He flicks an orange peel away after he licks it clean like he’s the wolf.
“The only good part of all this is that I now know you’ll never again get laid by those wolves, no matter how much they praise you to Violet. They’ve not just picked out a girlfriend; they’ve picked you out a mate.”
I glare at him, and he just grins, never meeting my eyes.
“Too bad I’m way out ahead of you,” he adds.
“I’d say Vance is winning, if this is a sprint instead of a marathon,” I tell him, still not even sure if I actually want her or if I just want her long enough to piss them all off.
“Vance lucked into his moment and failed to follow-through with charming stalkery. She’s leaving a window open for me at night now.”
I roll my eyes as I start heading toward the omega wing.
Sure enough, I spot Violet, but I slow my steps when she walks out in a really nice, long, black dress.
She stumbles when she sees me. “Sorry. I know I really shouldn’t be here tonight of all nights, considering your deal with Arion, but they swore it was okay.”
Fay nods enthusiastically, which is weird, since she has no enthusiasm. Ever.
I don’t like this. They like her far too much.
They’re already treating her too much like pack, and Violet is very mortal, fragile, and not at all pack.
“I didn’t realize it was a formal thing, so I’m really glad I stopped by. I left oranges, since now I know they’re sort of a big deal. It’s a gift for—”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t make her keep talking,” Damien groans as he goes over to her with more familiarity than I like.
She hated him. She hated him way too much. Why is she just standing there as he drapes an arm around her shoulders?
“We’re off to my house so her dad doesn’t see her going on date with a vampire. Have fun tonight,” Damien says with a smirk as he steers her by me, bumping his shoulder against mine as he goes.
“It’s not okay for you to just show up at my house,” I call out to him.
“Sorry,” Violet blurts out, which of course makes me run a hand over my face when Damien starts laughing.
My omegas actually fucking growl at me. At me.
Never has that happened.
I glare at all of them, and Fay whimpers before scurrying off. Then I turn and glance over at Damien as he explains to Violet that my comment was solely directed at him.
Shaking my head, I go to my private office and pull out the Portocale family tree, trying to figure out what branch Violet’s family descended from.
All I’ve been able to think about is ending one of the few curses that can end, especially now that I know Violet is clearly the perfect Portocale for that.
But as the minutes tick by, I find myself unable to focus on anything other than what Damien said about her naïve plan to broker a true truce.
Instead of staying put, the way I really need to, I decide to go find one of my tuxes and crash a vampire’s party.
The second I exit and lock up my office, I head down the hallway, forging a plan to talk to Arion and tell Violet not to interfere. The last thing I need is to deal with Arion thinking Violet is my weakness, when she’s clearly more Vance’s, and certainly more Damien’s.
I had no idea how obsessed he’d grown until tonight.
However, the second I enter my bedroom, I find Ian sitting on the stool in front of my bed, and I pause.
He swings an angry gaze up at me. “Last night was a failure, I know. But—”
“Last night was little more than a slap in the face compared to what could have happened. We attacked them in their home. Vance could have punished all of you to punish me,” I bite out. “Leave it, Ian. Let me deal with this.”
“Deal with it like you did a hundred years ago? Putting him underground for a century is a slap on the wrist.”
“Based on what Vance told me last night, it may have been far worse than he actually deserved,” I grind out. “Arion woke during that time. It’s unsure how long he was awake, but he certainly lived awake and underground for long enough to try and claw his way out. He’s been severely punished.”
He stands abruptly, a growl in his throat. “Far worse than he deserved?” he snaps. “You remember what he did to our people? He drained them and then killed them. He—”
“He upheld a law I refused to abide by, but he stepped out of his place. Those wolves were going to be culled regardless,” I interrupt, my voice even as I advance on him.
I’m two steps in front of him before he finally remembers his place and forces his eyes to lower.
His jaw tics with the effort it takes.
“He stepped out of line by making it personal. Vampires don’t get to cull the wolves. They don’t get to decide when, how, and where. I do. Van Helsings do. Wolf alphas do. But the law is still the law for a reason.”
He jerks his face to the side, his fists forming and opening.
“When there is no order, there is only chaos,” he finally says, answering the unspoken question.
“Chaos from us in this era would equal an apocalypse none of you will survive. The immortal alphas will be left to start all over, and to be honest, none of us really want to do that. So there are laws. There is order. Deal with it. With the new information, I declare that Arion has been sufficiently punished, and no farther attacks will be plotted, threatened, or even considered.”
He doesn’t speak. Instead, he stalks out, angry as always. Personally, I grew bored with staying angry centuries ago. I prefer to stay blitzed out of my mind, but right now is not the time.
All I want right now is to ensure Arion isn’t planning his own form of revenge, restarting the vicious, never-ending circle.
And to make sure a little gypsy doesn’t land on the wrong side of him when it sounds like she’s choosing a side that isn’t his.
Chapter 13
VIOLET
The problem with intentions and gypsies is that we don’t always follow through, and the closer it gets to seven, the more nervous I feel about my little speech I’ve prepared.
It honestly sounds really, really lame. And stupid. I can picture Arion laughing in my face before slitting my throat.
Then what? My usual plan of action is to kill whatever just killed me, but I can’t kill a man who can reincarnate, find me, and try to kill me again. If he can even die. I’m not sure on what happens just yet, but I do know they’re all immortal to some relative extent. I’m undying, so I’m not sure what that means for me…
Damien is eating one of the last of his oranges as he waits with me, and I ask the question that’s been irking me.
“Is Vance avoiding me? Is he weirded out with what happened between us? We didn’t speak when he drove me home, and he hasn’t called since I ignored that one call because I was with Dad.”
He pauses, stopping the orange at his lips, as he arches an eyebrow at me.
“I’m trying to be your dirty, kinky rebound from the boring, drab Van Helsing. I’m not trying to be your gay best friend. My answer is that he’s not worth it, but I am,” he says with a completely serious expression.
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes.
“Have you seen me?” he asks incredulously. “I get that the wolves want an alpha wolf, but surely you have better taste,” he adds, glancing over at the mirror and back at me.
“You do realize how vain you seem when you can’t help but glance over at a mirror every two seconds to appreciate how good you look?” I ask dryly.
Okay, to be fair, he’s definitely the most gorgeous man alive, but it is so annoying when he glances at the mirror like he—
“Part of my curse,” he answers as he looks back down.
I don’t even bother asking questions, and apparently that works, since he starts giving answers without being prompted.
“My first sacrifice for immortality was the thing I found most important. That, of course, was my fame. I had no idea I was making the decision for the entire family,” he goes on. “First-borns apparently had that power during the ceremony.”
“There was a ceremony to make you immortal?” I ask, sitting up.
He continues staring at the peel of the orange in his hand.
“Step one,” he answers absently. “It wasn’t as easy of a step as I thought it was. Especially when my family received the same curse. Now, after a few weeks of not seeing us, mortals forget we even exist. Even the little poser immortals who don’t age but still die a true death…”
He lets his words trail off for a second.
“So it really is just the alpha immortals who can’t truly die who remember you,” I say as a small pang starts in my chest.
“Unless they’re in my presence fairly regularly, anyone not of alpha blood forgets me,” he says, agreeing. “Even you’ll forget me if I let you go more than a week without seeing me, since I’m so new to you,” he goes on, eating another bite.
“Dorian somehow gave up something else, I’m assuming. Since he’s a bastard,” I continue, leaning in as I grow more intrigued.
“He was the true first-born, ousted only by title and name,” he adds quietly. “It was a loophole. He shouldn’t have even been immortal. Leave it to that cockroach to take everything from me. Father doesn’t even claim me as the first-born anymore, but Dorian can’t take the Morpheous name for fear of fading into nothing like the rest of us. He added his own curse to our family legacy as the unofficial first-born.”
He glances at the mirror across from us, what little bit is left of it, and just stares.
“To this day, unless I’m unconscious, I can’t go more than a few hours without checking my reflection, or I forget who I used to be. I forget how it used to be. Before we tried to make it better and ended up destroying it instead. It’s dangerous when I allow that to happen, and it’s a slow road to remembering again afterwards.”
Cocky, creepy, annoyingly obtuse…all those things usually describe Damien. Not vulnerable.
“Sorry. Now I feel like a jerk for the mirror comment.”
He gives a small grin. “I’m the only one in my family who suffers the worst of the curses. No sexual pleasure for a being forged from sexual deviance. Even watching doesn’t bring the pleasure it used to.”
The first part I already knew, but the second part is what I almost ask about, until a horn blows just outside.
“That would be Shera. Arion would kick down my doors and walk on in uninvited,” he says, clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink.
“I thought vampires had to be invited in,” I say uneasily as the horn blares again.
He gives another sad smile as he swirls his drink in his hand. “There was a time when Arion was invited in. Just because the invitation has been rescinded, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have the ability to walk in.” His eyes find mine when the horn blares again. “Remember that.”