Home > Gypsy's Blood (All The Pretty Monsters #1)(10)

Gypsy's Blood (All The Pretty Monsters #1)(10)
Author: Kristy Cunning

He’s even careful to dodge the sprays of blood, masterfully flipping, moving, and fighting as though he was bred for exactly this.

He almost looks like he’s enjoying himself as he toys with them, hurting them, punching them, leaving them gravely wounded but still alive after each of his strikes.

“I take it back. I want to borrow your body and fuck him instead of the Damien fellow,” Anna says a little dreamily.

I’m too stunned to really say anything.

The wolves give one final cry of furious frustration before turning and fleeing, leaving only one behind that is breathing shallowly, eyes half closed like he’s dying.

I pat down my body, finding two vials of my healing potion tucked away in my bra. Stupidly, I move to the wolf, who barely cants its head at me, while Vancetto yells to the ones retreating.

“Come on my land, and this ends very fucking differently next time,” he shouts, still seeming to be enjoying himself above all else.

The wolf growls at me, trying and failing to move when I approach. Animals don’t know any better, especially since Anna struck first. It’s not its fault for being true to its nature.

Without getting too close, I pour the liquid on the most fatal wound.

“What the hell are you doing? Get away from him!” Vancetto snaps. “This is wolf territory, and he likely feels as though it’s his right to eat you alive if he desires, because you certainly have no right to be here. You shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

Vancetto grabs me under the arm, roughly tugging me to my feet, and I cast a look over my shoulder, seeing the animal almost appear confused, as Vancetto begins dragging me away.

Maybe I hit my head too hard.

“He’s just an animal, and that barbed-wire fence isn’t exactly a huge hurdle to have to overcome to get onto this land,” I point out.

“Why are you out here?” he growls as he grabs his jacket with his free hand and continues to drag me out of the darkening forest.

I don’t put up a fight, because I’m definitely ready to go, and it’s clear he’s my safest option for getting out.

“Are you a gypsy hunter?” I ask him seriously. “Because the way you moved back there—”

His head tips back and he outright laughs, his steps slowing, while he laughs so loud it echoes through the woods.

Anna twirls her finger in a circle next to her ear before making a coo-coo sound.

I ignore her, because, well, I think everyone out here is actually a little crazy, so there’s no room for judgment.

Since, he still hasn’t acknowledged Anna, I feel stupid for asking him if he’s a gypsy hunter. They can see ghosts, after all. But what the actual hell is he if not a gypsy hunter? No regular person can move like that.

His laughter tapers off into sort of a confused sound, as his eyes narrow on me.

“You’re not playing dumb right now, are you?” he asks, renewing his efforts to steer us out of the forest at a pace I struggle to keep up with.

“She has a flesh and blood vagina that has been collecting cobwebs since before I knew her, so no, I don’t think she’s playing dumb,” Anna says sourly. “Perfectly good waste of a corporeal form when the alpha male of all alpha males saves your precious vagina’s life,” she adds under her breath.

Vancetto sighs as he looks away, lightly shaking his head. I almost think he’s heard her, but I realize that would warrant at least some form of reaction from someone who hasn’t dealt with her for months.

It takes a while to keep a straight face around Anna.

“Can I ask why you just happen to be in the woods with two handles that turn into swords? Where did those go? What are they?” I go on.

“The man doesn’t have a single speck of dirt or blood on him after singlehandedly dispatching a pack of wolves, and you ask about his damn swords? Life is just too unfair at this moment. Ride his fucking shiny di—”

“Handles,” he says on a condescending snort while shaking his head, as he fights a reluctant grin, unknowingly interrupting Anna.

And I’m certainly sure now that it is unknowingly, because if that’s what he finds amusing, he definitely cannot hear the raving lunatic at my side who has diverted into a tangent about my deprived vagina.

I don’t know why I couldn’t have gotten a really prudish little old lady haunting me. I could have gotten bad cardigan advice instead hearing about the travesty of a “dried up raisin” my downstairs is becoming.

She’s known me for less than four damn months.

“So? Any answer?” I ask as a ghost of a grin toys with the edges of his lips.

“How about we discuss why you’re traipsing around on Morrigan property. Do you have any idea who those wolves were?” he says instead.

I look at Anna, who shrugs, and I stare at Vancetto’s profile with a little more wary cautiousness, as he concentrates on the direction he’s dragging me in.

“I don’t care if he’s weird. I still want to ride him until he screams my name and begs me to punish him for being such a bad boy. I’ll let him lick my shoes clean while I spank his ass with a paddle,” Anna says seriously.

I really, truly, genuinely want to hate her in this moment. Because I actually hiccup out a bit of laughter when a very disturbing image pops into my head from her vivid description.

He makes a frustrated sound, and I try to recover.

“Are you asking me to identify them? Like they have names? Or the type of wolves they are? Timberwolves? Is that a thing? Am I right?” Nervousness does terrible things to my mouth, and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m getting more and more nervous.

Seriously, how did he just happen to find me out there? And does he always walk around with mystical swords? Am I just supposed to pretend that’s a normal thing?

“I think you’re only one more question shy of twenty, if you want to slip another one in and change the meaning of that game,” Anna states dryly. “No wonder your vagina is a raisin,” she adds on a mutter.

This time, I’m the one to make a frustrated sound and glare at her, because this is a very potentially dangerous situation. I’m mostly alone in the woods with…whoever he really is.

His steps slow as he stares ahead like he’s confused, and with a very subtle turn of his head, he gives me a look that I can’t really decipher.

“Do you know what just happened?” he asks more seriously.

I weirdly feel my pulse in my ears for a brief second before I answer like I’m compelled to do so. “I was attacked by a pack of wolves.”

“Do you know who they were?”

Again, as if I have no choice, words are dragged from my throat as my pulse grows louder, almost aching in my chest and ears at the same time.

“They’re just wolves?” I say, hearing the words sound like a question all over again.

The pulse in my ears grows even louder, and I try to blink or move but…can’t. The helplessness seizes me as he takes a step closer. I try to ask him what the hell he’s doing to me, but my lips won’t move. It feels like they’re simply awaiting their next command.

A sense of panic claws up my throat when I feel his breath so close to my face, as he leans down, bringing our gazes more level.

“Just wolves? What kind of wolves?” he asks patiently, as my panic only doubles. Panic is bad. So dangerous. He has no idea who he’s toying with right now.

“Wild fucking wolves!” I shout just as the pulsing sound and ache cease in relieving unison.

I blink rapidly, and my breath flutters through my lips in shaky gasps, as I stumble and fumble my way away from him, my feet dropping through the painfully hindering heaps of snow.

He reaches for me, and I dodge him before trying to run, only to trip because the snow is a fucking nightmare to walk in, and running is impossible.

A scream tears from my throat when he reaches down, cursing me for writhing away from him, as he struggles to lift me.

“What the hell did you just do to me?!” I shout before finally wrestling my knee up and slamming it into his balls.

He grunts and curses as he falls to the side, and I push to my feet while he’s down. With all the strength I can muster, I try to run in the deep snow again.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re going to get yourself killed,” he growls from behind me, sounding much too close.

I whirl around, finding nothing but Anna squatting like she’s trying to pee, as a hand comes around my mouth and a warm body presses to the back of mine.

Immediately, I start struggling, but before I can do damage, he securely restrains me with his hold as he says, “I’m not trying to hurt you. All I did was force you to be honest.”

The second he releases my mouth, I shout, “I was being honest, you lunatic! What sort of answers do you want about those damn wolves? I’ve only lived here for less than a month, so it’s not like I know anything about your freaking wildlife!”

He groans and laughs next to my ear, weirdly pressing his head to the side of mine. I freeze, trying to figure out just how certifiably insane he has to be in order to find any reason to laugh in this moment.

“It’d be funny, if it wasn’t so fucking inconvenient. At the same time, it is funny, because it’s possibly the most hysterically ridiculous thing to happen in far too damn long,” he says on a heavy breath.

“Don’t let his crazy turn you on,” Anna says. “I already called dibs. Now lend me your vagina,” she adds seriously, lifting her hand and making a ‘gimme’ motion.

“Utterly fucking ridiculous,” he adds from behind me.

Without warning, he lifts me so abruptly that I’m in his arms before I can even register the movement, and he starts walking quickly, as though my weight is absolutely no burden.

“Hubba hubba. He’s just trying to keep my panties in a state of damp,” Anna says dreamily.

Reflexively, my arms go around his neck, even as my heart thumps heavily in my chest.

“What did you do to me?” I ask again. “This time tell me how you did it.”

“I used a potion when you weren’t looking,” he says dismissively.

A howl from deep in the woods behind us has me chancing my luck with the creepy swordsman, since wolves have actually tried to kill me once tonight.

“I think you need some ground rules, clueless Portocale,” he says just as we near the barbed wire fence.

“I’m not a Portocale,” I remind him.

“Stop with that little game. Trust me, you just sound silly when you tell that lie,” he assures me. “And I’m not your enemy.”

Without ever missing a step, he leaps over the fence like it’s no big deal, and lands in an easy crouch, never even jostling me. He moves a helluva lot quicker when I’m in his arms instead of getting dragged through the snow. It’s like the deepening snow requires no extra effort for him to trudge through.

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