“I don’t even want to know what that means,” I tell him as I head to cut off Emit.
I don’t get the chance, because he bursts out of the forest just in front of us, skidding to a halt as he snarls and growls, his eyes swinging to Arion and turning into lethal slits.
“I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me,” Arion states flatly, smiling bitterly.
Emit’s eyes land on Fay and swing up to meet mine. Arion, for all his psychotic faults, certainly wouldn’t have risked killing one wolf that Violet cares for. Not while he’s striving for one of his insane goals.
Emit shifts, quickly turning to flesh, still kneeling over Fay’s limp body as he lifts it carefully, his jaw grinding.
“Are any of the others—”
“They’re Fay’s second pack,” Emit says, shaking his head in interruption to the question I was going to ask. “She’s been running with some other omegas who’ve been with some of the head betas.”
“They’re all omega wolves? Even the larger ones?” Arion asks, as Emit remains eerily calm.
He gently puts Fay’s body down, and he glances back over the rest of the dead, keeping a stoic expression. “They all have different omega minor packs, like Fay. Aside from her, they all live with different powerful betas, yet run together to bring the betas closer when they drift apart. Betas, after all, have one important instinct—protect the weak. Whoever killed them wanted massive impact.”
“Who the hell keeps up with what omegas do or don’t mean anything to the betas they’re leeching off?” Arion asks, receiving a growl from Emit.
“If they’re all omegas, these wolves were defenseless, and someone still shot them. Whoever did this left no scent, left no trace of evidence, and has made it hard for me to hunt them,” I cut in, stopping them before they start arguing. “Guess I’ll get to work, then. Could take me a few days to hunt them down.”
“Emit can tell Violet about Fay,” Arion decides, and I think we’re both surprised when Emit doesn’t argue. “I’ll start getting to know my new betas that have been cultivated over this past century and find out if any of them are pathetic enough to go after a small pack of harmless, female wolves.”
Arion practically vanishes after that.
“This will make all my wolves restless and uneasy,” Emit goes on.
“Directly after you’ve had your meeting stating Arion has been effectively punished and won’t harm another wolf,” I observe.
“He didn’t do this,” Emit says sourly, his look softening on Fay’s tragic form. “Not even he is this low.”
Shera’s car comes pulling up, and she gets out, walking toward us as she flicks her red hair over her shoulder.
“You really have a set on you for coming here,” Emit growls at her.
“Your girlfriend is desperately seeking you,” she says to me, ignoring Emit altogether.
“What?” I ask incredulously.
“Violet Carmine is apparently asking everyone at her party—that is evidently anti-vampire themed—if someone can come find Vancetto Valhinseng. Be sure to let her know it was the vampire she discriminates against who brought you her urgent summons.”
With that, she turns and struts off.
Emit and I exchange a look, and his lips tense.
“Think she’s already learned of Fay?”
“Damien wouldn’t—”
“Oh,” Shera calls out, an evil smile on her lips as we turn our attention to her. “It’s apparently about Damien, and she sounded really scared, according to my source.”
A worried feeling creeps up inside me.
Emit turns, shifting before he even finishes dropping to the ground, and he sprints off. I glance over at the bodies, and yell for two of my men to come out of hiding.
“Get them to my place and keep this quiet.”
They give a nod and go to work, while I hurry to my car, hoping Damien hasn’t crossed a line to finally get me to kill him.
I’ll do far worse if this is him goading me with this dark path.
I quickly drive toward his house, speeding around every vehicle that gets in my way as the snow drops in heavy knots. Every nightmarish scenario enters my mind and has my steering wheel whining from the grip.
I barely even get the car stopped before I’m racing up the steps.
I catch sight of Emit sprinting in from the other side, leaping up to the same landing of stairs I’m on. Only at Damien’s party can a naked man Emit’s size not even draw a curious eye.
“If he’s done what I think he’s—”
“He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t drop to that level,” I say tightly as I hurry down the hallway.
Arion appears as if from thin air, as a belated chill runs down my spine with the wind he’s stirred. He is far too fucking fast.
He grins as he knocks on Damien’s door.
“Surely you didn’t think my beta would only tell you such things,” he says with a smirk.
Emit kicks down the door, and Arion’s brow furrows in confusion, as I swing out my blades and—
Violet is rocking on the bed with Damien’s head in her lap, running her fingers through his bleach blond hair, as she looks over at us.
“I don’t know what happened, but he’s been like this for over an hour now,” she says on a strained note.
Her hair is wet with a few dry spots, like she hurried through a shower and her hair getting wet was just a hazard and not an intention. She’s wrapped in one of Damien’s robes, and the scent of sex is strong in the air.
Arion sniffs, frowns, and sniffs again.
Emit’s nose wrinkles when he sniffs a few times.
“It’s been a while, but is that—”
“He finished with you?” I ask Violet, an edge to my tone as she strokes his cheek with affection he doesn’t deserve.
“I didn’t feel pain. He said I would,” she says as she swallows thickly, confusing me. “Then things got out of hand when there wasn’t any pain, and I think it somehow did something to him instead of me.”
“I don’t think that’s what it did to him,” Emit states flatly, even as his lips twitch.
“How are you alive?” I ask her, but she’s too distracted, brushing another piece of hair from his face.
“There’s usually always a way around the smaller curses, and it has been an inconceivable amount of time,” Arion states mildly, not even bothered by this as he moves to the bed, staring down at Damien. “The bastard is grinning like he got the bloody cake he always wanted,” he adds, sounding entirely too amused.
Emit snorts and turns, neither of them seeing the severity in this.
“He could have killed her,” I point out.
“If she’d felt that pain, she would have told him to stop. Hell, he’s had a flawless system for too many centuries to count,” Emit says, batting his hand dismissively. “But it has been a while since he gave it a shot. Maybe the curse finally waned, since it was a personal vendetta curse to begin with.”
Violet nods like she agrees with all this, as she gestures at him. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, love,” Arion says as he reaches over and gently strokes her cheek with more affection than I’ve seen him offer anyone in too long to remember.
I take a step back, feeling sucked in by the moment.
Emit pokes at Damien’s cheek, and Damien barely even makes a grunt.
“He just popped a cork that’s been compacting for a long, long time, love. He’s going to have to sleep it off for a while,” Arion tells her. “Emit’s already naked if you’re expecting an encore for your birthday breakfast,” he adds.
Emit darts a look at her, and Violet doesn’t even glance at him, as she makes a frustrated sound low in her throat.
“Can someone stay with him? He looked really mad before that grin just sort of appeared and stayed frozen to his face,” she says as she carefully maneuvers his head out of her lap. “I’m worried I hurt him somehow, and I don’t think I should be here when he wakes up.”
I shoulder by Arion, blocking him from touching her again, as I put my hand on the small of her back and start guiding her out.
Arion turns to hide a smirk, like this is what he planned all along, and it puts me on edge, feeling like I did what he wanted. I forgot how exhausting it is to try and figure out his angle in every given situation.
“I’ll stick around to ensure he’s not fighting mad,” Arion says, mocking her a little, even though she misses it and nods like he’s serious.
Violet says nothing as we wade through the people. Without warning her, I lift her abruptly and carry her outside, because it’s freezing, and she’s only wearing a robe with no shoes.
She presses against me until I get her inside my warm car.
It’s not until I’ve driven us almost to her house that I finally speak to fill the silence. “That was all consensual, yes?”
She gives me a horrified expression that weirdly relieves me.
“Does Damien—”
“No, never. But he does push boundaries and things could have easily escalated—”
“I instigated every bit of that,” she answers a little stiffly, turning to look out the window. “Sorry if this is weird. I thought I’d hurt him, and you’re the only person I thought might truly care enough about him to come help me.”
“You can’t hurt Damien,” I tell her, slightly amused. “I assure you. But if his curse has truly lifted, he’ll be around a lot less. It’s nothing personal, but he’s always a child with new toys. He plays with them until he breaks them. Be glad you’re not the toy in this equation,” I go on.
My stomach sours when I hear the words that have just come out of my own mouth. Toys. Now I sound like a Portocale.
Her fingers start nervously rapping on the door handle. “Okay,” she says tightly.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you—”
“Just fine,” she cuts in, her fingers rapping quicker. “You usually drive so fast, and now you’re going ten miles under the speed limit,” she points out when she leans over to glance at my dials.
Lips tightening, I speed up a little, since being considerate of her tiring evening is apparently unappreciated.
“It’s just that it could have been bad if he hadn’t restrained some of himself. You’re very much mortal, and I’m struggling with all the miracles of the night,” I go on, wondering if there’s any Portocale information that might can fill in these blanks.
“I’m sure you are. Hey, here’s a question: Why are Portocale gypsies such a big deal to you guys? And why all the vague references to our pasts that makes it all sound dark and intertwined? And hey, oh, why do you feel the pain of every Portocale gypsy’s death when one of us dies?” she asks me in a flippant, annoyed tone.