The woman goes limp almost immediately, and I barely catch her before she crashes to the floor when she faints. Given the weak scent and fainting spell, it’s likely she’s truly an omega.
Violet really fucking loves omegas. Damn this night.
“What about the hotel, Violet?” Vance asks with a little impatience.
“If you’re not going to do anything with it, I was wondering if I could buy it from you.”
Another round of blinks.
“If you want the hotel, you can have it. I was going to use it as a neutral location, but never got around to it,” he tells her.
“It’ll still be neutral. Promise. But I have to buy it. I’d feel indebted to you otherwise. And I know the fair cost based on Tiara’s research—”
“You don’t sound drunk,” Vance notes.
“I’m not drunk. I haven’t had a drink.”
Now I want to watch those videos again with that new knowledge, because no one can be that shamelessly ridiculous while sober.
“Can I buy it from you or is it too important?” she goes on.
“It’s not too important, but I don’t want your money. You won’t have enough for a fair offer, simply due to the location.”
“Sounds interesting,” I butt in. “Know what else is interesting?”
I dramatically gesture to the pregnant debacle we still have on our hands.
He sighs harshly.
“I have the money. I have enough in my bank account for that, and I won’t even have to dig any up,” she tells him, causing me to shake my head, as I stare up at the ceiling.
Priorities are a bit fickle these days, because I thought she was struggling with her finances just a few months ago. This girl…
Vance essentially says aloud what I’m thinking. “When you first came to town, you couldn’t even hire a delivery person. Now you suddenly have enough money to—”
“The money is/was my late grandmother’s money, so I’ve been saving it. She was loaded because she invented some sort of really popular toothbrush design, so I have plenty of money. You don’t just sink a ton of money into a new business. You work it up until it’s paying for itself so it doesn’t become a financial drain.”
Vance opens his mouth, then closes it, and then opens again.
“That’s why you made toothpaste,” he says like he’s solved a very important puzzle.
“It definitely gave me the idea,” she states as the music in the background gets louder for a second, before dulling again, as though someone has left or entered the room she’s in.
“Whenever someone asks you about it, you always say how you came to make toothpaste isn’t an interesting story,” he argues.
“Took five seconds for you to figure it out on your own from one sentence. I don’t think that constitutes it as being very interesting,” she deadpans. “Can I buy the hotel for my new tribe?”
Vance releases a breath, as he continues to stare at the downed shifter.
“You can’t keep them, Violet,” he tells her gently. “They belong to Idun, and she’ll have it no other way.”
“I’ve got all that covered. Can I buy it or not?”
“Of course you can buy it. I want to give it to you. But you can’t—”
“Mary is going to send over the formal paperwork via email and get a date set for the closing. Thank you,” she says sweetly. “And be careful while hunting Idun.”
She hangs up after that, and Vance stares down at his phone.
“This day just keeps getting worse. Violet’s already too attached to them,” he groans.
“We’ll deal with that later. What about the pregnant shifter who knows too damn much?” I ask him, my patience fraying.
He pauses like a thought has just occurred to him. “You always carry around a portrait of Idun in your pocket?”
Un-fucking-believable. He’s so distracted and unfocused that his mind can’t stay trained on the problem at hand.
“I carry around a portrait of the necklace. Did you not hear me when I said how hard it was to even get the stone’s impossibly-hard-to-recreate-details that close? And the portrait is damage-proof to withstand time, so it’s not as though I could hack her face off like a lovesick pup after a hard break.”
His phone rings again, while the woman in the floor remains unattended.
“Violet?” he asks into the phone, turning his back on me again.
“Yeah, me again. Sorry. But this time I do need an actual favor, since you’re the pilot with all the girl-named planes. I sort of need to get a lot of people overseas. Is it okay if I call your hangar and work something out?”
“Idun will nest in Shadow Hills, so it’s not like they won’t be coming over anyway,” I remind him, since he wanted to argue this earlier.
“Yes. Of course,” he tells her all too easily, despite his earlier objections. “Pay me in apples for that one.”
I’m starting to think he can’t deny her directly. The prideful Van Helsing is fucking whipped. I’ll mock him for it later, and settle for grinning about it now.
“I’m going to need to save my apples for now, but I have something you’ll appreciate.”
“If it’s lacy and black, I’m in for that one as well. Dibs on the Devil’s three-way this time,” I tell him very seriously.
He gestures to the pregnant shifter’s belly, giving me a silencing look.
“It’s not like it knows what I’m saying,” I dutifully inform him.
And I thought Emit was stupid.
Vance pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, something he does when someone is irritating him, before returning his attention to the phone call.
“Violet, anything you want to trade is perfectly good with me. I have a bit of a mess to clean up. If you need more, have Leiza call Avery and set it up,” he tells her a little distractedly, as he kneels in front of the woman.
“O…kay. Sorry. Be careful out there.”
The line goes dead again, and he lowers the phone.
“How far along would you say she is?” he asks.
“She’s a little on the small side, so the size of that bump would lead me to roughly estimate twenty weeks, give or take a few.”
“Then Shera has a new prisoner to attend for another twenty or so weeks,” he decides.
I almost want to groan. “She’s going to hate me for this one. She hates shifters worse than wolves.”
My phone rings this time, and I answer just to be a dick to Vance, hoping Violet’s calling me from Emit’s phone.
“If this is really you, wolf, make it worth my time.”
“Damien is going to stay with Violet. I’m on my way to meet you right now.”
“What? Did something fucking happen?” I ask, nervousness catching me by surprise.
“I just decided three hunters are better than two, and the sooner you prove you can make good on your promise, the sooner I’ll be able to actually focus on Violet, without all the distractions Idun brings with her head games.”
“Damien can’t protect her for shit on his own,” I remind him.
“Van Helsing knights started showing up an hour ago after Leiza called Avery to schedule a plane.”
“An hour ago? Violet just asked me for the plane,” Vance says as he pinches the bridge of his nose again. “What the hell is going on over there?”
“She’s young, stubborn, and impatient. Don’t ask. Just focus on finding Idun so we can get out ahead of this for once,” Emit says before hanging up.
“What the hell does he think we’re doing?” Vance asks like he’s offended.
“We’re dealing with the mess you make when you don’t check for prying ears,” I remind him, since this is clearly all his fault.
“Like you would have checked behind a wall.” His dry tone is coupled with a condescending look.
The woman between our feet groans as she starts to wake up, and all our attention returns to her. She blinks a few times, startling as she takes in her surroundi
ngs. Then her eyes widen in remembrance, and fear draws her stiff, just as her eyes collide with my chest, never lifting any higher.
“Welcome back,” I tell her with a cold smile. “Congratulations. Instead of dying, you’re about to be my personal prisoner.”
The entire room chills, and she aptly trembles. She’s old enough to fear me. Smart omega.
CHAPTER 4
VIOLET
“How long until they rehydrate?” I ask Tiara, mostly to take my mind off the very horrifying second flight of my life, in which Vance was not the pilot.
My legs are still unsteady, and Bobo is carrying Flem, because Flem passed out during the first bit of turbulence. At least there was no lightning nor plane crash this time.
Avery personally charted our flight plan to account for a plane full of conductors. Then he flew us. Then he led the convoy of SUVs to the hotel. Now he’s wheeling my bag for me like I can’t do that myself, as he follows me inside.
“He’s always quiet like this when he’s on duty,” Leiza says from beside me, eyeing the man I swear could second as a facial statue. “I love the strong, silent, silver foxes.”
She makes a little growl in her throat, and his lips finally twitch.
“Glad to see you’re human, Avery,” I tell him, only making those lips move subtly again.
I glance around at the grand foyer, which has a lot of little side rooms that could serve as stores if we knocked down a few walls.
“Van Helsing knights have the option of picking the immortal they want to be if they decide to take the plunge,” Leiza says as she moves closer to him. “Silver wolves are much hotter than silver foxes.”
“I’m sure they are, Ms. Tine. I’m planning to stay human, though,” he informs her very respectfully, as though she’s more than an omega.
I swing my gaze back to him, finding him at a militant stance, while he stares straight ahead, dressed in all tactical gear like Vance wears on a hunt. Apparently it’s just a uniform for them, because we got a full escort by very silent men, who all dressed the same.
“Is it still a rule that you have to leave your pack if you want a Van Helsing knight?” Leiza purrs from behind him, as she stares at his ass.
Thankfully, he seems like he’s used to this.
“Since last I checked, Ms. Tine. Which was last month when you asked the same question.”
This shouldn’t be more interesting than the hotel, but this is a refreshing first. People…who don’t snarl at my wolves.
“When will you check again?” she asks, smiling broader.
“When I’ve finished my shift for the night and have a first-officer present to relieve me.”
She struts away from him, apparently satisfied by that answer, and he darts a look to her ass for the barest of seconds, so quickly I almost miss it, as he smirks again.
When his face goes stoic once more, I realize the moment of distraction is over, and I step over the threshold and into…the semi-damaged guts of the home.
“The wiring is outdated and needs to be brought up to code,” Tiara states from the kitchen.
Okay, so I knew it’d be a little bad.
“The ceiling will need to be replaced as soon as possible,” Mary yells down from the top of the fifth and final floor.
Okay, so it’s worse than a little bad, because that’s a whole lot of ceiling.
“Is Dad here yet?” I ask Avery.
“He is, madam. He’s been busying himself all day with the calculations, if you want them,” he says almost regretfully.
“Yeah, whatever those calculations are, tell Vance I’m deducting it from what I’m paying him,” I murmur absently, as Lemon squeaks out a sound of surprise, and a chunk of the balcony from the second floor drops to the ground. “He may end up having to pay me for taking this off his hands,” I add flatly.
“Going to need a lot of new windows,” Leiza informs me…from somewhere.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” I grumble, feeling almost cheated, even though I begged for this.
“I’m sure Sir Van Helsing would appreciate hearing that directly from you. He’s been trying, rather unsuccessfully, to reach you for the past two days,” Avery reminds me.
“He told me to forward all my questions to you because he was busy, and now I’m a little too busy for him to tell me I can’t do this.” I dart a dubious look toward him. “Are you going to tell me I can’t do this?”
He fights a smile, as he gives one shake of his head. “The law says you can.”
“I bet you actually know more about the law than Vance. Can I pick your brain about some things later and you keep it between us? Or is that a really disrespectful request that puts you in a bad position?”
Martha, the tallest woman I’ve ever met in real life, chooses that moment to go riding through the foyer on a pink bike with a little bell, smiling broadly as she honks the horn. I’m worried about what stiff, dead thing she’s found with black fur to carry around in the front basket…
Even Avery just stares for a second, as she rides on through, disappearing around the corner.
“It’s…fine. I’m on your service until Sir Van Helsing returns,” he assures me, distractedly, when Blubber—I can’t seem to get too many real names from this bunch—squeals in excitement, as he zooms by on a hover board.
“Wheeeeeeeee!” he squeals, expertly turning the same corner as Martha just did.
“Am I supposed to call you Sir Avery?” I ask.
“It’s not a formality used outside of the men under me,” he says, eyebrows hitting his hairline when Felipe comes racing through on a unicycle with a diaper strapped to his head.
Felipe stops, stares at us for a second, as he chomps on what sounds like rubber gum, and then starts blowing a bubble, as he drives off like there’s nothing to see. My eyes widen in slight horror when I realize he’s not chewing gum and blowing just any bubble. It’s a condom. Felipe has a condom in his mouth. How did he—
Shera snorts, drawing my attention, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as she runs away from the third floor balcony like she’s trying to hide from me. Unbelievable.
“You’re going to have to work harder to keep a straight face around here, Sir Avery,” I state dryly.
He wipes his smile away with one hand, but it stays in his eyes, as he darts an amused look my way.
“Construction is going to be interesting,” I say as a chandelier drops straight down.
We both hop away just as it crashes to the ground, and glass sprays, as the crash echoes through the hollow halls.
Avery clears his throat and lazily moves back into his militant stance. “Demolition might be just as effective, madam.”
I move my head from side to side, looking at the new mess of glass blocking the fun train that has come to an abrupt halt. Popeye—seriously, some real names would be great—brings his Segway to a screeching stop, frowning at the glass, as he pulls off his oversized sunglasses and drinks from a coconut.
I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Where did all the toys come from?
“Curious, Sir Avery, did the guys drop off Christmas presents a little early or a little late?”
“They are actually from your mom,” Ingrid says from inside the wall next to us, causing Sir Avery to startle and turn a little red. “I love how much space there is in here—I can actually do more than stay in just one spot. Can you rebuild it the same?”
Before I can answer, Dad comes walking down the steps with his hard hat and tool belt, quirking an eyebrow in my direction.
“How long will it take to spruce up the place?” I ask brightly. “It’ll replace that job you’re losing because of that really stupid thing you did.”
He completely ignores my jab, since we’re still not talking about all the lies he’s told and secrets he’s kept.
“Some bones are broken, but the foundation is solid. It’s going to take me some time to get a crew out here, though. At least six months or so. May want to h
ire outside. My guys are staying on the planned job, and my foreman is going to run it,” he informs me.
Now he’s just being cold. He’s also being passive aggressive because I forgot to call and tell him about Mom, and he found out elsewhere.
Family drama is getting a pin shoved in it pretty hard.
“You’re going to do the job because you won’t trust anyone else to do it, and Ighan is your project foreman. He’ll introduce you to your project crew,” I tell him as I turn and walk out.
The hairs rise on my neck, as the air almost seems to crackle around me. A loud clanging echoes through the halls, and I whirl around, finding the doors have been blown open.
Feeling eyes on me, my gaze is dragged far across the street, into the park, as if I know exactly where to look.
I connect with a set of piercing blue eyes that are striking, even from this distance, as a familiar face stands out. That crackle of electricity pops in the air, and my breath hitches in my throat.
She stares at me, and I stare back.
For several long seconds, we stay locked in an unwavering stare-down.
Avery sucks in a sharp breath, as though he sees what I see, and from the corner of my eye, I spot him reach for one of the many weapons on his person.
“Don’t,” I caution, staring ahead at the brunette, who is far more alluring than I could ever be.
“That’s—”
“I know,” I tell him, exhaling a heavy breath, as a slight whimper sounds from inside the walls, followed by a hushed silence that makes the prickle of awareness that much more intense.
Wearing what looks to be some ritzy, equestrian riding attire, the woman everyone has been dreading the return of stands from her park bench.
It takes me a second to notice I’ve subconsciously moved outside, standing on the steps. Avery’s hand clamps down on my upper arm when I try to walk toward her.
“This is neutral territory. The only way she can lay a hand on you is if you break the law,” Avery says to me very, very quietly. “Go over there, and she’ll guide you off into non-neutral territory so she can hurt you very severely, Ms. Carmine.”
“She’s not my problem,” I tell him, a little unnerved at how perfectly those paintings have portrayed her beauty.
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