Gypsy Moon

“Is that something you can do at will now?” I cut in, not needing the complicated details. “You only sort of explained once before.”

He gives me a tight, humorless smile. “It’s something I could do on a weaker scale, up until I had my first taste of human blood. A wall slammed into place after that. It’s firmly back in place since I fed that first day I finally reached the surface again.” He glances down at his phone.

“Whenever we can’t definitively explain something that was a direct result of those actions, we chalk it up to gypsy magic and blood magic causing a lot of side effects. The universe had to write new laws for us. As Damien calls it—the freaky shit. While starved for blood for so long, I suppose I was able to touch that side briefly once again.”

I nod like I understand, even though it just barely answers my question.

“I thought we’d be touching while you asked a spitfire round of questions,” he states idly, glancing up again.

At my look, he grins once more.

“I’m not asking for sex. I’m just a man who is truly starved for affection, even the smallest amount,” he assures me.

“You’re trying to sound pathetic again.”

“Is it working?” he asks hopefully.

Considering I want to give him a hug when he sounds pathetic—fake or not—I’d say it’s working.

“Not even a little,” I lie.

The triplets appear in the room, and I startle, but Arion just grins. “You girls come to cheerlead for me some more?”

They don’t answer before vanishing all at once again.

“They want something that’s going to take a lot of time, and more help,” I say on a long groan, as I stand and head toward the bedroom.

“Advancing to the bed already, are we?” Arion drawls.

“Shower, remember? I need a shower so hard right now. I don’t even know what time it is, or why it feels like it’s been dark for eighteen days, but I do know I need a shower. The less I sleep, the longer the days are starting to feel.”

I don’t even know what day it is anymore.

CHAPTER 20

ARION

I pull out my phone as I slip into the bathroom, certain Violet has stepped into the shower by now. The glass doors do nothing to hide her body from me yet, although the steam is hinting at the edges of the glass, warning me my view won’t be undisturbed for long.

Violet tips her head back, eyes closing, as she lets the water run over her.

My eyes run down her bare breasts, but my gaze quickly snaps back up when she angles her head in the shower, my favorite spot on her neck far too temptingly turning toward me. I step closer as she angles her head the other way, moaning a little, which suggests she enjoys the feel of the water.

I finally take the damn video, and I send it to Vance to let him know she’s perfectly safe.

He quickly fires back a text to me.

VANCE: I’ll be visiting House of Jessup within the next hour. Things are anxious with the wolves.

He can handle Jessup on his own. After seeing her in the shower, I’ve changed my mind about leaving.

ME: Have one of the others scavenge the plane. I’m not leaving Violet alone. She hasn’t even figured out I’m in here yet, so I’ve changed my mind and I’m staying. Damn girl is too much of an easy target.

I pocket my phone, because that’s all I have to say on the matter, and I’ve been generous enough not to loop. Though, he’ll be pissed once he finds out this vampire still has more tricks up his sleeve.

I wonder how she’d react if I climbed in there with her and took over caring for her body.

“Thought you were going to get our things,” Violet says as she opens her eyes on me, not even a little surprised, as she gives me her back.

My eyes dip to her equally tempting derriere with that movement.

“I decided you need more protection,” I answer, moving closer to the shower doors as they continue to steam up. “When I went under, hot water wasn’t so easily accessible,” I say by way of changing the subject. “It’s fast becoming a favorite of mine. I’d be happy to help you out in there. I’m very helpful.”

She says nothing as she starts massaging the small bottle of hair soap into her scalp, suds quickly forming as she does so. Her motions aren’t graceful or meant to seduce—more hurried than anything—but I still can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have her do that for me, and wonder how to broach that topic.

There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door that must have come with the bathing room, and the shirt I gave her is neatly folded and waiting on the counter.

I’m curious to see which one of those she wears out of here.

Her red coat is hanging on another hook, and I smirk as I ask, “You threw all your clothes at Blue. Why not the coat?”

She seems to be working on getting soap out of her eye as she answers me with distraction. “Felt wrong to de-thread such a nice gift. Where did you find that fabric? It’s so much like Mom’s cloak.”

A small smile graces my lips, because she wouldn’t take the bloody gift, and now she won’t risk it because it’s precious to her. Quite the enigma, our little Violet.

“Portocale gypsies have particular blends of threads they like to wear, based on the clothing option. I plan to extort my knowledge to the fullest extent in order to impress you.”

She looks over her shoulder, eyes meeting mine, as she arches an eyebrow.

“I’m already impressed,” she states like she feels I need to know that. “That’s not the barrier, Arion. Please don’t make me feel guilty for trying to navigate very tricky water. I’m already out of my depth and struggling to stay on the surface.”

“From snowball analogies to drowning ones,” I point out dryly. “When you feel like you’re soaring, I’ll stop.”

“I don’t particularly like soaring,” she states with a shrug, turning back to the water. “I prefer a nice, comfortable speed that gets me to where I’m going and allows me to soak in the scenery along the way. And I like being close to the ground.”

“Enough time around us will give you more of an adventurous spirit, love. To be honest, we could probably use a dose of it ourselves,” I state idly, glancing down to see Vance’s new message stating he wants to speak to Violet.

He can fuck the hell right off.

This is my time. I sent him a video, because I’ve also changed my mind about letting her call him. I want her to myself for a little while.

She gives me a small smile over her shoulder again. “I’m guessing Idun was pretty adventurous.”

I thought the new girlfriends didn’t like discussing the old girlfriends, but Violet seems oddly at ease every single time she brings her up.

It makes me want to taste her blood again just to double check. Then she slips and almost falls, catching herself just barely, and I know for certain it’s not Idun. Idun wouldn’t even fake a stumble. Too much pride.

Violet rights herself quickly, and I answer like I didn’t notice the fact the poor girl occasionally struggles with the basics—standing on her own two feet.

I’m not sure why she hasn’t been under constant surveillance already.

“Quite adventurous, yes,” I tell her conversationally, as I take a seat on the counter next to my folded shirt, wondering how she’d act if I just stepped in with her.

I think I promised to behave…

Why did I do that?

When she grows quiet and just stares at me expectantly, I realize she wants a more elaborate answer.

“She was a top hunter—almost better than even Vance. Like him, she was the only other among us to hunt for sport in those days. The rest of us only hunted for the food we needed, but the trophy hunts made the two of them twice as good as the rest of us. Then.”

My gaze flicks to the mirror behind me, seeing my darkened eyes, as the memories try to turn into a storm.

“Vance was always the one she chased the hardest. Damien was the second most chased. Emit was…not really chased as hard or as eagerly. After immortality, he became a bit whiny.”

She says nothing, and I take it as the cue she wants to hear more.

“Vance loved her hunting spirit that felt kindred to his,” I add, causing her to bristle.

“I hate hunting. I always feel sorry for the animals, but then I also feel hypocritical because I can’t seem to go vegan,” she tells me, causing my lips to curve up in an unexpected grin.

Certainly not Idun.

“With Damien, she had to be crafty. He was a man who loved sex and women, but didn’t really intend to settle down. But Idun could be the most beautiful woman in the room when she wanted to be, and Damien loved to be the man with the most beautiful woman on his arm.”

Violet bristles again, shaking her head.

“Maybe then. Now he just wants to be acknowledged by genuinely interested people,” she points out, and I cant my head as I sit back. “It’s shitty how people just overlook him when they realize they’ll forget him soon enough. Damien makes it hard to get close to him, but he’s still worth all the effort.”

“He spent centuries building that island he’s alone on, Violet. No need to pity him quite so much. He’s playing you most of the time.”

She nods like she believes me.

“Are you agreeing or just nodding so as not to have to argue?” I ask her, suspicious.

“I believe you think he’s playing me,” she answers in a non-answering sort of way.

“He still wants you,” I inform her, so as not to tear that rope out of the ceiling, just in case. “But he does play games, and to him, you’re like a lovely prey he gets to truly enjoy. The first thing Idun will do is lift his curse, though, love. Prepare yourself for that.”

She turns quickly, shutting off the water, and I hop off the counter to grab a towel.

“That’s good news. If she lifts his curse—”

“He can be a philandering womanizer once again, and you’re the type to shed tears instead of getting angry, sweet little monster,” I state very cautiously. “It’s important to keep him engaged and watched—”

“Damien does the watching, Arion. Not me. Well, apparently you enjoy watching too,” she tells me in a dry tone as she steps out and into the towel I’m holding for her.

She doesn’t have a problem with my looking, so I take my time closing the towel around her. It’s the touching that makes her pump those metaphorical brakes, as Shera said.

“If she lifts the curse, it’s something I’ll celebrate for him,” she goes on, eyes not meeting mine as she steps around me, clutching her towel and securing it in place, as she moves to the sink.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror when I curiously ask, “And if he strays? What would you have me do?”

Her brow furrows, and she starts and stops herself from speaking, as though she’s allowing a moment of hesitance to search for the right words.