Gypsy Moon

His brow furrows as he just stares at me like he’s checking for a lie. Either he wants to believe me or needs to, and he walks back into the bathroom, as I exhale a groan.

He walks back out again, undoing his pants almost distractedly, like he’s not really here.

“I didn’t actually enjoy it,” he tells me like he’s informing me of this very important detail.

I have no idea what to say besides apologizing again, so I do. He simply waves it off, before turning and heading back into the bathroom, and then rejoins me once again, like he can’t force himself to end the conversation just yet.

“I actually tried talking to you. I’d prepared a big monologue that would set the scene for what happened to get me sentenced to my time underground. They shut me up, and I tasted your blood to make sure it was you—”

“Arion, it’s not your—”

“It was an impressive speech,” he carries on, eyes finally meeting mine.

“I’ll hear it if you want me to,” I tell him as I pull the cover over my legs.

The salt starts skittering across the room, falling from his hair and mine, slinking out of every crevice and slithering to a pile near the door.

Arion’s attention turns to it as a crease lines his forehead.

“Curious, Violet, is that you?” he asks, lazily twirling a finger in the air to gesture to the flying salt, just as the final grain lands on the pile.

“Gypsies and salt, you know,” I state tightly.

“Gypsies and salt don’t do that,” he says, confused.

“They do, actually. I’ve always been able to do that. We have a connection to salt, just like Portocale gypsies have a connection to threads.”

His lips purse, but his phone rings, and he leaves his pants undone, as he silences it and types out a message.

“Could you not tell them about this right this very second?” I ask, grimacing.

He snorts derisively. “I’m certainly not. My brother is being impatient about a matter that he needs not involve himself in.”

He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, before he glances over at the salt pile. “Not a trace of it left,” he murmurs almost to himself, before turning and walking into the bathroom again.

“If you need to go—”

“I don’t,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

My life sucks so hard sometimes.

After reassembling the bed, I lie down and I don’t move from my spot. For the next five-ish minutes until the water turns off, I don’t do anything besides try to think of what a person actually says to someone after that. I’m still not clear what exactly did or didn’t happen.

A more daunting thought slinks into my head. Absolutely everyone agrees about one thing: Arion’s never been with anyone but Idun. I’m possibly the only other woman he’s ever even kissed, and there’s no doubt his mouth has been somewhere else tonight.

My eyes snap to the door when it opens, and I try to remember the fucked-up-ness when Arion walks out with nothing but a towel slung low on his waist.

There’s a knock at the door, and I cover up better with the sheet, as he walks into the other room to go answer it.

“Thank you, Linda,” he says, signing the tab.

I can’t see her from this angle, because the door isn’t open wide enough.

Linda apparently does everything at the hotel for pretty monsters who look inconveniently good in towels and damp hair.

I’m embarrassed to say that I watch a stray drop of water run down the center of his chest, following that contoured line down his abs. If I had to guess, I’d bet Linda is watching it too.

“I’ll just get this set up for you, Mr. Arion,” Linda calls after him.

Arion’s eyes come up in time to catch me watching, and I clear my throat, as I dart a glance away.

“So, are the guys coming here?” I ask, cutting through the awkward tension, as Linda rattles something in the other room.

“If you’d rather they do, I’m sure that can easily be arranged,” he says a little tightly, turning his back to me.

A glimpse of the man that shouldn’t still linger inside him—if he’s truly soulless—surfaces with his discomfort. There was a line crossed, and he feels like he’s the one who wronged me.

A soulless creature incapable of feeling anything shouldn’t be capable of guilt. That proves there really is a piece of his soul left, just as Shera has referenced numerous times while championing him.

How much does he still love Idun? How much does he miss the monster she was? Those are the only two questions. Neither of those are exactly the sort of foundation to pile onto an already extremely complicated relationship design.

Somehow, they’ve gotten into my mind that it really is a package deal, even though not one of them has directly said it. Aside from Arion, obviously.

I should sleep instead of thinking, especially after being struck by lightning, surviving my first ever plane ride/crash, getting chased by a hellhound with one of those ironically unassuming names such as Blue, and then getting possessed by three ghosts long enough to initiate foreplay. I think. Still fuzzy on those details, and I’m so not asking. At least not tonight.

“Can I have one of those waters?” I ask him as Linda continues to linger. On a whisper, I quickly add, “Is she waiting on a tip?”

It can’t take long to set up a table with some alcohol, and Arion isn’t from this century, so—

“Of course I tipped,” he says like he’s wondering why I’d think any differently. “I know how to be civil when out in the wild, Violet,” he adds with a small grin, that one gesture melting away some of the thick, stuffy awkwardness.

He grabs me a bottle of water, returns to hand it to me, and I twist off the cap as I just watch him.

His hand gently closes around my ankle as he does something else on his phone, and his thumb draws slow circles there, like he just needed to finally touch me.

I’m not sure how a Simpleton attracts such complex situations and emotions.

“All done, sir. Can I do anything else for you? Turn down the bed, perhaps?”

“No, thank you, Linda. We’ve got it from here,” he answers distractedly, frowning at his phone.

I hear the door shut, signaling Linda’s departure.

“I suppose they will be arriving in a few hours, after all, if they find us tonight. Things apparently got a little ugly in the House of Van Helsing earlier.” He says this with a smirk, as though that’s something he feels smug about.

See? Complex. Very complex.

It’s hard to see someone as a psychotic monster when they’re gently touching you just to feel your touch.

The smirk falls from his lips as he pockets his phone. “Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to pay my brother a visit earlier than intended. I wanted to at least have somewhat of a trail on Idun. Vance won’t be of much use, if I know her as well as I’m certain I do.”

I sit up a little, and his frown deepens as I pull my foot away from him.

“I’m starting to feel like this is now a hunt for Idun, and not the rising we came here to do. With Idun already up, we should be able to raise them before the full moon.”

He opens his mouth, likely to argue, but I cut him off.

“Vance explained all that very confusing, complicated stuff. I don’t understand all of it, but I got the gist. She was the hold-up, because of all the power infused to tie her down. With her out of the way already, the others should be a cinch—no gypsy moon juice required. And Emit will be there to help, since he won’t be on all fours and racing through the woods on an aggressive rampage,” I go on.

“Violet, we fully intend to raise them, but that’s going to expend a lot of our energy. We’ll have to feed after we finish. A lot. It’s not as simple as digging up body parts. The ground is sealed—”

“I blew up your seal. I’ll blow up theirs. Just give me a pot and a recipe to screw up,” I tell him as I throw back the covers.

His hand goes to my arm, catching me just above my elbow.

“We can’t tonight, Violet. We have to at least know we can hide from her until we’re recovered. After raising them, it’ll take us at least three days to fully—”

“You rose after being under for a century and hurt Vance,” I say very calmly.

“Vance, who probably hadn’t slept much, has a thousand tics to signal all his next moves, and someone I can usually predict very easily, Violet. Idun is unpredictable until I find her so I can set the table. She can’t follow the rules until the rules are in place,” he says like he’s carefully explaining something to me.

“So they lie underground for longer, for no reason, so that Idun’s games can begin,” I state softly, giving him one nod.

He drops my arm and curses, as he runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s not that simple, Violet. You flew out a window because little Blue terrified you. That’s Bobo’s fucking pet, love. I’ll not let you turn into Caroline, so I need to get the rules put into place.”

My eyes collide with his, as Caroline’s phantom sobs echo in my ears, the flash of Idun pulling her into that chair suddenly plowing through the forefront of my thoughts.

“What’d she do to Caroline?” I ask him.

Like he’s not engaged in the conversation, he glances down at his phone again. “Caroline was a terrible alpha. All the Neopry Simpletons were—are, because they’re not alphas. They’re omegas in the head with the strength of an alpha. They want to group together, but—”

“But the Neopry House is so strong because she needs big Alpha Houses to go along with the freaky shit that happens when mixing this magic with that. Got it. I asked what she did to Caroline,” I point out, causing his eyebrow to arch.

“They combined in the end,” he goes on, bristling. “The Simpletons formed one massive, collective alpha house, and they had their blood-vowed pledges as their betas. It was outside-of-the-box-thinking, but it worked far too well in Idun’s favor,” he continues. “Caroline finally caught a break when things worked out that way. Before then, though, she was just too omega to ever run a House, love. And the Heads of the Houses have to set examples, or it all descends into chaos. Unfortunately, it was much too late and it ended so soon after, given the sentencing.”

Again, I give him one slow nod.

“So far I’ve heard you explain everything, including Idun’s defense, but I still haven’t heard what she did to Caroline.”

His eyes hold mine, and I wonder what’s so bad the scary vampire alpha doesn’t even want to say.

“She shredded her. Quite literally,” he states very flatly, as a chill slithers up my spine. “And that’s just one example. Caroline can’t die. Idun can’t die. Idun didn’t want to test the limits on herself, obviously, so when Caroline’s Houses would collapse and fall apart, Idun would punish her by testing new, possible ways the unkillable could be killed.”