips, his rhythm increasing to make all my favorite sensations that much more intense.
The kiss turns almost desperate, until I break the kiss to cry out, the wave of so many denied orgasms crashing to the forefront with this one. His arms circle me, pressing our bodies as close as possible, as his head comes down beside mine.
He muffles the guttural sound he makes against a pillow, his movements slowing, until his body goes slack against mine. I smile to myself as I hug him, holding him to me, listening to the sound of his panted breaths.
“I’m sorry. I have no idea what just happened, but if I didn’t have you right that very second, I may have very well died from the need,” he says on a gruff, shaky breath, still clinging to me. In a reluctant tone, he adds, “I also didn’t mean for it to end so abruptly. I have no idea what’s come over me.”
He sounds so flustered and confused that it’s almost cute. Which isn’t a word I often use to describe the very overbearing hunter. My leg winds around his waist, and I kiss his shoulder.
“Probably has something to do with the build-up we had back when you thought I was a slutty witch. If we ever need to spice things up with roleplay, I now know exactly what role to play to get you excited,” I tell him, smiling against his skin.
He grunts, getting more relaxed on top of me, and lifts his head to stare down at me with clear…bewilderment.
“Normally I can get the ‘gist’ of your slang, Violet, but my head is really fuzzy right now, so I’m afraid none of that made sense,” he says, leisurely sliding his hand up my thigh, as his eyes dip to my chest.
My chest that’s represented by one of my worst bras.
Maybe I should start wearing some of that sexy underwear the omegas keep buying me.
“Wait. You don’t remember?” I ask, as he remains distracted, his attention more trained on our intimate position than the conversation.
“Violet, I went to sleep and woke up with you mostly naked on top of me, a terrible migraine, and the undeniable need to have you under me,” he tells me, his tone almost absent.
He always knows when he’s gone down for the curse, and his legs aren’t weak…
I guess that last part is obvious, since his body is clearly mobile in all the best ways. Is it because I broke the curse?
He tilts his head to the side, as though he’s listening to something.
“You broke my curse?” he asks, his eyes moving to mine, the confusion in his expression doubling.
“Damien helped with that,” I state on autopilot, my own brow drawing down with some confusion. “You seriously don’t remember?” I ask on a sigh. “You even said you’d name a ship after me, and I was going to have fun mocking you for that.”
He blinks a few times, which means that probably doesn’t ring any bells. On the bright side, he doesn’t remember the camel-toe either. Though…Damien surely does.
Vance rolls his hips, reminding me he’s grown very hard inside me, and I forget what we’re even talking about in the next instant, because his lips are back on mine.
“Since I have you, I’m not going to waste this opportunity,” he murmurs against my mouth.
I put a pin in everything else, because I’m not sure I want to think about it too much. Apparently, this time is a much bigger deal than all the others.
I sometimes miss the days when not blowing myself up while trying to make shampoo was my biggest concern.
Chapter 19
EMIT
“She’s having mindless sex instead of saying anything else,” Damien says, his ear pressed to the door.
Arion is on the phone, ordering things for his “monster olympics,” after just telling us how important it is we take this seriously.
I’m idly stewing in a pile of jealousy, because my curse was broken too. On the same night. And Vance gets her to himself before I even have my chance to celebrate.
We’ve all gone mad.
Damien nods, ear still pressed to the door.
“They’ve not been whispering,” I tell the fool deviant. “It’s unnecessary to keep pressed up to the door like an obvious creep.”
He glares over at me.
Arion gets off the phone, turning to gesture to the room. “He remembers nothing. His curse was broken, and he doesn’t even know—”
We all turn abruptly once we sense a very familiar presence, and stare directly at Zuela Van Helsing.
He wobbles, blinking as he clutches his head. Violet makes a very distracting sound that has my wolf damn near ready to break into the room and enjoy her as well.
“What the actual fuck are you doing awake?” Arion asks Zuela on a semi-loud pitch.
Zuela blinks some more, staring at us with some ire, since he’s clearly disoriented. No alpha likes being seen even slightly weakened.
“I was wide awake, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up from the floor. Which one of you dead prats do I get to kill?” he growls, glaring at us, even as he staggers to the right…a little drunkenly. “Clearly you have a death wish if you think you can get away with knocking me out.”
We all look at each other, and there’s a chill that slinks up my spine. Damien’s eyes connect with mine.
“Call one of your family. Now,” Damien says to me.
For once, I take an order, because…
I don’t know why.
My youngest brother answers on the first ring.
“What is it now, Emit? What law is Idun extorting that has you calling at such a terrible hour?” he asks around a yawn.
“Have you suffered the Portocale curse?” I ask quietly.
He grows really silent for a moment, and there are some sleepy groans in the background, as I hear the telling sound of sheets rustling.
“Not recently. Why have you called at this hour to ask such a random thing?” he asks, as the sound of a refrigerator opening registers.
Arion and Damien are staring at me with the same quiet dread and confusion.
“Did your family wake early when Violet broke your curse?” I ask Damien, and then give Arion a look as well, silently asking him the same thing.
Arion pulls his phone back out, angrily stabbing out a text.
Damien runs a hand through his hair, as he grinds out, “It’s not as though I keep in touch with my family.”
“Or the world in general,” my brother chimes in. “What’s all this about?”
“Indeed, what’s all this about?” Zuela asks, seriousness replacing his ire.
I hang up on my brother, unsure if I want to say anything at all.
“Violet broke our curses, and now we’re starting to wonder if the curses have been broken for the entire family as a byproduct,” Damien states in vague terms in response to Zuela.
Zuela says nothing, and when I look over at him, he’s glaring at Damien.
“Don’t promise such a thing with annoyingly uncertain, flippant conviction. How could our curses have broken?” Zuela bites out.
“Idun already knows about the curses Violet broke for Arion and I. She told it to Dorian,” Damien tells me. “Only—”
“Dorian isn’t a Morpheous and doesn’t have the same bloodline for the curse. He’d likely still be afflicted, even if this magic is real,” I state like I have any idea whatsoever about what’s going on around here.
It’s like the early days when we were guessing at things in an attempt to explain the new world we found ourselves faced with.
“What the bloody hell are you three on about?” Zuela grouses, slumping against the wall.
It’s apparent Vance isn’t suffering the same physical limitations as Zuela, since the first-born Van Helsing has our girl crying out in pleasure once more.
“Nothing important at the moment,” I tell him, my eyes cutting to the door once again. “The important part is the fact Violet may have broken all the Portocale curses, with the exception of one, due to a technicality.”
“Which means Dorian may attempt something again,” Arion says, eyes going black, as the hallway chills several degrees.
“He’ll never attempt anything of the sort ever again,” Damien says with more conviction than he has the right to use.
Neither Arion nor I trust his judgment on this matter, and now it’s more severe.
“The Neoprys still have a curse,” I note quietly.
“All, sans Idun, who has apparently been spared that curse this whole time,” I add in a sour tone. “The constant revelations and inconvenient surprises are starting to grate on my nerves.”
“Cry me a river,” Arion quips, glaring at the door as he moves next to my side. “The important part is finding out just how powerful our little monster truly is. I want to know, damn it. I’m far too curious.”
The frustrated vampire bangs on the door.
“Hurry it up in there. We’ve got more pressing matters to—”
He narrowly dodges a blade that stabs through the door, having been aimed at his forehead.
“That’s rude,” Arion states too carelessly. “On another note, this is decidedly his tie-on-the-door move,” he adds, tapping the side of the blade.
“For once in your miserable existences, make some fucking sense,” Zuela gripes, gripping his head.
It goes quiet on the other side of the door, and it gathers more of my attention than is dignified. She’s too distracting. She’s always been distracting, but even more so since she took my mark.
Shoving through the door, I prepare to catch a blade, but I pause when I spot Violet curled up on top of Vance, lightly snoring.
He drags the blanket from the back of the couch and drops it onto her mostly naked body, his gaze not moving from her.
He finally cuts his eyes in our direction, as he lightly kisses the top of her head.
“She passed out from exhaustion. Apparently doing impossible things on grand scales is tiring, even to her,” Vance says too calmly, his arm loosely draped over her middle.
When Zuela staggers in, shoving by us, I expect Vance to leap out from under Violet and immediately clothe himself. Zuela looks about as surprised as I feel when Vance simply gives his father a lazy look.
“My head’s too foggy for this. I’m equally exhausted. However, as soon as she wakes, we’ll see her monster,” the father tells the son, his eyes drooping as though the cockhead’s about to fall asleep.
“I need a drink. Maybe getting hammered will help make some sense of all this madness, since being sober is getting me nowhere,” Zuela growls, as he shoulders by me on his way out.
“Vance, we should—”
Vance is asleep so fast that it’s alarming, his body going slack when his eyes shut and don’t lift again.
“I guess we’ll fucking wait until you two are all rested up. Glad to know we’ve got our priorities in line,” Arion grumbles as he walks out.
“You’re just jealous that it’s not you,” Damien calls after him.
Arion doesn’t respond, and Damien exhales harshly, as his eyes return to mine.
“Are we drinking or resting to kill the time?” he asks.
“I’d rather examine Violet’s office to see what she’s been up to,” I tell him as I head out.
“Ooooooooh, I do love prying,” Damien says as he joins me.
His expression turns more serious when he smirks.
“Let’s say her monster is truly powerful. What are the odds she’s a cosmic fuck-you to Idun?” he asks, too casually entertaining a dangerous thought.
“As foolish as it is to dream of such…even if she were stronger, it’d do no good. Even if that bitch was overpowered, Idun would strike Violet in all her weak spots.”
“The ever-expanding collection of omegas,” he states quietly, more seriousness stealing his features.
“
You know as well as I do, she’d continue until Violet’s heart became as hardened as all of ours.”
The words tumble from my lips almost absently, because I’m in the process of pushing through Violet’s office’s new door…only to realize—
“I forgot how trashed this place was,” Damien says quietly, echoing my own private thoughts.
His hands form fists at his sides.
Ashes litter the room, along with scorch marks that line the walls and floors from Violet’s electrical output.
“She didn’t need a power source to do this?” I ask, looking around at all the damage.
This place has nothing of any value left.
As Damien kicks back a random hunk of metal that bangs and echoes through the room, he glances over at me.
“This place has wires and outlets all over. She’s been wearing more jewelry than ever before. Did you see the amount of necklaces wadded up on the counter? She’s a walking conduit. It’s easier than ever to draw out electricity,” he answers, pointing to the exploded outlet on the wall.
There’s not a single piece of paper left to give us any answers. I now resent myself for all the times I glanced into this room, never paying any attention to the many papers or the words on them.
“So much for finding answers in here,” I say on a sigh.
He claps my shoulder, gaze meeting mine, as he smirks. “If Violet’s keeping secrets, it’s because her mother has given her some severe trust issues. She’ll tell us. Eventually. Don’t let Edmond into your head.”
“He’s not. At this point, I don’t understand all the pieces on the table. Somehow, we’ve been sucked into a game. Only this time, we’re pieces on the board. Violet’s out of her league if she’s playing with Id—”
“Don’t say her name again. Beetle Juice doesn’t need to show up tonight. Seeing Vance so adoringly affectionate, without an ounce of shame about it, would likely provoke her into violent action,” he says more seriously. “I’m getting paranoid.”
I exhale again, turning and heading out.
“Where’re you going now, wolf?”
“To make Zuela share whatever he’s drinking,” is the only response I have.
Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6) Page 18