Gypsy Blood

“I don’t think she really even knew she was using it,” he fires back.

“Possibly. Which means she was coached. But who the hell by?”

I throw my door open and stalk out.

Emit’s embarrassingly small sports car is in the driveway, and I walk right by it to get into my Range Rover. I’m confused when he gets in on the passenger side, as I crank it up and start spinning up snow until my tires gain traction on the pavement and launch us forward.

“Why the hell are you stinking up my car with your wolf smell?” I snap as I turn a sharp curve, and almost roll the damn vehicle.

Fortunately, Emit’s gargantuan self helps with the weight distribution of the vehicle, and I hurdle us forward again in the direction of Vance’s house, taking the bypass road to avoid town.

“We’re both going to the same place,” he says a little defensively before looking out the window.

“You could have still folded yourself into your penis-car and—”

“It’s a small car. What does that have to do with my penis?” he volleys, but his jaw is grinding.

A grin spreads over my face before I can help it. “You dodgy fucker. You actually hate the car. Why are you still driving it?”

“Would you shut up?” he snaps, not looking at me. “What all did she get you to confess? And why the hell are you—”

He stops speaking, and then I hear him groan. “Your heart is beating.”

That causes me to bristle. “Things got intense, and it hasn’t slowed down yet. Just deal with it until we get to Vance’s and—”

“Shit,” he hisses.

He suddenly starts trying to duck, lay the seat back and hide his face, all at the same time. It takes me a second to realize what his problem is.

A Gypsy Magic delivery van is right in front of us, and I curse as I continue to drive like hell’s on my ass and pass her with barely a blink, seeing her lips moving in sync with the little ghost in the van with her.

“Are they fucking singing?” I ask as the small glimpse I get sticks in my head.

“She’s definitely on her way to Vance’s,” Emit says as he peers over the seat. “Wonder what she’s taking him to render him helplessly under her thrall, and if she’ll feed it to him with those daring little fingers of hers.”

I snort derisively as her van becomes a dot in the rearview mirror.

“Maybe she’s gifting him another stick to shove up his ass,” I suggest as I cut down another road.

Chapter 24

VANCE

I blink at Emit and Damien, noting that Damien’s heart is most definitely beating, and he looks both thrilled and furious about that at once.

“You really had your hands all over a Portocale and didn’t burst into flames or anything?” I ask.

“That was a fucking concern?” he asks incredulously, staring at me in horror.

“Everything is a concern where Portocale gypsies are involved,” I say with a careless shrug, trying not to let my lips twitch.

“While you find this funny, think about this: I told her who and what I am, something most people, who don’t already know, never actually learn. I really love my secrets. It makes me more interesting,” he bites out.

He’s right about that.

“I can’t get those orange cookies out of my head. I want to go beg her for more, but I’m terrified of what’s going to come out of my mouth while I’m putting those in it,” Emit bites out, while crushing a can in his hand.

“The cookies she made looked like dog biscuits?” I ask, clearing my throat around the laughter that bubbles up.

Emit growls, even as Damien swallows down his own amusement.

Rolling my eyes, I stand. “I really need answers about the vampire thing.”

“Then you better out-gypsy her. She’s on the hunt for her own answers, and she’s not looking to answer questions,” Damien fills me in, running a hand through his hair. “Then she’ll just strut out and leave a man alone with a beating heart he can’t slow back down,” he petulantly adds.

“Margie, don’t answer the door,” I say over the intercom, half questioning my damn sanity.

“You two couldn’t refuse her gifts?” I ask them.

“Could you resist the taste of Portocale oranges?” Emit bites out.

Damien pulls a mirror from the inside of his jacket and holds it up to me.

“It’s exquisite. Far too exquisite for her to simply part with without my debt being ridiculous,” he growls.

I start to touch it, but he jerks it back out of reach. “You can look, but touch and I’ll make you bleed, Van Helsing. Let’s have a rematch with my heart beating.”

I start to point out they’re both lunatics, which is disturbing on its own level, when there’s a buzzing over the intercom that means someone is coming down the driveway.

Emit darts out of the room, and I hear the giant stomping around. My eyes go back to Damien, who also rushes out of the room.

Rolling my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose, I follow, because I have no idea how else to react. Emit is acting like a raving lunatic over oranges I can’t even remember, and Damien’s heart is beating. This day is officially the most peculiar day I’ve had in too long.

“She’s going to get you to train her now,” Damien says to Emit, who groans like he’s already tortured.

“Why would he train her instead of me?” I’m quick to counter.

“She doesn’t want a monster slayer training her,” Damien drawls with a mocking grin. “Guess this gypsy prefers monsters.”

“Shh! She’s coming!” Emit hisses, shoving at Damien as they both duck to be under the window, looking utterly ridiculous, since the wall across from them is mirrors.

I still drop to the ground and try to hide when I hear her start knocking…as though I’ve been infected by their stupidity. Two monsters and one monster slayer hiding from a young gypsy.

The indignity is unbearable.

“Ms. Woods?” I hear the little gypsy call out as she knocks again. “Vance?”

Emit barely stretches up, peers one eye out the window, and ducks back down like his life depends on staying out of sight.

Margie walks in, stumbles to a halt, and just gawks at the fact three men are on the ground, ignoring the girl who is knocking.

She slowly backs away like she’s reached her crazy quota for the day, and I huff as I stand and go to the door.

“Don’t!” Damien hisses, swiping for and missing my leg as I pass.

I pull open the door just as Violet is turning away, and she grins over her shoulder when she looks back and sees it’s me.

She never smiles when she sees me.

So why is she smiling now?

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” I tell her as she fully turns to face me.

Her brow furrows when an obnoxious snort comes from within the house. Fucking infants.

She glances at the Range Rover that has been abandoned at the curb, lifts a little eyebrow at me, and hands me a hideously knit bag of some sort.

“I just wanted to stop in and say thank you for being so nice the other day,” she tells me as she puts her hand on my arm.

I’m better prepared for a trap than them, given their warning, so I smile politely while merely glancing down at the bag.

“You really don’t have to bring gifts, little Portocale.”

“I like bringing gifts as a show of gratitude,” she counters, causing my eyes to narrow as she pats my arm.

Not very seductive in her approach with me, it seems. Why am I getting different treatment?

She turns and starts to leave, surprising me still.

“So this was just a gift drop?” I ask as Anna hops out of the van that Violet is heading toward.

“Told you, I just wanted to say thank you. So thank you, Vance,” she says with a smile over her shoulder before hopping into the van.

Anna sighs beside me, her eyes raking over me as she shakes her head. “Such a waste,” she says in a tsking sound.

She disappears and squeals inside my house about finding her two favorite pets, as Violet drives off.

I’m sorry, but since when the actual hell do I get the short end of the straw? Why is Anna not saying something perverted about my ass or my dick for a change? Why did Violet leave me with nothing more than a friendly pat and a hideous knitting?

“Well, I guess we rushed over here for nothing,” Damien says in an amused tone from somewhere behind me. “I forgot how maddening gypsy women can truly be,” he adds, sounding chipper.

That fucking heartbeat of his is now mocking me.

If she fed Emit and kissed Damien’s toxic lips, she should have at least done more than simply touch my arm in a friendly manner. After all, I’ve actually been somewhat nice to her, unlike them.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter as I open the bag and…pull out the most spectacular pocket watch I’ve seen in ages. At least, one that I don’t already own.

“Yee-haw!” Anna shouts as I click open the face of the timepiece, seeing the ornate silver etchings.

“Where did she get this?” I say on a heavy breath.

“At least yours isn’t a debt. It’s just gratitude,” Damien grumbles as he walks away.

“Van Helsings aren’t allowed gratitude,” I remind him quietly as I back up and…pause, frowning over at the scene before me.

Anna is in Emit’s lap as he works to keep a straight face, and she’s…spinning…saying something about a dickie-sitting-spinner.

“I think a drink is in order at this point,” I say on another harsh breath as I turn and walk out of the room.

Chapter 25

VIOLET

“So they liked the gifts?” Ace asks from beside me as we both stare up at my ceiling.

I’m grinning for a multitude of reasons, one being the fact he’s here. The only one to show me an ounce of respect since coming here happens to be a man who died a really long time ago by ways he’s not really sure about.

“They did. Fortunately, my grandmother’s old things are always near.”

“I can’t believe you have access to Portocale oranges,” he groans. “I bet they’re sensational.”

“They’re just oranges, but they are good,” I agree, inching closer as I lift one from a bowl.

“No bruises,” he says as though he’s lost in thought as he stares at the orange in my hand.

I start peeling it, shrugging a shoulder.

“I pick them long before they bruise,” I explain like it should be obvious.

“Mmm,” is his only response, still seeming lost in thought.

He’s been here a lot the past few days; noticeably, it’s only when Anna’s gone.

“Do you have a problem with Anna?”

“I don’t particularly like ghosts,” he informs me, causing me to snort back laughter. “They don’t particularly like me either.”