“My mom wasn’t a bitter person, but she grew bitter oranges. I don’t. Maybe if I never hear this toxic story, I don’t have to lose my oranges, you all get free of this curse, and then you can all stop haunting me to get me to consider it. I’m ready and willing; no further persuasion necessary,” she says as she takes a seat. “Call the council.”
I stare at her, unsure what to even say.
Portocale gypsies, well, that’s one thing. Sure, we fucked them over. But in the end, they’ve fucked us a helluva lot harder.
Then this little gypsy goes and has green apples in her orchard too, and I realize that I’m now a horrible fucking person for forgetting something very important approximately ten or eleven years ago.
Still, it makes no sense at all, and her father’s family tree is as dead-ended as her mother’s.
“Call them now,” she prompts with impatience in her tone.
“It’s not quite that simple. They’ll take you in, grill you for weeks on end, and even tear your mind apart—figuratively—to ensure Arion hasn’t forced you to do this. Then you’ll have to be very compelling and moving to those crippled with no heart. This has been a miniscule long shot, or a Hail Mary pass, if you will, sort of situation from the beginning. Sure, we hoped for it, but we haven’t pressed the issue because we like having that hope. We don’t want it shut down so soon.”
She looks away from me, seeming noticeably chillier in demeanor.
“I’m sorry to threaten that hope, but I can’t be your pawn anymore. Maybe you’re all stones with no emotions left, but I’m getting a little raw.”
My lips turn up at that last word, eyes dipping to her lap, as a very inappropriate thought crosses my mind. “Speaking of raw, I’d like to—”
“Unless you want to be stabbed, don’t go there,” she says like she’s annoyed.
Definitely still prickly. Did she not get the flowers?
“I never got to talk to you after we—”
“You’ve had ample opportunity. Don’t make this about that,” she says dismissively as she stands. “Let me know when you decide if it’s all about you or if I can get this monkey off your back.”
I stand when she tries to leave, and quickly dart in front of her to block her exit.
“We really need to talk,” I tell her, gently cupping her chin and forcing her…very irritated gaze to mine.
“We really don’t,” she says as she pushes by me, reminding me how sensitive she still is.
“I’m sorry,” I call to her back.
“So all your many floral cards said. I’ll be here when you need me, Damien. No need in kissing my ass. I feel sorry for you, since you can’t get out of your own way long enough to have a friend, and no one else will be here for you like they will be for Emit, and possibly even Vance. I’m sure Shera will have Arion covered when it’s his turn, since I’m not even sure what those two are to each other. Not that it matters to me or anything. But for you, I’ll be here,” she goes on, saying a whole lot of words in a really bunch of rushed sentences, as she scrubs a hand over her face.
“That’s not why—”
“Sure it is. We had sex, and you started avoiding me for the first time since I came to town, just like Vance. And now you’re done, but you’re also lonely and don’t want to suffer that way. I get it,” she says with more hostility than I prepared for.
What was the point in buying out a flower store if she’s still this cross? Did it not soften her even a little bit? Girls like fucking flowers.
“Surely if I can overlook the way you threw yourself at a psychopath like Arion the day after I’d been inside you, you can overlook me making a poor call of judgment as well,” I tell her very reasonably.
I forget how unreasonable young women can be…until she glares at me.
“You were in there?” she asks me, reminding me about the fact I once again watched her getting a little physical with another man without her permission.
I have really got to stop telling on myself.
“We’ve established my illicit boundaries are part of my charm,” I say with a smile that usually gets reciprocated.
Not so much today.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “When will this curse hit you?” she asks without looking at me.
“It’s Vance’s turn next. His torture is less severe. Just as all his curses are less severe. He always was the lucky one of us, and some things never change,” I say with a slight sneer. “He didn’t call you after sex either, and you were pressed up on him like nothing was any different during the dead wolf unveiling—”
“You acted like you couldn’t even stand for me to touch you that night, and I just really wanted to be held. Vance may have gotten distant afterwards, but not so cold that his touch burned. Yours was so immediate, and you’d been in my house almost daily, Damien. I don’t even know why you did it, and I don’t care at this point.”
I’m in way more trouble than I thought I was…
Usually my dick is what gets me in trouble with a woman, and I’ve thoroughly leashed it. I’m officially out of my comfort zone.
“This sucks a lot worse than how Vance treated me, especially since I risked so much just because I wanted to be with you. The only person to really care about my birthday…the first birthday I had to spend without my mother.”
Her eyes cloud up with tears, and she takes a deep, calming breath, before she turns and opens the door. I shove it shut in front of her, as I press up against her back, winding my other arm around her waist.
The first good thing to happen to me in centuries, and Idun finds a way to fuck it up for me too.
“I thought you were Idun,” I tell her honestly, feeling her go tense.
“What?”
Going off her tone, I’d swallow the honesty back down if I could. Little late now. The damn bitch cat is out of the bag now.
“Idun can’t die, and it’s doubtful anyone besides Arion will ever rally for her to be raised. She’s overdue by ten or eleven years—”
“Lemon said five,” she says as she turns around, not sounding quite as cold, as I brush my hand over her cheek.
“It’s a terribly complex and archaic calendar system, but I’m certain it’s a full decade overdue. Anyway, Arion randomly came up championing for you, and then said he didn’t care if Idun is raised.” My eyes flick over hers. “I thought you were Idun. I thought she’d found a way out of her hole and had come back to destroy us even more than she already has.”
“I still feel like I’m in the middle of the story. Now I feel like I’m in the middle of someone else’s story,” she says on a frustrated sigh.
“If it is the middle, I hope like hell the next half is better than the first,” I state in a flippant tone. My gaze drags across her crumpled features. “It could be off to a damn good start if you give me a pass on this terrible mistake and try to understand where I was coming from.”
“I’d need to know more about Idun before making that decision.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning when she still seems annoyed.
She yanks open the door I’ve stopped guarding.
She steps out before I think to stop her, and she halts me from following…with her next words.
“If she’s really so terrible, then why did you think I was her?” she asks so sadly, just before she turns and walks away.
My gaze stays on her back as she walks down the driveway, her van nowhere in sight.
A car pulls up and idles, and I spot Lemon behind the wheel. The wolf keeps her eyes lowered, likely reading this situation or just knew I’d bloody well fuck it up worse than I’d already fucked it up.
I slam the door and run a hand through my hair. Frustrated, I go to pick up my phone to plan a damn party.
I genuinely used to be really damn good at this.
“Apparently I’m only fucking irresistible when I host parties these days. I’m the motherfucking charmer of the lot,” I add a little sullenly, talking to myself because no one else cares I exist. “Women used to throw themselves at me and beg for my attention.”
I drop my head and close my eyes, exhaling harshly, as my mind flits back to a time when I wasn’t so forgettable. I never had to work so hard back then.
I never met a gypsy—man or woman—who couldn’t be charmed by me, just because my name was so powerful among our people.
I gave all that up for a soul-sucking bitch, who still haunts me from her undead grave.
Chapter 3
VIOLET
Staring ahead of me, I can’t decide if I want to knock on the door or drive away. Damien was less helpful and more confusing than I expected.
I’ll deal with processing all that later. Not now.
Arion, however, has an agenda. He’s just that kind of man. It’s easy to tell the longer you’re around him, and the more I remember of my time with him as Ace. He’s calculated. He strung me along in a way that still leaves me feeling ridiculously gullible—even more so than what’s normal.
I don’t particularly like Idun right now, and I don’t even know her or what exactly it is she’s done. Just ominous wording and vague references to her leave me feeling a little annoyed that Damien was convinced I was her.
It makes me wonder what exactly Arion is thinking, but I don’t feel like dealing with him.
So I stare at the door from my spot in the driveway, knowing Shera will answer, since the housekeeper has been missing since Arion’s return. That leaves me all kinds of upset about other things—I’ve kissed him, and I know he’s killed people.
My knee bounces in my van, as I finally make the decision to get out, and the door opens before I even reach it. Shera gives me a bored look.
“Arion is busy. Are you going to ask me what happens to vampires in sunlight and try to lure me to my death so you can slip by?” she asks me as she crosses her arms over her chest.
My lips purse. “Do vampires die in sunlight? I thought I saw you in—”
She steps out into the streak of sunlight, flinches, and steps into the shadows.
“Not the burn you were hoping for, I’m sure. But it doesn’t feel great during the brightest times without the right SPF. Nothing electrical will be near me, and I’m not turning my back on—”
“Actually, I came to speak to you,” I say in interruption.
She narrows her eyes on me for a second. “Okay. Let me put on some tea.”
With an abrupt change in her mood, she ends her rant and turns to walk inside. I follow behind the vampire, deciding to pay close attention to everything that goes in my tea.
A shudder passes through me at the thought of her mixing in blood.
Her back is to me, even though she said it wouldn’t be, and I almost feel as though she’s testing me. I’m not that stupid.