Home > Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(8)

Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(8)
Author: Kristy Cunning

“Abby is the perfect time when she’s informing you she’s by herself and abducting you,” he argues.

“She wasn’t alone. She simply came inside alone,” I explain. “You learn more when you let them take you, and I woke up early from the faint because I wasn’t hurt. It was all learn-as-I-go sort of steps, because I’ve never been kidnapped ‘alive’ and locked up before. Well, not other than that one time by the cult, but I was knocked out pretty hard that time. Anyway, Shera and I were getting close to escaping,” I assure him.

“You wouldn’t let me find you.”

I feel scolded.

“They took a really long loop, so I don’t think it would have mattered if I had let you find me,” I state in deflection.

“Trust me, Violet, I can find you when you let me. Just like I found you at Arion’s. I could smell vampire, more specifically, Shera, because you wanted to be found that time.”

He glares down at me like he’s making a point, and I lean up to my elbows, holding his eyes, as I drop a kiss to his chest. His eyes move with the motion as I plant another chaste kiss and stand, still wearing nothing but my embarrassing underwear and Arion’s shirt.

My legs feel sturdier, and I no longer feel dizzy from the extreme loss of blood. I hope Arion enjoyed that; he’s never getting a drink again.

“I didn’t want you to find me,” I say to him while my back is turned. “There wasn’t any need in risking more people. Shera was already stuck there with me, and I was worried what happened if we got caught.”

“You were trying to protect me?” he asks in a hushed tone, eyes staring ahead as he makes a humorless snort. “Maybe in the future you’ll remember what I’m capable of and not be so hesitant to let me find you.”

“You foresee more wolf kidnappings in my future?” I ask, trying not to process any of that yet, as I glance over some of the new swords he’s mounted in his room since my last visit.

“Not if Abby was the only leader and those were the only wolves under her,” he says very dismissively.

I turn and look over my shoulder again, finding his gaze casually drifting over my legs.

“Why is it that you never lie in bed with me the way you will with Emit?” he asks, his eyes colliding with mine with the same abrupt abandon used for the random conversation shift.

Since I feel uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze, I look away, hearing Damien down the hall.

“If Violet’s awake, share her,” Damien calls out, laughing in a way that suggests he’s definitely been celebrating with more than champagne.

“You look uncomfortable. Am I really so bad, Violet?” Vance asks on a frustrated sigh, when I attempt to use Damien’s cue to get out without answering.

I frown over at him. “Of course not. You’re a monster slayer and I’m a monster,” I say like it explains everything. “It’s going to take a little more time for me to warm up.”

“Lie,” he states with an eyebrow arch, as though he’s figured me out already and knows my tells.

I move back to the unoccupied side of the bed to take a seat on the edge, and roll my eyes.

“The lie sounds much more mature than the real reason,” I assure him, but he just stares expectantly, apparently not letting me out of here with my dignity.

“You’re sort of the high-school-quarterback type, and those types just have secretive, unimportant flings with the death-obsessed, horrible-dancing, young-and-naïve damsels-in-distress, who get themselves in more trouble than they’re worth. Trouble finds me no matter what, it seems. The cults want me outside the town, and the monsters want me inside the town.”

With zero expression on his own face, he just studies me like there needs to be more said.

“I’m not sure what a high-school-quarterback comparison means exactly,” he finally tells me, lips pursing.

He’s cute when he’s confused. It’s hard to find a guy who looks as good as Vance cute very often.

“It means you’re a legendary golden boy, a bit of a cocky dick in attitude, and the expectations for the chick you’re with must be astronomical by this point.” My eyes flick to his as I add, “When sex is involved, it feels like I’m the only person in the world you want to see, and it feels like you want to be with me. But when sex is over, so is the way you look at me.”

He moves so fast that I don’t have time to react, and I end up on my back with him settled between my legs, pushing a lock of hair out of my face, as he stares down at me.

“I’m a very distracted man, Violet,” he tells me as he casually pulls one of my arms around his neck. “It’s truly a curse,” he goes on, bringing my other arm up around his neck.

My legs tremble against him, even as they tighten.

“Some days, it gives me actual brain aneurisms, but that won’t kill me. Instead of whining about it, I deal with it like any dignified man. Some days, I may say or do the wrong things because of the foul mood such moments leave me in,” he states conversationally, even as his lips lightly brush mine.

Those damn butterflies try to go to work.

“Violet!” Emit calls from down the hall like they’re all getting impatient, yet still humored to no end.

I’ve put off my conversation with Emit for way too long, but I was preparing for a fight that I never had, and now my body is riddled with left-over nervous energy. I definitely don’t need to tackle that problem right now.

Vance stands abruptly, moving away from me and leaving a bereft feeling in his wake, as he remains shirtless. The low-slung waist of his soft, gray pajama pants aren’t what makes my lips edge up in a small smile; it’s the slippers he slides his feet into like it’s not a big thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man wear old-school slippers outside of a commercial.

But Vance is a man of fine comfort and unapologetically plans each piece of comfort into his intensely uncomfortable days. He’s already tying a very plush robe into place, and clears his throat when I just continue to spend a little too long admiring him.

I blame it on the shit week I’ve been having.

I’m starting to better appreciate all the nicer things when they come along.

“I’m reminding myself of the hellish time you’ve had in the past forty-eight hours, at current,” he tells me like it’s a casual confession. “I’m going to need you to stop looking at me like that before I make an impulsive, likely insensitive decision to stop showing restraint.”

Before I can mentally assess where my head is at, Arion walks in, swings his gaze over me still wearing his shirt, and grins as he makes his shirtless way to me.

If I had to label his look, I’d call him a gothic rocker.

“You really bloody broke our curses,” he tells me like he’s both awed and…I’m not sure why that unknown, infused emotion in his eyes has me slightly worried I’ve rushed into something.

Arion’s intense on a normal day.

This isn’t a normal day.

As usual, his hands are on me in the next instant, pulling me to him, and I exhale a tired breath.

“Was that the knee-me-in-the-bollocks sound you just made?” he asks next to my ear, lips already dragging down my throat. “After you threw yourself before the very worst part of me and gave me your neck? You’re the most frustratingly confusing woman I’ve ever known. I believe this is the truest meaning of mixed signals.”

“I regret the day I invited you into my house without leaving my bedroom off limits,” Vance says idly.

The clinking of ice that follows his words tells me he’s at the small bar.

Arion grins next to my ear as he gently backs away, eyes narrowed and assessing, as that out-of-place smile stays fixed to his face. He has the most unnerving looks that leave me paranoid as hell.

Another harsh exhale spills between my lips when his hands finally drop from me, because he’s the most frustratingly confusing person I’ve ever met.

“Which reminds me, I need to speak with Damien,” I tell him, remembering why I’m pissed at the illusionist.

“I’m first up, love,” Arion says as he starts invading my space again. “I thought the only thing holding you back was your fear. Clearly the fear is absent if you’re willing to turn yourself over to the very darkest part of me. It’s amazing you’re in one piece, so clearly you played submissive very well, Violet. It’s because you were ready for me to save you and overcame your fear of me. Now we can be together.”

When I say nothing and simply stare at him like he’s forever losing his mind more and more when we speak, he frowns like he’s genuinely perplexed.

“Arion, no matter what you did, I couldn’t have endured another second of those cries. And you were at Abby’s mercy while in that state. You ripped my throat out and told me to put on some healing potion so you could sit down and watch the fight.”

Apparently, I guess right, because his pupils widen marginally.

“I held your hand when you finished,” he says like he’s defending himself.

“So you could watch the fight.”

“Vance was focused. It’s been ages since he focused. Thing of beauty while it happens,” he says as if that’s important information.

I gesture between us. “That’s sort of the problem. I feel like the conduit for your feelings for them because you have heterosexual body parts with a homosexual mentality. I’m not sure I’m okay with simply being a conduit,” I carefully explain, causing his eyes to widen a little more, as several muffled sounds of amusement spring from somewhere else in the room.

“I’m sorry, love, but you’ve really lost me,” Arion says very seriously, brow crinkling.

“You want this to be a thing between you and me, even though Idun is returning, because you want them back. It looks like you’re getting that without me, so we can be friends,” I suggest, completely rambling.

I don’t think I’m explaining this very well, since they’re all muffling laughter down the hall. Even Vance makes a choked sound of amusement.

Or they’re just really immature about these things…

That’s definitely possible.

Arion scrubs a hand over his face, as someone struggles to cover a surprise laugh with a cough.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. It’s inappropriate to do with an audience,” I babble. “But you’re really intense. And I’ve just survived an apocalyptic wolf storm with your mostly naked beta, whose threads are still in my bra because one set of clothes ended up being enough.”

The look of frustrated confusion on his face doubles.

“I could use a small break before we discuss curses, some really confusing relationship statuses, and the somewhat terrifying woman you’ve all loved rising very soon. And those wolves stole my oranges, so I need to go back and get all of them.”

   
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