Gypsy Origins

It makes me really leery of what unregistered wolves must be capable of if the beta-throat-slitting-monster-bash hasn’t convinced him that I’m worse than wolves.

I give a firm nod, and turn to head toward the house.

I hear the quick crackling of something, turning to see as Emit’s wolf form twists in the air so that he can land on his feet.

My breath is taken away, since this is the second time I’ve been this close to him like this. However, it’s the first time I haven’t been distracted by a crazed vampire I raised from the grave.

The dark wolf is magnificent…almost majestic this time.

He’s just large enough to be suspicious if seen by the human eye, but small enough to remain within the confines of believable wolf size—the perfect predator in a world where he shouldn’t exist.

With one hard lunge, he pushes off the ground and disappears into the shadows of the woods. Those woods have gotten a lot darker now that the sun is mostly down. They’ll never see him coming, because he effortlessly blends in.

I am curious about how they avoid detection by scent though.

I’ll put a pin in it.

Still refusing to think about Idun being the ribbon girl I claimed to be, I head inside with both my bags, and take a look around. It’s not really fair that this woman I’ve never met gets to steal the one identity I’ve been able to give myself.

I’m not sure I’m ready to give it up just yet.

She shouldn’t get it just because she had it first. It sounds like she ruined what could have been a good story. I mean, I understand they’re monsters and the four of them can all be assholes, but it seems like she was a bit of a raging monster bitch.

I lock the door behind me, idly wondering if Anna was right all along.

I’m not the leading role.

I’m just a side character in the longest running tale that nobody really wants to talk about.

Chapter 8

VIOLET

I give the hot tub some side eye. It’s after two in the morning, and the temperatures are dropping, as the first flakes of snow form. That hot tub out there in that cold air would feel so good…

But I’m supposed to stay inside and chew my nails off, worrying what happens to them. Maybe they’re okay with dying and coming back, but I don’t want anyone else dying.

I’m sick of it.

My eyes move to that hot tub again, studying that top through the window, as I prop my feet up.

“What are the odds these wolves would just end up here if I go out in the tub?” I ask myself.

I decide very low.

I mean…I can’t die or turn into a werewolf. I’m already a monster, and I’m a Portocale. From what I’ve deduced thus far, it’s reasonable to assume I could pretend to die for a little while, and then they’d be gone until Emit and Vance could kill them. And that’s worst-case scenario.

Instead of fainting with a quiet heartbeat, I could just quietly lower my heartbeat and silently endure the pain, that way I’m sure to be stitched up before Vance returns.

Their hearing can’t be that exceptional, right?

Maybe the omegas were on to something, because this does feel like the closest to a vacation I’ve ever actually had. I tighten the strings on my bikini, snatch a towel from next to the deck door, and grab the gun loaded with silver bullets.

Hurriedly, I move to the hot tub and struggle until I get the top removed.

The warm water laps at my ankles, as I shiver against the growing cold. The overhang blocks the snow from hitting me, and the wind is blowing away from me instead of at me, so I’m shielded by the house in that regard.

A moan passes through my lips as I slip into the water better, dropping the gun and towel at the edge before I sink in to my shoulders.

It’s pretty at night when the woods are in the process of getting snowed on, and the moon is bright and large, just shy of a full moon.

I’m not sure how long I’m boiling before an, “Are you fucking kidding me?!” is snapped very loudly.

I jerk awake, realizing how close to sleep I just was, and find Vance glaring at me from the edge of the hot tub, breathing heavily, as though he’s run for miles to come yell at me.

“How was the hunt?” I decide to ask him on a painful swallow, trying to catch up to what’s going on right now.

“Interrupted by the strong, sweet scent of an annoying little gypsy,” he says very angrily.

Clearly, I’m in trouble.

He keeps his hands positioned on his hips, as the loud shaking of bushes has me jerking my gaze over to see Emit emerging, naked, as he walks toward us, giving me a very unimpressed look.

“His hunt was interrupted as well,” Vance tells me like this is most certainly a scolding.

“That could have been mentioned. I thought there was a range, since Emit couldn’t smell them. It’s only fair to assume they couldn’t possibly smell me if he couldn’t smell them.”

Vance blinks at me, and Emit cants his head, lips tugging up at one corner of his mouth in a slow grin.

Vance opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then opens it again. Finally, he settles for a stern glare because he seems too frustrated with me to talk in a calm tone, and I’m thankful that he doesn’t seem to want to yell right now.

“You made this mess. You figure out a way to reason with her before she gets herself fucking killed,” he says in a chilling tone as he cuts his eyes to Emit. “I don’t want to close my eyes as it is. Two deaths at once might make it a worse hell. Make her take her this a little more seriously.”

He turns and stalks inside, slamming the door behind him to punctuate his really bad mood.

“And I thought it was because he was worried about me,” I say as I dunk my head under water, escaping from the humiliation for a second.

I don’t stay under long, and Emit’s eyes are burning against me when I finally manage to dry my eyes enough to open them. I immediately take in his very bare form, swallowing a little harder when he bites down on his bottom lip.

Self-control, Violet. Have some.

Life would be so much easier these days if I hated sex and didn’t have so many back to back life-altering things going on at once.

“If you’d done that sooner, the chemicals would have masked a lot more of your scent,” Emit tells me as he casually lowers his naked body into the water across from me.

As if that’s no big deal…

My eyes widen, because he’s so tall that he’s forced to stretch under me, and my ankles tap the sides of his legs. It’s the sort of thing that feels unexpectedly more intimate when you’re mostly naked and floating in water. Especially since he’s totally, one-hundred-percent, undoubtedly completely naked.

His gaze dips, lowering to my omega-approved, ridiculously sexy bikini, as the moonlight shines down on us like a spotlight.

Those omegas are fucking diabolical, I tell ya. Not to mention creepy good at setting up tricky situations like these with nothing more than a few packed bags. First the toothpaste and now this.

Self…control...

Usually, when he’s naked, things aren’t so…at attention. Or maybe the water just makes certain things look a lot bigger. It already looked uncomfortably large to begin with.

I almost feel like I should be scared of that thing. Not picturing myself testing my limits…

“I’m curious,” he says in a quiet voice as his hands gently slip around my ankles, giving me a subtle tug that floats my body toward him at a slow, gradual pace.

When I start to sink a little, his hands slide up to the backs of my legs, and just rest there, holding me about two feet away from him. All the touch really seems so much more intense with the water. It’s…hurting that self-control I’m striving for.

The beast of a man seems larger too, especially when I’m so surrounded by him, and I’m five-feet-nine. I’m not used to feeling so dainty.

“How do you trick the ear? The smell is as good as the hearing,” he tells me. “And your heart stopping triggers your mon—”

“I faint,” I tell him quietly, covering his mouth with one of my hands.

His beard tickles against my palms, and his eyes heat. Or else I’m imagining things. It seriously looks like he wants to be a bad wolf.

Fuck, that sounds cheesy as hell. I need Anna back so bad right now. I really do.

“It’s my super power,” I tell him, doing all I can to seem unaffected, hoping my poker face is actually on, as I slowly lower my hand.

The shaky breath that slips out of me probably hurts the poker face I’m working damn hard on.

“I can faint and stop my heart, and wake up when the pain is duller and the urge to panic has passed. But I can also slow my heart down to almost stopping. It’s dangerous and I shouldn’t do it unless I’m willing to take that risk. But to date, as long as I’m not panicking, I’ve been able to bring it back up.”

He looks surprised and intrigued by that. So…not normal? Rare? Is it a clue as to what I am? I’d love to know.

“That’s almost like having control,” he says, giving me a clue as to what has that surprised expression on his face.

It’s almost deflating, because that’s…nothing along the lines of what I was hoping he’d say.

“It’s as close as I’ve gotten,” I say in the hushed tone, glancing back, because I’m paranoid Vance is going to overhear.

“He can’t hear. He’s in the shower and blaring music like a sullen teen,” Emit tells me.

When I turn back around, he’s giving me the wolfish smirk. I’m embarrassed by how quickly my mind diverts back to the very thing I was distracting myself from.

Tired of being stiff as a board, I force myself to relax. I feel myself sliding closer, as the water stirs just a little with his adjusting movements.

He lifts his arms, putting them on the edge of the tub, as I start to sink again. The jets aren’t on, so it’s mostly quiet, sans the few sounds from the woods and winds.

My knees bend, bumping either side of his hips, as I float to a gradual stop, keeping myself just off his lap with the use of my knees on the bench.

His head tilts, and he gives me a lazy once over again, those predatory eyes sweeping back up to mine like he has all the confidence in the world.

It’s sort of intoxicating. I can’t help but wonder what that sort of self-assuredness feels like.

“Mom always tried to get me to stop practicing that. I picked safe places, just in case something went wrong. So far, so good. In the end, she worked it into my survival plan. It’s one of the few arguments I won.”

He just continues lazily shifting his gaze over my face, letting it dip on occasion. He keeps his arms leisurely lounged on the edge, so effortlessly relaxed, as if we’re this familiar.

My knees slip just a little, and I lower another inch or two. His pupils dilate, and then his lips tug up at one corner when I don’t lift myself back up, barely keeping myself from being pressed against his lap.