Gypsy Origins

“That wolf’s name was Drew. The one Damien killed first. Abby was either his girlfriend or sister—not sure which.”

Arion’s lips curve in a little enigmatic grin, and I turn back to Damien, deciding to pay the vampire very little attention.

Damien’s hands stay on me, like he’s touching me to ensure I’m safely in front of him and not an illusion.

“They wouldn’t have attacked?” I decide to ask. “If that first one hadn’t been killed?”

“They would have. I could have just prolonged it if I had known he was a fucking pureblood who was going to bleed that much,” Damien states bitterly, his hands on me tightening.

“So that we’re clear, everyone here fucked up, aside from Violet and me,” Arion chirps.

“How did you find us?” Vance asks him.

“Lemon is quite chatty when a vampire alpha lurks outside the window and makes the entire house tense for a few hours,” Arion chimes in.

A chill slithers up my spine, and I jerk my head to Arion.

“My dad—”

“He never saw me,” Arion says dismissively, though his eyes narrow on a smirking Vance.

“And Lemon’s okay?” I ask to make sure.

“Despite what they’ve told you, Violet, I’m not a man who kills the things his woman loves.”

I bristle, unsure how to broach that topic, since I’m not his anything. Seems stupid to press that issue, since right now I’m just thankful he showed up in time to save Damien.

My hand slides over Damien’s heart, seeing the angry puncture wound there still dripping blood.

“Did she ruin your illusions?” I ask quietly.

“Just temporarily disabled them. Damn good shot for someone who couldn’t see me,” he says, almost as though he’s very agitated about all that. “And being armed with that sort of knowledge is an unusual thing.”

His accusatory gaze swings to Emit, whose heavy stare is on me. I ignore that weighted look, as I finally finish up with Damien.

Before I can lift up from my spot on the floor, Damien bends over, brushing his lips against my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs like I’ve done something tonight instead of stay quiet and let them protect me.

There’s a gnawing sense of helplessness when you know you can help, but also know you can make it worse for them if they’re having to fend you off too.

And I don’t really know how to fend me off. No one has successfully done it yet.

Vance is down to his boxer-briefs when I look over at him and find him opening one of my suture packs.

“How fortunate you had all those,” Arion muses as I go to brush Vance’s hands away and take over, feeling like this is the one small contribution I can make tonight.

It’s almost a little too intimate when I kneel in front of him. I probably should have at least hesitated before simply dropping to my knees between his legs.

“My omegas packed for her,” Emit says gruffly. “They probably thought I’d spend time trading blows with Vance.”

The crafty omegas failed to pack healing potions that could have cut out all this intimate care that forces me to be hands-on.

Diabolical wolves.

“It’s almost the full moon. You always fuck or fight,” Arion says dismissively. “It makes sense they’d pack accordingly.”

I feel three heavy stares settle on me, and I stitch Vance’s leg a little quicker, as he fingers a lock of my hair.

“Oh, so the wolf has had his turn. You crafty bastard. You got a fuck and a fight. Very interesting,” Arion says with a slightly alarming—and certainly offensive—tone. “Guess that just leaves me then.”

I resist the urge to glare at the vampire I just saw shred through wolves. The only injuries he has are the bullets he took for me, which really pisses me off, because I feel at fault for them.

Arion is…the most complex being I’ve ever known. A soulless monster able kept me safe. Even as he enjoyed the bloodshed immensely, I felt less and less threatened, and struggled less with the impending panic, because I didn’t doubt he’d keep me safe.

I’ll never forget that dark, sadistic grin on his lips or that twisted, sinister look in his eyes. Yet, the moment he stepped in front of me like a human shield, without zero hesitation, he turned it into another one of his creepy romantic gestures.

I’m entirely too screwed up, this night has been…seriously fucked up, and I really shouldn’t be thinking about anything at all. I need to process.

Lot.

Shaking my head, I inch closer to Vance as if he can stop the vampire from doing anything to me, pretending as though the Van Helsing is the legendary vampire slayer he’s supposed to be. I don’t want him to kill Arion, but I would feel better about life if Arion was at least a little bit afraid of him.

Vance had no trouble with the wolves, other than the few that apparently got after him while he was killing others.

“Let me see your head,” Vance murmurs softly against my ear as he bends down to me.

“It’s fine,” I assure him without looking at him, since my hands are just barely not shaking. “I got hit by a flower pot, and you guys making a big deal about it just makes me feel more ridiculous,” I add in a dry tone that belies the tumbling assault of emotions against my fractured barricade.

I feel his lips curve in a grin, rather than see them, before he pulls back.

I move to the wounds on his arm, as Emit clears his throat.

“They’re not staying together. They’re using technology to plan gatherings, but separating before horde mentality fully sets in,” the wolf alpha goes on, presumably speaking to them and not me.

I’m content to listen.

“Which is what generally happens when enough wolves form numbers like this and try to exist without an alpha among them,” Vance explains to me. He turns his head toward Arion before adding, “And even though I strongly protested her coming, I agree with Emit; this should have been impossible, but we forget how much technology has advanced. It’s easier than ever for them to stay in close contact without staying together.”

“Anyone care to share the suspected motives for this attack?” Arion asks as he takes a seat at last, seeming to stretch out and get comfortable.

I only notice from my peripheral.

“This is my problem,” Emit says very quietly to him, while I quietly lift up from the floor.

Vance watches me as I move to Emit, tearing open another kit as I go.

Emit’s hands come to my hips, stopping me before I kneel between his legs, and he spins me before pulling me onto his lap. I’m so startled by the surprise movements that I don’t even react at first.

He immediately starts examining the back of my head, holding me still as he does so.

A mildly annoyed groan escapes me and turns into a tired sigh when he kisses the side of my neck. “I just had to see it to be sure it wasn’t bad,” he says softly.

I stand without any protest from him, and then I straddle his lap, which brings a wolfish grin to his face. I can’t even start processing how I feel about his betrayal just yet. I simply can’t.

I start stitching up the wounds on his shoulder, which is the only reason I’m in his lap.

It’s a terrible angle, and I’m seriously not too good at this.

His hands grab my ass and pull me closer, before leisurely resting there. I’ll have a private conversation with him about who he’s freaking told my secret to when we’re alone without super-hearing, vicious vampires in attendance.

I also need to ask how the hell I register myself and when I need to do it, since that seems to be a big deal around here.

“It’s not safe to be an unregistered monster, is it?” I ask, keeping things nonchalant and vague, as my eyes meet Emit’s.

He tenses, along with his hold on me.

“The wolves have to register because they’re turned,” he says like he’s telling me that.

“But tonight’s wolves were pureblood and born this way,” I point out.

“Purebloods are allowed to remain unregistered, so long as they don’t try forming packs,” Arion says with true oblivion from behind us. “These formed a horde, love. Don’t feel too much of that sympathy.”

“They also planned this attack. They lured Emit out, and I walked right into a trap,” Vance says, following it up with a frustrated curse.

“For all you know, the trap could have been set for you. You do more of Emit’s job than Emit does of his job,” Arion states with a fuck-you grin. I don’t have to see it to know it’s there. “Then again, neither does a sweet gypsy or a Morpheous.”

“Purebloods aren’t always unaging, such as the ones who are turned,” Vance says, most likely to me, since they’d already know that. “But they do live longer and age less quickly than mortals. No one provoked them, so why are they rallying?”

“Purebloods are often born from my packs too. They have far more damaging knowledge in a combined forum than unregistered, turned wolves, who are born oblivious to anything outside of common lore,” Emit says as his grip tightens on me more.

He kisses the side of my neck, distracting me as I finish up the last stitch on his shoulder.

The second I’m done, he gently cups the back of my neck, and our lips collide in a less gentle kiss. I kiss him back, mostly because I’m just so happy he’s not dead or hurt worse.

I can be pissed and relieved at the same time. I don’t like that I’ve somehow started caring enough to worry about them like I have this entire trip.

“I really should have been invited on this holiday,” Arion says dryly.

I break the kiss with Emit, feeling him glare over my shoulder at the vampire.

“It’s not a holiday. It’s a hunting trip,” Emit argues.

I’m wearing my hippo shirt again, since it’s the only one I have left that doesn’t look like a spring break crop top. I’m unfortunately down to just my very short shorts, since my jeans were soaked and drenched in blood during the fight.

I need a shower so bad, because I feel really gross when I have someone else’s blood smeared on me.

Not theirs—strange pureblood wolf blood, with an acrid smell that wrinkles the nose. Fortunately, it doesn’t burn like acid.

“She has a bikini dangling over the unbroken railing upstairs. I’d say that’s a holiday, mate,” Arion drawls. “Still got me to go, love. These bullets are starting to itch a little,” he adds, giving me an expectant look.

“Dig them out yourself,” Emit bites out as I take my time, pretending I’m not done with him.

“She tended to all of you. Why do I get left out again?”

I stand before this devolves into an argument, and I go start opening the next suture pack, as I move to Arion. Without making eye contact, I start to lower to my knees, but he grabs me and jerks me onto his lap.